Winter Blues?

It feels rather nice to sit by this window, writing a note, listening to music and feeling the cold of the wind on my face. I want to go on a long drive on a lonely road, rain pattering away.

It is raining here in Mumbai. It is weirdly symbolic of how I feel right now. Woke up today with a cloud of gloom overhead, and it is only getting darker. I must have committed emotional suicide at some point of the day, because I refuse to feel anything.
I want to drown away in the rain, but not start afresh. In the end, what does it all mean? What does anything mean?

I want a wider view. A way to look at something with such vastness, that it would be impossible to notice any detail.
I want to sit and look at the ocean, its compelling force against land.
I want to walk for eternity, knee-deep in a never-ending sea of sand.
I want to sit on a mountaintop and breathe in the crisp air and soak in the valley below.

Every bit of me screams for release in the explosion of a thousand suns.

I’m claustrophobic.

25 Random Things

I remember putting this up on my Facebook long ago, don’t know why I have not put it here. This is not the quintessential guide to knowing me, but its fun nevertheless.

1. I prefer to buy books and read them rather than borrow them from friends or a library. And I think Pune could do with some good second hand bookstores. I love books. But I’m very choosy when it comes to authors and genres I’ve never tried before.

2. If you give me something “useful” as a gift, and you mean a lot to me, I will NOT use this “useful” gift that you have given me. I will keep it in a drawer/cupboard/under my bed/in the bathroom, but I will NOT use it. I will preserve it.

3. If I say a random word in the middle of a conversation with you, I expect you to respond with an equally random word. Or I’ll get very annoyed.

4. If I get terribly angry with you for something, I can ignore you for hours, days, months, years. I will not reconcile even if you offer to buy me all the Dosas and all the books and all the coffee in the world that I could ever want.

5. I’m brutally honest about my opinion of things. But if you give me negative feedback about anything to do with me, I will not be able to take it in my stride.

6. I love the rain. I love getting stuck outside in the rain. I love sitting indoors and watching the rain. I love the sound of it, the smell of it. As a little girl, I used to dance on my terrace in the monsoon showers. And then I got new neighbours who thought I was mental because I danced in the rain.

7. I like and get along with talkative and lively people. Talk rubbish for all I care. Just don’t sit around in one corner looking and feeling moody.

8. When I’m feeling low, I need someone around me. I won’t tell that someone why I’m feeling low. But I need that someone to stay there.

9. I’ll never get over the people I loved. They’ll be in the past and in the far background, but somewhere somehow, I still love them.

10. If you wake me up before I have had enough sleep, you will automatically become my enemy and I will spite you for the rest of the day. I need my sleep.
If you let me sleep when I’m supposed to wake up early, the consequences are the same as above. I need my sleep, but later.

11. It took me a long time to learn to ride a bicycle. I still do not know how to swim.

12. I can tune people out at any time if they begin to annoy me. Even if they’re right in front of me.

13. If I say something absolutely foolish to someone, I will later spend hours brooding over it.

14. I will give away my things, and years later sit down and try to find them. And then I realise I gave them away.

15. My heart works harder than my head. I use my head only when it comes to intellectual thingses. Otherwise, I don’t think much before I do something.

16. According to my parents, I have never done a single weird or odd thing all my life.
But I remember putting wet rice grains in a lockable jewellery box and locking it. When the box was retrieved years later, the rice grains were rotting and had all sorts of insects on them. That was weird.

17. I inherited 10 foreign coins from my father, and then built a collection. Its not much, but I’m proud of it. Likewise, I have a number of stamps that need to be made into a collection.

18. I love bookmarks. I collect them. I like to look at them and admire them. But I never use them.

19. I don’t like to share. Anything. Hmm. Yeah. But if I’m in a good mood, maybe I will. It depends.

20. Since I don’t have siblings, I tend to call all my cousins my brothers and sisters. So if I sound like I have a cartload of siblings, don’t be too surprised.

21. I look pitiable when I cry. And I cry only if I have been deeply hurt. And that rarely happens.

22. Around a large group of people, I become very disoriented and confused. And so, I sit quietly in a corner and not talk much.

23. I love all forms of stationery. Period.

24. I will become extremely restless and brood and brood if the people close to me simply stop talking to me.

25. I don’t know why I stopped dancing.

Rant.

Its just weird how I obsess over something I don’t need to obsess over. And then when I want something real bad and know I won’t get it, it gets worse because I need to pull out of it. And it hurts my head and my heart to dwell on it and helplessly go back to the same thing over and over again when I know I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. Really. I wonder what it would be like to have a go at that something. An object, an image, a being I would like to experience. From the soul. Every last bit. Right down to the very last atom. Because I’m that passionate, that intense when it comes to knowing what I want, despite knowing that I cannot have it.

Reading German Books

This is the first paragraph of the book Das Parfum – Die Geschichte eines Mörders by Patrick Süskind. This is the original of the film Perfume: The story of a murderer. I couldn’t resist picking this up from Goobe’s. I’m surprised no one bought it before me! Anyway, I was extremely in the mood for reading some German. The German paragraph reads thus:

Im achtzehnten Jahrhundert lebte in Frankreich ein Mann, der zu den genialsten und abscheulichsten Gestalten dieser an genialen und abscheulichen Gestalten nicht armen Epoche gehörte. Seine Geschichte soll hier erzählt werden. Er heiß Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, und wenn sein Name im Gegensatz zu den Namen anderer genialer Scheusale, wie etwa de Sades, Saint-Justs, Fouches, Bonapartes usw., heute in Vergessenheit geraten ist, so sicher nicht deshalb, weil Grenouille diesen berühmteren Finstermännern an Selbstüberhebung, Menschenverachtung, Immoralität, kurz an Gottlosigkeit nachgestanden hätte, sondern weil sich sein Genie und sein einziger Ehrgeiz auf ein Gebiet beschränkte, welches in der Geschichte keine Spuren hinterläßt: auf das flüchtige Reich der Gerüche. Zu der Zeit, von der wir reden, herrschte in den Städten ein für uns moderne Menschen kaum vorstellbarer Gestank.

Yes. When you read it in German, its extremely well written, the words well crafted. BUT. Germans love adjectives. Seriously. They cannot DO without adjectives. And well, this is one part of German grammar I totally suck at. Imagine the extent of immense pain I had to go through pushing through words I’d never learnt and the extreme form of adjectives, etc. I wish I had studied my lessons again over the summer. What I get after a literal translation from Google Translate (notwithstanding the pains I took to look up the Umlaut codes), surprises me. Because in English, it all seems so simple, and STILL well written! This is the translated version of the paragraph, straight off Google:

In the eighteenth century lived in France a man, one of the most genial and heinous figures in this great and abominable poor era figures not included. His story is here told. He called Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, and if his name is in contrast to the names of brilliant monster, like de Sade, Saint-Just, Foucjes, Bonaparte’s, etc., now forgotten, it is certainly not because Grenouille these famous Finster men in self-confidence, contempt people, immorality, wickedness nachgestanden briefly, but because of his genius and his only ambition was limited to an area, which in the history leaves no traces: in the realm of volatile odors.
At the time of which we speak, reigned in the cities and for us modern people stench barely conceivable.

I can’t WAIT to be able to read this properly!

Glass

This was a story I wrote for Cul-Week in college last year. I finally got a copy (edited, of course) in the college Magazine. I do not have the actual draft of the story. Only the magazine version. And this one is close to my heart because a favourite teacher liked it. The cue was the first line and we had to continue the story from there.

The Deepest mystery in Cookala was why no one ever got a table of Cafe Cobah. It is a bit of a Dicto Simpliciter because at some point of time, one did find a cosy table in a corner of the dingy cafe, whose only source of lighting was the sun shining through a circular piece of glass in the ceiling. The cafe poorly lit during the rains, was full to the brim with people dripping water from their rain gear. And if one did want to indulge in a hot cuppa and spicy snacks, one had to wait for a table to become vacant. And wait they did. Endlessly. Most people, losing their patience, would walk out of the cafe, tired of having to wait. There were very few people who ever occupied any tables. But they never left them. Almost.

An occupant of one of the various tiny tables was Rehan. The corner table he chose had been one of the many that fit perfectly against the wall and was camouflaged by the teak walls. He had arrived at the cafe before opening time. And this shocked Mr. Burgess quite a bit because Rehan was not a frequenter to the cafe. The inhabitants of tiny Cookala knew each other quite well. Nothing could be kept a secret here.

Rehan had taken a corner table when he arrived early in the morning and still sat there. It was six in the evening now. And he still sat there, staring at the same saltshaker. He fiddled with the rose placed in a vase on the table. It was a deep red. It reminded him of her. Her deep red lips that he tenderly touched, thinking anything that touched her would break her delicate, fragile body. He had stared at them all night while she slept in his arms, her face flowing with contentment. He knew every bit of her face and adored it. Loved it. He sat thinking about every single moment he had spent with her. Every single embrace since they had first met. But he also remembered that particular day when she had come to the river sobbing. After a great deal of persuation and convincing, she had finally told him that she was moving to England to do her Master’s. This came across as a kind of betrayal to Rehan. Hadn’t they vowed to remain in this town no matter what? Hadn’t she said they would be married and love in this town as long as they were alive? She had told him the university was offering her a full scholarship and she didn’t want to throw away the opportunity. Rehan didn’t try to stop her. She didn’t change her mind.

Tears welled up in his eyes now as she took the chair opposite him. The same pattering of the rain on the skylight. The same table in the dark corner. Had it really been five years ago that they had met? She had the same dark brown, inquisitive eyes as she smiled at him. A tiny dimple flashed on the face that he knew so well.

England is beautiful, Rehan. The University had taught me so much! Maybe we should move there. I wish we were allowed to make international calls. I’ve been lonely without you. I missed you so…

She looked at Rehan with a glint of fear in her eyes. He rolled an empty glass in his hand. Back and forth. Again and again and again. Then suddenly, he jumped to his feet, gave a hollow laugh, and threw the glass across the cafe with all the fury he could muster.

The glass smashed against the teak wall and shattered.

Random Things I Love Right Now

1.  The Finnish in Lai Lai Hei by Ensiferum. Go listen to it.

2.  The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger.

3.  The weather in Bangalore! I was born for this weather!

4.  The Boy in The Striped Pyjamas – Movie.

5.  Iiiiiiiice creeeeeeeeeam!

6.  The word “Bashful”.

7.  Laughing at and saying nonsense things.

8.  Mangoes! Boy, I can’t wait!

9.  Acting rowdy with old friends.

10.  This certain Cranberry drink on a breezy and cloudy afternoon.

11.  This inexplicable and unmentionable affection towards certain persons.

12.  1st year ij ovah!! Hallelujah!

13.  Summer’s gone? Already? And Monsoons are coming you say??

J-o-b-l-e-s-s-n-e-s-s.

 

Object of my utter randomness.

 

 

Why is that chair there stupidly tilted?

Modern Art.

And that blank face on the French department?

 

Wella. French beauty product brand.

 

 It’s still a stupid blank face.

 

With pointy hair. Wanna go draw features on it?

 

And get kicked.

 

Hmm. No freedom of expression at all around here. That chair is still modern art.

 

No it isn’t.

 

Joblessly contradicting. Shame.

 

Its wood against wood. Period.

 

With more wood and fibrous material on it. And a stick of compact powder. Not the cosmetic kind.

 

Bleaargh!!! (sticks out tongue) Do you even know what modern art is?!

 

Well…. Random pieces of random things that are put together. The artist thinks its the most beautiful thing in the world, and others do not understand it.

 

Wrong. What I say is modern art is modern art. And I say the tilted chair isn’t.

 

Insufferable little pipsqueak. Wipe that silly grin off your face. That setting (chair and table and duster and chalk) looks in perfect harmony. Each contributes to the institution of learning. Too bad I don’t really connect with it.

 

Stop whining and spewing out nonsense.

 

(Glares at Participant 1) Stupid girl. (Participant 2 gets distracted by Participant 1’s cardigan) Ooooh! Gween! I laaik! Can I have it?

 

Dream on. Stick. It won’t fit you anyway.

 

(Puppy dog face strategy by Participant 2) But I waaaant!

 

Pouting and puppy dog face won’t work here. This is strictly no nonsense area.

 

Rich coming from you. Sigh. Weekand!!

 

Took half an hour to understand your cryptic little comments. Crazy person!

 

YOU crazy person. Ok, I’m really bored. I want to gwo wome. And I hope I can buy The Book Thief.

 

I know you admire me. So its okay if you don’t repeat me.

 

(sticks tongue out) You are very ill-informed and delusioned. There is only one person in this world that I admire. And its not you!!

 

(Loads of static) … … … We are sorry to interrupt this extremely important conversation. We seem to have been asked to shut up by a woman called teacher.

Randomness

Random thoughts running through my head right now.

One hour wait. Estha. Diwali. Converse. Class 1. Train journey. Denial. Pune. Coffee. Working on my writing. Did I ask for it? Since when did slight pangs of jealousy become part of my life? Long, slender hands. Faith in myself isn’t anymore. Over the threshold. Still protected? Talk-a-lot. Self-sufficiency. Blank-shaped hole in the Universe*. Acceptance. Opinions. Seclusion. How did I stop becoming self-righteous? What did I do right? I’m letting my guard down. 2 weeks more to go. Need my strength back. Personality or lack of it? Open doors and windows. Do I really want to look out? Oh, and those coffee-brown eyes I love so much.

One life to live.

* Adapted from The God of Small Things.

This post is of no consequence to anyone whatsoever. Bleh.

Glorious Adventure

My dumb entry for a Short Story Writing competition in college. I have no hopes of winning. This piece has nothing to do with the topic and its not even a story. FTW!

It was a nice, cold, breezy morning. Perfect day for walking around campus. I left home in haste, dragging my bag all the way to the rickshaw stand, humming a Rammstein song. Now, the thing in Bangalore is, if you look like you’re a college-going girl who is waiting for a ric, three-wheelers driven by the types who listen to Dhinchak music are bound to screech to a halt right in front of you. But the flip side is, they’ll probably want to show off their fake Adidas cap and M. G Road footpath sunglasses to you.

But the poor Late Latif that you are, have no choice but to take the first ric that comes along at 8:15. You don’t want to annoy your lecturer, do you? What with your internals marks at her mercy! So you get into a ric and hope for the best. This guy in khaki sitting in front of you, singing Jinke Mari on the top of his lungs seems better than the embarrassment of turning up late for class. Well, turns out, he wasn’t better. He had noise reduction earphones (Heaven knows where he got those from! Chor Bazaar I’m guessing) plugged tightly in his ears and intended on talking the longest route possible from home to college.

“Gott! Er ist verucht!!” I said to myself, frustration turning into German. (I believe I’m a born linguist. Heh.)

In broken Kannada, “Take a right here! A right!! NOT Mekhri Circle!”

All my efforts to make Adidas-cap Stud-maccha understand went in vain. He couldn’t hear me anyway. Once the left was taken, I had no choice by to grit my teeth and sit there till I got to college. I had to go over Mekhri Circle. No other option. 8:45 already. Missed the first hour.

But I decided to give him a piece of my mind as soon as I got off at college. The meter had run up to twice of what it usually does. I got out of the ric in a fit of rage in front of the college gate and belted out the foulest Marathi swear words I knew. Advantage of being from Bombay. When I was finally done yelling, I reached into my bag to pull out my wallet.

I’ll never forget the look on Stud-maccha’s face when he realised I had no money on me. I didn’t bother to grin back.

Sonne by Rammstein

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