Of Nightingales and Norah.

Nightingale
Sing us a song
Of a love that once belonged
Nightingale
Tell me your tale
Was your journey far too long?

Does it seem like I'm looking for an answer
To a question I can't ask
I don't know which way the feather falls
Or if I should blow it to the left

All the voices that are spinnin' around me
Trying to tell me what to say
Can I fly right behind you
And you can take me away

--Norah Jones

I've come to regard these lyrics as a definition for my life in general.

Looking forward to watching "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist", which is releasing soon at a theatre near me. :)

Of Marriage And More.

Thoughts...
...

...

...

Married. Nothing more, nothing less.

...

Carved dreams of togetherness and life.

...

Of passionate disagreements and involvements.

...

Tenets of understatement and understanding.

...

Shared sense of belonging and acceptance.

...

Of forthright judgements and unquestioned rights.

...

Exasperated expectations wild and convoluted comprehensions of us.

...

Desperate cry for insatiable intimacy.

...

Letting go of common sense to avoid hurtful people running scott free.

...

Of illusions and reality.

...

...

...

Notes Of A Bride-To-Be. #1

Meetu gave her way-to-go-about-looking-for-a-mate mantra.

“Judge how much you’d have to change for this person.”

Following had been my selection criteria and it can be different for different people, but I have a feeling that the more intellectually inclined people will understand what I'm saying here (or so I would like to think). :D

I was looking for "THE GUY", not the "The Right Guy" because there IS no such thing. This was my marking system, a system where you will never get a full 100%... (let me stress again) because there is not such a thing as the "The Right Guy":

a) Talk it out and see if and how the guy fits into what you want for your future. If he wants the same/similar things... 10 points scored!

b) Try and see if you can identify where the guy is coming from. Let me explain; I strongly believe that where, how, and what of a person's background affect who the person is today. If you can do some digging and find the origin... 10 more points scored!

c) See if both of you "like" (not necessarily love) to do the same things in your free time (coz you'll be spending most of your free-time with your significant other). If you can find atleast 2-3 things that match... 10 points again!

d) See what the guy likes and you completely dislike. If it's not more than 2 things... 10 more points!
(thats where Meetu's mantra comes in, coz this is prolly how much you will have to change)

e) Meet him under different conditions, for example, meet him where he is in his comfort zone, meet him outside his comfort zone and again in a neutral zone. This will give you a fair idea if the guy is really what he says he is. If he is almost the same under all those different situations, he most likely isn't faking it. 10 more points!

f) Meet his family. If you like the family, 10 points!

g) If you can have long conversations with him without "much" effort. 10 points again!

After all is said and done, 70% is a good enough score for you to jump into marriage. And I use the word "jump" because you will never be ready for marriage until you actually jump into it. At least I am unaware of any person who was "ready"!

I intend to continue this with more of my notes... because life continues after the JUMP and brings with a lot of surprises! Trust me! :D

Single

I'm almost single!

I'm getting married in less than 2 months. My fiance is in another country. So, this is the closest I'm ever going to be to being single. Now the question is, after all the hoopla about why-can't-I-find-someone-special?... do I really want to be single?

Hmmmnn...

Just the transition between single to married is a curious phase. And anyone who knows me will know that I am more fond of the (*high energy*)transition states than I am of the two extreme ends (assuming there are only two ends (just to make life simple) on either side)... and this time is no different. As much as I want to get married, I also want to stay single!

To many more irrational "happy" transitions!

Of Anything But Ordinary.

Sometimes I get so weird
I even freak myself out
I laugh myself to sleep
It's my lullaby
Sometimes I drive so fast
Just to feel the danger
I wanna scream
It makes me feel alive

Is it enough to love?
Is it enough to breathe?
Somebody rip my heart out
And leave me here to bleed
Is it enough to die?
Somebody save my life
I'd rather be anything but ordinary please

To walk within the lines
Would make my life so boring
I want to know that I
Have been to the extreme
So knock me off my feet
Come on now give it to me
Anything to make me feel alive

Is it enough to love?
Is it enough to breathe?
Somebody rip my heart out
And leave me here to bleed
Is it enough to die?
Somebody save my life
I'd rather be anything but ordinary please.
I'd rather be anything but ordinary please.

Let down your defences
Use no common sense
If you look you will see
that this world is a beautiful
accident, turibulent, succulent
opulent permanent, no way
I wanna taste it
Don't wanna waste it away

Sometimes I get so weird
I even freak myself out
I laugh myself to sleep
It's my lullaby

Is it enough?
Is it enough?
Is it enough to breathe?
Somebody rip my heart out
And leave me here to bleed
Is it enough to die?
Somebody save my life
I'd rather be anything but ordinary please

Is it enough?
Is it enough to die?
Somebody save my life
I'd rather be anything but ordinary please.
oh
I'd rather be anything but ordinary please.

--

Anything But Ordinary by Avril Lavigne

Of Things.

It's not like I haven't written anything this month. It just happened that this month has seen the maximum number of unpublished posts. I have 5 drafts on relatively important issues but I haven't the will or the courage (?) to post them here. I'm not sure if I'm an example of a private person, but lately I've raised my guards. Knowingly I've kept (almost) everyone out.

The reason, you ask me, well, haven't you read that I've become private?!

Hmmn, so I don't really know the point to this post. I want to ramble on, about nothing in particular (like always)... but words evade me (like always)...

Has someone already said it better than me? (like always)...

I am the one winged bird for flying
Sinking quickly to the ground
See your faith in me subsiding
See you prime for giving in
I give you all that I am

----

Life. I wonder what it is?
I wonder why I'm made to live by the rules?
I wonder if I'm capable of breaking the rules?
I wonder if I can survive after breaking the rules?
I find myself in a place and time in my life where I want to thrash all the Right-things-to-do and rebel, point blank, irrespective of whether I like it or not. Simply put I desperately want to go on a wrong-doing spree! I'm so full of myself and yet I can't figure out WHY? The answer eludes me.

Life happens. Then why have things ceased to happen in my life? I'm living a string of melancholic days and these force me to rethink my strategies and plans.

Isn't life just another term that has become so redundant that it has lost all it's meaning?

I'm sure now that I hate sitting idle. I need to work. I need to have things on my mind to lead a normal life. I need something to keep me occupied so that I can feel like I belong somewhere.

I am the white dove for a soldier
Ever marching as to war
I would give my life to save you
I stand guarding at your door
I give you all that I am

----

"Another one bites the dust", one of my UK friends said, she wants to get married too, you know :). This really has been a year of marriages for a lot of "my" people.

My school best-friend is getting engaged tomorrow and I am so happy for her.

Life is changing for us (for the better)... and I'm enjoying that we are going through it together.m We can actually exchange notes. We've both been hopeless with men so far and then we found our respective fiances. It's an exciting time in our lives. It's assuring to know someone else also understands exactly just how happy you are, how jittery you get, how nervous you feel, how cheerful you can be, how much love you can suddenly feel for a till-now-unknown human being, how grown-up you become, how you willfully change, how you can sway between extreme happiness and sadness in a span of a couple of hours, and finally, know how lucky you've been! It's amazing.

I am the sound of love's arriving
Echoed softly on the sand
Lay your head
upon my shoulder
Lay your hand within my hand
I give you all that I am

----

I am the one winged bird for flying
Sinking quickly to the ground
I am
the blind man for a watchdog
I am prime for giving in
I'll show you all that I am

And I breathe so you breathe
Let me stand so you'll stand
With all that I am

----

Interspersed lyrics from Rob Thomas' song, "All That I Am".

Of Singin' And Dancin' In The Rain.

Of How Random People Waste Their Time.

Remember when Joey used the thesaurus for every word in a letter of recommendation for Monica and Chandler as good adoptive parents?!
I received a private message on Orkut from a random visitor, who according to me did a Joey there or is probably doing a bad job of using his newly learnt GRE vocabulary!

Here is the prolix prose of this (un)prolific person:

Read your profile and developed a torrid desire to become friend of yours, if your volition is involved in it. I m soliciting in front of you for your friendship.

Yes we are arrant aliens and I presage that your friendship will be salutary for me and it will be a source of entrenchment for me. I have a fervent desire to be comrade of yours.

It will provide delectation and exhilaration to me in inordinate amount.

Don't take it as an act of blandishment. There is no casuistry and skulduggery involved in this message.

Wheedling in front of such a complaisant and suggestible person like you to become my friend, will be very much tawdry.

Ask me anything in your candour and I will give you reply in all my somberness.

Give me one chance and it won't be untoward and dolorous for you.

Do take your own time and there is no exigency from my side. You can rebuff this plea if it is not assimilated by you.

I must ask for amnesty if you don't like my way of approaching you as a friend and if the above way turned out to be lumbering and ungainly for you, give me retort only if your visceral reactions and self-assurance permit you.

Don't give me any ripostes if you presage that my opinions are of emphatic and dogmatic nature and if it fails to reach a convenant.

You can repeal and execrate this request anytime if you are not filliped by my verve of asking you for friendship and if it has turned out be a repellant stuff for you.

Sorry if you felt mortified after reading this message of mine and if it is baleful for you.

Take great care.

If this greatly interests you, then you can find more about him by reading this:

Before some time, I was very petrified about my "Nemesis" and was very indolent. Now I have turned out to be a "Nihilist" one. I hate the spread eagles, spurious, capricious and uncouth ones who harbour parochial and insular views. I can't rivulet ludicrous, claptrap excuses and thats why being termed as "petulant" and "tantrum" one as I expostulate a lot with orthodox ones and I hate their nonchalant shrugs. Usually I don't listen to anyone and insanely remain engaged in only such activities, which my soul permits me to do, and I expatiate upon all the inclinations of mine, and therefore always remain alive in my figmentations. I do have "IDEE FIXE" in accomplishing the activies independenly choosen by me and feeling neophyte all the times while cracking the codes. Thats why I have always been a very fastidious one. This is only the biggest sooth of my life. Whatever I do whether it is love,hate, respect or flirt, I do it in a very candid and sincere fashion by putting my every tooth and nail into all the above mentioned colossal acts to make them pristine and virtuous. Very impragmatic and placid for my loved ones, and very belligerent & snappish for my enemies and snooty ones. I m an authoritarian, martinet, recalcitrant, intractable and a pure rebellion against any perverse acts around me. I can't live without my dear ones and always remain entangled with those for whom I m a "blue eyed one" so as to make blissful moments and "Nirvana" in my life. Relish fast driving, fun on the run, obsessesion with movie making and luv to help poverished ones r among by bad habits. Monomaniac with respect to commiting outrageous things and at the same time can't accept substandard stuff and keep on surpassing tortuous blocks , though remaining embroiled most of the times as I suffer from hysteria thats why I get placcable with least efforts. I enjoy my "vagabond" cum "juvenile" image nicely. May God saves Libid ones from me. At the same time I always respect "army ones", because with the blessings of them only, we r alive.

I always try to create exultation and ecstacy in exiguous amount for my loved ones.

In addition to the above, I m known for my "Cacography". I m a "Lameduck" in this facet.

Ahem!... Hope you've had much fun reading this...
Cheers!

Puss in Boots.

We met entirely by chance. And he burrowed into my life so unobtrusively that I find it hard to believe he hadn't always been there. Our story has only just begun...


Once upon a time, a very long time ago, there lived a poor miller with three sons. When the miller died he left his mill to his oldest son and the mule to his second son. He left his third son his cat.

But this was an unusual cat, because this cat could speak! "If you will make me a pair of boots we will always have good luck," the cat said. The boots were made and then, as if by magic, a whole set of clothes appeared! There were velvet trousers, a silk shirt, a fine red jacket, a sword and a large hat with a very beautiful feather. Dressed in his new clothes, the cat looked quite splendid.

He set off for the royal palace with a large fat rabbit which he had caught. " My master, the Marquis of Carabas, sends you this gift," he said proudly, as he bowed deeply.

He took a new gift every day, and the king was pleased with tht presents. He pretended that he had heard of the Marquis. But, of course the cat had just made up that name!

One day, Puss in Boots heard that the king and his daughter were going to the river. "Go down to the river to swim," he told his master, "and stay there until I call you."

The young man went into the water, and Puss hid his ragged clothes. Soon the king came by, and Puss called out, "Help! Help! The Marquis of Carabas is drowning!"

The king's footmen helped the young man out and the cunning Puss said that Marquis' clothes had been stolen while he was swimming! Immediately the king ordered some fine clothes to be brought from the palace for the young man.

The miller's son looked very handsome in his new clothes, and the king's daughter fell in love with him. They went together to the palace.

Puss ran ahead of the carriage, and asked all the people in the countryside to tell the king that the land belonged to the Marquis of Carabas, and that he was a good master.

When the king heard all they said about the Marquis of Carabas he was very impressed. He liked the young man very much, and thought that he would make an excellent husband for the princess.

Puss in Boots was still busy with his cunning plans! He came to the large castle which was the home of a giant who had great powers of magic. Puss ran up to the great doors and told the servants that he had a message from the Marquis of Carabas.

He made his master sound very important, and the servants led him through the dark dusty rooms to the giant's door.

At last he was face to face with the giant.

"I have heard of your magic powers," said the Puss, with a grand flourish of his hat, "and I have travelled far to see them for myself. Can you really change yourself into whatever you wish? Could you become a mule, or an elephant, or a fierce lion?"
"Indeed I can," thundered the huge giant.
"I can turn into any creature I wish to."

And quick as a flash, he became a mule, and an elephant, and then a fierce growling lion.

"How wonderful!" said Puss. "I see you have truly amazing powesr. You have shown me how large and ferocious you can be. But is it possible for a big fellow like you to become as small as a mouse?"

"That is much more difficult," said the giant, "but I can do it."

He closed his eyes, and concentrated very hard. Then, suddenly, he became a small brown mouse scampering about the room.

This was all that Puss wanted. With one quick stroke he pounced on the mouse and killed it! The wicked giant was dead, and the sun shone again through the dark and dreary castle.

Puss ran to the door of the castle just as the king's carriage came rumbling by. The king and his daughter and the miller's son were riding in it.

"Welcome!" called Puss. "Welcome to the castle of the Marquis of Carabas."

They all went in, and a fine feast awaited them. After dining the miller's son and the princess told the king that they loved each other and they wanted to be married.

The king was delighted, and everyone in the kingdomwas invited to the wedding. There was great joy and feasting throughout the land.

Puss in Boots, a very special guest, indeed, looked grand in his fine clothes.

Only the miller's son knew that all his good fortune was due to Puss in Boots, and he was grateful to him forever.

The miller's youngest son would never be poor again, and he and the princess and their faithful friend, Puss in Boots, all lived happily ever after.



...but this is not our story. I mean, we are going to have a happily-ever-after, just that this isn't our story. This is Charles Perrault's story, and this is my way of acknowledging his great contribution to our story.

*Blush*

Contemplating The Changes.

Looking back on the year that was, a good year? Can't make up my mind. I would've labelled it one of the crappiest years ever... except June.
Everything changed in June.
All questions of cosmic magnitude resolved with a plain and simple "yes".
(Who would've thought that answer to the ultimate question was not really 42, it was "yes"!?!)

I've gone from lost to found!
From None to N!
From single to engaged!
From PhD to job!
From USA to UK!
From sad to happy! (literally!)




Life should look a lot more complex looking at the changes. Suprisingly it does not. Probably because I still haven't really digested the magnanimity of it all? Probably I'm too happy to look at the lows? Probably I'm still lingering in my perpetually confused state of mind?
No! I haven't been saner in making a decision, or faster, or more sure, or never ever has a decision felt so right.

I'm happy and that is all that matters anyways :D




Looking back some years from today, I will reminisce with N sitting by my side, how stupendiferous 2008 had been for us!
I will not remember this as a bad year, ever!

To many, happy changes! Cheers!

Of Reasons To Avoid Cooking.

All grad-students at some time or the other face the cooking burn-out.

I was brainstorming the highest used reasons for eating out:
(List not jotted down with respect to preference or the frequency)

"Too much work" ('tis never really so)

"No decision on WHO should cook"

"All tv-meals are already consumed"

"No food at all" (that's like the most valid reason)

"No breakfast cereal left" ('cause breakfast cereal make for excellent, healthy lunches and dinners!)

"Too bored to cook today"

"I've had a brilliant day at work, let's celebrate!"

"My advisor was pissed with me, I need some cheering!"

"Don't know what to cook?!"

"I'm in a mood to cook something exotic, I wish I had the ingredients..."

"Life is a bitch and she just had babies, all bitches!"

"There is a new place that opened in town, let's check it out!"



Can't think of anymore reasons right now. But I'm sure there are many, many, many more... and I will keep adding to this space. :)


Happy Cooking Everyone! :D

Chasing Cars - Snow Patrol

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don't need
Anything
Or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Bubbly - Colbie Caillat

I've been awake for a while now
You've got me feelin' like a child now
'Cause every time I see your bubbly face
I get the tinglies in a silly place

They start in my toes
Makes me crinkle my nose
Wherever it goes
I always know
That you make me smile
Please stay for a while now
Just take your time
Wherever you go

The rain is falling on my window pane
But we are hiding in a safer place
Under covers staying dry and warm
You give me feelings that I adore

They start in my toes
Make me crinkle my nose
Wherever it goes
I always know
That you make me smile
Please stay for a while now
Just take your time
Wherever you go

What am I going to say
When you make me feel this way?
I just, mmmmm

And they start in my toes
Makes me crinkle my nose
Wherever it goes
I always know
That you make me smile
Please stay for a while now
Just take your time
Wherever you go

I've been asleep for a while now
You tuck me in just like a child now
'Cause every time you hold me in your arms
I'm comfortable enough to feel your warmth

And it starts in my soul
And I lose all control
When you kiss my nose
The feeling shows
'cause you make me smile baby
Just take your time now
Holdin' me tight

Wherever wherever wherever you go
Wherever wherever wherever you go

wherever you go
I always know
'Cause you make me smile
Even just for a while



---

:)

N

You are not the second, third, fourth or fifth thing on my mind when I wake up. You are the only thing on my mind. You and me. Us. I am trying to comprehend the drastic changes that've happened in my life in the last week and a half. Everything seems so surreal, like it's not really happening to me. And I still wonder how you happened to me. I'm glad you happened to me.


I haven't been this happy in a while. Thank you.

To New Beginnings.

Like always, something I read sums up pretty much all that I want to say right now.

We wait for the perfect thing to happen. To meet the perfect person. To land the
perfect job. To wake up one day to that perfect figure.

But maybe perfect things don’t exist. All we get is a chance to choose, what imperfections we live with.

:)
:D
:)

Crossroads.

Standing at the crossroads not for the first time in my life. While the clueless, spirit dampening insecurities I face for the first time in my life, I ask myself again, repeatedly, Am I too scared to take risks? Am I not worthy of the future I seek? My heart tumultuous, plays tricks with my confused, worried, harried mind. My brain tirades endlessly. Doubts about a wrong decision, wrong timing, wrong person swarm the remains of my once sane and safe territories of life. Ideas about my future are foggy, almost fiendishly so. In the eerie wastelands of this thing I call my life, a lot of doors have shut with an utter refusal by the new ones to open up for me. What do I do? continue looking for new doors and open them myself, or just look for a window?

My Morrie.

The story said that the heavens cry with you when a loved soul departs this world.

Nice story.

"Right, then hardly any African or for that matter Indian souls were ever loved! Bloody the countries live in continuous state of droughts."

I take back my words.

The 13th day of mourning my Morrie. The day the soul departs the realms of this world and enters heaven. The day you say your final goodbyes...

... it rained!

Mourning My Morrie.

They did not call me to come to the hospital in the morning. I thought they had a replacement and I would probably be needed in the evening. Ma and Pa came back and just as we were getting ready to go meet him, Pa's cell-phone rang. It was from his cell-phone. I did not have to hear anything after that. I knew. It felt like a lightening had struck me. I felt numb and then tears ran uncontrollably.


I was flustered.


For a long time I sat outside his house waiting for them to get his body, all the time wishing I had known yesterday that that would be last time I ever spoke to him. They knew it in the morning, but she could not make herself to call me and tell me the bad news. Everyone thought I am too young to watch him die. In a way I agree with them. Now I will only have happy memories of him. They saved me his trauma.


He looked peaceful today, as if he was meditating as usual, as if he was sleeping and dreaming of something beautiful.


It felt surreal looking at him like that. He seemed a different person. For me, it wasn't my Morrie lying there, I wasn't saying goodbye to him. The goodbyes were for someone who resembled him, that's all.


I keep visualizing him in his white kurta-pajama and blue bata slippers coming down the stairs, seating himself on the sofa and asking me, "Kay mag, sadhya kay navin challay?"
He was the only person who could understand and speak my tongue. I still need him. I hope he knew.


It's weird talking about him in the past tense.

I am happy that he is free. I don't know what happens after death, if the soul is reincarnated, if there is heaven?! But I am sure of this, whereever that is, he has gone to a far better place. His soul will rest in peace.

I do believe it's true
That there are roads left in both of our shoes
If the silence takes you
Then I hope it takes me too
(Death Cab for Cutie)

Of Memories With My Morrie. #3

I sit and stare at him all day. That's pretty much all that anyone can do at this time.
He moves. He tries to make sounds that finally die away in painful moans. His lips are dry, he cannot speak properly. All the time he's awake, it seems that he is thinking. Seems he wants to say something but somehow words evade him. These days words shy away from everyone else around him. Seems like what needs to be said doesn't need the help of words.
A silent encouraging smile, a gentle caress, a warm slight pat on the shoulder, a sad look, a tearful eye sums up most conversations I have with my Morrie. Sometimes all he does is try and recognize people that come to visit. He looks hard at them, I think he tries to focus his vision and then says the name of the person looking down on him with sorrowful and sometimes pitiful eyes. (I personally hate all those with the pitiful looks!) I wonder how important recognition is in terms of defining his cognition of other matters?
There are times when he says absurd things. Today he wanted to tell me F2's name (?!), said he wanted to meet Dinkar Gangal (none of us have ever heard of this person), wanted to exchange gas cylinders with Reliance Power (now there's a thought!). You know, how does one define cognition, coherence of thought with recognition of people?! I think people like to please themselves by the knowledge that he still remembers them.

Seeing him today, the number of bed-sores and bruises on his body, the morphine patch, the butterfly with needles stuck in him, the saline bottle (the only thing that's keeping him alive) made me want him to pass away now. I might sound like the most wicked person that ever walked this planet, but it's far better than seeing him go through all the hurt and pain. I was holding his hand and caressing it today when I saw how different they looked; his looked deathly pale yellow and mine pink. I thought it was like comparing the hands of death with life. When I realized this I felt his hands warm in my hands and that warmth comforted me. The thought that he is still breathing makes me feel better. I know I am being selfish feeling that, but I don't want it any other way.

I don't cry anymore. I don't see the point. It's fate. I agree with him now, what is meant to happen will happen. He said another thing some days back, when he could still speak a little, he said, "I still want to do so many things, but now I've realized that life doesn't work that way; we don't live to do things. We live, therefore we do things." For me, that was a profound lesson and after that day, I had taken it to be his last lesson.
I was wrong. I was terribly, horribly wrong. His final lesson is a prolonged session of understanding death, of accepting it gracefully, of facing it as if it were life and most importantly, it is a lesson in letting go. "Letting go of the carnal pleasures", he had said, "is the most difficult thing. You cannot leave your flesh and body that have defined *you* since the day you came into existence."
What I've taken from this is that memory stays and I am bent on making every last minute with him as memorable as the all the other happy times we've had!

My Morrie wanted to do a champagne party on his and my parents' 25th wedding anniversary. They had planned on doing the Europe tour, leave a day before his anniversary and come back a day after my parents'. Go to the Jules Verne on the Tour Eiffel and open a bottle of Champagne overlooking the most romantic city in the world. His wedding anniversary is on this 15th and I'm praying to God that he stays until after 15th or he goes before that (my concerns are now mainly for his wife).

Of Memories With My Morrie. #2

I used to go to the hospital every alternate day, sometimes less often. Now I go there everyday. Everyday counts. Everyday is important. He wants to see me everyday. "There is so much I want to say to you", he said. No tears came to his eyes. There is no water left in his body. But for the first time, after a long time, I did not stop my tears. I let them flow, unhindered...
He said, "You cannot cry. I thought you were on a different level than everyone else. I know you are stronger than that." I wish I could explain to him that I wasn't different at all. I was a selfish little girl who did not want her Uncle to go off to Neverland. That him leaving like that was going to affect her more than he knew. She wanted him to stay for her sake, so that he could tell her stories of far off lands, of a prince who would one day sweep her off her feet and take her away, of fairies who looked after her, of giants that he would fight to keep her safe. She is selfish. Very selfish. She wants him to stay at any cost. And she refuses to understand the pains he would have to endure to make her wishes come true.

In his efforts to make me understand he spilled his secret. He was giving me hints before, but I only accepted the facts when he told me in so many words. The doctors think that any treatment will have only two effects; maintain status quo or further deterioration of his system.
He had already made his choice. He wasn't going to take any treatments. I suppose he is more in touch with his insides than most people, he knows best. Besides there was the question, "Do I wither up and disappear or do I make the most of my time left?" He does not have time, he was not waiting for answers. He already knew the answer. His relatives have started pouring in and I now realize how loved he is and how love matters more than anything.

This year he celebrates 25 years of his marriage. He said, "25 well-lived, happy, and satisfied years are far better than 50 spent fighting and bickering". "Besides one keeps repeating similar motions for the rest of one's life anyways. The 80/20 principle: Only 20% of your activities are responsible for 80% of productive work." He said he has lived a full life and he would not want it any other way. He has no regrets and he is proud of that fact. I know how loved he is and somehow knowing all this, I find acceptance of facts easier...
Acceptance is easy, letting go is not.

Of Memories With My Morrie. #1

He is not Morrie. Morrie was old, he is not! And it's terribly hard for me to accept Morrie's fate as his fate. I refuse to! He is someone who means a lot to me, Morrie meant a story.

I realized for the very first time the FACT that he is *my* Morrie.

My Morrie says, "Separate your FACTS from EMOTIONS; Facts + Emotions = Fiction. If you can't do that, you cannot get results."
He explained this to me, his voice reduced almost to a squeak, his hands swollen, on the side, his jaundiced face and eyes, desperately looking at me, trying to keep them open so that he could talk to me. The man was frozen inside his own flesh.

And, like a fool I could not comprehend what he was saying. I felt like a wretched being who was making him go through hell to explain this simple Fact.

My Morrie began teaching me his lessons a very long time ago. I met him for the first time in the summer of 1990 and now, sadly, I see the lessons coming to an end. It has been more than 18 years of teaching, teaching and discussing, dicussing and arguing, arguing and accepting and then be done with the topic (...only till sometime later. I want there to many laters. Many many more laters). Discussing inane matters is always fun with him. I learnt to talk about philosophy like a grown-up from him. He questioned me, grilled me to no end. He made me read books, gave me examples from my life, he explained away and I enjoyed listening to him irrespective of whether or not I understood what he was talking about. I know no-one else understood us. I don't suppose anyone was as foolish as the two of us, our philosphical pair.
He has understood me more than any living mortal can ever boast of and he has influenced me in more ways than I can think of en ce moment. He has been a part of all the major decisions I have taken in my life and wanted it to stay that way...

I am writing this series to chronicle the final lessons he is teaching me, so that I won't forget anything. Anything and everything he says to me from now will be his last words to me. Immensely precious.

Of Shakespeare And Ghalib.

Tough luck, trying times and interrogating my existence, I turn to literature and poetry looking for comfort and sound reflection. Someone has always said what needs to be said and said it better than I ever can.

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to - 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd; To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life,
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn away,
And lose the name of action.

Na tha kuchh toh khuda tha, kuchh na hota toh khuda hota
duboya mujhko hone ne, na hota main toh kya hota?

If Only I Had Only One Wish...

would life loose colour?

If only I had only one wish...

would the charm of it linger?

If only I had only one wish...

would it be enough to last a lifetime?

If only I had only one wish...

would I never wish again?

If only I had only one wish...

Of Matrimonials and Much.

I just wrote a profile for a matrimonial. I am utterly and completely disgusted with myself!

They ask you about yourself and that's easy. I mean how hard can it be? I am a self-confessed, self-obsessed being. It was a cake walk.

Then they ask you about your family. I love them so that was fairly easy too.

Then came the expectations! And I went, WTF!?! I mean it's so fucking transcendental! I don't know how people have these ideas and images of their Mr/Ms Right?!
I happen to be clueless about a lot of things and this got added and took up 3 meters of my existing 5 meters of scroll!
And then are other issues and types of expectations too. I mean there are realistic/unrealistic expectations, there are lowered expectations that come from previous experiences, there are the expectations that you hope that you won't have to put down in so many words, there are expectations not just from the suitor but from the family also, well and then some...
How does one define, differentiate and then finally decide what they want? How does one know what they want in terms of all the abstract, all the unsaid?

And then I finally managed to write one sentence. Only one sentence. All I expect in one sentence. Pathetic!

Now I wonder how I never found any man in all these years who could come to close to all that I need, all that I want? Do I ask for a lot? Am I too stuck up? Am I plain lost? Am I not looking for the right things? I'm obviously not looking for the right things, how else do you explain finishing the expectations part in one sentence?!
What do they look for in them anyways?
How do they define their compatibility with their significant others?
How do they know what to keep what to let go?

What is fantastic? What is reality?
Why is all this so hard?

Of Solitude and Such.

I love being alone. I like to be myself amongst the madness and the maddening. I cherish my solitude.

There have been times recently when I felt it's cold fingers creeping into me like a chill, clutching my heart and gut, wrenching till I felt hard painful knots forming deep in my throat.

I feel like I'm slipping into a dark void, a supermassive black hole.

Our hopes and expectations
Black holes and revelations

Am I a lonely being or a being who is lonely?

Of People and Miracles.

Hospitals are such humbling places. There you will find hope beyond hopes.

I have been spending the good part of my days in a hospital caring for one of my favourite persons. One of the most important people in my life actually. I am the daughter he never had, and I love him that much too. My father gave me genes and practicality, he gave me character and spirit.

Yesterday, the man who loved life, who was responsible for giving me hope was lying frail and worn when I entered his room. He saw me, and he said, "Me khallas zhalo ga..." These were the first words he had said to me in months. I sat there stunned, unable to utter words. Tears shot to my eyes. I could not cry. Not in front of him. Definitely not now. I had to speak to him, tell him that everything is going to be right again, this is just a passing phase, it will be over soon. It was as if his helpless words had snatched all my words from me. As a gut feeling I knew that that was not what he wanted to hear, because all that I would have said was going to be a lie.

The strongest man I know, the man who taught me how to live my life (happily) had lost to pain and was lying on the hospital bed wizened beyond his years. He had successfully combated and won over cancer. I knew he could and he did. He could do anything.
Why then this? I could not handle his helplessness. In that moment I could "see" his sheer agony he felt while surviving.

I haven't felt so lonely. He was the last person I knew who would ever loose hope. If he had lost faith, there was definitely something terribly wrong. I felt this strange rage. How could he say that? How can *he* loose faith? There had to be a way out of this. I sat there pondering. Struggling to keep my tears to myself and say something to restore his hope. How I wish I could tell him that I would give anything, absolutely anything just to see him healthy again. From what I had heard from his relatives, I was hoping against hope that he would just sit and talk, talk and laugh with me, just like we used to...
And then... he actually sat up to eat and began talking like he was healthy again (almost, well... almost like the old times). I could see him struggling with his pain as he was doing that. I knew he still wanted to put a brave face for me. And I just sat there, looking away from him. I don't know why I did that? I could not see him like that. In that moment I felt weaker than him.

He joked about how *small* my watch was and how I should consider getting a bigger one so that people won't feel the need to look at a wall-clock! Someone had answered my silent prayers amidst all the chaos. I was sharing thoughts with him again. He was smiling, almost laughing. Someone was definitely looking out for the both of us. I felt contented. Deeply moved by everything.

He started telling me how another chemotherapy would kill him. He said it wasn't that his body could not withstand it, he asked me, "At what COST?" He kept talking about how pointless any therapy would be because he saw his disease as his "destiny". He said, "What is meant to happen, will happen. How much can I take? Why should I suffer?" Again. I was at a loss for words. I could not imagine the pain that made him talk like that. It was too much. It wasn't him saying those horrible things. It was the pain. I hated his pain!

I don't claim to understand psychology, but I knew, and he knew I knew that I would understand. Suddenly out of no where he brought up the topic of miracles. He said he believed that miracles happen, but they never happen to us. I do not how I thought of the words I said to him. I still don't know if they came from me. It felt surreal. I said, "Miracles happen all the time. We know something was a miracle when we see the bigger picture. It's some years from now that you would call something that happened sometime back was a miracle." For some reason, I knew I had to speak of smaller things. Telling him about miracles he would find from a few months ahead and asking him to believe all of that was asking for too much. (In my heart I was too scared to think of a few months from now, did he have that long?) I was hopelessly trying to make him see a light. I said to him, "Compared to the last couple of days, his getting up and sitting and talking with me about all these things was in fact a miracle. A tiny miracle, agreed, but it was a miracle. And it had happened to him." Later I repeated similar sentences of which I have no memory because, as I was saying those things, I saw a twinkle in his eyes. I saw him smile, and his smile telling me how all he wanted was to hear those words. He had seen the light, in the end.

The fact that all that came out my head was a miracle for me. I have spent sometime with him now, and I have tried my best to encourage him to sustain and survive. Survive and battle it out with life.

I will appreciate all your prayers for him. God Bless Him!

It Must Have Been Love.

(Must have been love ... But it's over now)

Lay a whisper on my pillow
Leave the winter on the ground
I wake up lonely, in this air of silence
In the bedroom and all around
Touch me now, I close my eyes
And dream away

It must have been love, but it's over now
It must have been good, but I lost it somehow
It must have been love, but it's over now
From the moment we touched, 'til the time had run out

Make-believing we're together
That I'm sheltered by your heart
In and outside I turn to water
Like a teardrop in your palm
And it's a hard winter's day
I dream away

It must have been love, but it's over now
It was all that I wanted, now I'm living without
It must have been love, but it's over now
It's where the water flows
It's where the wind blows

It must have been love, but it's over now
It must have been good, but I lost it somehow
It must have been love, but it's over now
From the moment we touched, 'til the time had run out

It must have been love, but it's over now
It was all that I wanted, now I'm living without
It must have been love, but it's over now
It's where the water flows
It's where the wind blows

Oohh...

--
Roxette

No-thing.

Yesterday was the 2nd death anniversary of a seemingly beautiful relationship. It was the last day of misunderstood affections. The last day of those (happy(?)) times. "Ah! Those were the days..."




I don't know why I've been thinking about it. It's not like it's a big thing. It's just a thing with me, I reckon.

Inspiration India.

A designer of international renown borrowed from India, acknowledged it, and did it justice. Finally!
Elegance and elan par excellence!

Alexander McQueen - Fall 2008

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gxWGY50LIk

Wonderings Of A Wandering Mind.

I wonder if a loud and clear "WHY ME?" is the answer to the questions I'm afraid to ask?

I wonder if my answer is a valid question?

I wonder if questioning my answers is better than answering my questions?

I wonder if I am capable of questions or answers?

I wonder.

Of Things I Want To Do Before I Die.

*Lists not prioritized*

1. Get a PhD.
2. Go to Paris.
3. Have babies.
4. Go to an opera.
5. Go to a U2 concert.
6. Have an enviable wine-cellar.
7. Get in (supermodel) shape.
8. Make a movie.
9. Write a book.
10. Learn to play the Guitar.
11. Be able to tell a joke and make it sound funny.
12. Go Bungee-jumping.
13. Spend a night at the shore under the stars.
14. Be the first / youngest someone to do something extraordinary.
15. Make more lists of "to-do before I die".

I had to do some major modifications to this, to make it sound do-able. It was a lot more fantastic and that much more impossible. It looked like this earlier:

1. To travel the world over.
2. To read all the (good) books ever written.
3. Own a book-shop, just like the one in "You've Got Mail". (I even had a place in mind).
4. To be part of a band.
5. To be able to talk in at least 10 different tongues.
6. To win the Nobel.
7. To make an award-winning film.
8. To build a house on the beach.
10. To live all alone by myself. (I've already ticked that off my lists)

9. is omitted here for a good reason.

Of That Day, I Remember Every Single Detail.

I was scared shitless and I was looking around my strange surroundings with more anxiety than curiosity. Being geographically challenged, I was desperately hunting for maps to guide me to the Great Hall (and then to make matters worse, the maps said, "you are here", and I did not know how to get there from here, I mean where do you go from here when here is a circular dot!). I had earlier called him at his residence only to find that he wasn't available. The guy at the front-desk had taken a message for him. Then, he had called while I was collecting my money. I was thrilled to hear him talk in Marathi. It was quite sometime before that had happened. We had fixed a date to meet up at the Great Hall. And the challenge of getting there was boggling the wits out of me. I was looking around for a familiar face amongst the stiff-upper-lipped population of disinterested strangers. I felt lonely. A friendly Black-American saw me, I think I looked obviously lost. It took me close to a few seconds to answer in the affirmative. I felt so racist! (I am not like that usually, I blame the hostility I felt on those empty streets). He asked me this-and-that and before I could ask his name, we were already at the Great Hall. I thanked him with gratitude that's unparalleled till date. I walked into the iron gate, and into the ornate wooden doors that led me up to the grand, red-carpeted staircase, huge portraits of ex-Chancellors and such hanging on the enormous golden walls that seemed to stretch out to the sky. Awe-struck, I suddenly felt under-dressed and awkward in my shoes. I saw the signs directing me to the right room. I wasn't interested in anything I saw in the room. My eyes were searching for him. The only thing we knew about each other at that point in time was the clothes we were supposed to have on on that day; him, a UMM red pullover and me my worn-out Benetton pullover. And yet I was looking for a face. Weird, right? We saw each other almost simultaneously, and to noone's surprise we identified the pullovers! I almost wanted to give him a huge hug just because he was there. I felt immensely happy to see him. We looked around the exhibition. Conversation flowed as if we were old friends catching up. We came out of the Great Hall and I realized for the very first time what a beautiful day it was! Spring flowers all around with clear weather and warm sun, we were already making lunch plans at 11am. Eating out was not even an option. We walked all over discovering and re-discovering the place, finding new ways to get to the same place (the place that was later to be my favourite place to have all my lone lunches). Thankfully, at least he was geographically sound and we came out of the place eventually. We headed back to his place to get our lunch sorted. I instantly fell in love with the apartment complex. (I loved it so much, I later exchanged my far better accomodation for that place! Plus, the fact that everyone I knew was living there helped too). He lived in the basement. It looked dingy. He took me to his room. It was a mess. It looked like what it was supposed to be, a straight man's bachelor pad. Strangely, I always thought bachelor pads had pictures of naked girls on the walls. I was disappointed there, but what a relief that was! There was a Ferrari model (red) lying on his table, CDs and books strewn around. Clothes adorned all the empty spaces. He piled them elsewhere and made place for me to sit. And if you know how spring beds are, you will fully appreciate how difficult it was to sit on the very springy edge of the one I was sitting on. I was glad when we headed to the kitchen to cook ourselves some Maggie. Before entering the kitchen, we found a note addressed to him. It said, "Call back. Ewooja." The front-desk person had just dropped the note four and half hours after I had left the message, with my name all messed-up! (He still calls me that). While he was making Maggie, he told me he was a brilliant cook, apparently he had taken cooking classes! He could make Butter Chicken, Roasted chicken, Biryani, Makhanwala, Fish Curry, Rotis and what-not. I was floored. We had a quick lunch and headed to the City-Centre. On our way we met some more of our kind and we shopped for food. We came back from the City-Centre, had similar dinner. We wanted to experience the wild night life people had promised this place would have, we went back to the city. Within a couple of minutes we had already gotten ourselves nicely lost. We were two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl. Walking on strange streets we came to the theatre. We had no identification on us to prove that we were students. I had a mere 5 quid in my pocket and he had 3. The ticket for one non-student was that much! It was late and there weren't too many people around wanting to catch "The Longest Yard" at a theatre near them. He was short and I looked right out-of-school. They figured we were students after all and let us in for 3.50 a head. We came out to streets complete with flashy, half-inebriated, pub-hopping under-grads. It looked like any University city looks at that time of the night. We walked back to his place. Chit-chatted for a couple of hours. I was scared to go home alone so he walked me home. It had just rained and the streets, washed clean seemed different. I was weary. I was looking forward to the warmth and coziness of my bed. I reached home and cried myself to sleep.
(I now know (almost!) what James Joyce was feeling when he wrote 'Ulysees'!)
I met a million strangers that day, some of them I became best-friends with. And him, we hung out together for a week. I moved into the same apartment complex as him on the top-most floor. And then we went our own ways, cordially meeting once in a while to talk about this-and-that. He grew into a different set of people and I into a completely different set. Through it all and a thousand days later, I still remember every single detail of that day.
Every detail is etched in my memory. Every detail as if it happened yesterday. Every detail as if that day was all that would ever matter. Every detail as if it was the best day of my life. Every detail as if it was the beginning of the rest of my life.

Kind Words From A Relative Stranger...

Gave me hope. Managed to bring a tiny shred of cheer in my pathetic life. Sometimes, support comes from the unlikeliest of sources. It feels nice.
I guess it means much more as it's unexpected.
They say, one shouldn't talk to strangers. That strangers are not supposed to understand. They don't understand.
But sometimes they do. And I'm glad they do.

The relative stranger did not have to say much. It was the who, when and how that made all the difference in the support I've been receiving so far. He said,

We all stiffen our upper lip and put on a brave face in this situation, but I can imagine what you must be going through. The time during Univ. admissions tries even the toughest. I wish there were something I could say to ease it (like, 'univ admissions are not the end of the world', or 'research matters, not the reputation doesnt',etc), but there isnt anything. If it is any comfort, know that I understand.

Relative Stranger, I did not say it well enough earlier. Thank you. Thank you for those well-meant words.

Down To My Last.

I don't know whether to "Alter Bridge" or just alter myself?!

But I'm down to my last,
I'm standing here alone
Looking back, on it all
But I'm down to my last,
I'm ready but I'm wrong,
And I'm blind to it all

What is Home?

Is it a place? Is it the people? Is it a feeling? Is it within you? Is it in your significant others?
I have gone home to so many different people and places that it progressively gets difficult for me to define it.

I am at home enclosed within the walls at 15/3 Chinar Society, F4.25 St Marks Residences, 1 Devon Road.

I am home with A, J, S, T, S, D, P, R, R, P, M, S, N, J, M, A, Y...

I am home at AISC, FC, UoL...

I am home at EBL.

I am home jogging at Hyde Park on a spring morning.

I am home sitting at the shore watching the waves, listening.

I am home watching a sappy old film on my lappy.

I am home listening to whistling white and sipping coffee.

I am home amongst the smells of crisp new books, intermingled with the musty smell of old, yellow books.

I am home shopping at NEXT clearance.

I am home cooking aloo and dal-chawal.

I am home in my red elephant... I miss you *sniff sniff*

I am home making collages.

I am home sitting, waiting, wishing...

I am home. And that's what matters.


Home - Chris Daughtry.

I'm staring out into the night,
Trying to hide the pain.
I'm going to the place where love
And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.
And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.

Well I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.
Well I'm going home.

The miles are getting longer, it seems,
The closer I get to you.
I've not always been the best man or friend for you.
But your love remains true.
And I don't know why.
You always seem to give me another try.

So I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old,

Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all,
And then some you don't want.
Be careful what you wish for,
'Cause you just might get it all.
You just might get it all, yeah.

Oh, well I'm going home,
Back to the place where I belong,
And where your love has always been enough for me.
I'm not running from.
No, I think you got me all wrong.
I don't regret this life I chose for me.
But these places and these faces are getting old.
I said these places and these faces are getting old,
So I'm going home.
I'm going home.

Important Note to Self: THINK, mull, ruminate before you write. AND then READ what you write.

I apologize that the English in my last post was SO SCREWED. I got carried away by the surge of complicated emotions and I worte some terrible crap. Sorry!

What I really wanted to say was this:

I have a feeling that a lot many things in my life have come a full circle and now another
circle has emerged from within the first one and it seems
it will continue expanding till I complete yet another full
circle and then some.

Is this life? One wave after another; One tide after another; One
circle within another and each one pushing me forward slightly,
towards a life unknown?
Probably towards a different me?

On Coming Full Circle And Coming To Terms.

Last week has been very draining, emotionally and physically. It has been a strange week...made me believe in Karma, made me come to terms with a lot of unresolved issues in my life. I felt that things in life came a full circle and then a new circle has emerged from within it and continues expanding till I complete another full circle.

Is this life? One wave after another; One circle in another and each pushing me forward, towards things unsaid, things unknown...?

Another Random Blog-post About My Teaching (In)Abilities...

I cannot teach what I know. I only teach what I have learnt.



Knowing is innate. It is instinctive. It is the "gut" feeling. Sometimes I just know things. I cannot trace it back to any text, any reference, anything I have seen, any thing I have experienced, any conversation with anyone ever, but I can be dead certain of its authenticity. In fact I would believe in my known more than I would trust my learnt. I would go as far as fight for what I know. And for me this what-ever-it-is is inexplicable. Where does this know originate? Why do I stand by it so fiercely? How does it happen that 90 out of 100 times, what I know is accurate?

Why is it that I cannot teach something I know? Why is it so hard?

Probably, when people don't understand each other, or their wavelengths differ, it is the difference in these innate abilities which are responsible I think. What has been built in an individual is distinctly different; there is hard-core, factual evidence for that. Learning is acquired. It needs an activating event to trigger the intiation of the process. It something one collects, computes and stores in memory cells, ready to use whenever called up on at a later date. Even then, there is the sifting process by which one remembers what one has learnt, only very selectively. Learning, might seem difficult. According to me, it can be passed on rather easily.

In knowing and learning things, I've found a pattern. They are both a function of time; active or passive. At this stage, it is still difficult for me to define them individually, but I have a vague sense that what I am saying should make sense somehow, in time. It's just that I cannot explain it right now. And I think I cannot put it in words because this whole theory or hypothesis that I've formulated in my brain is something I "know". Had I learnt this, I would have a vocabulary and references ready.

A lot of meditation, a lot of thought still needs to be given to these random hypotheses I have in my mind. I need a structure, a logical theory, a formula of sorts to explain these things to myself...to convert innate knowledge to acquired knowledge, and ultimately become a better teacher both to self and non-self students. :D

The Best Geek Ad Ever!

Note for the uninitiated:
PCR a.k.a Polymerase Chain Reaction is one of the most significant discoveries in modern Biology.

Lyrics of "The PCR Song"

There was a time when to amplify DNA,
You had to grow tons and tons of tiny cells.

Then along came a guy named Dr. Kary Mullis,
Said you can amplify in vitro just as well.

Just mix your template with a buffer and some primers,
Nucleotides and polymerases, too.

Denaturing, annealing, and extending.
Well it’s amazing what heating and cooling and heating will do.

PCR, when you need to detect mutations.
PCR, when you need to recombine.
PCR, when you need to find out who the daddy is.
PCR, when you need to solve a crime.

me and cummings

my mind and i stared for long
thought not for too long
to be some else i am not
i wondered then was i
nor sane nor abstract(for i
believed i was)not more not far
to be him was to be not me
i am rightful to me
for in the end what is left for me is me

anyone lived in a pretty how town
- e e cummings

anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn't he danced his did

Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain

children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more

when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone's any was all to her

someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream

stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)

one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was

all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.

Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain

i carry your heart with me
- e e cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

somewhere i have never travelled
- e e cummings

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands


---

That's All Folks!

What Do I Know?

What does it take to write? An idea? An inspiration? A frame of mind? What? What? I mean, why is it so hard to think of something worthwhile, when I spend so much of my waking hours pondering over trivial (and sometimes not-so trivial) issues?

What about that thing Rene Descartes said, “I think; therefore I am”? Am I not? Really?! I am thinking about it, aren’t I? Therefore that implies I am. But, is that what I want to think about…whether I am or am not? I want to think about other things that really need my thoughts, for example, say saving the world! Well, I am thinking about thinking, but not really thinking. Is that a waste of time? Am I rambling? Yes, I am. So, that definitively confirms I am. So now that that is out of the way, what am I? A product of this sadistic society? A product of the bourgeoisie, who disclaim it? A product of my peers’ influence? A product of my own thoughts? Or all of the above? Or none of the above? Or am I not a product yet? Do I have to pass through Quality Check, Quality Control before I can actually think and be taken seriously? Do I need an approval? Why do I need an approval? Do I care if I am approved? Who approves of anything anyways? Does approval/disapproval affect my thoughts, my thinking process? Will I become a better person if I am approved before thinking? Does thinking right really matter, at all? What is thinking right? What is right? What is wrong? I can decide, if I think.

But, what if I am denied the freedom of thinking?…whatever you call Right is right, right?!



Everyday, I see the predicament my girls suffer…. deprived of their most basic freedom and utterly uncertain of everything. It disturbs me, immensely.

Discovery for the day:
Death Cab for Cutie are f***ing awesome! Why didn't I listen to their music earlier?!
*sigh*

Ladies and Gentlemen...

Someday You Will Be Loved - Death Cab for Cutie



I once knew a girl
In the years of my youth
With eyes like the summer
All beauty and truth
In the morning I fled
Left a note and it read
Someday you will be loved.

I cannot pretend that I felt any regret
Cause each broken heart will eventually mend
As the blood runs red down the needle and thread
Someday you will be loved

You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved

You may feel alone when you're falling asleep
And everytime tears roll down your cheeks
But I know your heart belongs to someone you've yet to meet
Someday you will be loved

You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved

You'll be loved you'll be loved
Like you never have known
The memories of me
Will seem more like bad dreams
Just a series of blurs
Like I never occurred
Someday you will be loved
Someday you will be loved

Bert Haanstra

I heart YouTube!

Who is Bert Haanstra?!

Glas (1958):


Zoo (1962): (Part - 1)


Zoo (1962): (Part - 2)


:D :D :D

Day!

Gems, I tell you. All my students. (Not Cadbury's Gems, that being the case...I would've liked them better, or not, or I'm unconformed on the issue.) Today's topic of discussion in my class was about hereditary metabolic disorders that can be identified and studied using cell cultures. After rambling for an hour about how certain cells have mutated genes, how that leads to non-expression of enzymes vital for cell metabolism, therefore rendering the cell incapable of functioning properly, causing the disorder.
For every class I take, I have a different pet phrase. Today it happened to be "cells lack" so-and-so enzymes, therefore they suffer from so-and-so disorder.
[Cells lacking the enzyme X, cause a metabolic disorder Y. Any further questions on the matter, email me, I'll be more than glad to be of help! :P !]
So, I am sitting in the lab, and a girl from my TY class comes and says, "Ma'am, we are lacking in journal papers, can you please give them to us?!" (Biotenglish Syndrome?! Well we will have to see about that.) I SO wanted to burst out laughing then-and-there. But according to the stupid Teachers' Code (and I don't know it really exists, or if other teachers abide by it) I cannot, rather should not be laughing at anything that my students say or ask, however ridiculous it might be. Don't get me wrong here, I am perfectly OK with them asking me outrageously stupid technical questions. I am ready to answer them all, mind you, with a very open mind. But saying foolish things as is the case, I have to try really hard to contain my laughter inside ...So, keeping with the code, I made a face, moved my tongue around in my mouth as if my molars had food stuck in them and wrote it down in my to-do diary for cheering me up whenever I need some cheering. Desperate measures for those desperately hopeless times. [I know what you are thinking! Don't get all judgemental on me, OK!?! ]



More, I supervised my first test. FY students appearing for Biochemistry test, 20 marks Internal Exam. I cannot begin expressing how kicked I was by the whole darned thing!
I was generally very excited. Almost felt juvenile. Like I was a school kid playing teacher-teacher. Going to the class, distributing papers, being strict (I enjoyed that the BEST!), collecting answer-sheets, you get the picture!
All through the test, while my students were busy writing answers, I was smiling to myself! (Giggling inwardly) I haven't felt this child-ish in loooonng time. It feels good.
[Mental Note to Self #1: Do juvenile things more often :D]



On the Department notice board, my name is prefixed by Prof. All you non-teacher people, you have NO idea how cool it sounds/feels! It made my day!
Ah! Such are the little pleasures of teaching in India. (Seriously, where else in the world will you find a 6 month old teacher being called that?!)



Today was honestly, a very nice day, ignoring the fact that I *almost* hurt all my body parts in ONE day. Bumped my head on the cupboard door, I think they'll have to replace the door. Burnt 2 fingers, thumb and the middle finger, just the memory of which makes me want to hold it out to noone in particular. I got a sore toe, thanks to my iPod. Yes, that is possible, anything is possible. AND to top it all my back still hurts as hell from my workout going horribly wrong!
[Mental Note #2: When you have a good day, leave it at that!]


Anyhoo...
:)
:P
:D
LOL
I'm happy!

The Importance of Being Earnest.

And Now The Crap I Left Unsaid....

I think I have made up my mind about what relationships really are and I think I know that they are never what they are supposed to be, and definitely never what they appear to be...
What they are or what they become after a considerable time-span, if they are still extant, I cannot say for sure because of this very reason. I believe, rather unromantically, that these so-called relationships become seriously stagnated and progressively so with time. In an *earnest* attempt to undersand this mêlée between ideas and hypotheses generated in my tiny little brain with their tangibility, their practicality, I have tried using analogies drawn from real-life experiences (others' not mine), films, books, even agony-aunt-type magazines and blogs to no avail. I have since given up pondering over such "matters" completely, which I'm sure you must have figured by now as I am writing an entire blog. I have to admit, I don't mull over it at all!

I need a break man! I get way too involved in other people's "matters" and forget I have a life of my own that I ought to be Living. The sad part is that I gave to remind myself. Shit! Why I spend SO much time thinking and not actually putting things into practice, is something I honestly don't know. I am brooding over it as I am typing out this crap. And I am saying to myself; thinking about this isn't trivial, it's simply my general interest in other people's business, which "they" mildly refer to as curiosity, it's just my need to be earnest about everything, my insatiable necessity to be Miss Goody-two-shoes Know-it-all!
(Which, for no reason, reminds me of something I read about ignorance in Oscar Wilde's 'Importance of Being Earnest', which has nothing to do with relationships or for that matter to do with curiosity...I just remembered it and said to myself, why not get more arbitrary than my usual self. Besides I find it absolutely hilarious, so....)

Lady Bracknell: I have always been of the opinion that a man who desires to
get married should know either everything or nothing. Which do you know?
Jack: I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.
Lady Bracknell: I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a very delicate exotic fruit. Touch it and the
bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately, in England at any rate, education produces no effect
whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a serious danger to the upper classes,
and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor's Square.

Ah! I have exhausted myself talking about inconsequential things, as is my favourite diversion from mundane, monotonous routine, I loosely refer to as my life. :D So, I leave you think about the importance of being earnest.

*Random-ness Alert*

Please go listen to this song by Oasis called "Importance of Being Idle"....

I don't mind
As long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine
I'll be fine, if you give me a minute, a man's got a limit
I can't get a life if my heart's not in it

OK, so I'll go listen to the song now, and you get back to whatever it is that you were doing before you chanced upon reading and bearing with my random reflections! :D

Adieu! Tata! Bye-bye!

The Relationship Crap.

Met PG after June 2006! I was a little apprehensive about seeing her here in India. I mean we were *buddies* in the UK. It was hard to imagine meeting her in a completely changed context, rather, in the Indian context. I had a million doubts about the Chennai trip turning out 'just-fine'; did we still have things to share? Were we friends because we were automatically put in rooms facing each other, or was there more to it? How would it be like to meet now, without the e-gap between us? I mean we were only in touch online, only once in a while to check up on each other, to find out if things were going 'just-fine'?
Uperse I was meeting her with her classmates, AN and DA. I always find it very hard to gel with strangers. I mean I had doubts about meeting PG after so long and these people were toh complete strangers, I honestly did not feel this would turn out to be good trip afterall. To add to all this, DP decided he would rather spend his time honeymoon-ing with his boyfriend over meeting us...
Oh! Well! I had a brilliant time, AN and DA were really sweet, especially AN, he drove us all over Chennai, just so that I could get a feel of the city and PG could go down nostalgia lane.

I still haven't come to the relationship crap yet! This was just the random intro...which calls for another short intro before I actually start rambling about relationships...
Now, PG is dating AR (who also is from Chennai, now settled in the UK) for over 3 years. She was supposed to be my relationship-guru in the UK. Giving me all the gyan about the do's and don't's of a *healthy relationship*.
After a long day roaming around in AN's funky military Jeep, PG and I retired to our hotel room to catch up on an entire eventful year, to talk about our lives, our love lives; she about hers and me about the non-existence of one!
I was happy that we could still discuss these things with the same intensity and fervor that we discussed them in the UK. Only difference being that, this time I was imparting all the gyan. I was the relationship-guru! Apparently, PG is physically attracted to other men when she has intellectual interactions with them and doesn't find AR intellectually stimulating anymore. He is Mr. Dependable who takes care of her, gives her all the attention she needs, knows when and exactly what she needs, who came across seven seas (literally) just to see her before the new year, who went so far as to do a zillion things just because PG liked them; he started listening to rock music (it was a huge thing for him, from Tamil music to Rock it takes hard work!), tried appreciating her taste in almost everything. Ms PG on the other hand, is very dismissive of him. Takes him for granted, to quote her, "when AR comes, it feels like I am being protected by warm blanket. He feels like family. How can one love anyone from one's family?!" (How perverse! But isn't that the ultimate objective of a love-relationship? to start a family together, to make the other a part of your family?!). I mean this woman wants to jump from one man to the next, eternally, having AR as a back-up for those cold wintery nights. She wants to feel "weak in the knees" everytime she sees him, I felt like shaking her up and telling her that she would be limping around the town if that was to happen everytime she saw AR! I mean, come on! you have been dating this fellow for 3 years, you give him hope, he plans his entire life centering you, what more can you want?! How can you shatter all his dreams because after all this while you dont' feel "weak in the knees"!?
PG wasn't the first person who wanted EVERYTHING from her boyfriend. SS had an emotionally and intellectually sensitive man, she wasn't physically attracted to him after 2 years of dating! Why do these women have these insatiable *demands* that their boyfriends have to be Purrfect!?! How can ONE person be your emotional back-up, be your sex bomb/sex machine (whatever!) and be capable of intellectual conversations with you? (and not just any intellectual conversation, a conversation about things that interest *you*). Why can't acceptance of faults come naturally? (One has to spend their life living with the faults not with the qualities of that other!) Why can't compromises be made with an open mind? Why can't there be sharing instead of compromises? Why are adult relationships so difficult and twisted? Why can't people learn that life is unfair and that is the precise reason they say that everything is fair in love!

People *create* problems for themselves and then wonder how they came about being in such deep shit?! Every damn thing is self-created and self-centered, give a little space to the other, share a little space, have a space of your own and then reflect on where you are in the shit...I'm sure the shit would've disappeared by then, or you would have figured how to get out of it!

I reflected on relationships of my past, not that I've had (m)any, but I've learnt much (At least, I think so). Acceptance of self is more difficult than acceptance of the other. Accept that you are selfish. Accept that there is always a give-and-take in a relationship, that there cannot be a relationship if there is no exchange. If you can accept your faults, it's just a matter of understanding the other has a "self" too.

I am not entirely sure why I wanted to write about this crap, coz as far as I am concerned, I feel I have issues all sorted in my head, if not in my life.
(Now, I feel like I am acting like a daadi, giving advice to bacchas of tomorrow. Haye! Nahiiii. I am supposed to be living the wild life, life on the edge, with the assurance that all *issues* can be handled tomorrow, a care-free existence where relationships don't matter much, where everything is about living in the moment! *sigh*)

Well, I think I am done with all the rambling, and since typing for prolonged periods of time isn't exactly one of my forte, I am going to leave a lot of things unsaid!

Ciao!