Friday 21 December 2012

Smiley - Survival!

December 22nd.
1:04 AM.

What is the best thing that could happen to me today? Well, what with all the doomsday predictions and "we are going to die" threads making the rounds, I guess just being around!

Yes, yes, I am as saturated with the apocalyptic trending as everyone else is but then again, how often do you get to contribute to this kind of a movement?

A few minutes past midnight, I got a message reading "Dear Ladies and Gentlemen, We made it! We have survived the end of the world!". [sic ;)]

I couldn't have said it better. :)


Wednesday 19 December 2012

Emerging, reappearing!

Yes, yes, yes. I am back. And yes, it is practically three months since I was last here.
Don't tell me I didn't warn you. Blogging is a rather severe test of my internal motivation and often, I find myself flailing.

No, don't get me wrong. The blog was on my mind... just that it was really far back, and rather deeply buried as well. Oops.

A few minutes ago, a friend asked me for the link to my blog, confidently assuming I had one. Hopefully this gets published before he checks it out and sees a timestamp on September 27th! :P

Much has been happening and much can be written about. There are more Pensive posts (yes, lots of thinking happening) and definitely more Smiley posts.

I shall be back with more jabbering. Soon.

PS - Thank you, Rohit for getting me to come back :)

Thursday 27 September 2012

That Moment of Time

A piece of fiction long in the pipeline, inspired by Chinese food and great company.

-


She stood there just a moment longer, letting the wind flirt with her hair, breathing in the fresh breeze that wafted through the trees. Her stomach was threatening to burst with an overdose of good food, the result of an impromptu Chinese meal with a friend. Just as they climbed onto the bus, the winds kicked in, throwing up swirls of dust and sand into the air. As people rushed for cover, protecting their eyes and face from the onslaught, she stood. Still. Silent.

She missed moments like these, when all that mattered was that one moment; not the next, not the one past but instead, just that fragment of time when all that was true was the now. She had earphones plugged in, strains of instrumental harmony flooding her body. Her fingers were unconsciously snapping to the rhythm, her lips humming the tune that had kept her company through many lonely hours. The trees rustled, swayed, bent scarily close to the ground. The metal sheets cordoning off a construction zone clanged with the winds, threatening to fall inches away from where she stood that very minute. She kept a watchful eye open, just because that is what grandmother’s tales would advice but none of it mattered just then.

She stared up into the skies, unmindful of the dust in her tangled hair, and marvelled at the patterns the clouds were colliding to form. She swirled slowly once, breathing in every little detail – the sounds of the monkeys as they hurried to the security of dry land and shelter, the voices of irritated students complaining about plans foiled and inconveniences caused, the concerned call of the guard asking the girls to stay safe, take care and be careful.

In that one moment, she felt like the world had frozen around her, like she had encapsulated time. Somewhere between the frantic jugglery of meetings, appointments and deadlines, she had found that sweet spot. As the winds howled with newfound rage and the fat drops of the first rainfall began to hit the ground, she sighed.

The moment had passed. There were things to do and people to meet, questions to ask and reports to write. She had to leave, drag herself into the confines of four walls and grapple with slow internet connections and incomprehensible jargon.

The moment had passed. As the rain fell and the winds blew, she looked out of the window. She was meant to think about the joys of getting wet yet, she found herself worrying about navigating muddy roads and stagnated water.

The moment had passed. She smiled at the recollection, promising to write about it soon and went on to do what had to be done.

Monday 24 September 2012

Pensive #2: Choices, choices, everywhere...

It struck me just recently how often we make decisions. Even for someone who isn't really a pro at these things, I just realized what an integral part of our day-to-day lives decisions really were. Just thinking back to the last 24 hours, I can come up with quite a few...

Whether to snooze the alarm or not...
Whether to bother getting all dressed up for class or not...
Whether to go to class or not...
Whether to sleep between classes or not...
Whether to use green or blue highlighter...
Which meeting to bail on...
Which piece of writing to tackle first...
Which meal to strategically skip...
Whether to skip in the first place...
Which movie to watch - trashy Tamil or trashy English...

And the list could go on.

The thing is, more often than not, it isn't a conscious effort to make these choices, Snoozing the alarm is a reflex, dressing up for class a necessity. Most others are often just the result of us doing whatever it is that we feel like that very moment and not paying it any attention after.

Yes, this does seem like a rather pointless rant but the point I'm trying to make is rather simple.
For all those souls like me who cringe at the thought of having to choose, it is sort of a wake up call, a shake of the shoulders to realize we already do. Everyday. All the time. Without even thinking.

I chose to write this instead of read up coursework. Ah well. :)




Friday 31 August 2012

Smiley #2: Water bottles

So this post isn't going to be particularly long or flamboyant. It is all about the simple pleasures of life. Imagine having a tough day - a long, tiring one of walking from one place to another, meeting dozens of people, sitting through classes and just looking for a moment of silence and peace. The thing is, living in hostel, it isn't often that that moment actually occurs.

You always have people around you, things that need to get done and as luck would have it, your meetings will always be scheduled in opposite ends of the campus. After one such long day, when you finally drag your feet into your room, mentally preparing yourself with "household" chores to wind up the day, what is the nicest thing that could greet you?

A water bottle, filled to the brim with cold, clean, drinkable water.

It saves you the trouble of going to the dispenser, hopping to get mosquitoes from feasting on your feet and being on continuous high alert for monkeys. It gives you the comfort of reaching out onto your desk and just downing half the bottle. It is one of the smaller joys of a hostel room which perennially lies in a mess.

When you have a roommate as awesome as mine, you get to walk in to filled water bottles. When you have a roommate like mine, even hostel has its joys. :)

Saturday 25 August 2012

The Real Wall

All the talk about Rahul 'The Wall' Dravid retiring, the broad smile on my face after a lunch "date" with my gorgeous mother and general wave of inspiration resulted in this on a bored afternoon -


Splattered on the wall were pictures; pictures that captured moments, froze memories and brought a bright smile on the girl’s face.

Of course, there were complaints. There always were. Having connectivity on your phone called for celebration. Having blood left for your system after the mosquitoes were done feasting was a mini miracle. The walls looked like they were remnants of the Chola kings. It was a constant battle to keep a layer of grime and dust from settling on every flat surface. The list could go on.

But beyond all this, despite all the hiccups, there was one silver lining to the dark cloud called Sharavathi. The wall. The very same wall that looked like archaeological remains had taken on a whole new avatar. With all the blemishes covered, it was an amalgam of life events, a time line of sorts.

No matter how many monkeys she stepped over or how many pages of readings she had pored over, irrespective of how many courses she wasn’t confident of or how intimidated she felt, all she had to do was look at the wall and it all came rushing back to her.

She was reminded that her life was a treasure trove of almost two decades of good memories. There was one of her on a bookshelf, happily perched up above the world so high! And then another, her being carried around, dressed as fashion would dictate in those years gone by in a fluffy warm coat with bunny ears! Oh and so many more! A peck on the cheek from her mom, a hug from a dear friend, an arm around the shoulder by a cherished uncle...

Every day, that was all she had to do. Lie down, look up and wait for that broad grin to work its way across her face. There it all was, years and years of happiness, tangible proof for all those amazing people who were always there. Some may not have met her in the last decade, others may have gotten to know her only in the last year but today, they are all a mere phone call away.

As she looks around and watches her sleeping roommate, the clothes drying on the clothesline, the floor dangerously close to needing another sweep of the broom and books and bags lying strewn across, a sense of security floods her. She can study and wash clothes and sweep the floor and do whatever else needs to be done. Nothing can be too hard because after all, if she needs help, she has the wall to lean on, literally and metaphorically.

To all those faces on the wall, thank you. Especially you.

Wednesday 22 August 2012

Celebrating home

Dear Chennai,

Happy Birthday! You've turned 373, you oldie! It puts things into perspective, you know? All of us turning 20 feel so much younger now!

On your birthday this year, here are things I've always wished you knew - some are the emotions you inspire, others are bits of advice, the rest are just the flighty ramblings of a girl in love... with you.

You see, there will always be people who call you an overgrown village, cribbing about hemlines and sleeve lengths. There will always be complaints about deserted streets when it is 'only' 11 PM and the absence of a 'decent' life. When flipped around, these cribs and rants transform into statements of adulation and amazement of how a metro can maintain such character, of how you are in touch with your roots and of how you have a strong, independent identity. Listen, smile and move on. But wait, you already do.

I often wonder, if you were to look yourself in the mirror what would you see? An old man (perhaps a la Dumbledore?) with flowing silvery hair with deep-set eyes filled with wisdom from the years gone by? A beautiful woman decked in a Kancheepuram sari and lengths of jasmine flowers that stares back? Scores of children playing barefoot on the sun-baked lanes, pretending to be Dhoni or Tendulkar? Posh, sophisticated elite walking into malls or pubs? If you were to look yourself in the mirror, would there even be a singular image or would it be like looking out of a window?

I may not have been here as long as some others. I may not have seen everything there is to see. I may not have experienced everything you have to offer. Yet, I am enchanted.

Writing hurriedly in the sand before violent waves swallow my letters in one sweeping motion. Picking out seashells and carefully rinsing them to store for years to come. Roaming the sands, getting our futures told and sampling the characteristic tastes of the corn, the bhajji, the sundal. Who else can give us Besant Nagar?

Bargaining till our throats are parched. Navigating nooks, crannies and side lanes until we are surrounded by makeshift stalls with no idea where we are. Emerging with our loot barely managing to carry it all but with a big smile, our sanity and a hardly-harmed wallet in place. Who else can give us Pondy Bazaar?

Every brand you can think of. Food that not only gets your mouth watering but also brings the world to your doorstep. The guarantee of meeting someone you know every time you set foot into its doors. The perfect solution for a hot, sultry, empty summer afternoon. Who else can give us Express Avenue?

The best of classical music and dance. The majesty of silk saris and the aroma of jasmine. Hot samosas and filter kaapi. The talk of sabhas and kutcheris; the joy of a whole new language. Who else can give us the December season?

Oh, I could go on and on! After all, history is replete with stories expressing adoration. Who would know better than you?

Over this next week, everyone's eyes will be trained on you. We will cycle through you, take walks through otherwise ignore alleys and try to get in touch with our roots. Through most of the year, it may seem like we do not pay as much attention but every time we see Central Station or CMBT or the beaches or just about anything at all, we know exactly where we are. It is, after all, namma Chennai that grounds us, makes us come running back home.

With much love from,

a Madrasi ;)

Sunday 19 August 2012

Pensieve #1: When phones are mere metal

I am not really the most up to date with current affairs. I try, I really do, but sometimes it just flies above my head, too fast for me to even blink and reach up to catch it. There is always something going on - scams, court cases, other stories we wish we didn't know. True, buried deep under all these are stories of success, happiness and pride - of students cracking exams, of people saving their neighbour's life, of senior citizens becoming socially involved.

I wasn't planning to write this piece. I didn't think I had much to say. I still don't but what I do have are a bunch of questions I would like to throw up. When a cell-addicted friend of mine said 'Soon, I'll just leave my phone in my room and walk away', I decided I would go ahead and ask them.

There is an 'exodus' underway in the country. Thousands of citizens originally from the North East are fleeing from the southern states because of threats issued against them. Without going into the details of who is threatening and why, let us look at what that has led to.

Earlier this year, the number of free SMSs we could send was limited to a hundred. The 101st text message will not get delivered. There was much protest and the number was raised to 200 with texts being charged after the 125th SMS but we let out a sigh of relief. Today, thanks to the fact that much of the hate messages were spread through text, I got word from my mobile operator this morning that "In support of the Government's decision and in the interest of National Security, we are immediately implementing the restriction on bulk SMS. You will be unable to send more than 5 SMS a day."

Next to no text messages. All free SMS websites have been blocked. Today's newspaper tells us some ministers are calling for temporary ban of social networking sites. What does this mean?  Are all these measures tackling the symptom or the cause? Where are we headed as a country when such evident fractions remain, unable to live in co-operation if not in harmony? Is the power to communicate a fundamental right or a boon?

What does the future have in store for India? Do we want to know?

Wednesday 15 August 2012

Smiley #1: Rainy forests.

As I embark on my newest attempt to make a mark on cyber space, I must say I am mildly skeptical. Blogging has never quite been within my grasp, like the word constantly only at the tip of your tongue or the branch just beyond your fingers' reach. Yet, here I am after a fit of inspiration thanks to that one last nudge by the gorgeous Agita.

This post is the first of a dream series that I have always wanted to write. When I told a friend of mine the reason for me writing a blog, her first reaction was 'That's why you have a dairy!'. Well, I'm usually no good with that either so I'm hoping the unseen push of one-off reader will act as motivation for me to get my hands on the keyboard and start thundering away.

The Smiley series is fairly straightforward as a concept. Inspired by the 1000 Awesome Things blog (http://1000awesomethings.com/), I just wanted to document everything that makes me happy for my future reference as well as doing my bit to make atleast cyber space slightly cheerier than it is today!

The first in the series is the rain. Especially in forests. If it is dark, that's the cherry on the cake. All you can see in front of you is sheets of water, falling with infinite precision and grace from so high above to particular points on the Earth. The forests transform in the rain. Everything is quiet, serene, natural. The greens look deeper, darker, purer. The roads look less intruding as they take on a cover of clear water and if you watch closely enough, you can see the animals peering from a natural hideout in some obscure corner.

Getting drenched is a joy in itself. The surprise of the first few drops. The reflex to take cover immediately after. The final resignation of the cold drops and at the very end, the pure abandon that accompanies splashing and running in the rain.

No matter just how busy our schedules are, how many deadlines have to be met or how many preoccupations take control of our mind, the few minutes spent out in the open literally wash away all those thoughts. The look you get from your roommate when you walk in dripping wet asking for a towel and the warmth of dry clothes and a cozy room reminds you why you should take the trouble to get out of bed and embrace the forests that surround you.