I seem to be surrounded with the choicest collection of the most stubborn, infuriating lot - and to think the ones I love the most are the most difficult of the lot.
Jesus does that say something about me?
*Appalled*
Random quotes about men that left me chortling with glee :-
Samantha: Men do this all the time. Women walk around thinking "we," and their version of "we" is "me"... and my dick!
(frm Sex and the City)
Men are like a fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and it's our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you'd like to have dinner with.
(Kathleen Misfud)
Friday, October 28, 2005
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Weekend Update...
The axe fell this weekend.
Oh I fought it alright - with everything I had. Nearly bartered my soul to prevent the mighty fall. But it fell. Nothing I could do about it.
Wonder why I'm not feeling the pain yet?
Wonder when the pain of being severed will come...
On the other hand - it was a good weekend. Spent time with three of my most cherished friends. I have a great bunch of friends, you know. Eccentric in their own ways. Impossible to deal with at times. Stubborn, just like me. But they always come through for me - in their own ways. They are adorable. They are the best.
Oh I fought it alright - with everything I had. Nearly bartered my soul to prevent the mighty fall. But it fell. Nothing I could do about it.
Wonder why I'm not feeling the pain yet?
Wonder when the pain of being severed will come...
On the other hand - it was a good weekend. Spent time with three of my most cherished friends. I have a great bunch of friends, you know. Eccentric in their own ways. Impossible to deal with at times. Stubborn, just like me. But they always come through for me - in their own ways. They are adorable. They are the best.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Because I Love Mornings - III
0530 hours, Mundhwa, Pune, India.
Four or five whistles go off one after the other. A few minutes later, I hear pipes being cranked up and then the pipes groan of satisfaction at being filled up after several hours of emptiness. I toss in my bed (if you can call a couple of mattresses on the floor a bed!) and snuggle deeper into my duvet. It's still dark outside and a little chilly too - it's too early to be up and about. I wake up an hour later, a smile on my face - I've just surfaced from a rather nice dream :-) I stretch out languidly remembering someone who said that stuff you dream about in the morning usually comes true...hehe, agar aise hua to uske mooh mein ghee-shakar! And then the baby lets out his alarm - OK time to get up. Rise and Shine. Wakey-wakey...unless ofcourse you'd rather spend another hour in bed trying to blot out the sounds of a little cherub excitedly spreading the news about a brand new day!
So I roll out of bed - only to discover my dog waiting patiently for that sign of wakefulness and be covered by a bundle of golden fur. Wrestling myself out from beneath him, I stumble over to the bathroom to brush my teeth. GAWD my mouth feels awful - note to myself, "do not get into a relationship in Pune, unless you want to reconcile yourself to a lifetime of no good-morning kisses before a mouth-wash. Triste, the effects of the air-pollution in this city." A rigorous brushing of teeth followed by mint mouthwash, and I'm ready to face the world.
I leave my room and immediately enter another world that is bustling with activity - my nephew is playing in his baby-seat, my mother and bhabhi are busy in the kitchen, making the morning tea and starting preparations for the lunch-boxes. My father is working on his laptop - and Shnapps has scamperd off to wake up my brother so he can go down for his morning-walk. I go make my own cup of Lemon-tea or Frucht-tee, depending on my mood and step out into the balcony to sip it in peace. The tea helps clear my throat - and keeps the pollution-caused phlegm at bay. The fog has started lifting and I can make out the hills in the distance...below me, there are several people out for their morning walk/jog, lots of children waiting for their school buses or shared-rickshaws - and on the tennis-court four gentlemen are warming up, while a couple of younger guys wait patiently for their turn on the court. A flock of tiny birds flies past and I wonder what birds they are...there are parrots, cuckoos, pigeons, sparrows and crows apart from a couple others that I don't recognise.
It's peaceful - slow and peaceful. I'm quite completely awake now, so I go back inside to see if anyone needs my help.
It's another new day :-)
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Because I Love Mornings - II
From another morning, somewhere else - distinctly remember the lightness in my steps as my friend and I clambered up this hillock and perched ourselves there, watching the world slowly come awake all around us. :-)Friday, October 14, 2005
Because I Love Mornings - I
0600 hours, 7 Bungalows, Bombay, India.
Honk. Chirp. Caw-Caw. I wade out of a restless slumber in a house that's not mine, yet so comfortingly familiar. Peeling open eyes that aren't ready to face the sunlight yet, I squint through the heavy curtains hanging at windows left open to let the night breeze enter the room and cool the room through the course of the night. I can't see much apart from hazy shapes in the distance - I fumble for my spectacles and put them on. My vision clears considerably and I can make out the figure of a watchman clambering atop the water-tank in the building across the street. It's early - I can afford to lounge around for some more time. I fling my spectacles onto the bed-side console, and lazily stretch under the duvet. Yawn. Idly reaching out for my cell phone to check if there are any messages, I let the sounds of the morning wash over my senses. There is something comforting about hearing the city start to wind up it's machinery and get its act together for the day. Buses screech to a halt somewhere nearby - if I look out I'd probably see a bunch of Convent School students clambering into the bus, their backs bent under the weight of their heavy school-bags. That's the first batch - they will be followed an hour later by students of Maneckji Cooper, Jamnabai Narsee and AVM among others...
Beep beep. 0645 hours. Time to put on the water-heater. I scramble out of bed, pulling my camisole down over my waist and go do the needful, before coming to stand at the window. Below me the street is already buzzing with activity. The muncipality sweepers are trying in vain to sweep the street clean - they succeed in gathering most of the leaves that have drifted down the previous day and some other stuff that isn't as harmless. There's a van parked outside the local supermarket - some men are carrying huge cartons into the supermarket via its back entrance. A cycle parked round the corner has stacks of newspapers tied to the back. The flower seller runs across the street - he's probably running late in delivering the pooja-flowers to his clients. The vegetable vendor is busy arranging fresh veggies on his cart and the paan-wallah at the nukkad is greeting his first customers of the day - they are there for bread, eggs, cutting-chai (yes he even serves that) or cigarettes to round up that early morning walk! ;-) Voluptuous ladies in pastel salwar-kurtas and white Reeboks or Nikes bustle past, sweating profusely after their walk in Nana-Nani park - no doubt they are discussing their latest diet, or perhaps it's the latest 'designer suit' or 'kundan set' they picked up for the upcoming festival and wedding season.
I smile and push my hair out of my eyes...
Oh yes, mornings are the best part of the day :-)
Honk. Chirp. Caw-Caw. I wade out of a restless slumber in a house that's not mine, yet so comfortingly familiar. Peeling open eyes that aren't ready to face the sunlight yet, I squint through the heavy curtains hanging at windows left open to let the night breeze enter the room and cool the room through the course of the night. I can't see much apart from hazy shapes in the distance - I fumble for my spectacles and put them on. My vision clears considerably and I can make out the figure of a watchman clambering atop the water-tank in the building across the street. It's early - I can afford to lounge around for some more time. I fling my spectacles onto the bed-side console, and lazily stretch under the duvet. Yawn. Idly reaching out for my cell phone to check if there are any messages, I let the sounds of the morning wash over my senses. There is something comforting about hearing the city start to wind up it's machinery and get its act together for the day. Buses screech to a halt somewhere nearby - if I look out I'd probably see a bunch of Convent School students clambering into the bus, their backs bent under the weight of their heavy school-bags. That's the first batch - they will be followed an hour later by students of Maneckji Cooper, Jamnabai Narsee and AVM among others...
Beep beep. 0645 hours. Time to put on the water-heater. I scramble out of bed, pulling my camisole down over my waist and go do the needful, before coming to stand at the window. Below me the street is already buzzing with activity. The muncipality sweepers are trying in vain to sweep the street clean - they succeed in gathering most of the leaves that have drifted down the previous day and some other stuff that isn't as harmless. There's a van parked outside the local supermarket - some men are carrying huge cartons into the supermarket via its back entrance. A cycle parked round the corner has stacks of newspapers tied to the back. The flower seller runs across the street - he's probably running late in delivering the pooja-flowers to his clients. The vegetable vendor is busy arranging fresh veggies on his cart and the paan-wallah at the nukkad is greeting his first customers of the day - they are there for bread, eggs, cutting-chai (yes he even serves that) or cigarettes to round up that early morning walk! ;-) Voluptuous ladies in pastel salwar-kurtas and white Reeboks or Nikes bustle past, sweating profusely after their walk in Nana-Nani park - no doubt they are discussing their latest diet, or perhaps it's the latest 'designer suit' or 'kundan set' they picked up for the upcoming festival and wedding season.
I smile and push my hair out of my eyes...
Oh yes, mornings are the best part of the day :-)
Monday, October 10, 2005
Incomplete
I was in Bombay this weekend.
Nothing went the way it was planned. Nothing.
Objectives of the trip were left incomplete - so there is a feeling of being unfulfilled. Of being denied certain pleasures in which I seek comfort, peace of mind and yes, even a certain amount of hedonistic delight .
I want to go back and ensure fulfillment of such pleasures.
Nothing went the way it was planned. Nothing.
Objectives of the trip were left incomplete - so there is a feeling of being unfulfilled. Of being denied certain pleasures in which I seek comfort, peace of mind and yes, even a certain amount of hedonistic delight .
I want to go back and ensure fulfillment of such pleasures.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Time Shall Tell...
It was the most challenging exam I took since I took up French at Alliance Francaise - admittedly, despite my bravado and nonchalant attitude towards exams, I wasn't so sure about how I'd fare. Ofcourse I'd clear - I always do. I'm incapable of failing (except perhaps in Trignometry - how I hated it in school!)...but would I score enough to be able to tell people with a smile in my face and a dance to my steps when they asked me how I fared?
Results were announced a couple of days back - ofcourse I've passed. With flying colours, as they would say! ;-) I freaking topped - holy shit but I rock! Ok I don't really, but I definitely aced this exam - and I hope this is some kind of a positive sign of things to come in the next few days and weeks...
They say patience bears sweet fruit - and don't I love quoting that to people! Well, I've been patient. Bloody patient. Sometimes I surprise myself with how patient I've been. But now I'm nearing the end of my tether. I need stuff to start falling into place, or else I'm just going to give up...
I don't want to give up. I'm not that type of a person - am usually quite tenacious about things I set my hopes on. I wonder whether I will give up despite all the noise I'm making and all my apparent convictions on the issue...I hope I'm not disappointed. More than that, I hope I don't disappoint myself.
Hmmm...time shall tell. Oh yes, it shall!
Results were announced a couple of days back - ofcourse I've passed. With flying colours, as they would say! ;-) I freaking topped - holy shit but I rock! Ok I don't really, but I definitely aced this exam - and I hope this is some kind of a positive sign of things to come in the next few days and weeks...
They say patience bears sweet fruit - and don't I love quoting that to people! Well, I've been patient. Bloody patient. Sometimes I surprise myself with how patient I've been. But now I'm nearing the end of my tether. I need stuff to start falling into place, or else I'm just going to give up...
I don't want to give up. I'm not that type of a person - am usually quite tenacious about things I set my hopes on. I wonder whether I will give up despite all the noise I'm making and all my apparent convictions on the issue...I hope I'm not disappointed. More than that, I hope I don't disappoint myself.
Hmmm...time shall tell. Oh yes, it shall!
Saturday, October 01, 2005
C'est La Vie...
A year older....but no more closer to my dreams than I was last year. C'est la vie, I guess?
It was just like any other day, except that alot of my friends called and many more sent messages. And yes, I couldn't log in that day, or the next, so later I saw that even more sent emails and egreetings...and yes, left wishes on my blog :-) Thanks everyone!
Number 1, as my brother calls him, came and took me out for dinner. Indyaki it was for that evening. No longer as rocking nor as happening as last year, but they still serve good food. That's what is important in the end. Of what use is a hep-n-happening resto (or person for that matter), if they don't serve good food? Papa got back from Germany the next morning - I wonder when I'll go back! It also rained that day - and Pune got flooded and the few remaining roads dissolved some more! ;-) And so, mon cher ami stayed back at the risk of missing an important meeting with a prospective client the next day, not to mention class! Yes, he rocks. Yes, I wish I'd fallen for him instead. It would have been a great mistake ofcourse, since it would never have worked out and I might even have lost one of my best friends in the bargain...so it's good I didn't. So why am I talking about this? Just so you know my buddy's the best ever! :-) We went to Arthur's Theme that evening. Ananda - bliss. The way to Moksha, as Aristera would say. Yes that's how divine the desserts were.
Today was just another long, boring and lonely day at home...and I just capped it by watching Bridget Jones - The Edge of Reason - all by myself, cradling a rapidly cooling mug of coffee in my hands. I also want a happy ending! The waiting's killing...
Yes, c'est la vie...
It was just like any other day, except that alot of my friends called and many more sent messages. And yes, I couldn't log in that day, or the next, so later I saw that even more sent emails and egreetings...and yes, left wishes on my blog :-) Thanks everyone!
Number 1, as my brother calls him, came and took me out for dinner. Indyaki it was for that evening. No longer as rocking nor as happening as last year, but they still serve good food. That's what is important in the end. Of what use is a hep-n-happening resto (or person for that matter), if they don't serve good food? Papa got back from Germany the next morning - I wonder when I'll go back! It also rained that day - and Pune got flooded and the few remaining roads dissolved some more! ;-) And so, mon cher ami stayed back at the risk of missing an important meeting with a prospective client the next day, not to mention class! Yes, he rocks. Yes, I wish I'd fallen for him instead. It would have been a great mistake ofcourse, since it would never have worked out and I might even have lost one of my best friends in the bargain...so it's good I didn't. So why am I talking about this? Just so you know my buddy's the best ever! :-) We went to Arthur's Theme that evening. Ananda - bliss. The way to Moksha, as Aristera would say. Yes that's how divine the desserts were.
Today was just another long, boring and lonely day at home...and I just capped it by watching Bridget Jones - The Edge of Reason - all by myself, cradling a rapidly cooling mug of coffee in my hands. I also want a happy ending! The waiting's killing...
Yes, c'est la vie...
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
....
Two of my favourite men promised to come tomorrow - two debonair young men. Both of whom I adore beyond reason and can't imagine a life without...
One's going to live upto his promise - as always :-) Merci mon cher - je ne sais pas qu'est ce que je ferais sans toi! Tu es un vrai ami! *Bisous*
The other isn't - so what's new in that?
Even though I expected the second to back out, I was disappointed. But I handled it maturely. Damn why didn't I learn the feminine art of throwing tantrums, pouting and winding them men around my little finger? Oh well, for now, it's enough to know that he cares enough to think about making my day special for me. More shall come later...Insha'Allah!
As of now - am looking forward to tomorrow evening! :-)
One's going to live upto his promise - as always :-) Merci mon cher - je ne sais pas qu'est ce que je ferais sans toi! Tu es un vrai ami! *Bisous*
The other isn't - so what's new in that?
Even though I expected the second to back out, I was disappointed. But I handled it maturely. Damn why didn't I learn the feminine art of throwing tantrums, pouting and winding them men around my little finger? Oh well, for now, it's enough to know that he cares enough to think about making my day special for me. More shall come later...Insha'Allah!
As of now - am looking forward to tomorrow evening! :-)
Monday, September 26, 2005
Geebaby and Literary Mosaic - Status Update
Sometime back, someone asked me why I've stopped updating Literary Mosaic - and it's true I had been ignoring my other blog for a very long time. Infact even now that I am giving it some attention, I'm not posting any fiction on it (which is what the person was referring to when asking that question)....
It's not like the words have dried up inside me (glaringly obvious from the fact that I'm about to put down a couple of hundred words on the topic); nor is it due to any lack of ideas. Muses there are aplenty all around me - yes, even Virginia Woolf ;-) But it's all in the head...I read somewhere that a good story is one that comes from the heart, not from the head. And so it is, that I've decided not to write (or atleast post ) anything till it comes from within...
Besides, apart from 55-word stories & the like (which is more of a fun exercise than one that exhibits any real talent on my part), I don't think I'm that great at spinning tales...blabbing, gabbing, bitching, cribbing et al - YES YES I'M GOOD AT IT!
And so it is, that Geebaby flourishes as always (more mature perhaps than it was at it's conception?)...while Literary Mosaic shall once again fall back to its former avataar of hosting poems that snag my attention and reviews of books I've read. Which reminds me - my reactions to Tagore's short stories is up for your perusal!
Currently Reading :- Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (This pasionate declaration of female emancipation, shattered the perviously held stereotypes of the docile, decorative womanhood and set the path for a new era of equality. the work, in a way, established her as the founder of modern feminism.)
This and my copy of Woolf's A Room of One's Own are part of Penguin's Great Ideas Collection, that includes some ground-breaking works by thinkers, pioneers, radicals and visionaries whose ideas paved the way for modern thoughts and civilisation. Coming in these slim volumes, they have been packaged really attractively and are a great buy!
Currently Hearing :- New Age stuff - Barcelona Nights by Ottmar Liebert
It's not like the words have dried up inside me (glaringly obvious from the fact that I'm about to put down a couple of hundred words on the topic); nor is it due to any lack of ideas. Muses there are aplenty all around me - yes, even Virginia Woolf ;-) But it's all in the head...I read somewhere that a good story is one that comes from the heart, not from the head. And so it is, that I've decided not to write (or atleast post ) anything till it comes from within...
Besides, apart from 55-word stories & the like (which is more of a fun exercise than one that exhibits any real talent on my part), I don't think I'm that great at spinning tales...blabbing, gabbing, bitching, cribbing et al - YES YES I'M GOOD AT IT!
And so it is, that Geebaby flourishes as always (more mature perhaps than it was at it's conception?)...while Literary Mosaic shall once again fall back to its former avataar of hosting poems that snag my attention and reviews of books I've read. Which reminds me - my reactions to Tagore's short stories is up for your perusal!
Currently Reading :- Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (This pasionate declaration of female emancipation, shattered the perviously held stereotypes of the docile, decorative womanhood and set the path for a new era of equality. the work, in a way, established her as the founder of modern feminism.)
This and my copy of Woolf's A Room of One's Own are part of Penguin's Great Ideas Collection, that includes some ground-breaking works by thinkers, pioneers, radicals and visionaries whose ideas paved the way for modern thoughts and civilisation. Coming in these slim volumes, they have been packaged really attractively and are a great buy!
Currently Hearing :- New Age stuff - Barcelona Nights by Ottmar Liebert
Friday, September 23, 2005
The Return of the Muse - 55-word story tag
"Sipping hot soup, she curled up alone on the bed, under her favourite duvet. Picking up Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own…she soon lost herself in it. A couple of hours later, putting the book aside, she switched off the table-lamp and headed towards the study.
It was time.
Time to start afresh. "
My first reaction to this story tag, was complete horror! How would I live upto this? Me - the one who never learnt the minimalistic art of expression! Aristera often rebukes me for spinning out of control, digressing and embellishing my acounts with unnecessary details, when he's asked me to sum up the experience in 2 lines ;-) I've never succeeded in doing that till date. With my current state of mind, the challenge loomed large and I knew I had to do it or my flagging self-esteem would simply collapse under the weight of those 55 words ;-) Voila...so what's the verdict people?
Tagging :- Aristera, Akshay, Extempore, Parth & Phal...it's an interesting exercise, so let's not restrict it to those I've just tagged!
It was time.
Time to start afresh. "
My first reaction to this story tag, was complete horror! How would I live upto this? Me - the one who never learnt the minimalistic art of expression! Aristera often rebukes me for spinning out of control, digressing and embellishing my acounts with unnecessary details, when he's asked me to sum up the experience in 2 lines ;-) I've never succeeded in doing that till date. With my current state of mind, the challenge loomed large and I knew I had to do it or my flagging self-esteem would simply collapse under the weight of those 55 words ;-) Voila...so what's the verdict people?
Tagging :- Aristera, Akshay, Extempore, Parth & Phal...it's an interesting exercise, so let's not restrict it to those I've just tagged!
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
Warning - Extremely Volatile and Fragile
I've been rather volatile the past few days and restraining myself from blogging lest I pour out a jeremiad of complaints, or whine, but I'm tired of bottling it all up. So here's my catharsis of sorts...
A friend remarked some time back that I was going senile. Why? Because for the last two days I'd sent text messages with lyrics of songs inserted in between. I went from wishing good morning to talking about how it's raining men (how I wish that were happening - well atleast one man!) back to mundane questions of how the day is planned.
I'm not really going senile ofcourse. And I'm sure my friend didn't mean it either. I put down my erratic behaviour to boredom. That is part of the reason...but there is more. (When isn't there?) It's a sense of hopelessness that is pervading into my bones. I'm tired. Tired of pretending that it's all going to fall into place in the end - not when everything's still hanging in the air and stubbornly refusing to budge (leave alone fall!) ...
A friend remarked some time back that I was going senile. Why? Because for the last two days I'd sent text messages with lyrics of songs inserted in between. I went from wishing good morning to talking about how it's raining men (how I wish that were happening - well atleast one man!) back to mundane questions of how the day is planned.
I'm not really going senile ofcourse. And I'm sure my friend didn't mean it either. I put down my erratic behaviour to boredom. That is part of the reason...but there is more. (When isn't there?) It's a sense of hopelessness that is pervading into my bones. I'm tired. Tired of pretending that it's all going to fall into place in the end - not when everything's still hanging in the air and stubbornly refusing to budge (leave alone fall!) ...
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Satisfied by what’s on my plate…
Last month I picked up two books from the Strand Sale - having bought two design books for my brother, I found my budget compromised for a second time that weekend! So I played “In-Pin-Safety-Pin” and brought down the books in my own shopping cart from ten to two.
I’m happy with my final choice, for not only did these books satisfy my rather finicky literary tastes and held me mesmerized for as long as I had the book in my hand, but also had me returning to the book as soon as I could, to see it to its denouement. Having finished both of them, I’ve posted reviews on Literary Mosaic –
Bluebeard’s Egg –Margaret Atwood
Lord of the Flies – William Golding
I’ve gone back to my collection of short stories by Rabindranath Tagore, having reclaimed it from my bhabhi and am making my way through it slowly and surely, despite the rather tragic endings to all the stories and Tagore’s tendancy to portray most women as either nagging housewives or sacrificial victims of society. The Madonna-Whore dichotomy quite annoys me…
Top 5 Songs of the Moment:
1. Have a Nice Day – Bon Jovi :-)
2. Gin-Soaked Boy - Divine Comedy
3. Come Get Some – Rooster
4. Suddenly I see - KT Tunstall
5. Inch’Allah – MC Solaar
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
The Weekend That Was...
Cut to Friday morning. N.M. Wadia Cardiac Center, Jehangir Hospital, Pune. After an hour long wait for the cardiologist to come out of an emergency procedure, my parents went into his cabin while I waited outside. And all of a sudden, I was cold - not cold like when you go numb, but cold like you suddenly woke up and realised how cold it was outside. Cold with fear.
Waiting outside, I was swamped with images from a few years back. January 2002 - my mother had a near-fatal heart-attack. Subsequent angioplasty showed numerous blockages going upto 90% - I didn't need doctors to tell me that if my father hadn't gone to work late that day, I would have lost her. She had a bypass in February.
April 2003 - my father had a seizure at 4 a.m. A cholestrol deposit in his neck vein had broken loose and travelled upto his brain. Immediate diagnosis of the problem, medication and diet control brought the problem into control and all the reports back to normal. But not before he spent months regaining control of his fine motor actions and slurred speech.
That year was perhaps the hardest year for me - waking up to my parent's mortality, having to bid adieu to a close friend who was there for me everytime I was low, coming face to face with the hypocricy of my friends, watching some of my most cherished relationships crack and have to go through the motions of life like nothing had happened. The saving graces were my studies - I learnt to drown myself in them and sought refuge in those notes. And ofcourse, another friend, who has since become my closest friend.
Sitting outside the cardiologist's cabin on Friday morning, brought back those fears again. An abnormality in my father's ECG had brought us there...and I sat there praying that it would be just that. A slight abnormality, with no reason to worry. It seems God does exist, for the problem wasn't serious.
I'm still in the process of formulating my note of gratitude to whoever it is who holds the strings of our life.
Friday was followed by Saturday - a day that was supposed to be spent watching a movie, catching a lazy lunch with my Pune-pal and meet up with Phal who was in town for the day...that's what it was supposed to be! It ended up going down the drain in a sudden copywriting assignment - which meant meeting the client and working on it all day, and then taking the work home. (That day taught me alot - no I'm not talking about professionalism and how to work efficiently and quickly - I don't need to learn that. It taught me that there are people out there who need to learn these things, but yet don't hesitate to make you feel like the inexperienced, immature fool just to ensure that their egos aren't hurt. It also re-affirmed the fact that I had taken the right decision by not plunging head-first into the world of advertising/copywriting/journalism. I don't think I'm cut out for it...not the least bit. Academics it is for me...and crossing my fingers it all falls into place. Insha Allah!)
Sunday disappeared in errands and chores - and then came Monday. Another friend happened to be in town, but clashing schedules and my location across the city (not to mention the non-existent roads eading the way out of my area) ensured that I couldn't meet her! :-( NOT fair...
Well that was my weekend - stressful, agonising, busy. How was your weekend?
Waiting outside, I was swamped with images from a few years back. January 2002 - my mother had a near-fatal heart-attack. Subsequent angioplasty showed numerous blockages going upto 90% - I didn't need doctors to tell me that if my father hadn't gone to work late that day, I would have lost her. She had a bypass in February.
April 2003 - my father had a seizure at 4 a.m. A cholestrol deposit in his neck vein had broken loose and travelled upto his brain. Immediate diagnosis of the problem, medication and diet control brought the problem into control and all the reports back to normal. But not before he spent months regaining control of his fine motor actions and slurred speech.
That year was perhaps the hardest year for me - waking up to my parent's mortality, having to bid adieu to a close friend who was there for me everytime I was low, coming face to face with the hypocricy of my friends, watching some of my most cherished relationships crack and have to go through the motions of life like nothing had happened. The saving graces were my studies - I learnt to drown myself in them and sought refuge in those notes. And ofcourse, another friend, who has since become my closest friend.
Sitting outside the cardiologist's cabin on Friday morning, brought back those fears again. An abnormality in my father's ECG had brought us there...and I sat there praying that it would be just that. A slight abnormality, with no reason to worry. It seems God does exist, for the problem wasn't serious.
I'm still in the process of formulating my note of gratitude to whoever it is who holds the strings of our life.
Friday was followed by Saturday - a day that was supposed to be spent watching a movie, catching a lazy lunch with my Pune-pal and meet up with Phal who was in town for the day...that's what it was supposed to be! It ended up going down the drain in a sudden copywriting assignment - which meant meeting the client and working on it all day, and then taking the work home. (That day taught me alot - no I'm not talking about professionalism and how to work efficiently and quickly - I don't need to learn that. It taught me that there are people out there who need to learn these things, but yet don't hesitate to make you feel like the inexperienced, immature fool just to ensure that their egos aren't hurt. It also re-affirmed the fact that I had taken the right decision by not plunging head-first into the world of advertising/copywriting/journalism. I don't think I'm cut out for it...not the least bit. Academics it is for me...and crossing my fingers it all falls into place. Insha Allah!)
Sunday disappeared in errands and chores - and then came Monday. Another friend happened to be in town, but clashing schedules and my location across the city (not to mention the non-existent roads eading the way out of my area) ensured that I couldn't meet her! :-( NOT fair...
Well that was my weekend - stressful, agonising, busy. How was your weekend?
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
On Literary Tastes
Aristera blogged about about the authors he doesn't like.He threw names at random at his readers.
"naipaul, rushdie, agatha Christie, amitav ghosh, rohinton mistry, mahasweta devi, Sylvia plath, yann martel/mitzel (booker winner for ‘life of pi’….ughs!), most Russians (Tolstoy, dostovsky, kafka). "
I don't think there are any authors I particularly dislike - despite my complete lack of comprehension over the success (commercial and otherwise) of certain books. I never got around to developing a taste for the genre of science fiction, or for that matter fantasy. The day you see me reading a Tolkiens, or a J.K.Rowling without it being stuffed down my throat will be the day the sun rose from the west.
To each his own is my firm belief on the subject. The world as we know it is a wildly frothing mass of heterogeniety; so how can literary tastes be uniform? I hate it when people force their literary tastes on me (much as I hate it when culinary/fashion-related/personal tastes are thrust on me) and I've developed a certain sensitivity towards other's reading likes and dislikes. Which is why I find myself hesitating to gift books these days - specially since most of my friends have rather different likes/dislikes from my own. a book lying neglected, unread is worse than a book not gifted.(Does that make any sense? Ah well that's just me, the queen of convoluted logic.)
P.S. Incidentally I added a couple of blogs to my blogroll this week - I highly recommend Aristera Says (there is a definite pleasure in promoting a friend's blog)
P.P.S Literary Mosaic complained of step-motherly treatment; I've taken steps to dispel the ridiculous notion ;-)
"naipaul, rushdie, agatha Christie, amitav ghosh, rohinton mistry, mahasweta devi, Sylvia plath, yann martel/mitzel (booker winner for ‘life of pi’….ughs!), most Russians (Tolstoy, dostovsky, kafka). "
I don't think there are any authors I particularly dislike - despite my complete lack of comprehension over the success (commercial and otherwise) of certain books. I never got around to developing a taste for the genre of science fiction, or for that matter fantasy. The day you see me reading a Tolkiens, or a J.K.Rowling without it being stuffed down my throat will be the day the sun rose from the west.
To each his own is my firm belief on the subject. The world as we know it is a wildly frothing mass of heterogeniety; so how can literary tastes be uniform? I hate it when people force their literary tastes on me (much as I hate it when culinary/fashion-related/personal tastes are thrust on me) and I've developed a certain sensitivity towards other's reading likes and dislikes. Which is why I find myself hesitating to gift books these days - specially since most of my friends have rather different likes/dislikes from my own. a book lying neglected, unread is worse than a book not gifted.(Does that make any sense? Ah well that's just me, the queen of convoluted logic.)
P.S. Incidentally I added a couple of blogs to my blogroll this week - I highly recommend Aristera Says (there is a definite pleasure in promoting a friend's blog)
P.P.S Literary Mosaic complained of step-motherly treatment; I've taken steps to dispel the ridiculous notion ;-)
Monday, September 05, 2005
Flooded...
A pattern has developed over the last few days - I wake up to a nice enough morning - dew on the grass in the lawn opposite my building, the road vaguely wet, but mostly dry, a gentle breeze blowing my curtains aside to let the morning light filter into my room. It gets hot later in the day; infact it's quite unbearably hot. And then come the clouds blowing in from the North East and within an hour the sky has gone from azure to grey. Torrential rains follow, the strong winds blowing in from the East...an hour later everything is thoroughly drenched.
And so it was on Saturday evening that my mother and I got down on our way to run some errands. A neighbour warned us to venture out cautiously since many roads were getting flooded. Dismissing her statements as pure exaggeration we got into out car and asked the chauffeur to take us to the Supermarket - we did cross this patch of water around 2 ft deep, but that patch gets water-logged with the slightest of rains so didn't give it any thought. Little did we know, that half and hour later my brother would call asking us not to even try heading home, but to head over to my uncle's place instead. As he was approaching our society, he saw a huge mass of water gushing down the slope towards him and had the quickness of mind to turn quickly onto a slightly elevated ground and park the car there. Wise, for the cars behind him got stuck in 4 ft water in their attempt to beat the water. We finished our chores and headed to my uncle's place and my father also joined us there - and there we stayed till the 5 ft deep water receded. My brother waited outside for nearly 2 hours, then finally gave up and waded towards our building in waist-deep water....apparently Manjari Meadows which is higher up than Mundhwa got flooded and so the people broke down walls there to allow the accumulated water to get out - and it all came gushing down the village towards our residential society, only to get stalled by the walls. It took nearly 4 hours for the water-level to come down - after villagers whose houses had been completely ruined descended on our society and made holes in the compound wall that was holding the water back... (got me thinking about the Torrential Tuesday in Bombay and how awful it must have been for those people when they couldn't get home for over 24 hours. Just a few hours away from home and I was restless - even though it was my uncle's place and I've stayed over so many times before! Also got me thinking once more about the crazy 'development' that Pune is going through and what kind of a city/nation we are 'building' for ourselves...)
That was one flood - meanwhile I've spent the weekend rummaging through the carton of our old photographs and trying to put them in some kind of an order and put them in albums, so that they don't get ruined with each time someone goes thumbing through them...plus I love doing this kind of stuff, and I think it's so much nicer to flip through albums seeing the gradual progress/change/evolution in life. It's kinda crazy doing this, because albums have been made previously with other photos, so by the time I end we'll probably have a couple of albums with similar date-lines! Anyway all the rummaging has got me flooded with memories from the past - some rather vague pictures, some very clear pictures. Pictures of a certain time bring back memories of events in my life of which I may not have photographs, but the images flooding my mind are just as clear.
And so it was on Saturday evening that my mother and I got down on our way to run some errands. A neighbour warned us to venture out cautiously since many roads were getting flooded. Dismissing her statements as pure exaggeration we got into out car and asked the chauffeur to take us to the Supermarket - we did cross this patch of water around 2 ft deep, but that patch gets water-logged with the slightest of rains so didn't give it any thought. Little did we know, that half and hour later my brother would call asking us not to even try heading home, but to head over to my uncle's place instead. As he was approaching our society, he saw a huge mass of water gushing down the slope towards him and had the quickness of mind to turn quickly onto a slightly elevated ground and park the car there. Wise, for the cars behind him got stuck in 4 ft water in their attempt to beat the water. We finished our chores and headed to my uncle's place and my father also joined us there - and there we stayed till the 5 ft deep water receded. My brother waited outside for nearly 2 hours, then finally gave up and waded towards our building in waist-deep water....apparently Manjari Meadows which is higher up than Mundhwa got flooded and so the people broke down walls there to allow the accumulated water to get out - and it all came gushing down the village towards our residential society, only to get stalled by the walls. It took nearly 4 hours for the water-level to come down - after villagers whose houses had been completely ruined descended on our society and made holes in the compound wall that was holding the water back... (got me thinking about the Torrential Tuesday in Bombay and how awful it must have been for those people when they couldn't get home for over 24 hours. Just a few hours away from home and I was restless - even though it was my uncle's place and I've stayed over so many times before! Also got me thinking once more about the crazy 'development' that Pune is going through and what kind of a city/nation we are 'building' for ourselves...)
That was one flood - meanwhile I've spent the weekend rummaging through the carton of our old photographs and trying to put them in some kind of an order and put them in albums, so that they don't get ruined with each time someone goes thumbing through them...plus I love doing this kind of stuff, and I think it's so much nicer to flip through albums seeing the gradual progress/change/evolution in life. It's kinda crazy doing this, because albums have been made previously with other photos, so by the time I end we'll probably have a couple of albums with similar date-lines! Anyway all the rummaging has got me flooded with memories from the past - some rather vague pictures, some very clear pictures. Pictures of a certain time bring back memories of events in my life of which I may not have photographs, but the images flooding my mind are just as clear.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Bombay Samachar
Bombay Samachar, established in 1822 by Fardoonjee Marzban, was the first vernacular newspaper to be set up in Bombay. (Even Wikipedia gives it a short mention.) Incidentally the first printing press was brought into Bombay in the 1670s by a Parsi businessman and Bombay's first English newspaper started nearly a hundred years later was also the result of a Parsi stalwart.
The headquarter of Bombay Samachar, located in Fort (around the corner from Indian Mercantile Chambers, not far from Strand Bookstall or Bombay Stores) is housed in a red building that's over a century old and boasts strong wooden beams that don't show any sign of decay despite their rather advanced age. I spent some hours in their Circulation Department on a wild goose hunt for an ancient Public Notice - and was amazed at how the office was organised.
The last time I entered a newspaper office, it was to walk out an hour later a little surprised at how uncluttered it looked and how none of the staff, with a rather high "I'm cool" quotient, was over 40. But that was the editorial department of a newspaper that's going through some drastic changes in order to boost its rather sagging sales. Bombay Samachar is nothing like that. It resembles by all means and purposes a typical old, bureaucratic Indian office.
The building may have had a classic fully-loaded Cadillac parked outside, but the entry is definitely not carpeted. Rather I felt like I was entering a warehouse of sorts. Up I went round a winding creaking staircase (the ones I am terrified of slipping through!) into a dingy, musty corridor. As I peaked into the first room, a peon surfaced from his morning nap to ask me where I wanted to go. "Purane newspapers kahan milenge," I asked. He pointed towards another room and I walked into a high-ceilinged musty room cluttered with files, and atleast six people, none of which were doing anything productive. I asked to be given access to their archives and was told to address the last man sitting in the line, one who was browsing through a film magazine. He pointed me back towards the first person I'd addressed, who then told me to sit down and yelled out to Ramji. When Ramji finally appeared 5 minutes later, I was asked which months and year I wanted to start with and Ramji was asked to bring out the concerned file.
I was there with my father, and since they could spare only 1 chair for us (despite the fact that 3 chairs at unoccupied throughout the time I was in that office and 2 others were unoccupied for most of the time) I stood while we searched through the newspapers of autumn-winter 1987. It was interesting for me to be flipping through the newspapers even though most of the content was in Gujurati, which I do not know! The adverts back then were so unsophisticated as compared to what we have today - ofcourse even back then women were used to pedal everything from women's clothing to jewellery, from holidays in Kerala to estate agents in downtown Bombay! Most of the models either had huge hairdos a la Madhuri Dixit as a newcomer, or these wierd beehives stuck at peculiar angles on their heads, or towels wrapped around their heads! And the reigning model seemed to be Sangeeta Bijlani - remember her? The Sunday newspaper had much more English content, with several pages dedicated to the achievements of Parsis and a double spread of comic strips - in colour!
Four months worth newspapers later, I had dusty blackened fingertips and a terrible back-ache; it was lunch time so the female clerk waiting for the others to return finally took pity on me and told me to rest my backside on a stool. When her 'boss' returned, she had to pay for her grave mistake. The man, as far as I could make out has nothing to do but read magazines and harass her...if he wasn't making flirtatious remarks that she tried her best to ignore, he was chastising her for not being efficient enough. How I itched to slap him...and ensure his unemployment for the rest of his life.
Luckily my father decided to abandon the search after we'd gone through 2 more months and said he'd find another way of achieving the desired end. After waiting 10 minutes for the designated clerk to return, we quickly paid him Rs.54 for accessing 3 files and made our way out into the sunlight and open air...as I took in deep gulps of the 'fresh' air, an employee of the newspaper walked out. He nodded at me, turned around and pointed at the building proudly - and informed me proudly that I was standing outside the office of the oldest existing Indian newspaper. He went onto to lecture me on the importance of preserving such old buildings and ensuring that old newspapers like this one don't disappear because of lack of funds, readership or efficient management and then just before we parted ways at the end of the street...he told me that I should go in to see the office and browse through the archives. :-)
The headquarter of Bombay Samachar, located in Fort (around the corner from Indian Mercantile Chambers, not far from Strand Bookstall or Bombay Stores) is housed in a red building that's over a century old and boasts strong wooden beams that don't show any sign of decay despite their rather advanced age. I spent some hours in their Circulation Department on a wild goose hunt for an ancient Public Notice - and was amazed at how the office was organised.
The last time I entered a newspaper office, it was to walk out an hour later a little surprised at how uncluttered it looked and how none of the staff, with a rather high "I'm cool" quotient, was over 40. But that was the editorial department of a newspaper that's going through some drastic changes in order to boost its rather sagging sales. Bombay Samachar is nothing like that. It resembles by all means and purposes a typical old, bureaucratic Indian office.
The building may have had a classic fully-loaded Cadillac parked outside, but the entry is definitely not carpeted. Rather I felt like I was entering a warehouse of sorts. Up I went round a winding creaking staircase (the ones I am terrified of slipping through!) into a dingy, musty corridor. As I peaked into the first room, a peon surfaced from his morning nap to ask me where I wanted to go. "Purane newspapers kahan milenge," I asked. He pointed towards another room and I walked into a high-ceilinged musty room cluttered with files, and atleast six people, none of which were doing anything productive. I asked to be given access to their archives and was told to address the last man sitting in the line, one who was browsing through a film magazine. He pointed me back towards the first person I'd addressed, who then told me to sit down and yelled out to Ramji. When Ramji finally appeared 5 minutes later, I was asked which months and year I wanted to start with and Ramji was asked to bring out the concerned file.
I was there with my father, and since they could spare only 1 chair for us (despite the fact that 3 chairs at unoccupied throughout the time I was in that office and 2 others were unoccupied for most of the time) I stood while we searched through the newspapers of autumn-winter 1987. It was interesting for me to be flipping through the newspapers even though most of the content was in Gujurati, which I do not know! The adverts back then were so unsophisticated as compared to what we have today - ofcourse even back then women were used to pedal everything from women's clothing to jewellery, from holidays in Kerala to estate agents in downtown Bombay! Most of the models either had huge hairdos a la Madhuri Dixit as a newcomer, or these wierd beehives stuck at peculiar angles on their heads, or towels wrapped around their heads! And the reigning model seemed to be Sangeeta Bijlani - remember her? The Sunday newspaper had much more English content, with several pages dedicated to the achievements of Parsis and a double spread of comic strips - in colour!
Four months worth newspapers later, I had dusty blackened fingertips and a terrible back-ache; it was lunch time so the female clerk waiting for the others to return finally took pity on me and told me to rest my backside on a stool. When her 'boss' returned, she had to pay for her grave mistake. The man, as far as I could make out has nothing to do but read magazines and harass her...if he wasn't making flirtatious remarks that she tried her best to ignore, he was chastising her for not being efficient enough. How I itched to slap him...and ensure his unemployment for the rest of his life.
Luckily my father decided to abandon the search after we'd gone through 2 more months and said he'd find another way of achieving the desired end. After waiting 10 minutes for the designated clerk to return, we quickly paid him Rs.54 for accessing 3 files and made our way out into the sunlight and open air...as I took in deep gulps of the 'fresh' air, an employee of the newspaper walked out. He nodded at me, turned around and pointed at the building proudly - and informed me proudly that I was standing outside the office of the oldest existing Indian newspaper. He went onto to lecture me on the importance of preserving such old buildings and ensuring that old newspapers like this one don't disappear because of lack of funds, readership or efficient management and then just before we parted ways at the end of the street...he told me that I should go in to see the office and browse through the archives. :-)
Monday, August 29, 2005
The Bombay Mosaic
Marine Drive. Fort. Bombay Samachar (est 1822). Cafe Mocambo. Pasta Salad. Gayatri. Heaven. Home. Mocha (Juhu). Bloggers and Blogwhores - or friends? Expensive wine (didn't we order something for Rs.400?), Fondue and 'Tapas'. Broke. Brunch with Amisha. Nice. Carter Road. Nicer. Andheri Station. Crowded as ever. Churchgate, Oval Maidan, High Court, University - will I ever get tired of the sight? Jahangir Art Gallery. Samovar. Sweet Lime Soda. Gateway of India. Garishly done up South Bombay homes v/s charming South Bombay homes. Indigo Delicatessen. Delicious. Classy. Very Kunal and me :-) Dessert and Coffee at Cafe Basilica - Cranberry Cheese Cake. Scrumpilicious. Heavenly. Back home - exhausted, content. Slept like a log. Breakfast at Woodstock - Macchi Maar with mom's close friend. Gazing from their 11th floor apartment facing the sea, awash with memories of a rainy morning not so long ago :-) Strand Sale, next to Alma Mater (Arya Vidya Mandir Juhu) - very very tempting to splurge. Picked up books on design for big bro, baby books for nephew (his first books from Bookie Bua!) ...and had to curb my own purchases! It's ok - it's not the last Strand Sale ;-) Long wait for one-time student, now friend Shivaji (no he's not Maharashtrian - he's Bengali!). Coffee at Barista. Bike ride to Andheri Station. Quick rendezvous with Aparna - thanks again girl! Prithvi for Sweet Lime Soda and Momos with Shivaji (again). Simple but delicious dinner at Pizza Casa - Versova. Company? Kunal ofcourse - don't know anybody apart from us who actually eat at the place! Early night - earlier morning. Caught the 6.45 am bus back to Pune! YAWN!
Current mood - Content as a Cheshire Cat. Hear that purring in the background? That's me:-)
Current mood - Content as a Cheshire Cat. Hear that purring in the background? That's me:-)
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Eklavya
One of my University professors was also a story-teller. She often does story-telling sessions (often contrapuntal) of fairy tales for children and is an excellent orator. So when some of us weren't too sure of a particular myth, she'd clap her hands togther, ask us to sit back in our chairs and announce "Story-time..." It's been a while since I heard that, but I know how much fun it can be, so here goes - Story-time folks!
Once upon a time there was a young man named Eklavya, who wanted to become the greatest archer of all time. Since he couldn't afford a tutor, he made an idol of the best tutor in the world, Draunacharya, and began practising archery in front of this idol. Now in India, a tutor (Guru) is revered like a God, so Eklavya would place flowers at the idol's feet and pray to this idol everyday before beginning the day's practice. Soon he became the most skilled archer around - on seeing proof of his skill, Draunacharya started feeling insecure that this boy whose background itself was suspect would rise above his own favourite student Arjuna. Tormented by the thought, he decided to exploit the boy's unwavering faith and loyalty to him - as a Guru he could demand Guru-dakshina (payment) at the end of the period of teaching. Draunacharya asked Eklavya to give his the thumb of his right-hand - and such was Eklavya's devotion to his Guru, that without a second's thought, he sliced of his thumb and humbly placed it at his Guru's feet.
(For a slightly less firang sounding version - read this.
This is one of the most popular stories to go around on the occassion of Teacher's Day - but I'm not recounting this tale to you to inspire in you feelings of utmost devotion and respect for teachers - if you ask me Eklavya should have shown him his middle finger instead of unflinchingly cutting off his own thumb and thus ensuring a life of unemployment and frustration for himself. ;-)
Since my examinations got over, I've been a little more helpful in the kitchen - not something I do willingly. It helps ofcourse that my brother is trying to cut down on his weight and has gone on a diet of salads and soups for lunch - an area of interest and relative expertise, as compared to the others in the house. So I step into the kitchen bright and early in the morning to slice the veggies, shred the chicken, toss the dressing, stir the soup...and get my brother's lunch ready before he leaves for work. On Monday, it was cabbage and apple with chives.
So there I was merrily slicing the cabbage nice and fine...slice slice slice and I neatly sliced my thumb along with the cabbage.
After much pain, blodd-loss and cursing those who don't make their own salads, I got my thumb bandaged. And then began the ordeal-
How does one eat food when the thumb of your right-hand is incapacitated? How does one prise open stubborn lids of air-tight boxes? How does one play with a boisterous dog? Or with a baby who thinks that all thumbs in vicinity must be grabbed hold of and stuck into the mouth? How does accept calls on cellphones/cordless phones? How the hell does one type text messages?
Sure, Eklavya didn't have to deal with most of these things, though as a man I'm sure he had to deal with other issues that I needn't be worried about ;-) Two days with a slightly incapacitated thumb and I'm climbing walls in frustration. Boy, does that man have my sympathies!
Once upon a time there was a young man named Eklavya, who wanted to become the greatest archer of all time. Since he couldn't afford a tutor, he made an idol of the best tutor in the world, Draunacharya, and began practising archery in front of this idol. Now in India, a tutor (Guru) is revered like a God, so Eklavya would place flowers at the idol's feet and pray to this idol everyday before beginning the day's practice. Soon he became the most skilled archer around - on seeing proof of his skill, Draunacharya started feeling insecure that this boy whose background itself was suspect would rise above his own favourite student Arjuna. Tormented by the thought, he decided to exploit the boy's unwavering faith and loyalty to him - as a Guru he could demand Guru-dakshina (payment) at the end of the period of teaching. Draunacharya asked Eklavya to give his the thumb of his right-hand - and such was Eklavya's devotion to his Guru, that without a second's thought, he sliced of his thumb and humbly placed it at his Guru's feet.
(For a slightly less firang sounding version - read this.
This is one of the most popular stories to go around on the occassion of Teacher's Day - but I'm not recounting this tale to you to inspire in you feelings of utmost devotion and respect for teachers - if you ask me Eklavya should have shown him his middle finger instead of unflinchingly cutting off his own thumb and thus ensuring a life of unemployment and frustration for himself. ;-)
Since my examinations got over, I've been a little more helpful in the kitchen - not something I do willingly. It helps ofcourse that my brother is trying to cut down on his weight and has gone on a diet of salads and soups for lunch - an area of interest and relative expertise, as compared to the others in the house. So I step into the kitchen bright and early in the morning to slice the veggies, shred the chicken, toss the dressing, stir the soup...and get my brother's lunch ready before he leaves for work. On Monday, it was cabbage and apple with chives.
So there I was merrily slicing the cabbage nice and fine...slice slice slice and I neatly sliced my thumb along with the cabbage.
After much pain, blodd-loss and cursing those who don't make their own salads, I got my thumb bandaged. And then began the ordeal-
How does one eat food when the thumb of your right-hand is incapacitated? How does one prise open stubborn lids of air-tight boxes? How does one play with a boisterous dog? Or with a baby who thinks that all thumbs in vicinity must be grabbed hold of and stuck into the mouth? How does accept calls on cellphones/cordless phones? How the hell does one type text messages?
Sure, Eklavya didn't have to deal with most of these things, though as a man I'm sure he had to deal with other issues that I needn't be worried about ;-) Two days with a slightly incapacitated thumb and I'm climbing walls in frustration. Boy, does that man have my sympathies!
Sunday, August 21, 2005
What Next?
So the exam has been taken - and almost forgotten by now! Never been one to conduct a post-mortem of any exam, specially since it goes against my philosophy about exams...so haven't done that this time either. But now that Diplome Superieur is behind me and the results can only be expected by end September (at the earliest)...I am wondering what next...
Should I succumb to the temptation of picking up another language or start hunting for a 'proper' (read full-time employment with regular pay-checks) job?
Should I succumb to the temptation of picking up another language or start hunting for a 'proper' (read full-time employment with regular pay-checks) job?
Currently:
- Reading Short Stories by Rabindranath Tagore
- Listening to Shakti - Lotus Feet
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