The Week Gone By...

Two blissful rendezvous with two of my oldest and closest friends - alot of heart-to-heart with atleast one of them. We've been friends since school days - disliked each other for most of school, but now closest of friends. It's been over a decade - shit that makes me feel old! One of them is going away - flying away to greener pastures, so to speak, to pursue a Ph.D in cancer immunology. Fancy na? My friends seem to have this knack of picking up high flying, erudite courses! Intelligent lot they are. Eccentric too. Lovable as well. Adorable. Irreplacable.

Two birthdays. One day. The first was nice - cozy, warm, just as birthdays should be with close ones there to bring in your birthday and wish you the best for every single day of your life. Good food. Good conversation. The yummiest home-made chocolate cake. The second was confusing. Too much noise over nothing. Two many flaring tempers. Terrible food....but the yummiest chocolate cake in town! :-)

Two new batches at AFPune this session. Summer courses - still stuck with the kids course, but am enjoying it this time. A bright, enthusiastic bunch of students makes it worth commuting in the infernal Pune heat, not to mention teaching in those stuffy classrooms with non-existent ventilation making them more like furnaces than 'salles de classe'! Planning and preparing for class is also far more enjoyable, knowing that what I do will be received well and appreciated...

Two days alone. Everyone's in tinsel town - taking care of annoying paper-work and even more annoying bank work, while I stay back to baby-sit the house. Well, not exactly - I saw no reason to cancel class just to visit banks, even if they are in the city that breathes life into me! Going to spend my time reading, pampering myself, sleeping, watching a film or two perhaps...and yes, entertaining a friend and visiting cousins!

Current Music - Please don't go - No Mercy (Does anyone remember this one-hit band of three? I used to love this song way back in school!)

Current Mood - Strangely enough, not great despite the good week. Lonely. Terribly so. Not 'coz I'm alone - lonely from inside. The void just keeps growing. :-(

Maunvrat?

It's almost a maunvrat these days, save the few people without whom I wouldn't stay sane and to whom I pour my heart out regularly. Every now and then, I get tired of talking. Yes, me "the-talk-a-dozen-words-a-minute" Geetanjali finds the effort that goes into talking extremely cumbersome and tiring. For a long time I wondered if this is a direct consequence of that dreaded PMS, but then I realised that it doesn't always co-incide with "that time of the month" and so I've come to the grand conclusion that it's not so much due to the hormones as it as due to my incredible personality. So anyways, I don't talk, apart from what is necessary. Friends who come knocking in cyber space and/or telecommunication space for the most part end up being ignored. At times like this, I wonder even more than at other times, how people maintain such large and busy social lives - how they can keep jabbering on-and-on endlessly, meaninglessly without ever feeling the words they utter. I'm glad, then, that my circle of friends is restricted to a select few, with whom words are not really necessary in order for me to communicate what I'm feeling. The silence rejuvenates for I bounce back as talkative as before and genial once again. Not an extrovert - never that! - but genial, yes, definitely.

Seperating the Chaff from the Grain

I’ve lost friends who I included amongst my closest friends and been disillusioned and betrayed – and I’ve met a lot of new people, not all whom I could call friends. I seem like an open person and oft do I say that my life is one bloody open book, but the real me is hidden deep inside and there are very few who get to see it on a regular basis. What irks the most is when people who’ve known me for barely a few months insist that they know me inside out, based on what is almost always a wrong perception of me from the clues they have picked up from a very public part of my personality. I’ve learnt how to separate the chaff from the grain so to speak. The ‘grain’ has never before been as dear as it is now.

Current Mood - Tired. Very tired. Sad. Lonely.
Current Music - Lotus Feet by Shakti.

Changes...

Aristera Baba said he’s changed so much in the past couple of years – I agree, but then I think he’s changed so much since the time I first him! :-) His statement made me think about me and how much I’ve changed in the last few years. They say change is the only thing constant in life – and looking back over the last five years I couldn’t agree more. If someone were to ask me to recapitulate the last five years in a sentence (something very difficult for a person like me – you can ask Aris Baba and he’ll confirm how it’s almost impossible for me to stick to short-n-sweet in my descriptions of anything and anyone)…I’d say it’s been the most rocking phase in my life. Rocking, not in the happy, hep-n-happening sense of the term, but in the sense that my life has taken so many unexpected twists and turns and been rocked from it’s roots so many times, that no other word but ‘rocking’ could best describe it.

Taking the example of my internet habits, I’ve gone from being –

• Someone who’s life depended on her internet connection, having so many loved ones abroad, to someone who knows that the internet is but a medium to keep the illusion of the relationship alive.
• Someone who checked her emails twice, sometimes thrice a day to someone who checks her emails twice a week, if lucky, thrice!
• Someone who blogged daily, to someone who blogs once a week and thinks that’s regular!

Superficial yes, but there are so many small changes that have gone into making me who I am today – and the changes just continue to happen each day, whether in small or big ways. I wonder where I will be five years from today – and though I pray that I don’t have to see any more radical changes I know inside that so much more still lies around the corner.

Sigh – guess I should take those vitamins regularly if I must emerge the survivor eh?

Current song : Je survivrai (otherwise popular as ‘I will survive’)
Current read : Lady Oracle by Margaret Atwood
Current Colour: Blue, a deep, thick, dark blue.
Current Mood : Pensive

Boo - encore!

I'm petrified of vehicles with just two wheels - right from bicycles to motobikes. I never learnt to ride a bicycle; falling off one when I tried, and making my friends fall when I sat behind them...the first time a friend gave me a lift on his bike, I nearly screeched him into breaking in the middle of a busy street. He was going at the dangerous speed of 30! ;-) Now, several years later when I sit behind my Puneri friends who are mobile thanks to their scooters/Scootys/Activas/etc kindly offer to drop me off, I straddle their vehicle much like I would a horse - pressing the flanks of the vehicle/horse when I want it to slow down! Even otherwise I'm rarely relaxed, scared that the maniacs let loose on the streets of Pune will drive too close and take away with them my precious limbs! Plus there is that mess that I have to deal with post-bike ride...the tangled mess I would refer to as my hair pre-bike ride! ;-)

Boo!

I'm scared of Pressure Cookers. There it's out! I'm bloody scared of them - I think they are wierd temperamental things that erupt and let out a hot, frothing, scalding emission at who-so-ever dares to go against them. They are scary. Period...

And no, you're not allowed to consult Freud's manul and psycho-analyse me on this declaration of mine!

Current Mood : Strange.

Dhyan se, yeh tan to hai sirf bhojan kaowon ke liye

A nice weekend with a visit from a literary snob who talks more than me and brought along pretty glass bangles and two books on loan - lots and lots of talking all over town...browsing through Manney's on Moledina Road and itching to buy my nephew so many books - I stayed away from the Literature section lest more temptation struck! Plenty to accomplish on Sunday, my only free day in the week - it flew past way too quick! A busy week, observing more hours a day, getting more and more ideas about how to conduct class, waiting and hoping to be given a regular class in the next session....The fact that I've been busy has kept me away from the computer and the internet - well that, and the fact that a wierd apathy has crept into my bones as far as this one activity is concerned. I type emails and posts on Papa's laptop and never get around to emailing them. Logging in seems like a mammoth effort at the end of the day when all I want to do is hit the sack, before my sleep vanishes and I spend another sleepless night walking through the rooms staring at photgraphs, trying to keep memories at bay lest they bring along with them tears.

Went for Lal Ded, performed by Mita Vasisht at the Shantaram Pond, FTII with everyone including little Shaurya. The setting was sublime - one can't possibly go wrong with the impact with a backdrop as that of Shantaram pond. It's an absolute delight to the senses. The performance left me wanting - il y avait une manque quelque part. I went expecting to hear Lal Ded's poems or maybe about her philosophy - what I got was a presentation of her life as the mystic saint who has most influenced the people of Kashmir. I have the French translation of her verses. I think I'll dig it out of the carton of books and pore over them in detail now - one verse from the performance stuck in my mind:

"Dhyan se, yeh tan to hai sirf bhojan kaowon ke liye"
(Careful, this body is but food for the crows.)

Touched by the gestures of some friends, exasperated at others who I don't know whether to ignore or shake in frustration, itching to step into yet another friend's life and set everything right - my life seems to revolve around my friends. What would I do without them?

Many many thanks to all of you - I don't know how to lean on anybody and I reach out to very few in times of distress, but your presence whether by way of comments on my blog, emails, SMS, phone calls, snail mail or physically visiting me...all meant to so much to me. Merci beaucoup mes ami(e)s! :-)

Blah...blech

Strange how death can resolve old issues - strange how suddenly people wake up to their mistakes and want to make up after over a decade of being insulting and hurting us. Wish I could turn back the clock, I'd rather have my father back than patch up with these people...but then I must be sensible and wise and not go around burning bridges. Civil, understanding, mature. Fighting the system - why do they have to build obstacles and be so bloody insensitive and corrupt at such times? The emptiness is still there. It disturbs me at night, robs me of my sleep, makes me restless, pierces my heart suddenly and makes me wanna cry. Sometimes I do that...I cry and let it out...ask God why he had to play such cruel games with us. Slowly involving myself in the activies I'm accustomed to - inch by inch per day. Unpacking boxes packed for a move never meant to be, reading, borrowing books from friends, watching movies (Breakfast at Tiffany's borrow from a friend), writing, class...

Friends from whom I had such few expectations have come through - my guardian angels are ofcourse always there to hold me up when I didn't have the energy nor the will to do that by myself. Strange, how a person who meant the world to me till a month back is nowhere on the radar at such a time, and stranger yet, that it has ceased to matter, that after years of being hurt, this final betrayal doesn't matter at all. Well that's the only good thing that has come out of this...

La vie - c'est vraiment bizarre! C'est difficile, très difficile, mais on survivra!

C'est La Vie?

Slowly limping back to routine, but every now and then I lose track of what's happening, lose control over my emotions - flare up or break down. I must do both without being observed, which makes it so much harder.

Two weeks since Papa's been gone - today like Schnapps, I too, was waiting for the bell to ring. My professor said the pain never goes away, you just learn to deal with it. Damn it but why must it hurt so?

Spent the day buried in work - assessed papers, wrote out preliminary assessment reports, filled in deacth claims for insumrance policies, write out intimation letters, replied to condolence messages. Am drained. Tomorrow's a new week...why am I not looking forward to it?

For Papa...

Oft in the recent past have I ranted and raved about my apparent misfortune, questioned what life had in store for me, lamented on how difficult life can be and even wondered if there really is a higher power up there that enjoys pulling our strings and turning our lives into a roller-coaster with one flick of his/her wrist. Never have I meant it as much as I do now...for with that one flick of a wrist, within an instant, my life as I knew it ceased to be.

4th March 2006, we'd returned home after a leisurely dinner at my Chacha's place, when we received that fatal call that changed everything. My father, away on a holiday with my mother in Kumarakum, Kerala, had suffered a heart attack....minutes later a second call confirmed our worst fears. In the days that have since passed, I've struggled to make myself believe that he won't be ringing the bell and come sauntering in with his laptop delighted with his latest accomplishment at Phoenix Mecano India. For as long as I can remember, my father's name has been synonymous with his work, his dedication to it, his honesty, uprightness and truthfulness - whether it was at M.D.S (today a part of LeGrand), or when he was a management consultant or in the last decade at P.M.I. He worked for the pleasure of working, never for the money...to the point that he's put in many hours, days, months of effort into building up people's companies and ended up not getting any remuneration at all. But that's Papa...and he totally kicks ass!

Yes he does. I wanted to say this during the Shanti Path when the priest asked if anyone wanted to say anything about him, but I was too choked at that the time. I want to rail against whoever is sitting up there, pulling our strings, for this was the wrong string pulled. It's unfair. Papa had planned so much, he had so much more to achieve. People talk of him as someone they can never forget, a man of exemplary vision, an able man of few words who believed more in decisive action to solve the problem instead of talking about it. All his dreams, his visions were so close to realisation. He had so much more to do, so much more to teach me, teach his grandson, teach all of us.

That it happened on his first vacation in donkey's years, that it happened when my parents were so far away from any family/friend, far even from medical assistance makes me go blind with rage at the injustice of it all. I still can't believe it, even though I was with him till the last minute at the crematorium. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night disoriented, my mind filled with a jumble of images. Papa smiling, frowning in concentration as he typed away on his laptop, glaring angrily at me when I refused to back down from an argument which was threatening to explode in my face, stroking my head before I went to sleep while I continued to browse blogs/chat/email, tired at the end of a long day at work, cold in the coffin...

It all seems so unreal...I wonder how things continue as if nothing has changed, I want to go stop everything, but life continues. And so must I, for my mother and for my father if not for anything else. I can't disappoint them - I have to fulfill my dreams and fulfill Papa's dreams for me. He always egged me to do more; it was me who was lazy, content with what I already had...I have to make him proud enough to sit up there and nod his head as he says that his daughter kicks ass....and my father would say that. Yes he would, because he did too!

Below is my favourite photograph of my parents together - taken several years ago when we were still in Bombay. It's how I'll always remember Papa - smiling, happy, proud of his family and confident in his accomplishments.

You Know It's Summer When...

- You start seeing piles of dark-green water melons piled up by the side of the road, the vendor displaying one cut-up to reveal the juicy red fruit within.
- You want to take a refreshing cold shower after a dusty morning packing up stuff, but the water that bursts out of the tap is anything but cold!
- The tempers start soaring with the temperatures and your own temper is perpetually flaring beyond control :-(
- The coolers start getting cleaned up and serviced for the coming season and you start wishing you could put on the air-conditioner, knowing very well that those damn machines are one of the reasons why we are experiencing an increase of 2.5-5 degress celcius in summers!
- All your clothes with high-necks and full-sleeves get buried under other clothes in your cupboard and those delightfully light, summery cottons with barely any sleeves get pulled out to the top.
- You can smell the frustration in the air; there is a restlessness in your spirit that makes you want to run-away, but yet lethargy seeps into your bones and apathy greets you at every step you take...
- At every quartier, you're greeted with a stall of nimbu-pani and gola, or better yet, ganne ka ras.
- You're dying to wear the sleeveless top you picked up from Weekender, but two things stop you - the damn sun burns your arms if you do and the damn top is too damn transparent for PMT buses! Grrrr!
- You stop seaking the sun for it's glorious warmth and start seaking the shade, hiding from the burning heat of the sun!
- You reach for the bottle of chilled Coke or Apple Juice in your refrigerator, instead of brewing yourself a cup of refreshing lemon tea, even though you know your tonsils are painfully enlarged and need the former rather than the latter!
- The tiles on your bedroom floor feel wonderfully good against your bare-skin and you wonder why you must get into your pyjamas at all!
- You start drinking water by the gallons, which is a real shock to your mother 'coz she has to often remind you to drink your first glass of water at the end of the day!

Yes people, like it or not, the verdict came in this afternoon loud and clear...

We've just entered March and Summer's already here (or as we now know, in Pune atleast) - and here to stay for a good long time!

I Am...

Tired - annoyed, asleep, beat, beat up, bored, broken-down, collapsing, consumed, distressed, dog-tired, drained, drooping, droopy, drowsy, empty, enervated, exasperated, fagged, faint, fatigued, fed up, flagging, haggard, irked, irritated, jaded, petered out, pooped, run-down, sick of, sleepy, spent, stale, tuckered out, wasted, weary, whacked, worn out

Disgusted - T'd off, abhorred, appalled, displeased, fed up, grossed out, had bellyful, had enough, had it, nauseated, offended, outraged, overwrought, repelled, repulsed, sick of, squeamish, turned off, unhappy, weary

Depressed - bad, bleeding, blue, blue funk, bummed out, cast down, crestfallen, crummy, dejected, despondent, destroyed, disconsolate, dispirited, down, downcast, downhearted, dragged, fed up, glum, grim, hurting, in pain, let down, low, low down, low-spirited, lugubrious, melancholy, moody, morose, pessimistic, ripped, sad, spiritless, taken down, torn up, unhappy, weeper, woebegone

Disillusioned - blasé, broken, debunked, disabused, disenchanted, disenthralled, disentranced, embittered, enlightened, indifferent, let-down, punctured, shattered.

Disappointed - aghast, balked, beaten, blue funk, cast down, chapfallen, complaining, defeated, depressed, despondent, disconcerted, discontented, discouraged, disenchanted, disgruntled, dissatisfied, distressed, down, downhearted, frustrated, hopeless, thwarted, unhappy, unsatisfied, upset, vanquished, worsted

While the previous one, is from Snap Shirts, this one is courtesy Dictionary

Word Cloud

Shit I'm a Freak! Or Am I?

So what else is new? I was in Junior College when they first started airing FRIENDS in India..and while the rest of my sweet sixteen friends scrambled to fit themselves into the image of the swelte and sexy Rachel, I was very happy being Monica. We are alike, Monica and me (except for the childhood history of weight - my battle, unlike her, was against lack of weight. LOL!). My need for things to be in order, neat and tidy is quite famous amongst my friends - I sort, plan, categorise things and simply can't tolerate a messsy environment. When visiting people's homes that are messy, my hands constantly itch to put things in place...it's a mammoth task resisting the urge, even with the fear of offending my hosts! Last week I was cooking peacefully when my folks returned from the supermarket and within minutes my neat haven of spices and freshly chopped veggies had turned into an arena of bags, fruits, groceries et al....and with that transformation went my joy in cooking. Head started paining and I had to abandon my culinary practices till I had the kitchen all neat and tidy again...makes the future rather scary, the thought that I might have to share the cooking (and living) space with someone who's messy and quite devoid of basic sense of cleanliness & any aesthetic sense!

But above all, I truly abhorr the almost inhumane, disgusting habit people have of dumping used utensils and crockery in the wash-basin, without rinsing them properly (some people even leave the left-overs in there - yuck!)...and I refuse to accept it as an obssession for cleanliness. To me, it's displaying a complete lack of hygiene and decency...what appalls me to the limit of fury is when they excuse that abominable mess by saying the maid will come and clean it? Why the hell should she? Would you ask her to clean your crap? (No, don't answer that...) Don't tell me you pay her to wash the dishes...it's unfair to expect her to clean that kind of a mess...food congealed in the plates/bowls/pans stinking after having been left like that for hours, sometimes overnight. *Puke* If that isn't practising feudal rights in the modern age, I don't know what it is! To all those who behave in such a fashion, I never fail to pray that their house gets infested with roaches and other unpleasant insects as a natural result of their sloth.

Freak or not...rinse your utensils before dumping them in the wash-basin people!

Book-o-holic

Once a voracious reader I find myself reading rather sporadically now in little fits and bursts of enthusiasm for the written word when I devour any kind of book within reach. Well almost any kind...I'm a very fussy reader at times. Books worth mention, that I've read since the beginning of the year are few...

1. The Giver - Lois Lowry (Thanks Extempore for making me read this)
A delightfully touching children's story that can be best described as child's inititation to the concept best-popularised by Orwell's 1984.

2. Walk Two Moons - Aaron Creche (Once again, thank you Extempore. Had you not loaned these two books to me, I'd still be very ignorant about children's literature beyond the token Enid Blyton, the classics and a few other names.)
One of those heart-warming tales that leave your eyes moist and a smile lingering on your lips - it left me with a delicious heart-ache (is that a paradox?) and incredibly glad for having read it!

3. Monkfish Moon - Romesh Gunsekera
An incredibly beautiful and poetic collection of short-stories, this was pretty much my initiation to the world of Sri Lankan writers. I'm impressed to say the least - the collection, apart from brimming with rich descriptions of the country that brought it startlingly alive in front of my eyes, also displays a keen sensitivity towards emotions, cultures, politics and ofcourse the ever prevalent issue in our times, diaspora. If I can shake myself out of this misreable lethargy I've developed off late vis-a-via Literary Mosaic, I'll post a detailed review soon.

4. Punchtantra - Gautam Bhatia
I'm reading this one right now, so won't say much about it yet...just that it's one of the most enthrallingly witty renderings of the fables that I've come across. Enchanting sarcasm. Delicious humour. Great morals...I'm definitely going to post in detail about this once it's done.

Also on the shelf :-

• The Age of Innocence - Edith Wharton (Pardon me, but I'm very slow when it comes to classics)
• Lady Oracle - Margaret Atwood (I've been hooked ever since Maddy Mata gifted me The HandMaid's Tale...this will be my third Atwood)
• The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye - A.S.Byatt
• Corridors - Sarnath Banerjee (India's first graphic novel in the tradition of the Bande-Dessinée and graphic novels such as Marjane Satrapi's award winning Poulet aux Prunes - more on the subject when I've read it)
• Marciano - Casa Rossa
• Collected Works - Oscar Wilde (I won't pretend to have the grand ambition of licking this clean, but I do intend to read his poems and the major works.)
• 10 Plays - Euripedes (To continue my education on Greek tragedy and mythology)

To Love, Lust and Merchandising

Come February each year and we are bombarded by more than the usual lot of advertisements peddling clothes, gifts and jewellery - diamonds it seems is the flavour of the season. Take a look at the advert-supplement that comes with your newspaper and you have serious doubts about the apparent poverty of our country. A country whose citizens can afford to buy diamonds at the rate we do can't possibly be poor, can it? But I'm digressing...so yes it seems Valentine's Day is the time you splurge all you can to profess your love for the chosen one. I don't quite get the need to indulge in that frantic bout of merchandising, but to each his own.

In the past so many years the day never really incited any feelings in me - much like New Year's Eve, it came and went without truly affecting me, apart from the token sms to which I had to reply. But this year I wish there was someone, someone who told me I truly was special and that I meant the world to him. This year the loneliness and the heart-ache is tangible. This year I wish it had worked out the way I wanted it - I know that doesn't happen in the real world, but this year my yearning for a happy ending is more than ever before. This year I also know that it isn't to be, was never meant to be despite everything I did...and I wonder whether it will ever be...Sigh.

Anyways to all those of you out there who have found that one person who lights up your days, makes you a better person and reciprocates the feelings - Happy Valentine's Day :-)
P.S. Aristera reacted to the moral policing of the day a few days back - me thinks it's very well said...check it out. You can leave comments either here or there...make sure you let him know I sent you there so he cooks me dinner in return for the free publicity ;-)

Desi Firang

Visiting an archeaological site that is also one of the top tourist destinations for firangs with a French madame, wearing jeans and sleeveless tops and pattering away in a mix of English and French apprently earns one the title of a Desi Firang...or atleast I did. :-)

After another one of my quick trips to Bombay - this time to meet my dear friend from Bordeaux - I made another short trip to Aurangabad to explore the Ajanta-Ellora caves with her. It was supposed to be a backpackers trip but when my dear friend Aristera had to back out, I hit the panic button. I can never do something of the sort without planning well in advance and knowing how/where/when/why in detail. Daddy dearest who knows people in the city was brought onto the scene and voila - things were laid out for us so that the entire trip was smooth sailing. Hotel bookings, arrangement on transport - my main worries were taken care of, so all we had to do was play tourist, which was easy!

The caves, even though this was my second visit, left me awed and impressed. I was quite pleased with the roads in the city and on the way to both sets of caves and also with the way the A.S.I is working towards maintaining the Ajanta caves, having cordoned the area off from any vehicular traffic apart from the buses plying from the base to the main site and keeping the obnoxious guide books and postcard peddlars out of the main site. Having reached A'bad in the middle of the night, we were quite exhausted by the time we finished exploring the Ajanta caves - but satisfied with the experience.

The next day was devoted to Daulatabad fort (impressive and quite fun to explore - the squirrels scrambling on walls like lizards were just one of the reasons we stopped ever so often; the other was the view), Ellora caves and Bibi ka Maqbara. Kailash temple at Ellora stole my breath away - the fact that over 7000 labourers toiled over a period of 150 odd years to carve that work of art out of stone, is as good a testimony to man's perseverance as any! The sheer magnitude of work left me incredibly impressed...needless to say we walked around the site in a kind of awed silence. It's a pity the other tourists weren't affected similarly and had to roam around hooting like hooligans and giggling over the sculptures.

After seeing the temple, the remaining Buddhist and Jain caves at Ellora didn't move us much - add to that our calves which were beginning to protest at all the climbing and walking. If only the remaining caves were taken care of just like Ajanta and Kailash temple - the local population uses them like picnic spots, littering around and leaving behind their mark in the form of vulgar graffiti on the walls...

The same was the case at Bibi ka Maqbara, a replication of the Taj Mahal, but not half as appreciated by the government. It is in desperate need of cleaning up, not to mention some conservation work...why does it take a monument to be nearly ruined before we do something about it? And why, oh why must we stare at a white person like s/he is a freak from Mars and proceed to make rude comments if it happens to be a woman?

Despite my few misgivings, the trip on the whole was good - did I forget to mention the stop at a local weaving center where they make Paithani sarees and Himroo sareees and shawls? And that I couldn't resist picking up a gorgeous black silk stole with Himroo work? And that I wanted to also buy this incredibly gorgeous lavender saree but had to restrain? I would like to go back soon, more educated this time about the significance of the scultures and the frescoes...and buy that saree ;-)

Kisvilma—Az utolsó napló (The Last Dairy), Marta Meszaros, Hungary 2000

The last of the semi-autobiographical diary series by Marta Meszaros, the film revolves around Vilma's search for the truth. Vilma has returned to Kirgizstan to find out why her father was executed and perhaps finally come to terms with the tragic reality of her childhood. Many Europeans had been drawn to the idea of a socialist Eden in the USSR and Vilma's father was one of them - they moved to Kirgizstan and set up home in a small international community. Their idealic lives, however, were brought to an abrupt end under totalitarian oppression when thousands of people across the land were wrongly persecuted for treachery against the Soveit Union and Stalin.

Vilma's father is arrested and taken away, just as the other men in their community...one by one all her friends are orphaned as their parents are arrested. Her mother tries hard to bring him back but the fight drains her and she dies one night, leaving Vilma in the care of a Spanish friend...Vilma is then forcibly taken away to a Soviet school and given the revolutionary name of Nina Alexeyevna - she resists initially but her spirit is broken when her old friends from Kirgizstan refuse to acknowledge her as Vilma. Defeated she falls into place with the rules imposed on her...however the Spanish lady eventually succeeds in getting the children out and Vilma is allowed to return to her native home.

Unlike the others in the diary series, this focuses less on the political events and more on their repurcussions on the lives of the common man...take for example, the women's battle to survive when their men are imprisoned under false charges, or that of the orphaned children left in the care of those who want to wipe out their real identity. Spanning over the period of the World War, the film also brings into focus the predicament of those soldiers who survived on the front - but barely, having lose both sets of limbs. It's an extraordinarily sensitive film - not just in the treatment of the subject and the acting, but also in the use of the scenic backdrop, the Kirgizstanian culture, music and even colour. I was quite unabashedly crying towards the end of the film - this one film moved me enough to start reading up about Hungarian history and the entire Stalin period in the Soviet Union...education happening slowly and steadily. The film sure has an impact and I'd definitely urge others to seize the opportunity to watch the Diary series, in particular the last diary!

[ Ordinary Lives in Extraordinary Times - Marta Meszaros interviewed]

[Senses of Cinema - a well-compiled informative site on Cinema]

P.S I managed to catch Rang de Basanti last week - it's a good film, specially coming from an industry that churns out mindless crap like Garam Masala (don't ask - I was subjected to excruciating mental torture on more than one occassion returning from Bombay to Pune in the volvo). The movie, albeit a little over stylised, is well-made, sticks true to the historical events and manages to strike that chord inside you...added bonus - the soundtrack is mindblowing! I can't stop humming 'Roobaroo' even though Ma frowns everytime I start off with "Aye saala..." :-)

P.P.S Make sure you have the right sort of company when you watch movies such as the two mentioned above - the sort that doesn't chatter incessantly, giggles over scenes that do not provoke laughter and tries to find inane subtexts that do not exist.

Dinner for Six

So there's this tag going around and after a very long time one of these things piqued my curiosity and so here I am following instructions. What one has to do is basically invite six people for dinner (it's something like a hypothetical blogger's meet)...since there are several bloggers I've already met, my choice for the evening is going to only include those with whom I've not yet come face-to-face.

Invite :
You are cordially invited to dinner chez moi. Don't forget to bring along something to eat (it's potluck dinner people, I'm not in the mood to cook tonight), your biggest smile and last but definitely not the least important, your charming self :-)

Addressed to:-
1. Casablanca/Writing on the Wall - To unveil this mysterious blogger who's so open about her life, yet so zealously guards her identity. I would love to meet the person behind this persona...plus I'm sure you'd keep the conversation alive at the dinner table.
2. Wandering Dervish/Loud Thinking - He's a darling - I just know it and want to confirm it! Plus it would be great to meet this superintelligent guy with a poet's soul (and very warm generous one at that!)...can see the evening's conversation taking an erudite turn with him at the table...an extra request - could you bring along some music as well? :-)
3. Vaish/Apercevoir - She invited me to join her French blog (where I've not been very active) and then to her wedding (which I didn't attend) - apologies Vaish! I know you flew away but it would be great if you could hop into a plane and visit homeland for this cozy little dinner! J'aimerais bien te rencontrer!
4. Anil/Mottled Memories - He spins magic with his words and weaves a spell with his images...he also writes delightfully long emails and makes me feel dreadfully prosaic there as well! Like me, he's learnt French and landed up in Germany to study - I like people who do such things! I promise to visit Cologne if make it to Europe in the near future, but before that it would be great to meet you over wine, conversation and whatever else is on the dinner table :-) Tu viens?
5. Chamique/Momentary Muse - I've said it before - her's is one of the most honest blogs I've come across. No pretense there, no attempt to be anything but herself. Sensitive. Intelligent. Nice. It would be a great pleasure to meet the person behind those posts that make me smile and shed a sentimental tear with the same graceful ease!
6. Lotus - He doesn't blog much - not at all actually, but his persistent comments on my blog have piqued my curiosity. Besides I'm sure I can count on you to spice up the conversation by reading out your billet d'amour to his French professor - no chance of anyone getting bored with this flower gracing the table :-)

Alrighty then people...I'm sprucing up the place for you'll - bringing out the best lace table-cloth, the exquisite china plates and the silver ware. The wine's chilling and just waiting to be served...don't forget the food...and those smiles! :-)

Female Emancipation in P.M.T Keshavnagar

A year and half back when I moved from Bombay to Pune and went from using the sexy B.E.S.T buses to the run-down P.M.T buses I experienced what can only be termed as a culture shock. Accustomed to a travelling with people from all classes of the society in Bombay, I soon realised that 90% of the crowd in the P.M.T buses was from the lower class - which meant I now had to start thinking about what I was wearing when I stepped into a bus. I've hardly worn my shorter skirts since I've moved to Pune and every time I wear my wrap-arounds or the skirts with slits down one side, I get 'the looks' which I've learnt to ignore. That wasn't what really bothered me - what bothered me was the completely in-your-face blatant refusals by young able-bodied men to vacate their seats (reserved for women/handicapped/elderly) for an elderly man/woman. One instance I clearly remember is when I asked this guy to vacate the seat for this 'aaji' who must be around 70 - not only did the guy belligerently refuse to do so, when I started protesting vociferously, this aaji actually asked me not to bother unless I wanted to sit there! I was quite appalled and since I couldn't see myself sitting while she was standing, I let that guy continue to stay seated...and he stayed seated the entire way sending me a disgustingly sly smile of victory every few minutes. Over the year and a half that I've been here, I've witnessed many such scenes.

These days there's a new trend in the P.M.T buses, atleast those running from Keshavnagar. To start with, the newer buses have the entire left-hand side row of seats reserved for women. Around a month back, I got into a crowded bus and resigned myself to a long journey on my feet...only to suddenly find this woman nudging the guy sitting next to her, demanding he vacate the seat for me. When he tried to resist, all the women in that row all but pounced on him. Poor guy had no option but to vacate the seat for me....over the last few weeks the women have grown very fierce in their insistence on seeing the 'striyaansathi' rule applied. It's funny at times when the bus is nearly empty and there's this neat demarcation with all the women on the left and the men on the right - the conductor looks rather lost in no-man's land! Funnier yet - seeing them descend on the poor hapless man who's made the colossal mistake of occupying a seat on the left, specially when the women have also occupied quite a few seats on the right as well...the men are actually afraid of occupying those seats because they are sure a woman will soon descend on him screaming at him to get up!

It's almost as if they are venting the frustration of being forced into a submissive role at home, by bossing the men around in the bus! Sometimes I actually feel sorry for some of the men as they look on bewildered while the newly emancipated women commuters proceed to paint him a villain for sitting on the wrong side...most times though I'm busy chortling with unholy glee! :-)

P.S This was to be another movie review, but since some people are turning green with jealousy and others are feeling out of sort with my apparent spouting of cinematic intelligence, I decided to post about this first. Coming up - review of Little Vilma, the Last Diary.

La Pianiste (The Piano Teacher), Michael Haneke, France, 2000

The film is based on Nobel Laureate Elfried Jelinek's acclaimed novel The Piano Teacher. Isabelle Huppert plays the part of Erika, a respectable and rather stern piano teacher in her forties, who is staying with her rather possessive mother. The mother, with her refusal to let go off the umbilical cord, has smothered Erika to such an extent that she ends up with a repressed personality. Frustrated, she seeks voyeuristic relief in watching pornographic films and furtively watching couples in the act. As the film progresses she gets involved in a rather perverse relationship with one of her students, with a rather tragic end.

The film hits hard and it left me feeling very disturbed - repugnant, almost violently revolting at times I was left wondering why I subjected myself to the torture. It didn't help that I was watching the film in a rather uncomfortable position - the seats were all taken up when we entered so we took the 'best' seats...on the floor, two rows ahead of the first row from the screen. By the time the film ended my neck hurt, my butt hurt, my legs were beginning to go numb and my head was spinning with what I'd just seen. Most of the audience dismissed it as a terrible porn film - on the basis of the scenes that showed her going to watch porn and her interaction with the student. At that moment I didn't have much to argue against that judgement, so sickened was I by the film, but later as I thought more about it, I slowly began to see the film's merits - yes, it isn't an easy film to watch, even more difficult to digest - but I wouldn't dismiss it as trash.

There is no subtle way of representing a subject like this and like it or not, the subject is very relevant to our times and the societies we live in. Literature, infact art, is after all a reflection of our times and if our times are complex and spawn twisted personalities, can we really penalise the artists for representing it? Someone has to express the oppression, the physical and sexual violence, the twisted relationships...It's easy to dismiss art of this genre as trash and I, too, am guilty of having it done it with Alan Hollinghurst's A Line of Beauty. My first reaction to it was that the novel shouldn't be read at all, leave alone be acknowledged as serious literature and awarded a major literary prize. I am still not ready to give it a second shot, but then, I can be a rather difficult reader. There, ofcourse, isn't any direct comparison, since the subjects are very different. I have a feeling that The Piano Teacher has tried to delve into the psychological reasons for such a personality and its outcomes, not only on a personal level, but a social level also. I haven't read the novel so I can't be very sure, but having seen the film I think that is the case. There is a message in what Jelinek (and subsequently Haneke and Huppert) is saying - somewhere beneath those disgusting descriptions/scenes, she is trying to drive home a valid point.

This article in the Washington Post does good justice to the novel and the film, as far as the subject goes. Final verdict? Hard-hitting, depressing and disturbing. Acting par excellence. It's not easy to appreciate the film, but give it a shot...and approach it with an open mind.

PIFF 2006 Report

Well I said I'd be back in a week, didn't I? And I'm back - older, wiser and more mature! Well, not exacty, but definitely more educated and with my grey cells scrambling around frantically, processing all the information that was being fed to them in the past one week. PIFF 2005 was a new experience. My first foray into the realm of serious cinema, my introduction to world cinema. There were films that shook me, others that I didn't comprehend at all (W.D will vouch for it, having left his first comment on my blog after my rather juvenile interpretation of one of the movies I'd seen!), and some that I enjoyed alot.

PIFF 2006 was more of an education than last year. The focus, but obviously, was on catching as many French films as I could. I can't say I regret seeing any film - though some of them left me with a bad taste in my mouth, it wasn't because it was bad cinema. Far from it...with a selection that comprised of very few light films, I've come out of this year's experience having learnt so much more and with a new list of topics for reading. I saw quite a few films all by myself this time - and without feeling wierd about walking into a movie hall alone. Ironically my friend who introduced me to PIFF and without whom I'd have never registered for it last year, didn't catch half as many films as I did (and I'm being generous here - I don't even know why he registered in the first place) - missed having him next to me to discuss a film as we waited for the next one to start...and that by no way means that I didn't enjoy the company that I had as replacement for Titu Dada. :-) My only complaint is that they don't organise the schedule in advance, allowing the delegates to plan which movies they want to watch according to the multiplex it's being screened at, not to mention their work schedules and that they randomly change film screenings at the last minute...

There was a focus, this year, on Isabelle Huppert, one of the finest actors of the French cinema, who believes that the art of acting is living out one's insanity. The films selected under the retropsective genre were mostly adaptations of classics - disturbing and even repugnant at times, but excellent cinema nevertheless. I didn't catch all the films, but from the few that I did see, I think I'm beginning to understand why she has won so many accolades for her work - either she's truly brilliant or truly insane that she lived those roles as she did!

• La Pianiste (The Piano Teacher) - adapted from the acclaimed novel by Nobel Laureatte, Elfried Jelinke, Michael Haneke, France, 2000.
• La Dentellerie, (The Lace-maker) - adapted from a novel by Pascal Laine, Claude Goretta, France, 1977
• La Cérémonie (A Judgement in Stone) - adapted from a novel by Ruth Rendell, Claude Chabrol, France, 1994.

...and here's the rest of the list :-

• Le Coeur des Hommes (The Frenchmen) - Marc Esposito, France, 2003 (repeat from last year - it's such a fun film I couldn't resist)
• Un Homme, Un Vrai (A Real Man) - Jean-Marie Larrieu, Arnaud Larrieu, France,2003 (repeat again, for the same reasons)
• Les Égares (Strayed) - André Téchiné, France, 2003 (a war film that focused more on relationships than the war itself, it's a beautiful and very sensitive film!)
• Violence des Échanges en Milieu Temperé (Work Hard, Play Hard) - Jean-Marc Moutout, France, 2004
• Un Amor Silencioso (Silent Love) - Federico Hidalgo, Canada, 2004 (interesting comment on the difficulties in finding love, the right partner and marriages arranged through match-making agencies between citizens of the 'first-world countries' and those of the 'third-world countries')
• Child Star - Don McKellar, Canada, 2004 (the only English film I saw - cute and fun!)
• Naplo Szerelneimnek (Diary for my Love) - Meszaros Marta, Hungary, 1990 (heavy, grey, depressing - set in the politically charged atmosphere of Stalin's USSR, it's part of the Dairy series.)
• Little Vilma, the Last Diary - Meszaros Marta, Hungary, 1999 (heart-breakingly poignant and beautiful film, it made me cry - the last of the dairy series, it's set in war-time USSR)
• Arizona Sur (Arizona Sun) - Miguel Angel Rocca, Daniel Pensa, Argentina, 2005 (fabulously fun!)
• Cabra-Cega (Playing in the Dark) - Toni Venturi, Brazil, 2004 (hard-hitting and very disturbing...equally enlightening for me)
• Bulutlari Beklerken (Waiting for the Clouds) - Yesim Ustaoglu, Turkey-France-Germany-Greece, 2004 (incredibly beautiful film set in Turkey & Greece)
• Bad Be Dastan (Empty Hands) - Abdolreza Kahani, Iran, 2004 (hilarious, despite the bleak backdrop of rural Iran)

PIFF 2006

Pune International Film Festival is here again :-) (Check out last year's experience)

Here's to a week of pure, undiluted cinematic pleasure and taking up temporary residence at Esquare...please to be excusing me from my blogging duties for a week! I promise to be back in a week's time with a lovely report on this year's experience!

Currently listening to 12 poètes Francophones (chanté par Bernard Ascal) - lovely poetry some of it...am posting some on FranceSay for the Francophiles.

Je Suis Fatiguée

When I took up class with kids, I knew I was in for a challenging ride, especially since I've never really had the kids eating out of my hands. Expected them to be mischievous, talkative, over-smart and yes even brattish - and was prepared to deal with all of that. Insolence, I had neither expected nor can I stomach. The red-alert danger signs had flashed in my head last week, with my first adolescent's class, but I chose not to over-react, figuring the kid needed time to settle in - but today I came so so close to throwing something at him. Never before did corporal punishment seem so appealing! Still fighting the urge to go to higher authorities with the matter but don't see how else to settle the issue, since the brat obviously isn't interested...

That was stressful enough, but when I had to spend nearly two hours commuting home after that (no, I haven't moved back to Bombay, this is Pune I'm talking about!) I was so god-damned tired. Oh please let me get the regular courses soon...and please let us move out of the back-of-the-beyond soon!

Je suis fatiguée. Je veux dormir. C'est tout.

PS Don't anyone dare welcome me into the real world - I shall growl. That's a promise!

New Beginnings?

*Cough splutter* I can't believe I'm actually using that corny title..what the hell I simply couldn't resist. New Year's Eve was abysmally dismal (I like the sound of that) - was angry, upset, frustrated, cranky - went to bed before midnight and got up almost equally grouchy. That frame of mind stayed till afternoon. Luckily it started clearing up after a couple of phone calls from some adorable people.

A week into 2006 and I feel like so much has already happened. So many rendezvous with friends - so many lovely new memories. Tossing for a favourite moment in the past one week - the choices would be:

• Peeking through the fingers at a perfectly horrifying scene from Doom, while my rather huge male friend chortled at my distress.
• Surprising another male friend with a double-entendre. Not my first, but definitely the first around him...it was quite a pleasure to make him stall in his tracks. :-)
• That amazing day - just all of it, from the open conversations to the fabulous meal, to the long randonnée around one of my favourite places in the world, to that journey back home.
• My friend hugging me in the middle of a busy street, insisting we have "our own fun" - encircled by those loving arms, I actually didn't feel my usual pang of distress in saying good-bye to someone I adore beyond reason and get to meet so damned less!
• Crazy meandering conversations with a lovely new friend (I wish I could be as poetic about her as Saurabh - hope it's enough to say that I'm glad I stumbled upon her. Ironic how many 'champs' we seem to have known!)
• Even crazier and more meandering conversations with bum-chum pals - nothing like old pals is there? Where else would I find that absolute understanding & acceptance. Who else would live through my ranting, raving, cribbing, bitching & wounding and yet give me a hug the next time I met them?
• Being pampered silly by friends when my stomach decided to play truant and refused to let anything I ate/drink stay inside my body. Nothing heals the wounded soul more than the knowledge that there are people out there who care...better yet, that they are people you adore...and do I adore them! :-)
• Patching up with yet another friend - we still have issues to sort out, but I think I can stop fretting about losing a friend. Merci bon dieu!

A week back I was at my misreable best - am I happy that's passed. My soul ain't healed completely, I haven't found what I'm looking for - but there's definitely a skip in my steps since the past two days. Oh yes, this year has taken off alright...and on that note :

Happy New Year! Bonne Année! Gutes Neues Jahr! Feliz Año Nuevo! Nuovo Anno Felice!Naye Saal Ki Shubhkaamnayein! :-)

Therapeutic Week

Not very long ago I swore off retail therapy of any kind, so that means no shopping for clothes, books and music, even though the last two evolve into another source of therapy - I'm sticking to that, irrespective of the fact that I bought a new patch-work leather bag to replace my rather well-worn and over-used Kashmiri leather sling pouch that I carried around everywhere from class (as a student and now as a teacher), to casual rendezvous to more formal occassions. That was more necessity than therapy so, I'm not taking into account its therapeutic values even though I'm uber pleased with my purchase!

So this week I'm indulging in different forms of therapy - Number One being Sleep. It's not like I've been sleep-deprived (I have been getting an average of 6 hours per night, which isn't the preferred 8 hours but it's sufficient to keep me from turning into a zombie after a few days). Sleep is important - I've never been able to stay up late studying/working. Back in school and college days my mind would shut down at 8 p.m and I couldn't study any more after that. That did change during M.A when I was juggling it with French and was basically out of the house from 9 a.m to 9 p.m. My brief encounter with insomnia came at a time when my inner reserves where at an all-time low - those who knew me back then, generally describe me as walking around in a dream-like state with this touch-me-not aura to myself! Anyways getting back to the topic, insomnia is one thing I don't have to worry about in Pune, for I usually fall asleep within a few minutes of shutting my eyes. Pune, if for nothing else, is definitely good for curing insomnia ;-) The last couple of days I've pretty much competed as much as I can with Sleeping Beauty. Early to bed and late to rise, long afternoon siestas. Restful, dreamless sleep. Rejuvenating.

Books have always provided the much-needed refuge and have been my closest companions ever since I was 2 years old and I learnt the ABC sitting on Papa's shoulders as he read the morning paper or peered over Bhaiyya's shoulder as he read an Archies comic. Despite being a student of English Literature I was never conscious of my choices, reading whatever came my way and pleased my mind and my senses. I'm even guilty of enjoying the much reviled Mills and Boons. I guess I won't be able to display any literary snobbery for some time, having admitted to this sin - but hey I aint reading those for their literary value. I completely aknowledge thier complete lack of literary value, but I also give them credit for providing me many an hour of mindless amusement when all I wanted as a book in my hand and not really have to use my brain. Same applies to the few other works I've read in the popular genre. The last few years has seen me conscious of what I'm reading as I grew increasingly appalled at how little I've read and how ignorant I am... I've been merrily reading several ridiculous romances simultaneously with a collection of Eugene Ionesco's plays and I have to admit I'm enjoying both of them equally!

Music. I say it's my porn - and many people have come up with incredibly interesting interpretations to that statement. ;-)The last few days it's been a true companion as I've dug into my Collection of CDs and pulled out ignored albums for a heart-warming session, or simply tuned into World Space and grooved to the latest hits. Gwen Stephanie, Peter White, Kayne West, Chet Atkins, Paul McCartney, Fool's Garden, Creed, Prem Joshua, TLC, Beyonce, Ottmar Liebert, Sean Paul, Bon Jovi, Vanessa Mae, Tears for Fears, GNR.... it's an instant lightening of spirits as I begin to hum under my breath, swing my hips and tap my feet to the beats.
{Playing right now - Maria Joao featuring Cal Viva and Ermenio De Melo)

Art. Well not exactly the hi-brow kind; just the stain-glass painting I indulge in once in a while. There's something immensely pleasurable about spreading newspaper and my painting gear all over the dining-table, tracing designs onto the glass and then swiftly filling in the outlines with that translucent paint. I had borrowed an Old Monk bottle from Titu Dada (he was using it as a make-shift vase for some rather ugly plastic flowers), saying I'll paint it and if it turns out good I'll gift it back to him. Magnanimous soul ain't I? Anyway for the longest time it just lay rather desolately below my writing-desk. This morning I finally picked it up and sat down to transform it into a glowing vision in warm orange and yellow. Perfect for the season. It's come out awfully nice, even if I say so myself. What say people? If you like what you see, and have a nice bottle lying around under the kitchen sink/bed or behind the curtains or even hidden below piles of lingerie in your cupboard, send it over. I'll be all to happy to transform the ugly duckling into a beautiful swan ;-)

I've oft been compared to Monica Geller of F.R.I.E.N.D.S - reason being my fetish for organisation and cleanliness. So, for the past two days re-arranged all the stuff in my room...shifted the computer out of the room, moved furniture around, dusted the shelves, re-did my cupboards, not to mention my book shelves! Dusty work - am sneezing like a mad hatter today - but also satisfying.

Gardening. My mother finds it very relaxing, so I thought I'd lend a hand. But after getting my finger-nails all dirty and my hands scratched by the thorns in the flowering plants, I decided this is one form of therapy I can do without ;-)

SO - all said and done, I guess there are other forms of therapy that work much better than retail therapy - and they work just as well, if not better! :-)

Soliloquy of a Maudlin Mademoiselle

Yes that's what I am feeling like these days...usually the gloomy days don't last this long, but this time they simply refuse to fade away into the hazy bank of forgetable memories. All the old feelings of self-reproach, doubt, confusion are back - and boy are they back with a vengeance. Problem with this mood is that I'm not exactly the happiest person around (now isn't that obvious my dear Geets?) and so I can't deal with happiness. I'd love to take that short-cut to temporary happiness by adopting the escapist method, but I figure it's about time I dealt with my demons and slayed them once and for all. (Don't you just see me leaping around in the air slashing my hands around à la Buffy?)

Sarcasm apart, I'm not happy. Yes I seem to be searching for answers, but none of them deal with any of the great philosophical truths of human existence. What I'm questioning is what I've wanted for so long, my choices, for I can't afford to take the wrong decision at this point in my life. It does make me a difficult person to deal with - my friends can vouch for that. I'm uncompromising, I'm nasty and yes, I'm even prone to strike out where it hurts the most without realising what I'm doing. It's why I'm keeping my distance - I just hope that they understand, for only one of them actually reads this blog and knows how to read between the lines...and I thought it would be easier this time, since I've been through this before. Yeah right baby, you've sure have high expectations from everyone, including yourself!

The last few weeks have been rougher than most - what with my plans to visit Bombay being thwarted thrice and me having to swallow my annoyance each time. End result is that I'm in a murderous rage and I want blood (that, incase you don't realise is a hyperbole. I'd actually be satisfied with a chance to vent several years of disappointment, anger and frustration verbally...maybe a slap or two would ease that anger faster, but I am a lady after all)! The arrival of my 18 year old nephew who is actually a nice, sweet, fun guy turned my routine upside down and left me even more irritable. The complete lack of time to myself, the forced entertainment sessions didn't exactly help.

Now that Christmas vacations are here and I have aboslutely no obligations (social or professional) I'm working towards resolving some of the issues turning my mind into a frothing cauldron of emotions and I do so hope that I can begin the new year with a calmer, more peaceful and content frame of mind. Highly doubt it, but well for now hope is all I have...that and the promise of visiting Bombay and spending quality time with my friends sometime in January...

Merry Christmas!

It's that time of the year again when people bring forth their best festive cheer and warmth, leave their worries behind and party like there's no tomorrow - for the coming tomorrow! Wierdly enough, Christmas and New Year's Eve has never held that much importance for me - sure the festivities usually manage to sweep me along and I usually allow myself to be swept up by the enthusiasm of my friends. But this year, I simply can't get myself to dredge up the least bit of enthusiasm for any of it - the farce of it all seems too tiresome to bother with.... I had planned to visit Bombay in between the Christmas and New Year's eve and meet my friends (old and new) - it's been two months since I visited and I've been missing my friends, not to mention the city. But it was not to be... :-( so no plans. None what so ever...

Can't believe how estranged I've been feeling. And how let down by the people who meant the most to me...

On a different note - Merry Christmas! May the festive season bring around loads of warmth, glee and cheer to your hearth!

P.S Make sure you set aside some cookies and milk for Santa when you hang up those stockings! ;-)

Words from the Economically Dependant

Sometime back, Aristera and I decided that Chamique's blog is one of the more sensitive, honest and intelligent blogs around. No pretensions on this blog - just some great writing on issues that touch the writer. A recent post had me nodding my head vigorously in agreement - oft have I wondered over the same issue myself and been accused of ignoring the good the recnt change in our society and work culture has done to our economy. I can't say it better than she has, so I'll leave it at that. However her post does brings forth this outpouring of sorts from me -

In the past one and a half years, ever since I completed my Masters and moved to Pune, several people have questioned me about my future plans and made many suggestions regarding lucrative jobs. Some have even tried (rather unsuccessfully I may add - I am stubborn bitch after all!) to coerce me into taking up a more ambitious and paying path - to the point of badgering me endlessly about my apparent lack of amibition and how wierd it, since my father continues to work at the age of 65 and whose ambitions know no end. Most of them don't know that my father has never and still doesn't work so much for the renumeration as for the satisfaction of seeing the job completed to a perfection and knowing it was under him that it was accomplished. But that's a different story - we'll talk about that some other time.

Most people wonder why I want to 'settle' for a teaching job, in an era of BPOs where technical writers and language support (translators) earn so well. Why would I want a thankless, frustrating job that doesn't even make me millionaire at retiring age, forget at 30! Don't I atleast want to pursue a Ph.D and make my mark in the academic world? Write a book, churn millions in book deals? It's with great difficulty that I've explained to people that there are some people in the world who simply aren't cut out for the rat race, and can't run after the green paper like it's their very oxygen. I'm not saying that one can exist without money...I know I can't. I am accustomed to a certain standard and know life is very difficult without money (or even less money). Hell I say that retail therapy rocks - but there are other forms of therapy as well.

Why teaching? Because I never want to stop learning and I also want to share the knowledge I have. I do believe I have a certain aptitude for doing this. Why at Alliance Française? Because it gives you the space and freedom to use your imagination and creativity in planning lessons. Because it doesn't follow the rather restrictive, exam-oriented, rote-memorisation method of teaching, normally followed by schools and colleges. Because I have always been interested in European culture, specially French, having spent over 2 years studying the language...and because I hope it will give me the opportunity to go back soon. Not forever though, just a trip. :-)

Then there are those who think my job at Alliance Française guarantees this rather glamarous job with an excellent pay right at the start! (Who cares that I have no experience, am basically a stagiére/intern and am taking only one freaking class a week?) Let's not forget the French hunks (point them out to me please...could do with some eye-soothing exericises right now!) and the super glam and rocking parties where wine flows like water! (Umm, in Pune water flows rather sporadically from taps and the water that flows in the river, well I'd rather not acknowledge it at all!)

The job pays very less, but I didn't expect much more at this stage - and no the parties aren't all that glamorous. Fun yes, and rocking, but no glamour. And guess what? I'm not unhappy about it. I didn't want glamour - I wouldn't be in this profession if I wanted glamour. As for the pay - it will improve. Most of my colleagues are still studying - if I hadn't believed in taking one step at a time, I'd have been past this stage and taking the regular courses by now - and earning more. But then, there is such a thing as waiting to get your dues.

Sure sometimes I feel terrible about still being dependant on my folks when most of my friends are completely independant and thinking of investing in cars/property and making trips across the oceans. It's one of the reasons why I'm holding myself back from indulging in retail therapy and from travelling when I so want to do both. I've promised myself I'll splurge the day I get my first decently big salary - till then I'm reining in those expensive desires.

So current status - moving from merely observing and assisting to taking class by myself from January 2006. Two weeks back we had to prepare this board-game for the kids to learn the modes of transport. My associate asked me to simply photocopy the images and get them enlarged and then colour, cut and paste them. I got so enthusiastic about the affair I sat up half the night, drawing and painting the images! Sometimes I can't believe that ME - the one who always ran away from kids is doing all this! Yes I am having fun!

Still one class a week, so I'm going to set myself to follow some dreams left dangling for way too long. Content with the job scene as it is developing - more than willing to give it time to spout wings and take off :-) And yes, not the least bit rich...

Co-incidences?

- A phone call and a few clues later, my mind raced as I tried to put the clues together. "No way - it couldn't be! The world can't be THAT small" - just to be sure, I send an email the same night asking - I was right! So that's another blogger I've come across with whom I have some common links - hell I've actually met her, so what if she doesn't remember meeting me! Back then (and it was a long time ago) I didn't make much of an impression on people, generally fading into the woodwork. I think that has changed a wee bit not! I hope...

- Pacing up and down a street waiting for Daddy dearest to arrive and ferry me home, a girl passes me. I normally wait elsewhere for Papa and rarely ever look at the people around me, so involved am I in my thoughts and berating myself for being early and him for being later. A second later, something clicks in my head and I backtrack to catch a glimpse of her face. "No it can't be" I tell myself and go back to pace. A minute later, I'm back staring at her back as she waits (apparently) by herself in a restaurant.. "Could it be???" Two minutes later I was crossing the street. A simple SMS had confirmed my suspicions. It was who I thought it was. I was right - when am I ever not right? ;-) LOL...so I went and surprised an old-classmate from University. She was in town for a project for her course in International Labour Relations. Never one of my closest friends at University (but then I had very few of those) but definitely someone whose company I enjoy and someone I can count on for a lively conversation.

Co-incidences or not - I like. Forced me out of my self-induced shell and gave me a reason to smile again. The world just continues to shrink, even as it seems to get more and more out of reach. Maybe there's reason to keep hoping...
(GAWD I'm turning into melodrama-queen aren't I?)

Currently -
Listening to Stickwitu by the Pussycat Dolls (I had my objections to their group name and to their first song, but hey it's fun and great to dance music! )
Reading Nothing! :-( Just being very lazy and sleepy - and nursing myself back to health after this misreable cold. The only thing I miss about it when it's not dogging me, is that husky voice that comes along with it. ;-)

*Recently heard somewhere - Hope makes good breakfast, but terrible supper.

Time For Another Catharsis

It's an awful day today. There's a wierd chill in the air and it makes me feel terribly cold inside. Been roaming around in rather dark colours as well; never the right thing to do in such weather. Just makes me feel all the more misreable. The sweaters don't ward off the chill, neither do the innumerable cups of steaming lemon tea I've had today. Trying some good old adrak chai - let's see if that makes a difference.

Been in a rather diffident, almost belligerent mood for the past few days. It's actually been growing steadily - this strange feeling inside me. Questioning why everytime I set my heart on something (or someone) it is taken away from me. It's happening with a rather alarming frequency this last month and I've become incredibly superstitious about talking about what I want and what I dream of achieving.

Time and again Martin Luther's words echo in my head :
Nothing in all the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance & conscientious stupidity.
And...
In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.

I'm perpetually berating myself for not knowing more - talking to friends, fellow-bloggers I'm uncomfortably aware of my appalling ignorance. Ok I'm not the popular blonde in class, not the complete dim-wit around and definitely have more in the upper storey than most unfortunate individuals, but damn it's just not enough! Not by any stretch of imagination!

If it's not that, then I'm wondering why it seems like I don't know my friends anymore and vice-versa. Why do I get this wierd nagging feeling that I'm talking to a stranger every time I pick up the phone to talk to the people on whom I depend the most? Why are my friends not seeing through that composed façade I present to them? Makes me hesitant to pick up threads of newer relationships - makes me question why I want to meet these people and why they want to meet me. Makes my rude and hostile.

No you won't see this on my face if you meet me - that's a big IF there; I'm getting habituated to my solitude these days. No I won't admit this if you ask me if I'm fine. Yes I bloody well am. I just need some time to get thing knocked back into shape inside my head (and heart). And I just want my friends lingering around at close distance, ready to offer that shoulder when I need it. Selfish and demanding? Well yes, I think I deserve it. I also think I'm coming down again with one of those awful Pune colds. Blech.

French songs I cannot possibly allow. People always seem to think that they are improper, and either look shocked, which is vulgar, or laugh, which is worse. But German sounds a thoroughly respectable language, and indeed, I believe is so."

- Lady Bracknell, Act 1, The Importance of Being Earnest.

No, I haven't turned traitor and given up my love for French, I've just been reading Oscar Wilde. :-)

- Planning a post on Virginia Woolf and Mary Wollstonecraft for my Literary Mosaic. Hold your breath darlings! :-)

- Tickled pink at Abhishek B's hip-hop rap act in Bluffmaster. That man is the yummiest eye-candy we've got in Bollywood. He just gets yummier. :-)

Link Me

Sometime back a very dear friend from Deutschland sent me this blog-link to check out and maybe follow up - Tales to astonish - 100 things about the Retropolitan. It snagged my attention. I recently started compiling the list - it's quite an exercise in getting to know myself! :-)

Today she sent another really interesting link to the 50 Book Challenge...I wonder if I should take this up? Perhaps it will add the much needed accelerator to my book-devouring pace.

Another Blogwhore succumbed to the temptation and started her own blog. Kitana - you've read her comments. Now read what she has to say about love, life et al! Bienvenue to Blogger mon amie!

Soul Food

Well ideally speaking, it's loads of pasta (which I did have today) in creamy sauce, salads, cheese cake and chocolates, all washed down with some excellent wine. ;-) But for now it's music and books that are acting as awesome substitutes.

Swinging my hips, shaking my leg and grooving to the beats of -
Hung up (Madonna), Spun (Flipsyde), Someday (Flipsyde), My Humps (Black-Eyed Peas), We Be Burning (Sean Paul), La Torutura (Shakira), I Don't Care (Ricky Martin) and more...all thanks to World Space Radio :-)

I still haven't figured out on what channel and what time the classics are aired. There is Orbit Rock, but then they only air Classic Rock. Ah well, till I figure out, Vh1 fulfills my appetite for Retro music. Today's quota included Dressed for Success (Roxette), Addicted to Love (Robert Palmer), Crazy for You (Madonna), Father Figure (George Michael)....

Devouring my book on mythology. The more I read, the more I realise how less I know and how much I still have to learn. Why didn't I realise this earlier? Like maybe when I was in college, or even better way back in school? For now, I must placate myself with the adage Der Sahi, Andher Nahin.

Did you know how the Egyptian custom of embalming the dead came into being? It started off with Osiris - Pantheon has a small write-up. Not very satisfactory but it does shed some light on the origins of the custom. Wikipedia has a little more to offer...but then it is Wikipedia after all!

From Mary Shelley's Workshop of Filthy Creation...

The weekend was quite dreary - apart from class on Saturday (which I realise will be quite an exciting challenge once my predecessor leaves) nothing else brightened the days. To add to the general sense of gloom, I spent Saturday evening glued to the television watching Kevin Connor's adaptation of Frankenstein on Hallmark.

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein was one of the few novels I truly enjoyed studying for M.A - I normally don't enjoy the classics. Appreciate them yes, but enjoy them, hang on to every word till the last page? Rarely. It was the postmodern, postcolonial and feminist texts that really got me going. Frankenstein, though popular under the genres of science-fiction and female gothic, has many sub-texts and deals with mythological, religious, psychological and postcolonial themes as well. Voila - can it get any more exciting? I spent many an hour in the University Library poring over Ellen Moers' The Female Gothic, Gilbert & Gubar's The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination and hunting down reference books dealing with the novel.

I'd earlier seen Kenneth Branagh's adaptation starring Robert DeNeiro - admittedly it was a far more dramatic and faster-paced adaptation, but the one I saw on Saturday captured perfectly the sense of fear, dread and horror that the novel inspired in me. Gloomy or not, I'm glad I caught the movie :-)

On a different note, I had to pen a script for the kids to enact at the Christmas party hosted by Alliance Française de Poona each year - it's been a long time since I indulged in any creative writing ;-) LOL!

For those of you who can understand even basic French I've put it up on France Say. Take a look!

In Quest of the Holy Grail

Like always when I'm in need for serious self-esteem boosting, I turn to books and I study - yes yes I know sounds bizarre. Some people turn to friends, others primp and go out and party - I burrow myself into books, read up on a subject that's always been of interest but never knew enough about it and get those grey cells racing. Books gracing my bed-side table as of now:
1. Mythology – Myths, Legends, & Fantasies, Ed. Parker Janet, Stanton Julie© Global Book Publishing Pty Ltd, 2003
2. France - Paysages. Visages. Lumieres, © Michelin, 1998
3. Picasso - Metamorphosis 1900-1972, © India Book House Pvt. Ltd, 2002

I finished with Greek & Roman mythology sometime last year and had shelved my book on Mythology in pursuit of fiction. I picked it up again this week and began with Arthurian legends, moving on to Egyptian mythology...

While reading the Arthurian legends, I but naturally came across the legend of the Holy Grail and I thought to myself, "Aha a topic of great interest to even one who couldn't care less about Arthurian legends et al, after the run-away success of Da Vinci Code..."

So here I am, with an tiny bit on the Grail - and yes for those of you who didn't know, the quest did exist before Da Vinci Code (ducks for cover as readers shoot missiles) ;-)

The Grail

The Grail is a complex object and its origins go far back. According to ancient tradition, the Dagda, Irish father go, possessed a cauldron of inexhuastible bounty accessible only to the brave. Several Irish stories feature goblet-bearing maidens, like the Grail Maiden, who dispense sovereignty to worthy candidates with a drink. In one Irish tale, the sea god, Manannan, gives King Cormac a magical chalice that is ahsttered by falsehood and reunited by truth. The story's symbolism suggests that the chalice represents the vessel of self. The conception of the Grail as container of self is reinforced by the Welsh version of Perceval, "Peredur." In this version, Peredur sees the Grail not as a cup, but as a human head. Some traditions speak of the ancient Celts using skullsas drinking vessels, and in later symbolism the vas, the crucible used by the alchemist is sometimes identified as a skull. Thus, the Grail quest, is one symbolic level, a transformation process carried ouit within the mind.

There is some evidence that the Grail is also concerned with pagan feritlity rites - the idea of sickly land finding restoration only through the Grail, as well as the Celtic idea of a cauldron of plenty. Later the Grail came to be associated with Christain ideas of the Holy Spirit: the Grail as a metaphor for the body containing the Holy Spirit.

Source: Mythology – Myths, Legends, & Fantasies, Ed. Parker Janet, Stanton Julie © Global Book Publishing Pty Ltd, 2003

Read more at "Grail." Encyclopedia Mythica from Encyclopedia Mythica Online. [Accessed November 24, 2005].

Moving On...

Folks signed the papers confirming the sale of our Bombay flat last week - and with those signatures another chapter in my life came to an end. The longest and most cheished chapter, since that flat is the only home I've ever known. It seems wierd to some of my friends that I attach so much importance to a flat I've moved out of over a year ago, but that is the place I've grown up to become who I am today. Almost all my cherished memories have it as the backdrop - and now I feel homeless. Sure we are looking out for a place in Pune and it's going to be a bigger place where I'll continue to have my own bedroom like I do here (something I"ve gotten accustomed to, and now consider a necessity)...but I'd do anything to turn back the clock and go back to that 2BHK flat with a terrace bigger than the flat... too late for that now.

Guess it's truly time to move on, eh?

Damn Damn Damn

Battling my old demons for the last few days - promised myself I'll survive this battle by myself. No reaching out for that shoulder to cry on, but today I'm exhuasted. If I won't talk about it to my friends, I won't deny myself this catharsis as well. Damn it! I can take only one thing at a time - them demons or PMS. Combined they defeat me completely - mind, body and spirit.

Damn damn damn!

Spammers Go Die!

Yes yes I know I keep saying Music is my Porn. That does not, I repeat DOES NOT mean I am into pornography. Some people enjoy it. Good for them. I don't. It does nothing for me. I do not want to be spammed with links for porn sites, nor do I want to know what I can do to get my man instant erection just like instant dosa. And no, I do not need to know how to enhance/enlarge my penis! Sure hotmail now has a bigger (enlargened if you like) inbox. And yes I do check my email everyday - sometimes several times in a day. That doesn't mean I have nothing better to do than to open my inbox just to delete spam mail! Stop spamming me for chrissake! Grrrrr!

Bonne Chance et Felicitations!

Friend is getting married this week - I wish I could have gone. But I couldn't 'coz I start with a part-time job this week. My first step towards my goal. Don't ask me what the goal is, but you can ask about the job. I am going to be taking one of the batches of the children's course at Alliance Francaise de Poona. Nervous? A little - I'm not exactly an expert with kids. Excited? Yes very - suddenly I have lots of ideas about how to keep them involved and interested. Still don't know how I'll keep them disciplined but I guess I'll learn. The pay? Peanuts...but last I checked I wasn't one of those hunting for a job that turns me into a millionaire overnight. It's a start. I'll get there someday.

Wish me luck, people, for this new beginning.

Meanwhile my friend is going through the difficult phase of losing his bachelorhood. Ironically that isn't as much of an issue with him, as is the entire process of getting married in India with all our ceremonies and 'adambar' as he calls it...saying goodbye, bon voyage and all the best to him I felt a slight twinge of anxiety. Marriage may just take him away from me - he's one of my best friends. Probably the craziest, most stubborn and infuriating of the lot. Definitely the one I fight with the most. But also one of the closest. I hope I get along well with his wife...coz if I don't, I might just lose a friend.

I know he probably won't read this, with his scorn for my kind of blogging, but I wish you the very best mon cher ami. Always. I know the path ahead is probably strewn with thorns, but I also know you'll find your way through it to discover that treasure at the end...
Bonne Chance et Felicitations Titu Dada!

There Is Something Incredibly Satisfying About...

Spending an evening in the kitchen dishing out some of your favorite dishes. Pasta Salad tossed with tomatoes, onions, olives & mushrooms in Thousand Island dressing, Au gratin, Macaroni Hotpot...

Catching the Classics hour on VH1 and watching your favourite songs from childhood back-to-back. November Rain (Guns n Roses), Every Heartbeat (Amy Grant), In These Arms (Bon Jovi), Right Kinda Love (Jeremy Jordan), Never Forget (Take That), Rain (Madonna)....

Baking a cake - right from scratch. None of those ready mixes please! The smell of the cake filling the kitchen has got to be the most satisfying aroma ever...almost aphrodisiac if you ask me! ;-)

Washing up after baking - Ok don't look at me like I'm insane. I abhorr washing dishes normally, but when I'm baking, there's something incredibly satisfying about washing up the mixing bowl, the mixer handles etc while the cake rises behind me in the oven, and that smell...ok I've already spoken about that, haven't I?

Spending a day at a close pal's place just doing nothing...talking about nothing in general, making pots of coffee (some good, some worth washing down the drain) and guzzling it down over a ridiculous heated argument on an inane issue, patching up later over left-overs or take-out...

Walking down the beach all by yourself, letting the breeze run havoc through your hair, not botherng about the humidity making your skin shine like it shouldn't, watching the sun disappear as you perch yourself on a rock trying not to smile at the suspicious sounds emerging from the rocks behind :-)

Doing the same thing with friends - only not ignoring the wierd sounds this time ;-) and making up silly songs about how the rain is falling in paradise, and someone is your fire and you're the ice...yes, we aren't winning the award for Best Lyricists 2006.

Going for a long walk in the evening and returning wet with sweat - and then washing it off with aromatic shower gel under a hot, scathing shower. Ummm....follow that up with yummy home cooked dinner and curl up in bed for a dreamy sleep. Satisfying I tell you...

Ever...

Gone for a drive past midnight with two guys, one whom you've just met and the other whom you've met just twice before - and not once questioned the wisdom of your actions? (question probably not valid for all my readers, but what the hell!). Friend's friend, who I count amongst my own friends was in town and picked me real late - went for glorious drive upto NDA and back. It was awesome - even though they were swigging from a RC bottle straight up!

Spent almost an entire day sharing the passenger seat of an Indica with another person, so you're squeezed up against the gear-shift and have the lift your thigh every time the drier wants to shift gears (which is like every 2 minutes on Pune roads) ?

Dragged your friend to your favoured place in the city, only to find your friend leading the way? Bosom buddy was in town and I took her up the Tekdi - only to find her insisting we not take the beaten path up and thus leading the way as she picked her way through the shrubs...and then on the way down, with my marvellous lack of personal inertia, I was close to taking the quickest way down and had to resort to histrionics and grabbing hold of her hand in order to save my butt (not to mention pride)...yes, it is apparently my turf ;-)

Sat under a canopy of trees at a biforcation, watching rickshaws and scooters drive past as you hogged down the yummiest Upma in town and then sip garam garam chai...and then followed it up with a rigorous fight with close pal, to end it with orders to have good coffee ready by the time you got to his place?

Did a jig of pure unadulterated joy at reading an email from someone you adore beyond reason - just because the email confirmed that you do have some place in that person's life? That if you were to walk out without looking back, that person would try and pull you back? And then stare blankly at the compose window because you don't know how to frame a reply without letting go of the self-respect, pride and ego you've found with so much difficulty? Yes sometimes having an ego in a relationship helps - any relationship. Letting the other take you for granted isn't the way to a great relation with anyone. It's a lesson I've learnt the hard way.

Just logged in to quickly check if anyone remembered you an/or commented on your blog and later felt guilty about not replying to the comments...better yet, felt guilty about not blogging for so many days? ;-)

Yes that's just what happened to me the last few days - am actually at peace with myself after the longest time. The worries haven't really evaporated into thin air - there's still so much to be accomplished on all fronts and I haven't even started...but yes I'm at peace. Let it last - atleast for a while!
Amen...

Patience Bears Sweet Fruits

Ever noticed how some people always have a long wait before they finally get what they want and rightfully deserve? Sure, patience bears sweet fruits - how many times have I quoted 'Sabar ka phal meetha hota hai' to my friends who are fretting over things that refuse to move forward. But isn't there a limit to how much one is expected to patiently wait? And after all that patience, why doesn't the wait end with a sweet fruit, instead of something hopelessly bland, or worse incredibly sour?

Ho Hum and Then Some...

Diwali - it's the only festival I truly celebrate. I love to attack it full-throttle, starting with sending out Diwali greetings by post (I used to faithfully help Papa and then took over the task a few years back). Then came the cleaning up - I revelled in that. There's a deep satisfaction in dusting out ignored corners of the house, scrubbing clean the kitchen, reorganising the shelves and cupboards...a few days before Diwali I sent out egreetings and started helping Amma with the preparations of Diwali goodies. Gujiyas (or Karanjis as some people call them), Shakar-paras, Mathris, Laddus...and put up lights on our terrace/balcony.
Then there was shopping - new clothes et al... :-)

Diwali came with a bang - the entire day flew past in getting ready for the evening's pooja and dinner. Amma would scold Bhaiyya and me for being lazy, pull her hair out when Papa returned from the market with everything that wasn't necessary and nothing that was on her list :-) But in the end, we'd be ready by 6.30-7 p.m and sitting together as a family for Lakshmi pooja. The only ritual I enjoy and look forward to with enthusiasm.

This year was different. No enthusiasm. None of the zeal and joie de vivre I associate with the festival. I trudged through some of the duties, skipped others. Let's just say life got in the way?

But then Diwali came - bringing along Mama who I was meeting after two years. Activity galore. Dhanteras pooja at the Phoenix Mecano Factory, followed by a long drive through rolling hills to Mulshi Dam. Pretty. Shopping. Picked up something very different for myself. I still can't believe it isn't Cotton! Papa got me blinking lights - they stay off longer than they stay on, but they blink - that's what's important. We strung them up in addition to our usual string of lights :-) Diwali pooja - Shaurya also did his little bit. He wanted to eat the laddus, instead of offering them to the Goddess! He's a foodie already - and he's just 5 months old! Watched the fireworks - they are nothing in comparison to Bombay, but the bright side of that is that it's not as noisy either. Besides Pune could do with less pollutants in the air! Dinner at Chacha's house for a change - I missed our dinner at home. Chachi doesn't make Malpuas *sulking*

Bhai Dooj - Amma did tikka for her brother after aeons. I could see how happy the two of them were. We may not attach much importance to rituals, but sometimes they mean alot and make so much difference. Mama left today. The house feels slightly empty, but I've moved back into my room. Have to do something to get that cigarette smell out of my bathroom - I used to think the smell doesn't bother me, but boy does it bother!

It's a New Year by the Hindu calendar - I've started it with some resolutions. It's time to get my priorities straight and it's time to focus on myself. I've let thing happen to me for too long - now it's time to make them happen for me. He says I've become bitter. Perhaps I have. I am disillusioned. I don't believe I deserve this - I deserve better. I am going to get it. That's a promise to myself.

Amen.