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07 November Right NowDefine happiness: A cup of coffee, a lonely walk along the campus singing a song loudly in the middle of the night. Maybe I'd be able to write after this.... 23 September Pluto is GoofyDo you believe in ESP, premonition, intuition and the like. I do and here's one story that proves it - to me anyway.
So all of us went through school, learnt about the solar system and the 9 planets. We learnt the order of the planets in terms of distance from the sun. We also learnt that the smallest one, the coldest one, the one farthest from the Sun is Pluto;a tiny little dwarf, living in a world of giants. For me it was an inspiration, as I struggled to do the same; match up to the giants around me. But one fine day, a bunch of scientists decided, just like that, that Pluto is no longer a planet. That it is, ironically, a dwarf planet. No longer among the big boys, standing at the periphery of all that action.
I was a little unhappy, coz I had always liked Pluto. I decided to do what any sensible adult would, watch a cartoon, one where Pluto was still the same ole cute, well-loved doggy; Mickey Mouse. As I watched the cartoon though, I discovered that there had always been signs and I had never noticed them. Namely, the characters of Pluto and Goofy, not only behaved in the same clumsy manner , they looked similar too. It had always been there, just that many of us had missed the signs. PLUTO was GOOFY all along.
27 May Whooshing through time....On planet Tisb, that morning dawned bright and beautiful. The sun was shining down more benevolently than most other days. The sky was blue and the birds were singing to the tunes of melodious old movie songs. It looked like it was going to be a calm day. Like, most other un-informed predictions of weather though, this one too was false. For today was the day of the scheduled whirlpool flood. Unlike some primitive planets, where the climate was still unregulated, Tisb had been regulating its climate ever since its very inception. The ruling class here dictated how the weather looked on a particular day. The ruling class was cold blooded and so more often than not, the heat was turned up and other denizens of the land, normal warm blooded mortals, roasted on a daily basis.
Anyhow, today was going to be an important day. It was the day of selection. Tradition dictated that at the appointed hour, all the citizens swim across the boggle bog. The whirlpool rotors would be on at this time and those who drowned, would be condemned while those who survived would be declayed A-yers (equivalent to 'heirs' in earth english). None of the citizens wanted to participate, but there was no choice. For the amusement of the rulers, this game was played out many times each year.
Today was going to be an unusually tough selection as many of the players were new. They had just passed the age of rites, which allowed them to be full fledged citizens and to vote for the elections to GSB - Giant Soggy Buns (no one knows correctly what exactly is the function of this body but it is considered quite prestigious to be able to win a position).
So, at the appointed hour all the Tisb - folk wearily began the upward trek from their villages to the AC ( Aqua Currentis), the big reservoir at the entrance of boggle bog where the selection was to be held. Many had dread in their hearts, a few had hope.
Among the dread-filled folk was poor D'Shaw, the peasant. This really is her tale more than anyone elses. Now, D'Shaw was a lazy peasant (which is why she was poor). D'Shaw had attended all but one of her swimming lessons because her mom back on earth had made her promise she would try to do that. But D'Shaw had not practiced and so she could barely float. Biting her fingernails and pryaing hard D'Shaw headed towards the AC with the crowd.
At the AC, there was a sad, malevolent silence. Row upon row of citizens sat awaiting their turn to swim (or drown). Suddenly the rotors were on, the selection had begun. Everyone jumped into the water including D'Shaw. At first the swim seemed ok but soon the intensity of the churn seemed to be drawing her in. She struggled, fought and tried her best. She thought over and over again that she would never do this anymore. That she would practice if she lived to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And she swam. Alright it was more of a dog paddle but she stayed afloat.
When the rotor were finally switched off she emerged from the water, dripping wet and bedraggled. Her body was broken but her spirit was alive. And she knew she would survive all of these selections. She may not be an A-yer but she was not going to drown either. Somewhere the birds were singing another song....
08 May To move or not to move - A Catch 22 situationOf late many more people have been visiting my blog. I am lovin it.
The reason of course is obvious. I have newly joined college and many new people are suddenly aware that I exist and I write. So there is minor credit to my writing skills but, mostly, this the case of being in the right place at the right time, thanks to fate and two incredibly credulous interviewers who found me incredulously credible. (I am part of the WWW club - Worship Weird Words )
Nevertheless, I am lovin it.
Because, I so like this, there is a problem! (Gentlefolk, here I present to you a classic application of Murphy's Law)
The problem is that despite the page views increasing manifold, the number of comments people add on my blog are actually decreasing....(Smart Alec comments using Marginal Analysis are very actively discouraged on this blog.)
Why does this always happen to me? Why can't anything ever go right!!! (Appropriate Quote: Her story repeats itself. )
This blog, you see (literally, look at Address bar), is on MSN spaces. Using the monopolistic practices that have served Microsoft well for decades, they limit the option of commenting to those people who use their services i.e. have a hotmail address at the very least. That’s all really good for Microsoft but it does seem to hamper the flow of comments on my blog.
So yesterday in the College Mess (very apt name based on the fare they serve, though the grandiose given name is dining hall), this woman came up to me and said 'What’s with your blog...I can't really comment.. Too much trouble.' She herself writes a blog and a good one, hence for the next 10 minutes, I had a lopsided (was chewing with one side of my mouth) stupid grin on my face thinking...'She reads my blog. We share mutual respect for each other. This is so good..etc..etc.', when I suddenly realized that my experiments with truth are not going to help. And the truth I had been rather happily experimenting with was: There is a problem on the blog. It needs to be fixed or I need to move blog sites to see more comments.
This insight was not gained thanks to one feedback, multiple good friends and co-bloggers had been complaining for a while but with effortless flair acquired from a quarter century of practice, I just kept pushing back any thoughts of taking action.
Now though the writing is on the wall and I have decided to do something about this. First step would be to seek more feedback before I take action. I guess, I'll take a poll.
So if you think its a good idea that I move blog sites, write a comment to that effect.
And though I am super sure I need not spell out why this is a catch 22 situation, I will.
The catch is; on this blog many people will find it difficult to comment therefore will not bother to comment. My poll will indicate that I need not move. Yet the very fact that I have very few comments is indicative of the fact that I need to move.
The perfect 'lazy person's' dilemma. I can't move an inch either way.
Like I said before, I am lovin it!
(Update: Will be using this as well as another blog on blogspot, most likely starting next term i.e. mid- june. Will post details soon. Thanks all for response) 26 April Plug and playThis morning I slept late and when I finally got up, it was with a rested peaceful feeling. "Ah...Life is good" I thought, as I proceeded to jump from the bed, straight into my chair to write my blog. The laptop, alas, was out of charge. In my sleep induced feeling of well being, I decided to plug it in, unthinking of the childlocks that ISB has kindly provided in all plug points (First Law of Childlocks: Thou may not put a 2-pin plugs into 3-pin sockets...ha ha ha ha ha). After struggling to break the first law for about 5 frustrating minutes, I suddenly realized that all these days there was definitely another methodology I had applied to solving this problem. From the dim recesses of my brain emerged the picture of a pen, with a small bottom (I know there is something wrong with the language right there but can't figure out why - and I am not trying to be sexist).
Anyhow, I tried to find that pen in my bag, the pen stand, my desk, my jeans and the lobby of my apartment, to no avail. Being smart and deterermined, I decided to try other pens, twenty three of which, my well meaning mom had put into a box when I was packing for ISB. But the result of the experiment after using this extensive sample data was the same. There was this one pen that would work and no other.
I wasn't the one to give up so easily though and thought of alternative pointy objects. Very soon my desk was piled with forks, knives, earrings (the dangling pointy variety), pencils, nailcutters, toothpics, earbuds, and other plugs of many shapes and sizes. Nothing worked till I tried my keys. By now I was through being gentle to I shoved one of the keys from my keychain into the top socket and bingo...I completed a blog entry, decided to take a leisurely bath and then to dry my hair.....
Another application of the key was requred at this point. So, gleefully, flushed with the sucess of the morning experiment I ran to retrieve my keys from the socket in my room, only to discover, that they were stuck in there. I pushed and pulled, I tried to twist them, gently tried to coax them out, sang to them, read to them...but they refused to budge (Second Law of Childlocks: If you ever put any important objects in the sockets, they stay there). My hair need less to say had by now dried itself thanks to the enormous amounts of heat being generated by my head.
Tired of my experiments I finally called the housekeeping guys to lock my room as I woefully proceeded to class (without reading the required material). My mind was rebelling at the whole idea of childlocks and their requirement in a college with students with an average age of 27. "Infact, they are dangerous" I thought, "considering we poke all sorts of objects into sockets". (I convineintly forgot that the earth socket would most likely have no current).
I stepped into class, sat down, said my hellos and dug out my notebook from my back pack. On opening it I discovered (as many of you must have already guessed by now)......one small bottomed pen. 06 April Clog BlogHow is it that some days are like clogged drains...that everyhing that you try to do seems to be destined for failure and no matter how patient you try to be....the day ends up in you pulling your hair out at the roots...
Today is a day like that for me. First the damn dailup was slow so I could not check mail properly. Then my house rent deposit refund would not get credited to my account as SBI was on strike. Then my settlement dues from the company came with a huge excel sheet attached. A princely sum of 12 thousand bucks (it seems that I owed the company I had just resigned from everything but these 12k after 3 years of diligent service). Then I called the transpoter who had to shift my luggage from Mumbai to Delhi to ask him if that was on schedule, only to come to know that it would be delayed by 3 days. Then my bank account password got locked on a lousy internet connection. Then....
Then I decided to write this entry out, knowing that I would never be able to post it thanks to the quality of connection. So if it ever does show up....the day just became better. 05 March The Transit Lounge SyndromeDeja Vu, isn’t that a beautiful name for a feeling that is completely indescribable. The other day it hit me once again.
As I was reading my mail, suddenly I saw one from the Indian School of Business. I had been interviewed for their post graduate program some weeks ago and now I was selected. There was a sort of numbness that I have felt very often (oh yes life has been good) -the numbness of joy. And panic – (and I am sure there are some folks out there who understand this…) - the panic of joy.
My ears were hot, my mouth dry and I wanted to cry. But I was in office. So in as natural a voice as I could muster up I turned around to announce to the few colleagues who were still at work (this was at 6:30 PM)…I made it to ISB. They are all friends, these colleagues of mine. They gathered round then and slapped me on the back. They said 'congratulations' and 'best wishes' and 'when is the party' and what not, till they realized that I look like a chicken whose got bird flu and who knows that the unfeeling municipal worker will twist her neck the very next moment.
Then began the inevitable questions – Are you not happy? But isn’t this what you wanted? Why do you look like you’d like nothing better than to belt out a dirge right now? And the inevitable and insufficient answer- ‘I am like this only. It takes me some time to get used to happy news and this also means a major change. Of course I am elated’ and usual muttering under the breath and rolling of the eyes and half audible ‘She’s crazy’, ‘Some people don’t appreciate anything’. I told the news at home and to my friends too. And the reaction was the same every where. A simple ‘Congratulations. What the f#$% is wrong with you? Who just died?’
I have a month to pack up my life in Mumbai - to give notice to my landlord, to resign from my Job of 3 years, to sell my bed, cupboard, study table, Fridge and TV. I have a month aftr which I go back home to Delhi for a couple of weeks before I am finally off to ISB (Hyderabad). And I am starting to think, as always, about why I am doing this, is this what I really want and what if its not. In short, I am starting to get depressed. Now there is the common filmi joke about ‘tears of happiness’. But where is the corresponding evidence of this syndrome I suffer from ‘The depression of wish fulfillment’. There is some literature that I have seen that talks about ‘Fear of Change’ but that hardly captures what I am going through.
There is a constant restlessness, a huge question mark that seems to be superimposed on every act. I feel down it the dumps, sad beyond logic. And excitement does not describe the unpleasant uncoiling I feel in my stomach every time I think about the rest of my life. Well call me crazy if you want but this is how I am. And each time life picks me up from my familiar happy surroundings and places me in a new and better situation I suspiciously approach it waiting for myself to topple and fall flat on my face. In time I get better. It just takes getting used to these crazy spikes in life’s pleasing flat rhythm.
There are two names I have given my malady. The descriptive one ‘Simple is happy, happy is scary’ and the one that makes for an interesting conversation – ‘The Transit Lounge Syndrome’. 21 October The PaperboyIts impossible to describe a day in the life of any respectable Indian middle class man, without the hour long tea and newspaper ritual every morning [duration varies by about 25% as does drink, many people in South India do this with Coffee].
Not to say that the Great Indian Middle Class is a rather predictable intitution. Its just that like every other institution there are some rules and policies that need to be followed. And when the middle- class school boy goes to middle class school to obtain a middle class education, the rule of "Early Morning Newspaper and Tea( EMNaT/EMNaC in the south ) " is drilled into him repeatedly. The boy observes the same rites being practiced daily at home and has no option really, but to subscribe to the same (though there are a few semi- dissidents who read different Newspapers from their fathers).
The sub-rules of the EMNaT/EMNaC rule ofcourse deal with the various sections of the Newspaper. So much time for the front page and national news, so much for the international section and sports, so much for the horoscope and the cartoons.
But now there is a problem. A big problem. Some new Newspapers are in the market. And hence there is competition in the hitherto unchanging Newapaper landscape. In the days of yore there was a bunch from the old school ( TOI, The Hindu, HT) to name a few. The percentage of sales varied by a few percentage points here and there, but there was an equilibrium, a sense of balance. Now suddenly there is a stir and in response to the rapid changes in the environment the papers are changing, as in mutation (evolution alas is lost!). The very DNA of the news paper is changing and fast!
There are these new sections, not one or two, but a plethora of them. And suppliments. Where one newspaper, with all its sheets spread out could easily be used to cover the school books of one child, or (doubled) to cover all the shelves in the house, now full housing societies can use one newspaper if they wish. Its not just impossible to read the damn thing fully, its also impossible to predict where what will be. For example the horror- o - scopes or movies (the most important real function of the News, if you ask me). You never know anymore which page they will be on. They seem to switch places almost daily. So how, I ask, is the poor middle class to observe its rites of passage into semi-adult hood.
Its not just the middle class thats suffering though, the erstwhile newspaper boy is the real victim. Just the other day as I finshed a morning walk, I saw a bunch of tall, macho, muscled lads gathered outside the locality. Assuming they are recruiting the new security guards, I curiously approached. Guess what they were required to do, roll up a newspaper and throw it at this window of that building with unerring accuracy. Considering the fact that the newspaper now weighs a decent 1/2 kg, the lads needed to be as puffed up as they were. I was told that they were weighed and their heights measured before they were brought out in the open for this final test. So it seems there has been a major shuffle in those ranks and no longer are thin, hardworking boys with shy grins, long considered naturals, suitable for the job.
One thing good about the newspaper though, on a chutti (holiday) no matter what task my mom/dad/ family asks me to do, I laze around and never do it. Oh and when someone asks me, what I did the whole day, I always say "read the newspaper" . The difference is....now people believe me (sometimes).
15 September The Other SideToday is one of those days when I sit in office and I want to go home, my mind thinking about a 1000 undone tasks. Its not an uncommon type of day. Infact, there is another equally common type -days when I am at home and I want to be in office, my mind thinking about a 1000 undone tasks.
Wonder why it is, that wherever I am at the moment, its someplace else that I long to be. I wonder where I'll find that Kuber's Khazana -peace.
Just in case someone thinks that this is just a home and office syndrome thats kinda common among most of mankind and I am blowing things out of proportion by even terming it a boggle, let me elaborate a bit.
I have spent most of my life in that crazy land of heat and cold, of lovely food and wide roads, (sadly) of eve- teasing and duping Auto Rickshaw drivers, of white Khadi clad politicians and college girls donning multi- hued salwaar- kameez, the Capital of this country. Born and brought up by parents who are Doctors, I have spent days longing to come home to a mother who was a house wife. This, when I love my upbringing and the independance it has accorded me. I love the summers (I can hear a lot of people saying - now this is a real boggle). But I have wondered in the midst of the heat, how will the winter sun feel. Sitting out in the sun in Decemeber, chewing on a bhutta (corn), I have longed for a mango and vice versa too.
So, I love Delhi and yet have wondered how it would be to live in a small town or maybe another metropolitan City. Surprisingly, having lived in both New York and Mumbai for a couple of years (which is pretty much the same thing anyway), I yearn for Delhi with a vengeance I would have not believed possible a few years back.
Is that the extent of it? No, its not. There's more. Took up science in higher secondary, wondered how Arts would have felt. Joined an IT course in graduation wonder till now if I just should have prepared for medicine. Studied hard some days and wondered if I should have watched a movie. Watched a movie and felt guilty about not studying. Ate the most amazing biryani wondering if we should have gone to a chinese joint.
The list just goes on. When old people talk they seem to exaggerate the virtues of the past and downplay those of now. When I think, I do the same with whatever I don't have. The name of the game 'Nostalgia'. 01 September Blogger's Boggle Part II decided to add a new category to my blogs called 'Boggles'. The reason simply is that in all my years of existence there is yet to be a day that I am not wondering about the why, what, when, where, how or whether of something or the other. Not to say I am a bright child (though I am sure many of you think so) , who constantly questions, figures out the answers and hence becomes smarter. I am more the kind who throws a question out into the open space, can't figure out the answers, doesn't ask others for the mortal fear of revealing her stupidity and therefore becomes more and more befuddled by the day. It is a sort of a vicious cycle(or is it circle, I have never been sure), where the more I question, the more puzzled I become and the more puzzled I am, the more I question. Infact, I was wondering this morning why some people think, I always have a quizzical expression.
But, that is definitely not the boggle of the day. The boggle of the day...or boggles of the day are all related to blogging i.e. you could say that for me 'Blogging is boggling'. See, here is the problem. I just started writting a blog some 5 days ago after about an year of wondering 'How tough can it be, its just like writing a diary'. And then one day suddenly I decided (coz I am a woman of action) to write (I told myself " 'How tough can it be, its just like writing a diary"). But as usual , I am wondering whether I have oversimplified things. Coz now (as perpetually) I am down with an attack of the boggles. So here's the first edition of the daily boggles (now I wonder whether I should make it a daily blog feature)...
Boggle#1 - Purpose : What is the purpose of a blog?
Is the blog a purposeful document that is meant to spread a message (like say world peace, or save the whales). Or is it just the raving and ranting of a silly individual whom no one would listen to, anyway. Frankly speaking the second option makes me much more comfortable but does that mean I am trying to save myself the trouble of writing responsibly? And is that so bad? ...and so on and so forth.
Boggle#2 - Length: How long should the blog be?
I mean does it have a physical word limit (express your thoughts in no more than 500 words) or structure,maybe a number of paragraphs (like school essays -Introduction, discussion and conclusion) Or is it just an unstructured piece of scribbling. Which ofcourse brings us back to whether it has a purpose.
Boggle#3 - Distribution : Who reads my blog?
The question is not that who has access, but who actually reads it? Is is school-going children, who in the middle of looking at internet pornography sites, accidently or by desing came to read my blog one day? Or is it responsible adults living purposeful and focussed lives? Or is it confused adolescents looking for some thing to pass the time? And then this takes me back to the length issue...I mean how long should the blog be for any of these groups to read it fully and appreciate it. But again I wonder (Purpose)? Is it meant for public consumption or is it like a diary (just a little less private), so length is competely my prerogetive. Also, should I be responsible, restraining the content to avoid profanity (for the benefit of the responsible adults -Kids know the dirtiest words anyhow and are never offended) or should I just go ahead and point my middle finger at the world...
There is more, but I am only getting muddled here. So will hold back more of the confused ramblings of my maniac mind for another day...
In the meanwhile, I wonder whether I should ask those who read this blog for some of the answers Or is that stupid? |
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