The Little Joys..

I met G yesterday - after nearly a year and a half. An ex-student, she is from my very first batch at AFP (a weekend batch) I remember focusing on her face through out the first class because it was so reassuring and calmed those butterflies in my stomach and made my legs stop trembling in the salwar. I was the youngest person in the room. Ironically, it was with that batch that I never needed to assert my authority as a teacher. Unlike J and S who have become friends, G and I don't stay in contact that regularly, making each message /email / phone call so much more special. It was such a huge pleasure to see her yesterday and it totally made my day. It's the little joys like this that reaffirm my tenacious hold on this job...

Stay

"You say I only hear what I want to.
You say I talk so all the time so.
And I thought what I felt was simple,
and I thought that I don't belong,
and now that I am leaving,
now I know that I did something wrong 'cause I missed you.
Yeah yeah, I missed you.
And you say I only hear what I want to:
I don't listen hard,
don't pay attention to the distance that you're running to anyone, anywhere,
I don't understand if you really care,
I'm only hearing negative: no, no, no.
...
-Lisa Loeb

Heard this song after the longest time yesterday and haven't stopped humming since it then...

And So Spoke The Teacher...

Starting the end of the school years, through college and university, I wondered what the fuss was about Teacher's Day, convinced that the teachers, most of them seeming jaded about their profession, couldn't really care if they were wished on the day by their students or not...the belief was made even more concrete during my post-graduate studies where teacher-student interaction hardly existed, leave alone a genuine relationship where one would feel the kind of respect, gratitude and warmth that inspire motivation to wish the professor.

Switch to 5th September 2006 - my first Teacher's Day as a teacher. The card I received still occupies a special position (as do the students from that batch) in all the cards I have ever received. Being wished on Guru Purnima (this year two students even touched my feet, much to my horror) and Teacher's Day by current and ex-students, being showered with smiles, cards, flowers and gifts is absolutely amazing! Perhaps I am already a little spoiled by the attention I have received from students in the last two years but I felt rather upset when this year, the day simply passed like any other day. Apart from the one student (from my very first batch) who calls or emails unfailingly every year to wish me on both occassions there was nothing. Nothing. Not a peep from the other students. At the risk of sounding like a spoilt child, I was a little upset - and felt like the current streak of things going wrong and being ignored and pushed back to the margins was being reinforced. Alright perhaps the last bit was an exaggeration. Nevertheless I felt upset.

Seems like this is the second time this year I'm realising the importance of a festival and am eating my words! Ha, another thing I'm doing alot this year! ;-)

Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

There are days when I question how I continue to use the sorry excuse for public transport that this city provides. The buses, apart from the completely missing schedules and sense of timing, are actually not so bad ever since we've shifted to this side of town - so what if I have to leave over an hour early despite being just 15 minutes from work? But the 6-seaters a.k.a. share-rickshaws make me feel downright misreable at times, especially considering the fact that there are never less than twice that number stuffed in the vehicle and I'm often squashed between members of the blue-collared society, making it a rather uncomfortable (and often smelly) ten minutes ride. I have to constantly remind myself not to think like a feudal mistress and to remember that they lead a difficult life and I have no right to look down my nose at them. Yet I stubbornly refuse to learn how to drive (maybe it won't hurt to learn) and add another vehicle to the roads which already can't bear the burden that has been dumped on them. I know it sounds super twisted (like most of my logic) but I see it as akin to cutting trees, or spitting or throwing trash on the road. It is the easy way out to buy a two-wheeler or a car, but it isn't the solution. Neither the roads nor the environment can sustain it...I know my silly gesture (read stubborn act) will really not amount to much but I don't see myself backing off and compromising any time soon...
Sigh...seems like I'm cursed then to suffer in this realm as well, since I refuse to compromise on my "principles." I wish I wasn't such an idealist and a stickler for principles and values. I wish I hadn't learnt to question and analyse. I wish I was a tad less intelligent (or far more, actually and thus above all this banal crap) and knew how to compromise on what seems so trivial to most people but to me becomes a question of right and wrong. I wish I wasn't....
Sigh. Sigh. Sigh.

Waiting...

...interminably, adrift in the vast sea of endless disappointment with not a vestige of hope in sight, I'm exhausted and haven't the energy to row any more. There must be another way to live this life, said the wise friend. Alas, but I know not how to live it differently.

La Séparation (1994)

I specialise in depressing novels and films that subvert mainstream reality. As I confessed to a friend recently, I enjoy and thrive on depressing, subversive feminist novels. In keeping with my rather expansive statement I have been reading only highly depressing novels in the last few months and seeing wonderfully dark and depressing films.

I recently saw Christian Vincent's La Séparation starring Isabelle Huppert and Daniel Auteuil. The film is about a couple whose marriage has been dead for a while and is just coming to terms with it after the wife confesses to having a love affair with another man - a man who listens to her, pays attention to her needs and understands her. Nothing really differentiates this couple from the others in the beginning of the film, not the absence of love and mutual harmony in their relationship, nor their lack of communication. But with the confession of infidelity, the relationship changes subtly. The husband's intital reaction to her confession is quite lukewarm and neutral. Instead of reacting negatively he attempts to understand and firmly believes that she must not have been physically unfaithful to him. Life goes on as usual; they come and go, leaving their son in the care of a young girl. But the confession has created an unsurmountable chasm between them and slowly the apparent indifference turns into something violent and acrimonious and they drift further apart till they finally separate.

Extremely disturbing, there isn't much of a story to this film, the director having chosen to focus on the two main characters and their thoughts and emotions. What struck me the most was the glaring absence of warmth between the three members of the family and the obvious lack of a relationship binding them as a family. No stranger to the reality and abundance of failed relationships, the sterile and cold death of this marriage left me feeling disturbed and made firmer my conviction that there is no fate worse than having to endure failure in a relationship for after all isn't it is our emotions and relationships that define us as humans?

The acting, needless to say was brilliant - what else can be expected from Isabelle Huppert who seems to have the knack of almost effortlessly convincing the audience of her character's reality? Having seen several of her films during PIFF 2006, and been shaken to the core by La Pianiste, I knew I was seeing the oeuvre of a master. I am still amazed and floored by her flawless talent.

Definitely a film I'd recommend, despite the fact that it will leave you with many a dark thought and an irrepressible sense of hopelessness.

You can find a simulatenous review in French on Accros de Français

Happiness v/s Contentment

A fleeting remark about "happiness" brought up the following line of thought. Probably incredibly convoluted as are most of my (il) logical thoughts, but I couldn't help but question whether I'd be "happy" if I had absolute enduring happiness. Utopic, but wouldn't that be artificial and some how take away from my own levels of endurance and make me a rather bland person? So oft have I fervently wished for happiness and lamented when the fleeting moments of happiness have slipped through my fingers like loose sand, leaving behind that awful sinking feeling in my heart and endless days of dark, cold depression...

But would a life full of undiluted happiness, ideal as it sounds, have any character at all? How would I measure my state of happiness if I knew no other state of being? And how would I then, deal with a calamity if I've never seen a dark cloud shadowing my horizons?

Minutes later, I realised that it isn't enduring happiness I crave, it's enduring contentment and peace. Happiness after all is ephemeral and defined by a certain evanescence and shallowness, isn't it? What I wouldn't do to go to bed at night, my heart and mind at peace, content with my life. I can only cross my fingers that I have that some day and that it lasts...

Amen...

Rakhi...

I never gave much importance to the festival and the custom of the obligatory gift given to the sister in exchange for the Rakhi has made me frown even more on the festival. My screwed up brain sees it as a materialistic custom and questions why a gift must be given in exchange for the Rakhi...it drives me up the wall when on Rakhi and each Bhai Dooj we hunt (sometimes almost frantically) for gifts for my cousins and nieces...would they not tie a Rakhi or do tika if a gift was not given? And if so, what does that say about the relationship? I know I'm probably complicating it for nothing, but then that's me. I specialise in complicating things, especially relationships with my wierd ideas and high expectactions.
But then, this year, for the first time Rakhi took on a new meaning. It's been 3 years and 3 Rakhis since Papa has not been here...but choti Bua still sends the Rakhis for Papa (and Ma) and the tika on each Bhai Dooj. For Bua, her relationship with her Nanu is still alive, even if he is not. Just this simple gesture has changed the way I perceive the festival and the relationship between a brother and sister.

Rooted

(Taken at the University of Pune, on the way to the Main building. After having walked up to the Y-point and beyond to the main canteen, I took the shaded path that comes up right in front of the lawns of the Main building. It's a path I love, perhaps my favourite part of the University campus and brings back many fond memories and a smile to accompany the faint heart ache...)

I like Chopin - Gazebo

Remember that piano
So delightful unusual
That classic sensation
Sentimental confusion

Used to say
I like Chopin
Love me now
and again

Rainy days never say goodbye
To desire when we are together
Rainy days growing in your eyes
Tell me where's my way

Imagine your face
In a sunshine reflection
A vision of blue skies
Forever distractions
A song that has kept me company over the years, long after we lost it from our once enviable collection of music, I've waited years to hear this song again. Access to Broadband and Limewire open source and a week later it is finally playing on my laptop. The first time the song came back to me was at the airport at Berlin when I was leaving behind my main suitcase and it is the song that kept me sane and kept up my hope till I finally saw my suitcase with all its contents intact. The song, try as I might refused to play in my head last year in Barcelona and later in Paris. I remember the look of disbelief given to me by P and K when I told them this - it sounds really screwed up and illogical I know. Yet the song represents in some manner of speaking things finally working out and falling into place. I had to have it, even if just to offer me superficial comfort. Heh and I thought I wasn't superstitious!

Souvenirs...

A chapter I've been waiting to close almost as soon as it started. The souvenirs are plenty but for a change I am just waiting to lose them...this one is particular chaffed me greatly through out the duration of the class, unaccustomed as I am to have any kind of identification tag decorating my person! I would wear it at the last possible moment and be in the process of removing it as I walked out of the gate!

Crucified?

Every finger in the room is pointing at me
I wanna spit in their faces then
I get afraid of what that could bring
I got a bowling ball in my stomach, I got a desert in my mouth
Figures that my courage would choose to sell out now

I've been looking for a savior in these dirty streets
Looking for a savior beneath these dirty sheets
I've been raising up my hands- drive another nail in
Just what God needs, one more victim

Why do we crucify ourselves
Everyday I crucify myself
Nothing I do is good enough for you
Crucify myself
Everyday I crucify myself
And my heart is sick of being in chains
....

- Tori Amos, Crucify

(Un)Professional

Professionalism, something so completely lacking at AFP keeps assuming new diminshed proportions with each passing day. I've given up questioning it but it sure got on my nerves today when "senior" colleague interrupted my class for a quick chit-chat session and kept rambling for 15 minutes while my poor hapless students stared on struck witless and dumb by the rapid-fire French exchange being carried on over their heads. Unprofessional. Impolite. Lacking in etiquette. Not done...and me, because of my lack of assertiveness was party to it. I'm so bloody appalled and disappointed in myself. She is much older than me, yes, but that doesn't mean I should allow her to do this and it definitely doesn't mean I should go along without objecting. Grrrr!!

Puisque je m'ennuie...

Bored out of my wits, I indulged in a few senseless photos and decided I quite like this one to go with my Plain Jane image...

No Rain

All I can say is that my life is pretty plain
I like watchin' the puddles gather rain
And all I can do is just pour some tea for two
and speak my point of view
But it's not sane, It's not sane
I just want some one to say to me
I'll always be there when you wake
Ya know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today
So stay with me and I'll have it made
And I don't understand why I sleep all day
And I start to complain that there's no rain
And all I can do is read a book to stay awake
And it rips my life away, but it's a great escape
escape......escape......escape......
All I an say is that my life is pretty plain
Ya don't like my point of view
Ya think I'm insane
It's not sane......it's not sane

- Blind Melon

Bristling in Anger...

This morning as I left my colony I was greeted by a sight that made my stomach churn. A dog lay by the roadside curb, dead. I am no stranger to the sight of dead dogs (or even people) for that matter on the roads, having seen my fair share of gruesome accidents with brains splattered all over the tarmac. Then why did this dog lying unhurt by the roadside make me want to throw up? For starters, this was one of the three dogs that would greet me every morning, wagging their tails and accompanying me to the bus stop. This one, in particular was much more affectionate and has on several occasions come up bounding behind me and "hugged" me from behind! I will miss meeting him every morning...
But more than that, what got my blood boiling was that he hadn't died in a careless accident, nor of natural causes. Somebody had very obviously poisoned him (he still had traces of froth at his mouth)...and several others as I realised a few minutes later as I moved down the road. I accept that I never did anything for them. I don't feed street dogs nor do I get them vaccinated, nor do I get obviously diseased dogs treated by a veterinarian. Infact I have to admit that I have often complained about the nuisance of street dogs, despite being a dog lover. I agree that their increasing numbers can pose a problem especially when they get aggressive, but to "get rid" of them in this manner is disgusting. I won't deny thinking that a street dog which is obviously suffering from a disease should be put to sleep, but to "put to sleep" a seemingly healthy dog that wasn't in the least bit nasty nor aggressive by poisoning him is nothing short of the work of an extremely cruel and sick mind. Our country is crippled with its overwhelming population - do we go around poisoning and killing those that can not defend themselves? Then why the poor dogs who can't even speak up in their defense?

Violated

Walking the tight-rope, treading a fine balance between right and wrong, I’ve been torn apart in the last couple of months with personal decisions. What lies ahead I do not know and never before has the uncertainty and darkness ahead gnawed so much at my insides, leaving them a mangled aftermath of a rat’s meal. A year ago I would have turned blindly to my blog for catharsis, but I hesitated this time. I’ve always known that this was a public domain and anything I published in this space was open to the scrutiny, analysis and opinion of all and sundry, creeps included. But when the creeps actually visit, it leaves you feeling violated. And I was violated. In the last one year my blog has been visited by people who dislike/hate me and used my blog to make nasty comments about me, people who have changed their identities to comment and falsely befriend me in the attempt to creep under my defenses and hurt me, people who have wanted to keep track of my activities and that of my family (believe me we aren’t that important) so they could manipulate me/us for their own selfish purposes. It’s left a rather acrimonious taste in my mouth, disgusted at how low people can sink, upset that people harbour such feelings towards me and perhaps left me at a loss of words for this space, something that has never happened in the five odd years that I’ve been blogging. The physical violation that followed the violation of my space has left me feeling angrier with the world. Angry. Helpless. Upset. Lost. Violated. As I struggle to piece together my peace and self-confidence both of which have been shattered to shards in the last couple of years, as I tackle with new fears, recurring nightmares and insomnia I wonder if I’ll ever find my joie de vivre again. Standing alone as I am today, I wonder if any of this is worth it. Why do I continue to blog? Why do I keep up with the farce that everything is alright? Why do I hope that tomorrow will be better? I wonder if my existence has any meaning, my presence/absence any significance to anyone. And yes I wonder why I have been violated in such a ruthless manner. Why then? Why now? Why again? And again?

PS Pardon me for the repetitiveness…just wanted to drill home the point.

The Alphabet Tag – since I’m not otherwise blogging...

...which deserves a seperate post.

A – Available?
Depends for what…

B – Best Friend(s)
Several, none close enough when I need them. And I need them so desperately right now.

C – Cake or Pie?
Is this going to be one of those Karan Johar rapid fire session? Argh…I don’t know? Both? So kill me, I have a sweet tooth.

D – Drink of Choice
Non-alcoholic : Fresh Lime Soda (Sweet)
Alcoholic : Wine – preferably White or a good Rosé like Montbazillac. Also Cognac - Remy Martin ofcourse.

E – Essential things used everyday
Hygiene and Skin Care paraphernalia, Mobile phone, Watch, Laptop, Wallet (with Money)…this is making me sound materialistic!

F – Favourite Colour
Blue

G - Gummi Bears or Worms?
Ugh. Neither. Thank you.

H – Hometown
Bombay

I – Indulgence
Don’t think I have any…no wait, there is one. Stolen evenings, or days for that matter!

J – January or February
January 2008.

K – Kids and names
Let me update this after a few years?

L – Life
…is screwing with me in a big way these days.

M – Marriage Date
Haven’t the faintest clue. I’ll let you know when I have one!

N – Number of Siblings
1. Elder brother.

O – Oranges or Apples
Apples. Haven’t you heard? An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

P – Phobias
Heights. Elevators. Loneliness. Losing the one I love.

Q – Quote.
"Ask yourself if you are happy, and you cease to be." - J. S. Mill

R – Reason to Smile
Sunrises. Flowers. A good class. a good book. A good meal. A rainy day. Afternoons spent soaking in the sun at the University. Evenings with my closest friend(s). Indulgence.

S – Season
Winter. Monsoons.

T – Tagged
Those who actually took up the tag last time as well…plus Madusa and Kitana if they read this.

U – Unknown fact about me
I’ve been molested. Twice.

V – Vegetable you do not like.
Bitter Gourd…can I please add a lentil? I abhor Chane ki daal – can’t get it down my throat. The “only” occasion I have both of these is on Ganesh Chaturthi at best friend’s home since it is part of Prasad.

W – Worst Habit(s)
I bite my finger nail when I’m depressed. It’s a give-away about my emotional state.
I believe people when they say they won’t let me down. I hurt. Easily.

X – X-rays you’ve had
Chest – as a child, many, since I had many issues related to my heart. They gave way to more serious and painful tests later…
Mouth – for dental problems I’ve often ignored and left untreated (recently – which reminds me, a visit to the torture chamber is due!!!)

Y – Your favourite food(s)
Canneloni Florentine. Vegetable au Gratin. Dum Aloo. Dahi wale aloo. Lauki ke kofte. Reshmi Kebabs. Vegetable Stew prepared in coconut milk. Lotus stems the way Amma makes them, and the way they are served at Whispering Bamboos, Blue Diamond. Hakka noodles. Pineapple pastry. Lemon tart. Lemon soufflé. Malpua. Bengali mithai.
For someone who eats to live, and not the other way around, that’s quite a list!

Z – Zodiac
Libra – the balance. Wise. (They say). Calm. (Not these days, believe me) Diplomatic. (Unfortunately so much so at times, people don’t realise when I would give anything to see them guillotined!)

By My Bedside...

The queen has spoken and when she does what choice does the humble subject have but to scramble to obey ;-) IdleMind tagged me last week to make a list of what lies next to my bed, so here goes:

On the bedside console, which has 2 drawers filled with assorted junk like heating pad, a home tool kit and torches, apart from my childhood LEGO sets which I refuse to give away, you will find:

1. 3 Bande Dessinées (French Comics), 2 of which are mine and 1 has been borrowed from the AFP library.
2. A collection of poems by Paul Verlaine, again borrowed from the library.
3. A copy of My Mistress’s Sparrow is Dead a collection of love stories from Chekov to Munro, edited by Jeffrey Eugenides.
4. A copy of Isaac Asimov’s Foundation, borrowed from the Amnesiac who is trying hard to change my reading habits and make me a more prolific and regular consumer of books.
5. A red frame with a photograph of Ma with my nephew when he was barely 4 months old
6. A bed-side alarm clock, set to 5:40 which wakes me up faithfully from Monday to Friday, which is removed from there and shifted to the dressing table every morning.
7. My cell phone joins the alarm clock, every night, with a back-alarm set incase the alarm clock fails!
8. Occasionally a pile of clothes that have to be transferred to the cupboard and have been ignored all day

Sigh, not very interesting na? But then, there's Plain Jane for you :-)

I hereby tab all the people on my Blog Addictions, except for IdleMind who tagged me and GenDD who has already been tagged…

Confused...

Standing at the crossroads for not the first time in my life, my mind tremulous with confusion and fear of the wrong decision or wrong timing keeps returning to the same question. Should I take the plunge? Is it worth the risk?