Friday, December 22, 2006
The world would be great if there was no dependence - on persons or inanimate objects. Perhaps it is this dependence that makes us so mundane and ordinary and pathetic. Its true, we're all a pathetic bunch!! There are a few exceptional ones who don't need anyone. They're good all by themselves. Are we to envy them and lock them in the furnace to burn out their existence or to learn from them? Well, the former sounds better to me. Or better still, us lesser humans who need others should just excommunicate the superhumans. Then we shall see who needs who!!!
Saturday, December 09, 2006
INEXHAUSTIBLE EXHAUSTION
When I try to jog my mind back to last week, it gets stuck and begs me to stop. It refuses to go through those streets again, those memories of truckloads of assignments, unrealistic deadlines, 15 hours of disturbed sleep in 72 hours, backache, tired eyes, writer's block, warped eating cycle, mugs of tea and hot water to keep us awake, and marathons to college with my heavy laptop slung around my sore shoulder, racing against time to be in class for attendance. It's been a rollercoaster ride this last week and schedules and workloads don't seem to be getting any lighter. There were times when I nearly gave up, sat back and considered what would happen if I failed, shuddered at the thought and returned to the grind. There were times when I laughed at our situation and told my roomie, "Gowri, if we can pull through this, we can handle ANYTHING in life."
And anyway, this rat race seems crazy, but it isn't impossible to win. And win we shall.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
LETTING MY HAIR DOWN
I need to chill out. I need to unlearn the feeling of being responsible and grown up. It has deprived me of the carefree child I used to be. And I don’t like myself like this. It’s not me. I believe it is imperative to be a responsible and level-headed individual, but for heaven’s sake!! Not all the time!! I worry, worry, worry, and often lose out on the moment.
I don’t want to turn into my grandmother. She is a great lady, extremely accomplished. But she worries about everything, all the time. She looks for reasons to be worried, as if her life has no meaning without it. I’m afraid I’m becoming like that, apprehensive, skeptical and pessimistic.
Perhaps, experience has molded me into what I am. I won’t say I’ve had all the problems in the world, no, in fact, I’ve been lucky. But in the past few months, since the time I’ve begun to live on my own, I have become a serious individual. I don’t like too much joking, am damn serious about my work inside and outside the classroom, and prefer to be home studying than to go out partying and drinking myself silly.
Have I become prosaic? Maybe not. Maybe it’s just relative. I have my own ways of having fun and letting my hair down. Perhaps I have my own style, which seems dull to others (and sometimes even to me), but which is a great stress-buster for me. There are days when I’m a social animal and days when I’m a recluse.
There are a lot of ‘perhaps’ and ‘maybes’ and ‘probably’s’ because nothing is certain or proven. I’m just following my stream of consciousness as I write this. Perhaps Virginia Woolf felt the same way as she tried to figure out her mind and the minds of others. The human mind is truly fascinating!
I need to chill out. I need to unlearn the feeling of being responsible and grown up. It has deprived me of the carefree child I used to be. And I don’t like myself like this. It’s not me. I believe it is imperative to be a responsible and level-headed individual, but for heaven’s sake!! Not all the time!! I worry, worry, worry, and often lose out on the moment.
I don’t want to turn into my grandmother. She is a great lady, extremely accomplished. But she worries about everything, all the time. She looks for reasons to be worried, as if her life has no meaning without it. I’m afraid I’m becoming like that, apprehensive, skeptical and pessimistic.
Perhaps, experience has molded me into what I am. I won’t say I’ve had all the problems in the world, no, in fact, I’ve been lucky. But in the past few months, since the time I’ve begun to live on my own, I have become a serious individual. I don’t like too much joking, am damn serious about my work inside and outside the classroom, and prefer to be home studying than to go out partying and drinking myself silly.
Have I become prosaic? Maybe not. Maybe it’s just relative. I have my own ways of having fun and letting my hair down. Perhaps I have my own style, which seems dull to others (and sometimes even to me), but which is a great stress-buster for me. There are days when I’m a social animal and days when I’m a recluse.
There are a lot of ‘perhaps’ and ‘maybes’ and ‘probably’s’ because nothing is certain or proven. I’m just following my stream of consciousness as I write this. Perhaps Virginia Woolf felt the same way as she tried to figure out her mind and the minds of others. The human mind is truly fascinating!
What am I supposed to do when I have two homes?
The stork dropped me off at the capital city of India. I brought great joy to my family, being this plump, white and pink bundle of fat, perpetually smiling and gurgling, ready to receive anyone with open arms. I grew up to a a frowny five year old; i wonder why I scowled so much in my photographs. Probably I didn't get along with the kids in my class, or wait, I just remembered, the damned boys used to poke fun at me because I was a fat kid, ya, maybe that's the reason. I hated boys. Studying in a girls' school from the 1st to 12th std didn't help my rapport with the opposite sex, but then that's another story.
Home.....hmmmmm.....my last entry said a lot about my original home. But perhaps my perception was too idealistic and unreal. Home also means restrictions, questions to be answered, moral obligations and sometimes, the lack of personal space. Which reminds me, this is precisely why I was ecstatic to leave home for another home, in the first place.
Bombay = Freedom
Last night, my friends and I sat around Marine Drive, gazing at the dark waters, the distant lights of the tall buildings crowding the horizon, the paling stars, the bowl-shaped moon. And I felt so content, so happy, so FREE!! Here I was, free as a bird, free in my existence, no worries about getting home in time, no numerous frantic calls from over-anxious parents, no binds; just my close companions, the sea breeze and the orange light from the street lamps.
So which home is better? I've no idea and nor will I set out to find an answer. Both mean a lot to me. My first home has a special chair reserved for me at the dining table, while my second home is a sanctuary for my repressed and fettered spirit. I love both, I need both.
I love my life.
The stork dropped me off at the capital city of India. I brought great joy to my family, being this plump, white and pink bundle of fat, perpetually smiling and gurgling, ready to receive anyone with open arms. I grew up to a a frowny five year old; i wonder why I scowled so much in my photographs. Probably I didn't get along with the kids in my class, or wait, I just remembered, the damned boys used to poke fun at me because I was a fat kid, ya, maybe that's the reason. I hated boys. Studying in a girls' school from the 1st to 12th std didn't help my rapport with the opposite sex, but then that's another story.
Home.....hmmmmm.....my last entry said a lot about my original home. But perhaps my perception was too idealistic and unreal. Home also means restrictions, questions to be answered, moral obligations and sometimes, the lack of personal space. Which reminds me, this is precisely why I was ecstatic to leave home for another home, in the first place.
Bombay = Freedom
Last night, my friends and I sat around Marine Drive, gazing at the dark waters, the distant lights of the tall buildings crowding the horizon, the paling stars, the bowl-shaped moon. And I felt so content, so happy, so FREE!! Here I was, free as a bird, free in my existence, no worries about getting home in time, no numerous frantic calls from over-anxious parents, no binds; just my close companions, the sea breeze and the orange light from the street lamps.
So which home is better? I've no idea and nor will I set out to find an answer. Both mean a lot to me. My first home has a special chair reserved for me at the dining table, while my second home is a sanctuary for my repressed and fettered spirit. I love both, I need both.
I love my life.
Friday, October 20, 2006
"Home, when my thought's escaping home; when my music's playing home; when my love lies waiting silently for me......." is what my heart's been humming for the past one week. The actual journey home seemed a distant phenomenon.
Now I am home. There is no place like home, there really isn't. You may travel the seven seas, to the other ends of the earth, to the moon, to Mars, but home still occupies that special seat in your heart.
This is perhaps because an individual is himself at home. It is a space where he/she has trekked through childhood, puberty, teens and a confused state of adulthood. When you go out into the big bad world, it is imperative for you to conceal a bit of what you are, to assume many qualities that may inherently not be yours. And these are the qualities you leave behind as you stand at the doorstep of your home and ring the bell, yearning to be let in.
Of course, not to forget the fringe benefits of a well-stocked refrigerator, a washing machine and a much desired microwave oven.
Now I am home. There is no place like home, there really isn't. You may travel the seven seas, to the other ends of the earth, to the moon, to Mars, but home still occupies that special seat in your heart.
This is perhaps because an individual is himself at home. It is a space where he/she has trekked through childhood, puberty, teens and a confused state of adulthood. When you go out into the big bad world, it is imperative for you to conceal a bit of what you are, to assume many qualities that may inherently not be yours. And these are the qualities you leave behind as you stand at the doorstep of your home and ring the bell, yearning to be let in.
Of course, not to forget the fringe benefits of a well-stocked refrigerator, a washing machine and a much desired microwave oven.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Is it not exasperating when you write something down on this blog page after much thought and analysis and it gets deleted???
Times like these you wish 'technology' was a person and you could strangle him. Good were those old days of plain ol' parchment and quill.
Sometimes I wish I could return to that epoch. But sometimes I don't.
I'm not a techno/gadget freak. I use some, but I can survive without them. I think I'm somewhere in the middle, stranded between the haters of modern technology and the freaks.
There are times when I love to leave the whole world behind to unite with nature. Being a recluse can be quite a pleasant experience. Like 'Hide-Out' (a farm located in natue's lap, and the venue for our outdoor photo shoot), it was beautiful. No cellphone network, no calls, no worries, no traffic, no pollution. It was smashing!!
And this time, I shall save this text elsewhere, just in case the (blasted) blog network decides to act smart with me again!
Times like these you wish 'technology' was a person and you could strangle him. Good were those old days of plain ol' parchment and quill.
Sometimes I wish I could return to that epoch. But sometimes I don't.
I'm not a techno/gadget freak. I use some, but I can survive without them. I think I'm somewhere in the middle, stranded between the haters of modern technology and the freaks.
There are times when I love to leave the whole world behind to unite with nature. Being a recluse can be quite a pleasant experience. Like 'Hide-Out' (a farm located in natue's lap, and the venue for our outdoor photo shoot), it was beautiful. No cellphone network, no calls, no worries, no traffic, no pollution. It was smashing!!
And this time, I shall save this text elsewhere, just in case the (blasted) blog network decides to act smart with me again!
THE MOTHER OF ALL PHOBIAS
I've come across a few individuals recently who shake in their shoes at the mention of 'love'.
I agree it is sweet poison, a force so powerfully dangerous that it can either make you absolutely defenseless and vunerable to pain, or suspend all commom sense. Being in love isn't a comfortable position. You end up thinking about the person in class, at the grocers, in the shower, while walking back home, sometimes even in the middle of an exam. A strange, slight pain throbs in your heart. Love creeps into your life, seizes your mind and becomes master of your thoughts and actions, which under normal circumstances may appear silly.
BUT there's no feeling on earth like 'love'. It adds some spunk to life, that extra bounce to your step, that perpetual smile for no particular reason at all. It makes you feel happy nearly all the time. It's fun to be in love, and in a committment. Feels good to have someone looking foward to YOU, to be wanted and desired.
Inspite of all the heartburn and bitterness that the love causes, people don't stop loving. You 'cannot' stop loving or start evading love. When it comes to you, why take the futile trouble of running away, when you know you're going to come right back to the point you started from.
Love isn't the monster we make it out to be. So my friends, be wise. Jump down that well and RISE in love!!
I've come across a few individuals recently who shake in their shoes at the mention of 'love'.
I agree it is sweet poison, a force so powerfully dangerous that it can either make you absolutely defenseless and vunerable to pain, or suspend all commom sense. Being in love isn't a comfortable position. You end up thinking about the person in class, at the grocers, in the shower, while walking back home, sometimes even in the middle of an exam. A strange, slight pain throbs in your heart. Love creeps into your life, seizes your mind and becomes master of your thoughts and actions, which under normal circumstances may appear silly.
BUT there's no feeling on earth like 'love'. It adds some spunk to life, that extra bounce to your step, that perpetual smile for no particular reason at all. It makes you feel happy nearly all the time. It's fun to be in love, and in a committment. Feels good to have someone looking foward to YOU, to be wanted and desired.
Inspite of all the heartburn and bitterness that the love causes, people don't stop loving. You 'cannot' stop loving or start evading love. When it comes to you, why take the futile trouble of running away, when you know you're going to come right back to the point you started from.
Love isn't the monster we make it out to be. So my friends, be wise. Jump down that well and RISE in love!!
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
After numerous failed attempts to create a new blog, I feel triumphant today. I have arrived!
Not written something different for a very long time. My mind's been too preoccupied writing news openings, features, book reviews, captions for photographs, and all that. The mind feels too exhausted to write something more creative after that. Also, sloth takes over, one of the deadliest of the 7 sins.
I haven't even touched my personal diary since eons. It just lies on my bedside table and serves as a reliable coaster. I feel bad, but I don't do anything about it. I just lie back in passivity, as I watch myself waste the time that I could've spent in writing.
I want to become a writer. But I hardly write something that people would want to read.
Probably, I shall start now. From today.
Because I want to be a writer.
Not written something different for a very long time. My mind's been too preoccupied writing news openings, features, book reviews, captions for photographs, and all that. The mind feels too exhausted to write something more creative after that. Also, sloth takes over, one of the deadliest of the 7 sins.
I haven't even touched my personal diary since eons. It just lies on my bedside table and serves as a reliable coaster. I feel bad, but I don't do anything about it. I just lie back in passivity, as I watch myself waste the time that I could've spent in writing.
I want to become a writer. But I hardly write something that people would want to read.
Probably, I shall start now. From today.
Because I want to be a writer.
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