Love Part II

Love was as subtly caught, as a disease; But being got it is a treasure sweet, which to defend is harder than to get: And ought not be profaned on either part, for though 'Tis got by chance, 'Tis kept by art.

-John Donne

The rare injection of poetry in my blog. Some of the truest words ever said.

Sometime around the second year, you start becoming lazy.
When you reach the third year, you kinda stop bothering much and everything happens in an vague inertia. You submit projects and write exams without giving either much thought.

In your fourth year, you hit the extreme lethargy button. You just can't get yourself to do anything. It's like nothing works on you- the carrot of marks, the fear of flunking. You avoid work while you can, for as long as you possibly can. You stretch laziness to new limits. The worst part is the utter indifference you feel. You just don't care! I am in the fourth year, and still struggling with trying to get myself to do projects. Hence... :)

I am a greedy, greedy pig. Not only did I hog up in less than a minute an entire Dairy Milk bar I had bought for myself, I also ate up one other I had bought out of gratitude for my Secret Santa, who has been giving me awesome gifts. Shame on me!! Grrr!!

But Dairy Milk is such a lovely chocolate..not too sweet, melts in your mouth, and has this nice, nice milky-chocolately-warming flavour. Sigh...

And I loved that ad there used to be; the girl who ends up destroying her mehndi after labouring with the wrapper of the chocolate for the longest time...and the jingle 'kabhi zindagi lage bhaari, kabhi lagti halki-phulki... iske rang haske dekho, apna le khushi har pal ki...thodi thodi bhaari thiodi thodi halki...apna le khushi har pal ki!'

My Post on Love- Part 1

You know, along with all the really great things people say love is, love is also a lot of simple things. Love is not only sacrifice, understanding and compassion; it is not only giving the unspoken things the other person may need or covet which you, through your care and concern understand s/he needs- it is also giving what is asked for.

Love is giving that toy your child is crying for; and no, that is not pampering him, that is not buying his affection or giving him the wrong lessons in life- that is love. Love is giving your parents that little extra care that they might demand in their old age- that isn't fulfilling your obligations, that is love. Love is giving your dog that extra chicken biscuit when he looks at it longingly from the foot of the cupboard, despite knowing that you might be ruining his training, and that he won't have much of an appetite left for his meal, only out of love for him. Love is meeting that girl you love when she asks you to, whatever be the hour, not because you want to demonstrate how giving your love is, or how selfless you are or even because you also want to meet, but simply because she asks you to, simply because you want to give her what she wants.

Call me materialistic, or demanding. But I think love is not just giving the unspoken, but giving what is asked for, no matter how ridiculous, or difficult or easy to give, or inconsequential or monumental, simple because it is asked for and desired.

A little bit of love. And a lot of attention. And even more patience.

Ahaa..internship-cum-job offer-type- thing. Interesting feeling. Not as elated as I'd thought I'd be. Maybe it's just not hit me.
I've almost got a job. Why, then?

Non-Lonely

Human beings are creatures with an insatiable curiosity. At least, most of them are. I have a hunch that even those who seem indifferent are curious deep down, but are too concerned, image-wise, to show it. I suppose it stems from that whole theory of man being a social animal and what not.

Curiosity can range from being about the most mundane things possible (Why do you always eat Butterscotch Ice cream? Why do you spell your name ‘Koushik’ and not ‘Kaushik’, or vice versa sometimes), to things which may be of some importance to you (What did she mean when she told me she’s happier being my friend…what does it really mean?), to things which are not even remotely connected to you (Do you think she was two-timing him? Why has he started drinking so heavily?)

Funnily enough, I think it’s the last category which is most discussed, most thought about and most philosophized over. So let me rephrase to say, human beings are creatures with an insatiable curiosity about others. Which possibly explains why Agony Aunt columns in magazines are the ones which are (more often than not..and don’t you lie to yourself here) opened and read, one can scarcely (and with Herculean self-control stretched to its tautest)stop oneself from reading another person’s diary, why the right to privacy is so often stressed upon and even more often violated.

I suppose this incurable interest in other people’s life stems from the constant need we have to move in herds. Misery loves company, they say. And something I have observed is that the one thing we look for, in any situation, whether good or bad, is company. At least, I do; and admittedly, I am a prime example of a non-loner, if there ever was one. But I think it’s something which can be generally observed in human masses at large. Which is why it feels awful to be the last to be picked in any sport in gym class (because you are left alone as the non-picked person). And why it is so comforting when you’re not the only one pulled up for some (even) not-so-gross violation of discipline in class. Or why it is a great sense of relief that not just you, but your brother is also going to be reprimanded for coming home past curfew. I think we feel that not being punished alone, or giving explanations as part of a group seriously nullifies the general humiliation we would feel had we been alone. That we can face the world bravely in herds, but would trip the second we were to be alone. There’s a strong need to not be singled out, to hunt for precedent and not be faced with anything unique. I don’t think this need for company just limits itself to being caught in situations which may (rather, will) have negative implications, though. For even in the happiest moments of our lives, I think we’d like to look around and see others who have had similar good fortunes.

And I suppose we read Agony Aunt columns in magazines to ensure that we are not alone in our misery, that someone is doing just as badly or worse, with problems like ours. Because so long as we’re not alone, we can handle it.

The Month Theory

I was propounding a relationship theory to a friend of mine today, who has the acute misfortune of being the victim of most of my theories these days. Don’t know to how many people it’s applicable, but it’s a general trend I have observed… In any case, it’s something like this:

Month 1 and 2: In the first and second month of your relationship, things seem like they just couldn’t get any better. And they probably won’t (only it doesn’t seem like a bad thing just then). Life is this cotton candy, which is fluffed up with sweetness that it doesn’t feel like you’ll ever reach the stick. You can’t find any flaws with the other person; in fact, you spend large parts of your time wondering just how you could get this lucky. It’s the holding hands, being-clingy-and-it’s-allowed phase, when you think any minute spent apart is a minute wasted. In any case, pass sixty days and well…

Month 3: Shit begins to happen, slowly but unmistakably. The little things you used to adore become a little nagging (why does he keep doing this, anyway..it was cute at first…). The glow of perfection seems to reduce in wattage just a little bit. The cute little fights become somewhat tiring. You’ll probably start wondering just a teeny-weeny bit what you were thinking when you were swept off your feet. But then you work hard, make your peace with it and recall desperately the great love that you used to have. The strength of the memory (which is still fairly considerable at this point) drives you on with renewed determination.

Month 4: You’re probably working on your relationship full time to keep it going. It’s a little bit of guilt, little bit of love, little bit of boredom, and (almost always, for us unlucky conscientious folks) guilt about the boredom you feel that’s driving you on. You reinvent yourself, the other person and your relationship, try new things (and the old ones that you once upon a time found cute). You try romantic getaways, gifts of varying sizes and price-tags, and several tactics ranging from concentrating full-time on the relationship to taking the occasional time-off to figure things out. God forbid one of you is still in the Month 1 and 2 phase though... this is when the clinginess really bites.

Month 5: Full-time fighting on now. It’s war, because anger is just about all you can feel now. All the bitchy stories from the past 4 months (yes, including the two month honeymoon, which doesn’t seem all that blemish-free anymore) are brought up, rewound, thrown at each other for good measure, buried only to be brought up once again. Accusations are piled, compromises are made half-heartedly, but you haven’t reached the indifference point yet…

Month 6 and 7: This is the phase of indifference, and from here, there is rarely any rescuing possible. Let's face it, you just don't care enough anymore. You're drained of energy and are begging for respite, in whatever form it comes in most easily. Whether it gets dragged to Month 7 or limits itself to Month 6 is purely chance, and depends on how clingy the two of you are. If you’re on the same footing in having reached a point of no-return irritability, you’ll end it by Month 6. Else, it drags on, much to the despair of both parties. Month 6 break-ups allow some semblance of a friendship to remain, Month 7 ones usually destroy any tolerance possible.
It might end on a good note, it might get awfully bitter. I have a policy of not keeping in touch with ex-es, and don’t relax it for at least a year after the relationship. I think the ideal time to break-up is around the middle of Month 4. Romantic relationships are always obviously different with different people, but in every case, those first two months probably make the whole thing worth it.

And if you pull beyond Month 7, and dare to venture into Month 8, it’s probably a keeper :)

Is it just who I am?

It’s been so long! I was worried they’d closed my blog down. But apparently they don’t do that. In any case… it’s been so long because I’ve been too lazy to write. But in the meantime, I have been flattered to learn that people actually missed my blog during its hibernation phase. So writing with renewed vigour, here I am…
A lot has happened, but I had this funny thought today so I'll just write about that. There are a lot of times in life when we decide to change certain things about ourselves. There are self-help books, spiritual Gurus, TV evangelists, inspiring quotations and what-not that try and coax us to do things like rid ourselves of anger, cleanse ourselves of feelings like greed, jealousy, to forgive and forget, to be calm and peaceful, and other such things which constitute the better lot of this world. There have been many times in the recent past when I have sworn I am going to be a calmer, more even-tempered person. I have made up my mind to be consciously less aggressive, be more tolerant and argue less etc. But I couldn’t help but wonder today (while I was reading a part in In Cold Blood where this chap who is an ardent Christian is in prison, and is lecturing this other guy on how he should rid himself of the ill-will he feels towards people who are happy) whether we can actually consciously change these things about ourselves. I mean, if you have a jealous temperament, or get angry quickly, what you can do at best is not show it when you feel it. Beyond that, is it really in your hands to do something about it? If you force yourself to remain calm in situations that ordinarily merit a major lashing-out, will being a neutral human being become part of your essential character? Can you really make not feeling envy or greed a habit? Isn't it something that comes way to naturally to us for us to mess with and alter? In an earlier post, I remember describing the physically torturous aspect of feeling jealousy... how do you rid yourself of that clutching feeling in your stomach and that hot feeling in your throat and under your nose?

I probably sound very demoralizing to any of you who are intending to effect a major life-change, and am undoing the good work that several old men (and women) before me have done. But I really can’t help thinking that at best, we can delude the people around us, and with great difficulty (perhaps) ourselves, but can even constant efforts to stop feeling something or start feeling something become a part of who we are? Just a curious little thought…

It hit me just now that I am 21! Shit!

'Adulthood'

I have been inspired (finally!) to blog. Guess it’s long overdue, but well, better late, eh? A lot of things have happened, as is bound to happen in over two months. But since I draw my inspiration from a blog post of someone, I shall blog on the same subject.

I gave my first job interview recently. On the 2nd of September, 2008. I can’t really say how it went, because I can’t judge from the questions that I was asked what they were looking for. I rambled, they listened. I think I was overly informal, cracked shady jokes (apparently Jimmy Choo is the reason I am interested in a major corporate deal..uggh, let me rephrase, I cracked shady non-jokes), and skipped over a lot of important things I think they ought to have been judging me on. But whatever, all of that is hardly the point. I accept that whatever has to happen will happen, and there’s not really much point worrying about it now. Well, okay, that’s a huge lie, but you get the point.

What was an emotion worth capturing was the feeling of having your first job interview. And believe me when I say this, it IS a very big deal. The nervousness and stuff is standard, and in any case, I am nervous about most things. But the gigantic-ness of the moment is what really hits you. The very first time you will talk to recruiters who will be assessing whether or not they wish to employ you. It’s a big step into career-dom. It’s an off feeling really, to give a job-interview at 20. Till the morning of the interview, I kept thinking it was rather surreal, that I was still too young to give a real job interview. And that something would come along and save me from this experience which would taint my, err, ‘not-yet-ready-for-job-ness’. Though I have been feeling this a lot lately, I suppose this was one the major occurrences in life which truly marks an end to one’s childhood. While the thought still fills me with a great deal of paranoia and unease, truth of the matter is, in a small way, it also gives me a kick. It’s a very grown-up feeling. And while I think of my childhood with more than teary-eyed nostalgia, I suppose this new thing will also be interesting.

So here’s to stepping into adulthood, and a step closer, to all that we spend our childhoods dreaming about, in actuality..

1...0...-1

Two...

Three.

Why NOT Law

After much deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I cannot become a lawyer. Guess I just don't have it in me to be one. I don't think I can handle the rough road. Burning out already. Too bad.. After three years, I guess it's time to throw in the towel.
Or not..? Let's try one more time.

Waqt ki quaid mein zindagi hai magar..chand ghadiyaan yahi hain jo aazad hain..

Woah...I haven't blogged for a month and a half!!

It's HOT!!

Nah..nothing exciting in this post, despite the suggestive title.
It's so so so bloody hot!! Why doesn't someone do something? We really ought to have an AC. They cut off the ACs we have in the classrooms even, in the months we need them the most. And they shut down the comp lab, the only non-officed, air-conditioned place on campus.
And then they give us hostels which have flimsy wiring, and cannot support the load of ACs. Like seriously, when we want to buy it with our own money AND pay the excess electricity bill even, we can't!

Is this fair?! Hot airhas been blowing around me for the entire day. I feel like I'm trapped in a desert. My throat is parched and I sweat incessantly. Even my sleep is checkered with disturbing, heat-induced dreams.

I need an AC. Seriously!

Lizards!!!!

Most lizard species are harmless to humans. Only the very largest lizard species pose threat of death; the Komodo dragon, for example, has been known to stalk, attack, and kill humans. The venom of the Gila monster and beaded lizard is not usually deadly but they can inflict extremely painful bites due to powerful jaws. The chief impact of lizards on humans is positive as they are significant predators of pest species; numerous species are prominent in the pet trade; some are eaten as food (for example, Green Iguanas in Central America); and lizard symbology plays important, though rarely predominant roles in some cultures (e.g. Tarrotarro in Australian mythology).

"I am so Pretty!!!!"

And yet some losers are afraid of them. Hehehe.

Sourced from wikipedia.org

Yummy!

The Recipe For Bhavya

3 parts Rebellion 2 parts Kindness 1 part Magnetism Splash of Enchantment Limit yourself to one serving. This cocktail is strong!

What's" the Recipe for Your Personality?

I am happy :-)

Not being able to breathe. Now, that is something I am scared of.

Yesterday afternoon, I was woken up by drizzle entering my room and spraying on me through my window. I love rain. After careful deliberation, I have concluded that it's the most beautiful thing ever.

Fairytales and so on

Fairytales are a funny thing. We can probably hold them responsible for most the hare-brained notions of Prince Charming in whites which haunt young ladies world over. But, even so, I cannot help but believe that we live in the hope of that fairytale we’ve held on to for a long time turning into reality. If it doesn’t happen, well, we quickly dismiss it as being something we never really (in actuality) ever hoped for. But that isn’t true. And such cynical points of view are adopted in the eventuality that it doesn’t happen. What I am looking at today is, what when it does? Despite it being something we look for all our lives, do we recognize and give it its due?

It is ever so rarely that you stumble upon something so precious and cherished that it makes everything worth its while. Life presents the most beautiful gifts it has on offer in the funniest packages. You find them when you least expect them, and you probably even start with ignoring or avoiding them.

She met someone. The meeting didn’t register as anything particularly important for either of them. Eventually, they discovered a distant familial tie, but that wasn’t what gave rise to the spark. Speaking of which, for over a year she did not even agree they had a spark. When they met for the first time, they were both very different people (from each other and from what they’ve become today). Quite story-book like in that she was enthusiastic and showering her affections everywhere, basking in the attention paid from several other quarters, while he was quite, intriguing, cynical and had his own following of charmed or interested people. They rarely spoke in the first few months of their acquaintance, and whatever little they did was due to his initiative. For her, it was like the half-serious, light-hearted friendships she had with almost everyone else. For him, well, it was soon discovered that it was love. Hot and cold followed. When they spoke, they spoke for hours, about everything under the sun, about things which were ever-so mundane, yet could be discussed at great length. And when they did not speak, the gap could last months. But he did not give up on the feeling, and she, well, she wasn’t even really thinking about it. A phase of turbulence in her life made her jolt out of her merry little teenage soap. Relationships became serious, some died. He started assuming more and more importance, little by little. Before she even knew it, she was more dependent on him than on anyone else around. And vice versa, I think. A fortunate or unfortunate distancing made her sit up and take notice of how much he had started to mean to her. Steps were taken to remedy the distance. Maybe unfairly so, but it seemed important then. And it worked out well. Another messy affair followed. He survived, and so did she. And then love grew. Not from his end (that was already ‘there’, so to speak), but hers. Although it would be much prettier if I described it to simply have ‘happened’ one fine day, with her waking up in the morning and feeling in love. It wasn’t quite that simple. It developed in stages, grew over the tribulations they wrestled with, found life in the many tears shed by both of them over various things, strengthened when they faced negativity together, blossomed over beautiful conversations and summer-evening walks. She did not feel love overnight. It was a feeling which was moulded by several factors. It was an attraction developed not in a hurry, but through a series of irresistible meetings. The chemistry was not in a spark but in a slow fire that they both had to feed richly, for a long time, with expensive items like their own emotions. A lot of things followed from that point on- significant events, which for some reason seem insignificant in the context of this initial progressive realization of their own individual dreams.


It is important for us to keep our eyes and ears open and pay attention to when a dream of ours is taking shape, for it happens ever so quietly, unexpectedly, and noone from heaven sends you a signal that this one is the one. It is important to take note and work on the dream, for dreams are only vague outlines. It’s the reality that you pour into it which makes it the fairytale. If you make a mistake, think that this one is the one, and turn out to be wrong, or even if you’re right, and things simply don’t work; well, then, I suppose you can shrug your shoulders and move on. But at least you’ve tried. Without leaving scope for ‘if only’ type whinings. If you’re really brave, you’ll probably muster up the courage to dream again. Most of us will then be ready to make the compromise and do what we’re told to.


I cannot say for sure when the fairy tale began. To tell you the truth, she realized much, much, much later that this was that dream. It required much more effort than the dream had said it would. The fairytale sort of just happened, this, it needed to be made to happen. But somewhere, the line between fairytale and reality blurs, in that one forgets which picture is more beautiful, more perfect.

And this, for now, is all that is important.

What goes around comes around, I guess. In emotional frenzy, one does things, which even if unintended, are unkind. And justify it though you may, suffer you will. For one does not always ask reasons before awarding retribution.

Salaam Bombay

A disclaimer: This post might sound offensive to some, but it is not intended to be. It only highlights my
jealousies and possessiveness. Bombay, at the end of the day, is open for all. So go ahead, have a good time.

A friend of mine recently told me that I have absolutely no tolerance for other people's opinions. The situation that merited this comment was that he disagreed with me on how milkshakes at Haji Ali were brilliant enough to be priced at exhorbitant rates.

I wondered for long after that incident as to what had made me react so strongly to so innocuous an opinion. And I realized that I don't really care about opinions in general and am not all that intolerant, but with regard to comments and opinions on Bombay, I am rather touchy. I take it personally when someone has something not so nice to say about Bombay. It hurts like some kind of insult to one's child. Or to one's parent. Or simply to something that belongs to one.

Because I believe that Bombay belongs to me. Additionally, it's a lot of jealousy stemming from the fact that people who have been in Bombay for a few days, or few months at best, are passing judgements and offering opinions on a city they barely even know.

For Bombay is not only about Haji Ali milkshakes and late night drives.

It is not about late night movies and all-night 5 star hotels.

It is not about Mondegars and Marine Lines.

It is not about romantic train journeys and sleepy book stores.

It is not about shopping excursions and expensive pubs.

It is not about petite dinner places and Colaba Causeway.

It is not about coffee shop fliratations or romances in theatres.

It is not about novel writers or their attractive words.

It is not about a blog entry or two on pretty Bombay.

It is not about fancy lights, good living and little adventures.

Those are fragments you see. But that isn't Bombay. Or that isn't all that Bombay is. It certainly isn't what you should love the city for and claim to love it, really.

Bombay is about hard work, hard-core professionals who struggle each day to grow.

Bombay is about utility, and an insignificant search for beauty by the side.

Bombay is about friends you may not meet for months, despite them living 15 minutes away, and catching up with them after years as if nothing happened.

Bombay is about owning, about dreaming, about demanding and winning.

Bombay is about suffering the sun and relishing the rain.

There are areas between Bhayander and Bandra, you know.
Bombay is about trains that have a purpose.

Bombay is about valuing everything you get, because you have worked bloody hard to get it.

Bombay is about bearing it with a grin.

Bombay is about walking on the beach with that boy you love, fingers interlocked, in moments stolen away from life.

Bombay is about a dissatisfied lower class, an over-worked middle class and an enterprising higher class.

Bombay is about living and struggling and loving every day.

Bombay is about a mystical attraction that pulls you and runs through your veins for every day, till you die.

Bombay is about giving a part of yourself up because you love the city so much that you will give it anything it demands.

It is about you and me and some memories.

Bombay truly is about the beauty of living every day of your life in that city, about learning to love it with its flaws and because of them. While all the beautiful touristy things one may see and like might be a brighter shade of the ever-tempting Seductress, that isn't all she is about. And it is very hard for me to listen to people talk about her so.

Perhaps all this on my part is plain and simple jealousy. In 3 years, I have spent exactly 4 days there. What right does anyone else have to be there when I am so near, and yet not there?

Another one of Those

What bothers me is the indifference which comes naturally, and the effort that has to be put in to make an appearance of non-indifference (concern..? Nah, that doesn't really fit).

The can-do-with-can-do-without attitude.

Like I care.

Too long, too long.

Ticktock, sab theek thaak. (Yeah, reading Midnight's Children)

It's fun being cold. With a pun on the last word.

It's also fun being washed with rain. But how would all of you know? You're stealing fragments of your life and trying to piece it in. A bit of Kutchi sandpapered away.

Enough now. I'll save the cogging for the projects.

L-L-L-Lies

Something I've realized with passing time (more so because situations which brought it out strongly in me have presented them at frequent intervals in law school) is that I really despise lies.

Before you raise your eyebrows and skeptically remark that you're sure I've lied on several occasions, let me confess that I indeed have. To save my skin, to give an excuse, to get out of those sticky-parenty situations, I have lied. And quite a bit. With a straight face and a pit in my stomach. I have told serious and not so serious shady tales. The general stuff. And I remember my mom (she is a rather astute lady, who knows I am lying, and reacts in a way that tells me she knows, but is nice enough to let me carry on the pretense so as to save us both uncomfortable situations) saying on several hundreds of occasions that we shouldn't lie to her, that she can stand an awful truth, but a lie in any form really gets under her skin. She told both my brother and me to do anything but lie to her.

I identify with that sentiment now.

Let me explain how this is not a display of double-standards.

I hate it when people very close to me lie

I hate it when people lie for absolutely no reason.

Or exaggerate, chuma.

I hate it whent the lie achieves no significant purpose, yet is told.

I know it is a subjective, and perhaps even arbitrary standard to judge a lie by, the purpose for which it is told. But I think that makes a difference.

And I know that most people don't like being lied to (duh!). But I cannot explain just how much it irritates me. It makes my blood boil. I can almost feel anger seeping through every vein in me.It makes me want to throw something, break the nearest object; to thoroughly shake the lie-teller and demand why it was told. Some lies, told by exceptionally close people, can even evoke murderous instincts in me. Injure their head with a brick. Preferably something fatal.

I don't know why I feel so strongly, especially about irrelevant lies. Most people would shrug their shoulders and move on, because it doesn't affect them in the least. But what bothers me the most is that it was told when it doesn't affect me in the least.

Maybe it's just hereditary.

And I suppose every high is followed by a low :)

The car still is the brightest spot on the horizon though. So cool!!!!

I Got a Car!!

I got a car. Driving's improving, even. I'm not even scared. Am so high on life!! We even randomly went to town at 10.30 pm. This just has to be the coolest thing ever!

I've understood why I've taken to watching so much television (when I'm at home) ever since I've law school. It does not require any application of mind. You can just sit there and watch and get entertained without thinking (most of the times, at least in most of the things I choose to watch). Aah..good old escapism.

Hehe..yeah, shady warped mood today.

Where am I going, really? Have you ever got the feeling the person you look at when you look at yourself isn't what you could ever imagine yourself becoming?

Is this really me? Have I actually become like this? I know I'm sounding like a shady teenager writing in a diary s/he hides away carefully.

No, but really. I think I need to do something quick. I don't like whereever it is going.

"Okay"

OK 1 or o·kay (ō-kā') n. pl. OK's or o·kays Approval; agreement.adj. Agreeable; acceptable: Was everything OK with your stay? Satisfactory; good. In proper or satisfactory operational or working order.Correct.Uninjured; safe. Fairly healthy; well. adv. Fine; well enough; adequately.interj. Used to express approval or agreement.


"frightful letters ... significant of the birth-place of Martin Van Buren, old Kinderhook, as also the rallying word of the Democracy of the late election, 'all correct' .... Those who wear them should bear in mind that it will require their most strenuous exertions ... to make all things O.K."

Okay is universally applicable, universally approved. Something that is okay can't be wrong. It cannot, by any subjective standards, be not okay. It's better than everything else. It’s simply right.

‘Just one more time, Jenny, please.’
‘I called him. I told him. He said okay, in English, because as I told you and you don’t seem to want to believe, he doesn’t know a goddamn word of Italian except a few curses.’‘But what does ‘okay’ mean?’
‘Are you implying that Harvard Law School has accepted a man who can’t even define ‘okay’?’‘It’s not a legal term, Jenny.’
She touched my arm. Thank God, I understood that. I still needed clarification, though. I had to know what I was in for.
‘‘Okay’ could also mean I’ll suffer through it.’
She found the charity in her heart to repeat for the nth time the details of her conversation with her father. He was happy. He was.



‘He’s okay,’ said Phil Cavilleri to his daughter.What did that mean?I didn’t need to have ‘okay defined. I merely wished to know what of my few and circumspect actions had earned for me that cherished epithet.Did I have the right cookies? Was my handshake strong enough? What?
‘I told you he was okay, Phil,’ said Mr.Cavilleri’s daughter.
‘Well, okay’, said her father, ‘I still had to see for myself. Now I saw. Oliver?’He was now addressing me.
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Phil.’
‘Yes, Phil, sir?’
‘You’re okay.’
‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. Really I do. And you know how I feel about your daughter, sir. And you, sir.’
‘Oliver,’ Jenny interrupted, ‘will you stop babbling like a stupid goddamn preppie, and-‘‘Jennifer,’ Mr. Cavilleri interrupted, ‘can you avoid the profanity? The sonovabitch is a guest!’

Ta da

Crumbs spilled off the plate.
It marked something- progressive realization of something. And the end. Of I don't know what. Or was it the beginning of that? I don't know.
But something changed. Not in anything perceptible, in anything which can be seen. You wouldn't notice I suppose, if you looked at us. I think something changed within us, without leaving a mark outside of us. A realization of the never-ever-possible. Of a dead end, yet a blissful path to it. Of poetry, of beauty, of conversation and brilliance. But without practicality or compatibility. Of a beautiful picture which lacks in balance within and a frame without. Of perfection and its flaws.

If this doesn't make sense from the first sentence on, don't bother trying. It isn't meant for you then.

The Cow Creamer

Reminds me of Wodehouse. 'Jeeves in the Offing', wasn't it?

Aankhen bhi kamaal karti hain..

Pers(h)onal se sawaal karti hain

Book Blues

There are some points in literature which make me want to strangle the author.
They make me desperately hope and pray that what I read was a mistake, that there is some way to alter that particular episode in a book. I feel like I could do anything in the world to change that bit of the story, beg and plead with the author to change that bit. It hurts me, the way things turn out. Actually makes me clench my teeth, sometimes cry angry tears of disappointment and betrayal, throw the book and wish away the fact that I've read it.

Jo turning down Laurie's proposal is one of them. It made me near suicidal. I felt like the world had come to an end. And then, when he got married to Amy, I realized that the end had actually come now. Poof..I can't describe how I felt. I wanted to murder the Amy in the book and set the world all right by getting Jo and Lauri married. I read till the end of all the sequels, hoping for some miracle, some chance by which they'd get together. Sigh..none came.

Rhett turning down Scarlett in the end is another. Though they get together in the sequel, it isn't the same thing.

Jenny dying. Sigh. Kept praying for a miracle, though the first line of the book extinguishes the chance of any happening.


Though, I do admit, that these books wouldn't have had the impact they did on me had they been any different.

Except the first, maybe.
Jo and Laurie were meant to be!!!! Come on..

The Good Indian Girl

(Wow..today is some day for my blog..the third post of the day!)

Funny thing, have you ever noticed that in the first half of a Hindi movie, where the girl is rebellious/evil/stupid/not-in-love-with-the-hero/not-generally-depressed-in-life, she dresses fine- in a t-shirt and jeans, skirts etc.

Come second half- post-interval, her wardrobe undergoes an absolute shift. The poor depressed girl has been spurned in love and trying to get her lover back, or has turned over a new leaf and is no longer plotting to bump off the next member of the family, or has generally sobered down in life, and she starts wearing salwar-kameez. No, seriously, pay attention. The corrected woman, the sensible woman, the repentant woman, the victorious woman- always in an Indian outfit. Some examples I can think of off-hand are Kareena Kapoor in Jab We Met (after she gets dumped by the chap she wanted to marry in Manali, she's dressed in sober, pastel-shaded salwar-kameezes); Urmila Matondkar in Om Jai Jagdish (after she learns her lesson and becomes a good bahu); Preity Zinta in Kya Kehna (after the interval, when she is rejected by Saif and is fighting for her kid- and no, I don't think it has anything to with her being pregnant- hardly even shows in the first 3 months). These are a few I can think of right now. But believe me, it's the case in every single Hindi movie which has this kind of a story. Each and every one, without exception.

Talk about mind-set! It is sad to see that the sushil Indian woman is still defined in such rigid parameters, and a good Indian girl can only be really seen as one if she dresses right.

Read this article today, in which Soha Ali Khan was deemed to be a ‘youth icon’. The poor girl was quoted saying that actors are basically entertainers, and should not be looked upon as a source of exemplary moral behaviour. She was commenting with reference to the stars-seen-smoking fiasco that’s in the air. Shah Rukh Khan has been criticized by the media and groups trying to uphold “Indian morality and values” for smoking publicly, and setting a bad example for people, especially the youth, that hero-worships him. His response was that people don’t pick up smoking just because they see him do it. And if the youth has to pick up habits from him, why not pick up his inclination to work hard.

Personally, I don’t even think we should go into the subjective depths of this critique. What I cannot understand is how we have, as a country, permitted media and morality-touting groups to become so interfering. How can someone object to the habits of another, supporting it with rubbishy claims like the youth being influenced (yeah, by virtue of your freedom of speech you are free to go scream and object, but pressurize the actor to quit?!). If the youth of your country is stupid and gullible enough (and I know it is, I know people may pick up smoking after having seen SRK do it), I think there is a pressing need for you to start some kind of awareness classes for your youth. To teach them to take their own decisions, to direct them to not get affected by the actions of some poor chap who wants to smoke, and is even abstaining from doing the same on screen so that their choices aren’t influenced by his style. I can go as far as to agree that perhaps actors shouldn’t be shown smoking on screen, because movies have a social responsibility. Which isn’t to say actors don’t, and I even concede that their responsibility is much greater than that of the average man, for they’re unfortunately given an iconic status in this country. But this does not give anyone the right to pressurize them or in any way influence their personal choices, claiming social responsibility and the youth getting affected as a reason.

It is his choice whether he wants to smoke or not. It is his life he is putting at stake. It is his decision entirely. I don’t see how anyone can try and interfere with the choice. Yeah, you pay a price for being famous, but that mean you stop living as per your own choices. If you’ve got a problem, try and effect a change in the mentality of people, who look upon actors as a source of instruction on how to live their lives.

Live and let live, really.

Something cool I read..

"Niceness is over-rated. It is how a man gets his way when he hasn't the guts to be tough or the class to be brilliant."

(FN: Shreya Aren's status msg on Gtalk..She doesn't remember where it is from)

Niceness= Mediocrity

There Is No Alternative (TINA). Hehehe.

Chee..whine whine whine all day!
I will write an intellectually stimulating, politically opinionated entry next. Err..will just grab the newspaper and see what's going on first.

Feeling "defeated" currently (refer: tag line of the title of my blog).

I think I write best when I'm furious. Such a pity my hands shake too much for me to type enough. Pity pity. Aunt Pittypat.

One more thing..

I don't understand why One puts on weight when One eats nice things. One has so much trouble in life. Sigh..poor One!

Aah..prawns..Oh Calcutta! Get chicken into business quickly though!

I realized recently just how bitter a person I have become. I don't know when I became like this old naggy woman who finds fault in everyone but herself, and criticizes everything around her, has no tolerance and voices loud, bitter, irritated opinions to anyone and everyone who is listening (or not). I've lost my enthusiam, my general air of happiness, and tolerance (to the point of indifference- now I think only core-level indifference remains). Worst thing, though it might superficial and trivial, is the change in speech. I sound so bitter now. I use harsh language, for friends, relatives, people in general, regardless of whether or not they've even said or done something to me.

I am also doing a lot of this. Skimming through life quickly, counting hours, minutes, simply waiting for things, days, weeks to get over. And get where? Reach at what? It's like living on the surface, refusing to settle into anything, just racing to get somewhere (I don't know where).

I've become really shady, I say.

Love in Hindi Cinema

First of all, I apologize for the rather ordinary title to this post. I’d much rather have put up something funkier and more eye-catching, but I am very sleepy, at work and rather brain-dead. So I’ll let the mundane prevail.

This is something that occurred to me while I was going to work one morning. I listen to the radio while going and coming back, and flip through channels rather swiftly (much to the agony of my driver- should I say chauffeur or ‘the person who controls my vehicle’ for the benefit of all the Marxist-Socialist-politically correct-opposed to demeaning terms like driver and servant- types?- anyhow you get the point, for he is rather possessive about the music system in the car). And I realized that the sound track of the movie ‘Taare Zameen Par’ is very, very popular. No matter how much I surf, it’s playing on one station or the other. It got me thinking about how refreshing a non-love theme in a movie can be. And how nice it is once in a while to not hear a song praising the lips or hair or eyes of some woman, or making promises of undying, faithful afflictions.

As a disclaimer, I am not trying to eulogize movies which address socially sensitive concepts, or ‘arty-farty’ movies. In fact, I don’t consider myself much of an authority on the subject of movies in the first place. For that, you should talk to some of my friends, who can spend hours painstakingly educating you on anything and everything about movies. I just enjoy watching movies for the time that I am watching them, like them or dislike them, and in all probability forget salient features about the movie, no matter how much I’ve liked pretty soon. All I am commenting on is that it is simply so fresh and new to see something other than the standard love story on celluloid.

I have been wondering why the concept of love is so popular with Hindi Cinema. Every movie, almost, in the commercial stream has a love-story at its centre. Even movies which are working on another them have an ancillary love story. It seems like Indian film-makers don’t have much else to talk about, or are aware that nothing else will sell as much. You have the poor boy falling for the rich girl, fighting social odds and evens, overcoming all possible problems and goons her father sends, and finally, managing to marry her. Or you have the rich guy fooling around with the poor girl, dumping her, and coming back to her at the end of three hours. A preliminary question I want to raise about the depiction of love in these movies is, how do the actors know it’s “love”? How can they be so sure after a chance meeting on the train, or a sighting from the balcony or a bit of a fight in a shopping mall? From the little experience that I’ve had with love or its cousins, I don’t think it is so easy to determine when it is the right thing- when it is ‘that’ which is worth eloping for. Anyhow, like I said, this is simply a preliminary query, and I digress from the main focus of this post. Coming back, why is it that there’s a love story at the heart or on the surface, or (most often) all through a Hindi movie?

I’m not sure it is the correct answer, but I think the monotony of the theme can be linked to the fact that ours is not a particularly permissive society. Harmless flirting, serious courting, falling in love, marrying someone of your choice, telling your parents you’re in ‘love’ are all things which most Indian families would (or did, hopefully!) regard as bordering blasphemous. Maybe an era of restrictive society, backdoor romances, sly courtings, rare elopings gave rise to a population which seeks solace in love and romance being portrayed on the big screen, in being given hope that despite their own boring, middle-class existence where they go home to the same wife and whining, there is spring and beauty and blossoms in this world. Perhaps, Indian cinema with its focus on the theme of love has given room and image to the imagination of thousands of Indians who never dared to think outside the arranged marriage regime. Most of all, I think it presents an escape route into a world of dream-girls who are otherwise unattainable, and whose existence is in fact, not even taken too seriously; into a world very different from theirs, where even a 9 to 5 office-going clerk can have splashes of colour thrown in by some pretty damsel on the bus stop.

That’s the reason I can think of for the obsessive-compulsive love filmmaking we have. Can you think of something else? But filmmakers, a plea to you- it does get boring and monotonous after a while. Please do a rethink, while our parents are (again hopefully :)) doing one.

This isn't the promised post on 'Love'. That'll come up soon.

Me.

That blog almost has as many posts as this one. But then, two can write more than one, obviously.

Though that makes me sad somehow. The look of my dashboard. Like I've been neglecting this one. Like I've been neglecting myself?

I realized I've never posted anything on love. Hmm..'Love'.

I will, some day. I think.

Goodnight. And thank you. Now I can cry.

This isn't about that. This isn't about anything. Just a feeling. It'll go away. Quickly, I hope. Thanks for introducing me to the fine print.

Circa 2008

We've always prided ourself over being an educated family. This isn't to say we aren't. Most people in my family are quite well-educated. And last night, on 25/1/2008, my cousin called off his engagement. Which was scheduled for 27/1/2008. Because suddenly, he decided that the girl wasn't good enough for him.

I don't want to make him out to sound like such a villain. In fact, I don't think it's his fault, in a manner of speaking. Marriage in my household is such an obsessive family decision, there is an immense pressure on every single kid to prove that we're obedient children, who will do whatever our parents ask us to do blindly. And interestingly enough, most of us do, when it comes to marriage. But I digress.

The facts are as follows:My cousin told his parents that he'd be okay with marrying any girl they chose, he had no preferences whatsoever. His praises were being sung loud and clear everywhere, even in my house, for being such good boy, for being the sort who completely trusted his parents and so on. Around the 15th of this month, my uncle and his wife (yeah, my aunt, I suppose) met the girl and his family. They approved, and said yes for the wedding. They decided that the engagement would take place on the 27th of January. Then suddenly, a bit of fear crept into my uncle's mind, and he inserted a clause saying that everything would be subject to my cousin and his sister approving. My cousin flew down from Delhi, and he and his sister met the girl on 22nd. Noone said anything. Everything was going smoothly. He said he was cool with the marriage. As did his sister. Clothes shopping and all is happening.

And then, on the night of the 25th, my cousin was looking really upset. His sister and mother asked him what happened. After some coaxing, he said he did not like the girl. She didn't seem 'smart' enough for him. After which even his sister said she'd felt the same way, and that she'd held her tongue because he hadn't said anything. And then, when my uncle tried persuading him a bit, he started crying and said that if they wanted to force him into it, it was fine. So the engagement was called off. The girl's father and uncle begged my uncle and aunt to tell them the reason. You know what's appalling (if all this already isn't!)- my aunt told them that they'd at least told them before the engagement, and that they had given them enough time. She did not have any remorse in her voice.

A lot of questions come to my mind. Firstly, if you've chosen to play the role of the obedient son, why did you not stick with it till the end? If you had preferences, why didn't you declare them to your parents when they were looking for a bride? Let's not even go into the subjective analysis of what he said. Not 'smart' enough leaves me with way to many stones to throw at him. But most importantly, it's a question of principles. If you've said yes, how can you go back on your word? I completely understand and appreciate that whatever problem you have should be declared before marriage, and much better late than never. Also, it'd probably have been more disastrous for a girl to walk into a house where people thought badly of her after marriage. But even so, couldn't he express his views on the 22nd, when he saw her? It would've been cleaner then.

It's the most pathetic thing I've heard to have happened in some time now. And I'm really disgusted and ashamed it has happened in my family. I never thought a cousin of mine, in the year 2008, would treat a girl like a commodity to be selected or rejected even after having given his word as if she was some grocery he was buying and suddenly changed his mind about. I cannot even begin to imagine what she or her family is going through. It breaks my heart more so that my cousin's sister and his mother, being women in Indian society, having borne the brunt of how the girl child and the question of their wedding is treated like, could have been party to something like this. They are all turning around and criticizing the girl today, saying she was indeed not up to the mark.

In any case, I'll stop now. I don't know what to say, really. I know I'll never be able to communicate it to the girl or his family, but I convey my deepest apologies to them. I cannot believe someone in my family has done this. And I wish I didn't have members like this in my family. May they never be forgiven.

And I hope they remember, what goes around comes around.

Mooting should be illegal. As should internships. Work, work, more fucking work.