my own sweet world

Heat Wave

2012-01-16T19:13:00.000+05:30

I can smell the heat. I feel everything around me unwillingly absorb it. My black Chennai T-shirt does the same, but more willingly so, I feel. It knows heat, though maybe a different kind of heat; heat laced with the salty smell of the sea and jasmine flowers and cut mango with spicy chilli powder. Heat laced with the smell of home.

The year the was.

2012-01-15T22:12:00.000+05:30

Acceptance
Sara Bareilles
MUN Press corps and elmo socks
Freelancing
First concert
Unlikely friendships
Unlikelier confidants
Blood donations
Tumblring
Tweeting
Love songs
YouTube music rage
Getting over it
Overcoming hurdles
Days and nights on quote-book
Skype rants, so many of them
Happiness
Ice skating :)
More tumblring
More Sara Bareilles
Buru, Indonesia
Dancing with little indonesian kids
Floating in the ocean, sleeping under the stars
Good to you
Android
A parade
Earthlink
Being embarrassed
Marketing Angry Birds
Schoolgirl crush
Hyderabad
Bangalore
Chennai, always
Karma
Saying no and feeling horrible about it
Living on the beach
Never having enough money
Yin Yang group
Voda Voda
The closest i'll ever get to a summer fling
Bike rides
CEE rooftop
Failed driving lessons
Cluelessness
Reblogging phase
Harry Potter, all over again
Queen phase
Inspirations
Maalai Nerum
Bibliophile
Peanut butter and jelly
Scars
The camera
Beating Mechanics of Materials
Wine
Getting so enchanted
Candycane overdose, Christmas high
Closing Time
Game of Thrones
Coffee and Chocolate
Being kidnapped by the coolest guys I know
Hormones, finally
Photographs
Safe and Sound
Realizing that you don't always know the truth
Secrets
Dancing
Earrings
xkcd
Deepavali food
Too much pizza
The Fight
Hindi music
Structures love
Reading for the first time since university
Elections
Chocolate therapy
Salsa steps
Lizard obsession
Shopping
Double rooms, single rooms
Camera experimentation
Missing people
Eating on the ledge
Glee
Oats and thokku
Block 72
Remembering the milk
The CQ Encounter
Torn pants
Coincidences
Too many doctors
Root beer addiction
Other addictions
Fever Avenue
Strawberry..
Death Note
Not caring
Massage chairs
Writing
New glasses
Massages and good food
Wala Wala's amazing band and our great discovery
Cyclone
National Geographic
Pizza cravings
Walks between Hall 11 and Hall 15
Caramel Frappuccino
MILO!
Nanalew
Life decisions
Kryptos and its amazing food
Never ending phone calls
Marche
Girls day out
Google Docs
Dramaaaaaaa
Cousins that I will love forever
Temple run!
Late nights
Frozen Yogurt
The Vicious Circle
Vivo love
Hope.

Perfection

2011-12-27T23:12:00.001+05:30

I think I'm perfection-phobic. It scares me for some reason. I'm worried about being bored to death by a perfect life, a predictable future, and a predictable present. On the other hand, I'm also scared of too much drama, too many worries, too many questions. Contradictory, yes; but very true.
If only there was a balance between perfection and imperfection. The right amount of complications, a beautiful mess perhaps. That would be... truly perfect.

That Fine Line

2011-12-24T19:23:00.002+05:30

She was treading on a fine line here, a thread-thin rope. It was so easy to fall back into the mess that was, and easier still to get back out. Sadly, the choice wasn't in her hands. Perhaps the answer was in the sureness of her feet; their ability to balance and take a sure stance away from the line. However, she knew how clumsy she was. She might be meaning to take a large leap away from the line, and out of this mess, only to fall back into it with great force, dwelling deeper than she had ever been. It was a dangerously fine line, laced with confusion and doubt and so much possibility. Most importantly, it was saturated with that little thing called hope.

Change is constant

2011-12-24T00:00:00.000+05:30

A wise person once said "there is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find ways in which you yourself have altered." As true as these words are, what happens when you experience something slightly different? What if, well, you have changed; but what if the place has, too? You come back to a place, expecting everything and everyone to have stayed the same, only to realize that things aren't as you left them. Everyone has moved on, and when you think about it, so have you.

The only thing left to do is to enjoy the little that you have left, before it too fades away with time.

2011-12-18T02:09:00.001+05:30

Sometimes, I feel like I would take anything that you had to offer me. It seems like you have so much to offer to the world, but so little to offer to me. And I've been here with you for so long, while the rest of the world has just passed by, without giving you a second glance. It's odd, isn't it? I've been waiting so long to see just a speck of your soul. I've been an open book, while you've hidden every bit of yourself, ever so carefully. I'm not sure what you're waiting for, but I know it's not me.

Knowledge is Power

2011-12-17T00:22:00.002+05:30

Or, is ignorance pure bliss? All of us want to selectively choose the information that we want to hear, and tune out the information that we're better off not knowing. Sadly, we're not blessed with this sort of choice. Sometimes, we never get to know things that we should rightfully know, things that we are better of knowing, knowledge that will make all the difference to our lives and for the better. Sometimes, we are cursed with the knowledge of things that we would have been happier never, ever knowing in our lifetime.
Choices. We have so few of them. The world is just thrust towards us whether we like it or not. And what are we left with? The power of not knowing which pieces of information we will end up with, and which pieces of information will get lost in the winds of time.
Maybe that's our choice. The choice of mystery, of adventure, of spontaneity.

Purpose

2011-12-14T23:29:00.000+05:30

I think I've been going through an aimless phase for quite a while now. December was supposed to help me figure everything out, but it's already half up and I'm no where closer to where I want to (or rather, need to) be. I've got my lists, I've got some ideas, I've got this horribly vague picture of where I'm heading. But it's so blurry that it might as well not exist. I worry myself; i'm worried for myself. I don't want to waste away, and I don't want things to end with me being as lost and confused as I feel at the moment. This can't be the way things are meant to be. There must be some point when everything is crystal clear, right? And truthfully, I'm not even asking for crystal clarity. Anywhere even halfway close will do for me.

Hope

2011-12-14T12:04:00.000+05:30

It's all about hope.
I hope you find what you're looking for;
Happiness, love,
A fulfilling life,
No regrets;
Everything you want,
And more.

"Steal a piece of time..."

2011-12-12T22:22:00.001+05:30

A wise person once told me that making memories is the most important purpose of life. At that point, I was so caught up in this wise persons' words that I set out to achieve this one goal, while ignoring every other goal and purpose. And though this person was partly right, he was partly wrong as well. Memories are important, and we must do what we can to create as many as possible. However, this isn't the sole purpose of life. We have other purposes, other responsibilities. I think I've learned the hard way that we must learn to intertwine this objective of making memories with other objectives, in order to achieve what we truly want in life: happiness.

Creepiness

2011-12-12T10:11:00.001+05:30

Does being possessive about someone show that you really care, or that you're really insecure? I feel that it could be either one of the two, and I'm not sure how to tell the difference. One can easily be mistaken for the other.
No matter which one it is, though, I think it's a quality that really needs to be toned down; reacting to something this sensitive can only lead to trouble. Yes, talk about it with the other person, but for the most part, it's safer to keep it inside your head and come to terms with it in your own time.

Braveheart

2011-12-11T03:35:00.001+05:30

Stories like LOTR and Harry Potter confuse me; I find it hard to fathom how someone would be so willing to die in order to save the world. I mean, it sounds really heroic, but it's just beyond me. It's different to, say, serve the army. But carrying the burden of the entire world and all it's people, like Frodo Baggins and Harry Potter, is an entirely different story.
Okay, yes, it's just a story at the end of the day. However, it manages to always create this surge of emotion in me, and the simple(?) question arises as to whether I could ever be brave enough to do something like that.

Granted

2011-12-10T00:47:00.001+05:30

I feel like I take too many people in my life for granted. It's not conscious, no. But I know that I do it. Sadly, I realize much, much later and sometimes it's too late to undo the damage.
I just wish that I could realize before I take anyone for granted. But how do you do that, right? Most of life's decisions hit you much after you've made them; similarly, mistakes like taking people who care for you a lot, for granted, hit you much later too.
Perhaps one day, I wont be this... unconsciously indifferent. Perhaps one day, when I'll finally feel like a better person.

Eggnog

2011-12-08T23:27:00.001+05:30

I'm not sure what it is about Christmas that instills such a strong spirit in me. The carols, the hats, the candy canes and the (hypothetical, in-my-head) snow all seem to play a part. It's so much fun to love Christmas; anything remotely related to the festive season manages to excite me, somehow.
My Christmas hat is my new best friend. I have every intention of walking everywhere with it perched on my head. My completely off-beat singing might be a slight issue when it comes to singing carols (with my hat on, of course!) but oh well. 'Tis, after all, the season to be jolly.

Grass

2011-12-08T23:20:00.001+05:30

The lush, tall grass was the only thing around her, for miles and miles. Each blade pointed up towards the sky, and ended with a perfect dew drop that sparkled in the sunshine. The earth below her bare feet was soft and warm and ever so comforting. A slight breeze splattered drops of water on her face, and she smiled. She had no idea where she was, or how she had got here, but here, under the sun and entwined in grass, was where she belonged.

Two halves

2011-12-06T22:26:00.001+05:30

The concept of soul mates intrigues me. I remember reading a Paulo Coelho book in which the author defines the idea of soul mates very clearly, stating that souls are split into two after reincarnation; over time, these two halves split further, and so on, until pieces of our soul are scattered all around the world. Thus, it is possible for us to have more than one soul mate.

I find this explanation very fascinating. I know it's horribly idealistic and practically unbelievable, but it's such a wonderful possibility. Though, honestly, I'm not sure if I even believe in the concept of a soul mate. Yes, there might be someone that you get along with extremely well, but that doesn't mean they're your soul mate, does it? There's no one who's perfect for you in every way. Even if there is someone who comes close, you may not fall in love with them. In fact, it's highly likely that you will fall in love with someone who is perfect for you in no way, at all.

But that's love, I guess. It makes no sense.

A Powerful Mind

2011-12-05T20:52:00.001+05:30

How powerful is the subconscious mind? Is it possible to change things by will? It seems unnatural, even impossible, but I think I've experienced it, I think I know people who have. It's not one hundred percent foolproof, just like anything else in this world, but it's possible.
However, at the moment, I think my subconscious mind is non-existent. Or maybe it's buried in deep in the chaotic mess that is my mind. Everything seems to be very out of my hands.

Our past is our present

2011-12-04T23:11:00.001+05:30

I find it odd that some of the most brilliant minds in history displayed strong streaks of misogyny. Socrates, Freud, Kant. If a large part of philosophy was based on the notion that women are weak, need to be controlled and are incapable of learning, it's no wonder that it took three waves of feminism and so many other women's rights movements to get to where we are today.

A Perfect Match

2011-12-03T19:52:00.001+05:30

These visits to the seaside were becoming frequent events for her. There was something about the ocean that was strangely comforting. And off-late, it seemed to match her mood quite often. Sometimes, it was blissfully calm, and at other times it seemed to be floating in the moment, lingering leisurely, not afraid of all the time that was ticking on. Sometimes, it would lash against the shore, so horribly confused; the waves seemed to be screaming "should I come, or should I go?" Indecisive. Just like her.

Inspiration, or lack thereof

2011-12-02T16:17:00.001+05:30

I think I’m horribly uninspired. Maybe it’s because I’vestopped thinking. Does this evenmake me human anymore? More importantly, does this even make me, ME anymore?

I am re-reading Sophie’s world. I’m hoping that it will give mesome answers. Or maybe I should stop waiting for answers to come to me. However,I don’t want to stop asking questions. I have, for the past year or so, and I don’tlike this at all. Life’s been easier this way, undoubtedly, but what’s funabout easy right? Haha, I just realized how weird that sounds. Oh well.

The point is, this year really has been… uncomplicated, bymy standards (SO FAR). It hasn’t been an easy year, no, but I’ve refused to letit get complicated because that’s not a path I want to go down again. But Ithink I eventually realized that being complicated is an inherent part of me. Imean, I’m not all for being one of those deep, brooding (wannabe intellectual?)writers, but maybe, just maybe, that’s what I am? Come to think of it, I don’t know what I amanymore. Perhaps I never did.

I am me. Let’s leave it at that for now.

The End is not near, it's Here

2011-04-04T20:41:00.002+05:30

When I think of the end of the world, I honestly don’t freak out; not a bit. I don’t panic, I don’t worry, I don’t start with a spout of palpitations, nor do I experience an adrenaline rush. No horror nor excitement, no wonder regarding how or why it could happen. Nothing.

Selfish, maybe?

Not really.

The truth is, when the world ends, it is not as if the only people who will be gone are you, your parrot and your great-uncle Martin. It is not going to be just the annoying neighbor who loves Bon Jovi a little too much, or his dog who loves your cat’s tail inappropriately much. It is going to be all of us; every single one of us.

Which is perhaps why not feeling bad about this isn’t the most selfish thing to do. In reality, it doesn’t matter, because we’ll all be long gone, and there’s nothing we can do about it. This is not something that is our fault like global warming or the melting of ice caps; if Armageddon or 2012 are as real as people say, this “ending” is going to happen no matter what. The sad but real truth is there, right in front of us, mocking us, every second of every minute of every day.

Of course, being this neutral about it is probably exponentially stupid. After all, there is SO much I want to experience before being wiped off the face of the earth. With barely a couple of years left to achieve all of this, I really should be doing some major panicking; I should be putting together a disparate list of things to do before it’s too late. A part of me wants to do all those things; scuba diving, bungee jumping, writing a book, touching lives, falling in love, not tripping over flat ground, and so much more. However, these are not things that you just do off a list. Yes, you have to make them happen, but no, you cannot just set a deadline, like 21st December 2012.

Live in the moment; take every day as it comes. Don’t become a train wreck of worry, thinking about all the things you need to do before you’re wiped off. More importantly, don’t become too complacent with the assumption that you have your whole life in front of you to watch your favorite band play live, or to learn a sport you love, or to buy a golden retriever that you want to name Heinz for no apparent reason. Just go for it, embrace it. Embrace life.

20.

2011-01-27T20:59:00.001+05:30

Older, but definitely not wiser. Or, maybe just a little bit. Nineteen things that I have learned this past year; may I never make these mistakes again. =D

1. Honesty doesn’t always work. It has the ability to create its own little mess.
2. Never assume that hairdressers know exactly what they are doing. Most of the time, they don’t, and the end result could be a thick carpet of your once-long hair.
3. Your entire belief system can come crashing down in exactly 3.5 seconds and one word.
4. Never walk into a bathroom when you’re sleep deprived. It might just be the wrong one. More importantly, don’t spend over 5 minutes staring blankly at your reflection. MOST importantly, when a boy walks in, run.
5. Secrets are never secrets. Tread carefully.
6. Your favourite green footwear can, and eventually will, get shredded into a million pieces.
7. Chocolate chip cookies can make you fat.er. Especially if you have one 12-piece packet a day, and selfishly offer your room-mate just one of these twelve.
8. University is not the breeze through you think it would be. Soon, you will realize how very disillusioned you were. You will also wish that you had stayed under this illusion for longer, possibly forever.
9. Curry flavoured noodles contain fish. They are not vegetarian. They never will be vegetarian.
10. One twenty minute episode of HIMYM/BBT/FRIENDS can lead to twenty more, closely following the first one.
11. Change really is the only thing that is constant.
12. You cannot survive on four hours of sleep. No matter what, you will end up either crashing and sleeping for 30 hours straight, or crashing and dying.
13. Take all the good advice you can get, but at the end of the day, make your own choices. No one is responsible for your life but you.
14. Cheap flip-flops + heavy rain = combination for a (falling) disaster.
15. Exams can, and will drive you crazy. Like, over the top insane. Mental hospital material. You get the drift.
16. Never say things when you’re mad. You’ll only say it all wrong, you’ll only make it all worse.
17. The library has the ability to literally freeze you. I could have sworn that my feet once turned into two large chunks of ice.
18. Be open to everything. Be open to the very concept of being open. You won’t get anywhere without this basic ideology.
19. Most importantly, be yourself. Stay true. There’s no other way to live.

From a Distance

2011-01-01T10:23:00.018+05:30

A question from a friend (you know who you are!) urged me to go ahead and write a New Year's entry, despite my previous aversion to it. Who am I kidding, anyway? You can't change, erase or forget the past. Most of the time, it's right there, in your face, mocking you (also, possibly dancing to Waka Waka. And dancing very well to it, I might add.).

So do I rewind, or do I fast-forward? Or maybe just float around, in the moment? If there is one thing that I have learned this year, it is to take things as they come. Learn to live with whatever is thrown your way. Kafka's Metamorphosis taught me this much.

I could go on like this. There were so many lessons, so much to say. But I can't help but stop for a moment and wonder- why do I always focus on this tiny part of my life? I only end up taking into account a miniscule, insignificant fragment of the world, completely missing out on the bigger picture. It’s time to step back and really take a look around.

And then it hit me. Maybe this coming year should involve a little less selfishness. There is always someone who has it worse than you do, and as important as self-improvement is, there should definitely be a lot less wallowing and self-pity in the process.

I know people close to me who have survived cancer, who have been through extreme psychological breakdowns. People who live secret lives, and people who have lost it all. People who have lived through worse disappointments than I can ever imagine; people who have seen their whole lives crumbling down right in front of their eyes. People suffering from autism; people whose drunken husbands beat them up on a weekly basis. People who never had anything to begin with; people who have it all, but still can't find that silver lining.

All I'm trying to say is, it's important to be content. Whatever you are being put through now- well, the truth is, there could be something much worse coming your way. Prepare for it, and as crazy as this may sound, embrace it. It may change you in ways that you can never imagine.

To conclude, I would like to say that the Bubble Calendar is the best thing ever invented (Google, in case of any confusion). And here's something to think about- "When it's all said and done, would you have said more than you have done?" Also, am I becoming too preachy and repetitive? Happy New Year!

Flawed.

2010-11-20T13:59:00.016+05:30

Semester wise epiphanies seem to be becoming more of a trend for me. I spend an entire week having vague and varied revelations about everything from Donald Duck’s pant-less existence to the presence of an excessive amount of green in my room. But overanalyse I do, and the end result is a long, endless rant, and sharp evidence of little or no progress in the studying area.

I have come to the recent conclusion that University life is all about mistakes. I’m pretty sure that I did not make even ONE correct, useful, right decision in the last three semesters. I’m not saying that I regret all of it. But wise choices have failed me ever since I first stepped into my dorm room last year.

Maybe that’s the point of college. If you make all the right decisions... well, perfection, unflawed as it is, has no scope for inadequacy of any sort. And with no imperfection, all that you have to look back on are boundless green pastures of happiness- which sounds like a good thing, but let's say that I've been there, done that- and truthfully, these green pastures can get boring. Besides, they don’t last forever, and sooner or later the storm comes. But, however scary the storm may be, when you live through it and look back at it, more than the noise, more than all the thunder and lightning and cold, you see yourself surviving. Most importantly, you see the rainbow after it’s passed.

I don’t intend to sound preachy with this, but what I’m trying to say is- make mistakes. Make lots of them, and don’t be scared to make a single one of them. It’s alright to make stupid decisions, and sometimes being embarrassed isn’t such a bad thing- even if your Diwali outfit makes you look like an oversized pumpkin with a dark blob for a face, and makes you feel big enough for Cinderella to ride home in after her magical night; even if you spend three hours enjoying the latest Harry Potter film on the cusp of a week of tests; even if you write five-hundred words of confusion right before your exams.

Give yourself a chance to trip and fall- metaphorically, of course. You don't want to end up with four pairs of torn jeans like I have. But that's another story.

And it's that time of the Semester again.

2010-04-12T13:19:00.008+05:30

Somehow, exams always inspire me to write. Or maybe it's just my way of doing anything but studying. After last semester, I realized that I simply cannot afford to get stressed, because honestly, in the next four years, I would be going through Semester exams seven more times. If I lost my cool each time, the world would be left with a dying lady by the time I graduated.

Exam time in NTU is quite an affair. Everyone finds their "study spot", gets comfortable, and in less than a span of a week, make this spot their home. Students have a wide choice range - any place in the Spines, the umpteen reading rooms, or a random toilet. From toothbrush to extra underwear, soon, this spot has got it all.

However, not all students are open to this concept. Some of the less nomadic people decide that they do, in fact, need a bed to sleep on. This set of students are the Library People. A band of strong, valiant students who brave the long walk from the library to their rooms every night. Some fight for place in the Quiet Zone, despite the rather large, and slightly scary security guard who seems to assume that dropping a pen makes a thousand-decibel noise.

But, truly, after a few days, even the Library People get incredibly attached to their new homes. Personally, in the last few weeks, there seems to be nothing that I haven't done in the library. From watching episodes of FRIENDS ( laughter therapy, in my defense. To de-stress, see.), to giving out a high-pitched scream when poked in the back by a random passer-by (okay, not so random), I seem to have done it all.

Study sessions with fellow sufferers are quite amusing. The latest gossip is dutifully discussed, with "Oh my", and "Really?", being the most used punctuation. Lists are made: post-exam fun, inheritance lists (if the exams kill us), and back-up lists (with so much to study, we may never have time to meet The One). Facebook stalking becomes an hourly activity, and chocolate becomes a necessity.

And when we're not freezing in the ice-box that is the library, the benches outside are our refuge. Soulless and depressing as they are, the Library People aren't called brave for nothing.

So, I sign off, with frozen feet (the Hall 15 reading room has the ability to freeze anyone who dares to walk in), and a dead brain.

Nothing Changes

2010-04-07T18:46:00.005+05:30

What difference does anything make if you can't change what you want to change about yourself, about the world? Care strongly for something crucial, something life-changing, or be fascinated by the trivialities of the world. It doesn't matter. You can silently live in this world of consumerism and materialism and nothing will be any different from living away from all the superficiality.
Maybe conformity is the only way.

Hope, and some sea water.

2010-03-15T02:42:00.010+05:30

She stood there and thought back - from where she had been then, to where she was now. Two years ago, she had stood at the same shore, heard the same waves lap fervently, and gazed at the same horizon.

Again, she was thinking of how so much had changed in such a short span of time. Maybe change really was the only constant thing in this world. Maybe destiny existed, and everything was just meant to be. She would never know- and though she did care, it didn't bother her much. No amount of analyzing would change anything, for better or for worse.

It was getting cold, the evening was progressing. But she had no intention of leaving her spot. She felt rooted to the ground. Somehow, it wasn't the helpless feeling that she had the last time she was here. Somehow, as she felt the cold breeze blowing her hair into her face, she felt hope. She felt at peace with herself, with the world. She felt that she had learnt so much, and had slowly, maybe even painfully, learnt that the only way to live was by accepting life as it comes.

Perfection is impossible to achieve, and inner demons are hard to kill. Last time, she was discontent. She wanted more, wanted her past back. She closed her eyes, and tried listening to the world. Now she knew for sure that she would never want the last two years, or in fact, any part of the last many, to be taken away from her - there had been struggles, there had been giving up. But nothing could teach her those same, hard lessons.

She had no regrets. Standing there that night felt so right. The place brought back so many memories, some sad, some happy. As before, she was lost in the moments that had passed, so long ago. But this time, the memories made her happy. Instead of feeling a loss for what was, what would never be again, she felt a strange happiness that, at least, they had once been, these things had once happened - such wonderful, beautiful things, at this very place, with the people she had loved but lost.

She opened her eyes and looked at the vast expanse of ocean. There was so much to look forward to, and it was only just beginning.

Fragile Things

2010-02-19T16:58:00.003+05:30

Sometimes, the fragility of this world scares me. In his book, Fragile Things, Neil Gaiman says, “People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.” This one line had me stunned for hours, not because of anything but the truth behind this simple statement. I look around, and there are days when everything confuses me. Why is the world made this way? Happiness, sorrow, it all seems so variable, so very fragile. Is there anything that’s constant, and most importantly, is there such a thing as true happiness? Is it really this hard to find a place where we truly belong?

I have always thought that people who have layers to themselves, depth of a different sort, are the ones who lead the most complicated lives. But recently, I was proven otherwise, only to realize that truly, we complicate our own lives, irrespective of what kind of people we are, irrespective of the various layers we may or may not possess.

The world is made in odd ways. We all let differences take over us; we remain biased no matter how much we have been exposed to, no matter how much of life we have seen. Most of the time, I feel that we might spend our whole lives trying to understand the workings of the world, the minds of people, and still fail miserably at it.

I remember having some wild, crazy dreams as a child. I was so sure I’d end up doing something revolutionary, out of the ordinary. There was so much in life that I was passionate about, and I was eager to turn this passion into something real. But, I think somewhere along the way, things drastically changed. Reality sunk in, and reality is the most complex thing I have ever come across. Issues like world peace and global warming still affect me greatly, but I know for a fact that as a kid, despite knowing much less than I do now, I felt more for these things than I probably ever shall in the future.

But life can’t just be about wasted hours and broken dreams. There has to be a deeper, better meaning to everything that we do, and more importantly, everything that we want to do.

We all dream of touching people; of not only changing our own lives, but also changing the lives of others, in some small way or the other. It's definitely not as easy as it sounds - not all of us can give memorable speeches like Martin Luther King, or selflessly help people like Mother Teresa. But no one said that we have to do something drastic - a small thought or gesture to the people we love most can mean so much, and can mark itself down in history in a smaller, but equally important way.

I think one of the hardest things in the world is regret. Personally, I don’t think that I’ve seen enough of life to fully understand what it is to deeply regret something. But recently, after watching a Swedish film, Wild Strawberries, I understood that it is never too late to undo the things you regret- your whole life may have rushed past you, and you may feel like it's too late to change your life, but the truth is, it's never too late to change yourself.

I guess this post is just a compilation of my thoughts and feelings, these past few weeks. All I’m trying to say is stop and look around once in a while. Try and understand the things around you. It’s a hard, almost impossible task, but every bit effort and thought that goes into it is worth it, because whether you find your answers or not, the feeling of trying is the most satisfying thing ever.

Holes.

2009-11-03T22:17:00.000+05:30

These memories don't float by
Like they should.
They don't breeze past
Silently,
Neglectfully.
They are not nonchalant,
Not thoughtless in their presence.
Nor are they faint, unclear, or restrained.
Instead, they are explicit and tangible,
Distinct.
They manifest themselves in every possible way.
They make their mark.
And where they can't, where there's resistance,
They fight, plunge and make holes.
Deep, everlasting holes.
Perfectly round, perfectly hurtful.
And then the memories go away,
As though they never came, were never here.
But the holes,
They remain.

The Routine-less Existence

2009-09-13T12:59:00.004+05:30

Not having a routine is really getting to me, more than anything else.

This is how a normal day goes over here:

Get up, at some time, any time really. As soon as you can. Which turns out to be pretty late, truth be told. Rush to class, if you want to. If you don't want to, it's perfectly alright. Just hit the snooze button and settle into another round of peaceful sleep.

But if you are sensible enough (or not so much, as some people might think) to push yourself to your lecture theater, well, good for you. It won't really make a difference though, as the probability of you sleeping in the lecture theater is very high. Most of the time, you have three hundred other equally sleepy engineering students for company. But as the days go on, you notice that the number decreases drastically. Some people think attending lectures is very old school. And then there are those who really are too cool for lectures, or so they think. Most of us are just too lazy, and the snooze button becomes out very purpose of existence.

Tutorials, on the other hand, NEED to be attended. You are Slacker if you don't. And with a round of Continuous assessments coming up, not attending could cause you real trouble. But really, how it's possible to attend an 8 am tutorial when you've hit the bed barely three hours ago, is a mystery.

And in between lectures(or lack of them rather), early tutorial classes, cans of ice lemon tea, sleepless nights, and SO much walking, you've got those large three letters looming in front of our eyes, all the time : ECA. In plural, that is. A part of you wants to join all the clubs that you can possibly get in to, be very involved in everything, and do things right. But slowly you begin to notice that a lack of routine can crush every intention of handling three ECAs, along with classes, assignments, social life (however non-existent it may be) and futile attempts at being cool.

Life goes on, and you soon forget what it's like to have a routine. And then one day it really gets to you, and you sit down and type out the story of your life, your sad, routineless existence.

Then you go to back sleep and miss your next lecture. And the one after that.

A New Beginning

2009-08-27T00:02:00.002+05:30

Well. Here I am, 1800 miles away from home, in a dorm room. Hall fifteen, to be precise. Yes, college. It's strangely exhilarating. Or, rather, it was so, initially. I remember walking through the campus not three weeks ago, and feeling so many things at once. I was just so overwhelmed by the whole thing. It is, after all, a dream come true.

College is just so many things. There's just so much. Not just to do, but to get used to. And moving to a new country for college is definitely not easy. Especially if you're a slow adjuster like I am. I mean, college just makes you understand how big this world really is. It's totally out of your comfort zone, and you're no longer in this place where everyone knows you, knows all about you. In high school, you just feel more defined. You're THIS kind of person, with THESE friends, who's good at THIS, and who has THESE qualities. And you know that, everyone else knows that, everyone is happy and life goes on. But college is a completely different ball game. Unless you're someone who is really outgoing, or someone who's fortunate enough to have brought along a whole truck load of friends from back home, you end up feeling pretty lost.

Honestly, I'm still feeling quite lost. And seeing bunches of people around me who seem to have smoothly transitioned to this whole new life, while I still seem to be wandering helplessly, doesn't really help the cause. Yes, everyone is different, and some people just take their time (like moi), but sometimes you wish that things could just fall into place, and FAST. Once things do fall into place, everything is definitely going to seem much easier, much more comfortable and relaxed. If they do ever fall into place, that is!

I don't mean to rant about college. Honestly, I couldn't have hoped for a better university. Everything here is brilliant, definitely, undoubtedly. Maybe I'm just being too cynical. After all, it is my fault, for being so reserved and lost and all. But leaving SO much behind, back home, and coming here and feeling like you have nothing, can be quite shocking. It really gets to you. And you just end up wondering what on earth made you leave behind all those people you love.

And then you realise that it's okay, really. You might not have your old friends, but you can always make new ones. Even if you're someone like me, who takes eons to build relationships, it's okay. It will happen, eventually. College isn't just about making friends instantly, it's also about learning who the right kinds of friends are, and even if it takes a while, it will be worth it in the end, definitely. College is also about teaching yourself how to be independent. And SO many more things, really.

I guess you end up learning a lot along the way, and even if the initial few weeks are tough, things will fall into place, eventually. (Hopefully?)

2009-07-25T00:39:00.000+05:30

I refuse to accept that I own a dying blog.

So there.

Hush

2009-05-04T10:34:00.003+05:30

The soft and swift and reassuring wind,
The noiseless rustling of the leaves,
Can you hear the gentle patter of the rain,
The crunching of grass on a September's eve?

The mountain, roaring with a fierce might,
The waterfall gushing with haste,
Can you hear the guppies swimming through?
So many million sounds interlaced.

The shiny corn, sprouting up,
Silky and beautiful and new,
Can you see the pumpkin patch, so bright?
The endless colours and sights, so wonderfully subdued.

The pebbled path, leading through
The forest, grim and gray,
Can you see the top, the canopy,
Where the trees seem to sway?

The slow, light sound of your own breathing,
Of your laughter, tears and misery,
Can you hear the beating of your own heart,
Of your soul - everlasting, yet so temporary?

Renewal

2009-04-19T22:12:00.004+05:30

She uncurled herself,
Shrugged off her old skin,
Admired the tough, new one.
In truth, she was ready.
Ready to let go off the past,
Make her way into the future,
Despite the uncertainty of it all.
She had been waiting
So terribly long
For this moment,
This very moment,
This renewal of skin,
This attainment of experience, of knowledge,
This metamorphosis.
She was done with her hibernation,
Her hiding from the world.
Now it was time
To make preparations
For a new beginning.
And she was more confident than ever.

Time Turner

2008-12-12T16:40:00.002+05:30

Looking back
I wonder now
Could things have been different?
And I wonder how.

There's so much that
I would like to erase
Things that I did
Just in case.

Why was I
So scared to do
Things that I wanted,
Things that were true?

Why did I do
All those things
Things that I shouldn't have,
Things that I did.

But now it's too late,
We're leaving so soon
Never coming back
To this very room.

If I had a time turner
I would go back,
Undo the mistakes,
Put my wrongs in the sack.

If I had a time turner
I would change
Everything that happened
When things went out of range.

If I had a time turner.

But then I see
These memories are mine
I shouldn't want to erase them
In the future, anytime.

Maybe, if I had a time turner
I would go back
And replay the past,
Do everything I did first.

A memory is a memory,
There's no way to change,
We should be happy
Even when things go out of range.

The Memory

2008-11-22T17:00:00.003+05:30

It was like time was suddenly standing still. The light breeze that had rippled through her hair just seconds ago vanished. Not a soul was in sight. The salty smell of the sea persisted, saturating the air. But her mind was elsewhere, in a different time, a different place, where she had been a different girl. The surroundings, however, were starkly similar.

She was lost. She let the memory consume every part of her, every molecule of her body. When she breathed, it was no longer just the salty smell of the ocean, but that intermingled with so many other wonderful aromas. When she listened, there was soft, melodious music. Dancing. Joy.

Suddenly, something flickered. The light went out and she could no longer see anything. She groped through the air, as if trying to catch something. The memory was leaving her, and fast - the happiness and laughter fading away. She gasped as she tried to hold on to it, but thread by thread, it disappeared, until she could see the last wisps of it fading into the deep ocean waters; until she realised that it was just that - a memory.

2008-10-25T10:07:00.003+05:30

A Dream found,
Eagerly unwrapped
With a passionate vigour.
New hopes
Seep the horizon
Saturating the air around.
Intense
Determination
Drives away clouds of doubt;
Of discomfort;
Of old, impossible,
Lost hopes.

Somehow,
Somewhen,
Somewhere,
The Dream shattered,
Hopes, crushed.
All that is left:
Longing and despair.
Life becomes
An empty shadow,
Shallow and meaningless.

Trapped

2008-08-06T11:49:00.004+05:30

The complications of a single clinging emotion; the fear of Death; the abstractness of a world that seems but cannot be. We spend a lifetime breaking things down, making life simple, only to create a complicated little mess of muddled feelings, of lingering thoughts. Of dissatisfaction; of the complete opposite of simple. For simplicity is what this world lacks. What we call 'mundane' is in fact a complicated cluster of abstractness called life. We seem to be in love with the complexities put forward to us. We claim to try to simplify life, but we simply fail. Miserably. So we exist, with no peace of mind, with thoughts and feelings and emotions that weigh us down to this worldly world. And then, we are trapped. Deprived of any trace of freedom that might have once existed within us.

'Life'? Yeah, right.

2008-06-09T16:56:00.003+05:30

I guess that, off late, I've been omitting every detail of my all-of-a-sudden terrible, not-the-least-bit fun, so called 'life'.

Well. Twelfth, the most overrated year ever, has come to an official start (*weeps like she's never wept before*), and all of us are at our wits' end, studying for this exam and that test. Yes, life has taken a plunge into what is normally called chaos. Every 12th grader's life has become even crazier than their heads, with twenty or so lovely guides engulfing them day in and day out. Not a pretty sight, no sir.

Proof : I am half asleep right now, with a jumble of Physics formulae in my head and NOTHING on my paper today, mind you.

Things are going well indeed.

Oh, yes, and not to mention, it's the final year of schooling, and we are deprived of even a single second to sit back and think about every nostalgic memory that plagues us and makes us want to take a trip to the past. So.

On the bright side, there's always the immense amount of pampering you receive at home. Food, when you want it, if you want it (*sigh*), as THEY think you're always studying (THEY don't know anything, do they?). Chocolate, at your service, no lectures about losing weight, as every free second must be spent with your temporary love interest - Pradeep's FundaMental Physics (the seventeenth, extensively revised edition).

And, when it's not that, when you actually sit down for a breath or two, hoping upon hope that the hostile situations you face can soon be banished away, the clock strikes, and it's time for your Nth tuition class this week.

And they say miracles happen.

A Million Little Pieces

2008-05-13T00:30:00.006+05:30

She couldn't help but feel that the perfection of her life was slowly falling apart. The beauty and serenity of it had shattered into millions of lifeless shards. Before, everything had been sketched out perfectly, with utmost sureness, like the markings on a map. Her past, her present, her future. Everything.

And then, this happened. The best, the worst thing of her life. Everything changed, and she was left stumbling in the dark, caught between choosing happiness and sorrow when she couldn't even see which was which. Oh, the unfairness of it all. If she was given a chance, she might have chosen differently, but she knew that she would have stumbled in the dark either way. For, no matter the choice, she would always be discontent; left with wondering what would have happened if she had chosen the other path.

But soon, she understood. She understood that it is impossible to be content if we are always thinking about the different possibilities of different choices. For there are many futures - many, many futures. But we choose only one, and it is only by accepting this choice of ours, can we remain content in this world of many possibilities, many futures, and many choices.

And so, she decided. She knew that she could go on stumbling in the dark, wondering if she would have been happier if fate had taken a different turn. Or, she could be content, believe that this is the happiest she could get, and accept that given the choice again, she wouldn't choose any other way.

So, she put the shards back together, piece by piece, the millions of lifeless shards. Slowly, patiently, she built back, breathed life into them. And when she was done, she felt stronger than ever before.

The Man and the Tree

2008-05-12T15:09:00.005+05:30

'Perhaps the tree is happy this way', thought the old man to himself, 'standing proud and tall, looking upon the world in the most graceful manner.' He knew that time passed slowly for a tree as old as this one. But as he looked closer he realized that the tree glowed with a surprising, unexpected radiance. Its entire being seemed to bathe in true wisdom and enlightenment.

The old man couldn't help but feel that such reminisces were a sign of upcoming senility, but reminiscing he was. Off late, the tree had become an obsession. He had played around the tree as a little boy, sat under it to study and think about the wonders of the world as a young man, and even brought his wife to this very tree, when it was in full bloom, pink and white flowers scattering the ground.

However, in all his years of acquaintance with this tree, he had never bothered to give a second thought to the tree itself. Now, as an old man, he felt as though he was a part of the tree- he felt its- no- her (for the tree seemed to be a she) essence floating around, finding its way into him. Somehow, in the most uncanny and almost literal way, his life had revolved around the tree.

He slowly closed his eyes as he took in the smell of the age-old bark, and grazed his fingers over the trunk. He almost felt like he was in love with the tree, funnily so. But, he couldn't help it; the tree brought back so many nostalgic memories. So many, many, for it was right in front of his childhood home, and he laid eyes on it once every day for the first seventeen years if his life, and once every week for the last sixty.

Love, it was. But it was a different kind of love. A love so complex, he hardly knew what he was feeling. A love attached more to memories, proximity and a strange admiration than to anything else.

A love that seemed to have broken all barriers between the animate and the inanimate.

Love. That's all we need. :)

/fin

Alone

2008-05-04T12:13:00.004+05:30

Perhaps
It is too late.
Time, fleetingly, passes on.
Grudgingly
I tread,
Leaving it all behind.
You reach out
Only in vain,
For this journey, I must make alone.
Slivers of happiness
Wisps of memories
Dance around me, in the warm summer air.
Tempted
I touch the tiniest bubble of hope.
It bursts.
Slowly,
Stealthily,
The truth comes crashing down.
And I know
It’s too late to forgive,
I have to forget
For this journey, I must make alone.

And the future is a not-so-distant haze

2008-04-24T13:10:00.005+05:30

Every second person I meet seems to gain some sort of sadistic pleasure by simply popping THE question at me- 'so, what do you want to do after 12th?' And I, being the unbelievably confused idiot I am, choose to do nothing more than just sit there, staring and blinking, as though someone has just asked me to name all the presidents in reverse order. Sheesh.

Yes, FYI alert, that is the most commonly asked question in my life. Fascinating, really. I feel like a princess/superstar. Or both. People are paying so much attention to me. All that's missing now is a tiara saying 'Help!' God.

And as if that one question is just not enough to send me into this whirlwind of confusion, this is quickly followed by, 'and which colleges are you planning to consider?' Enough to make me want to scream and say that I'd be honoured if any college considers me. No, the other way around simply does not work here.

Honestly, I've dreamt of being a writer ever since I was six years old. Most people say that as children, they wanted to be different things every day, but for me, this is the one thing that i was always sure of wanting. As I grew older and my horizons expanded, it moved on to 'a journalist who writes novels'. Even when everyone convinced me to do a professional course like engineering at the UG level, I was sure that after I got through with that it would be a straight road to journalism. It even sounded really nice, doing something totally professional and then writing for the rest of my life. I mean, what more could I want really?

I still want all of this, I'm sure it's the path I want to choose. But there's always this tiny thorn of doubt hiding somewhere, stopping me from saying this to anyone because of the secretive, startling unsurity of it all. Perhaps it's because I greatly doubt the credibility of my writing skills. Or perhaps I feel that people will think this sort of path is plain.. mental.

Talk about confusion.

Ten things you are expected to do on reaching 12th grade

2008-04-22T18:48:00.003+05:30

1) Gain a brain capacity the size of Jupiter.

2) Magically regain all of the previous years' knowledge, in spite of just scraping through eleventh grade.

3) Make detailed colour-coded timetables with a study plan of 25 hours a day.

4) Complete all your assignments and keep your notebooks up to date.(How?)

5) Draw margins for every notebook and suddenly make your handwriting super neat.(I don't own a ruler...)

6) Not have fun. (But...)

7) Give your phone back to your parents. (*piercing death-like scream*)

8) Set (good) examples for your juniors. (Pah.)

9) Gain impeccable organisations skills and make sure time management is second nature to you.

10) STUDY. (Oh no.)

Paradise Found

2008-03-19T19:40:00.004+05:30

He held his hand out to her, palm facing the shadowy sky, prompting her to hold it. Unwillingly, apprehensively, she linked her fingers through his. "Let me show you", he whispered.

And, oh, the beauty of the place. Rays of sunlight bounced back and forth, blinding her eyes in the most comforting manner. Each long stalk of grass glistened where it caught the light, with big, round dew drops peacefully resting on the tips. She looked up at the sky, vast, clear, and panoramic; a boundless blue canvas, seeming to end only where it met the ground, forming a spectacular horizon. A bed of bright red poppies could be seen not far off, embedded between rows of pink tulips, the colours of love and life intertwined, pulsating a feeling unlike any other. She could almost feel the happiness vibrating from each petal, large clusters of joy emanating from the buzzing of the bees, replacing what could have been a melancholy silence.

This was so unlike the war torn world she had left behind. She made no attempt to blink away the tears that brimmed her eyes. To think she had once felt that she would go all her life without seeing this sort of beauty. Now, after taking all of it in, she wondered how she could have possibly stayed so long without viewing the true colours of the world, the vibrancy only heard of, never seen or felt in so many, many years.

This, she realised, was true bliss. Ecstasy. Paradise. The true meaning of life.

On the cliff

2008-02-27T12:50:00.004+05:30

She floats by, day and night
Long gown flowing, a magical white
Upon the cliff, in the silver moonlight,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Years have passed, since that day,
When the soldiers left, up from the bay,
Lingering on her lips were words she could not say,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Aboard that ship, her lover went,
To fight the bloody war, he was sent,
Leaving her behind, all alone,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...
On the cliff, she stays each night,
Long gown flowing, a magical white,
Sparkling eyes wide, in the pale moonlight,
Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Change.

2008-02-24T13:23:00.005+05:30

Gandhiji said, "we must be the change we want to see." We all exist for a purpose, but one unanimous thing is how all of us want to see some change, of course, in different magnitudes. Whether it is a seemingly insignificant day-to-day change or a noble change of achieving world peace, we all want it.

What is frustrating is not being able to implement this change. There are things happening around the world, every second of every day, people dying, lying, cheating. And all we do is sit at home and hear about them. We may feel strongly and may want to do something to change the way things are, but circumstances prevent us from doing so. This is probably what is most frustrating. I mean, there's something there, something you feel strongly for, something you want to change to make the world a better place, something you desperately want to do- but- there's a downside- you just can't. It's there, within your grasp, you reach for it. You know catching it will make all the difference. But you just can't. Period.

That's the big question- why can't we? We have the resources, the power, the potential, the creativity, ideas and intellect- and complete willingness as well, the icing on the cake. We have everything but we simply do not put any of these into use. Why don't we? Why don't we cross every hurdle and bring down every barrier to achieve what we want to and implement change and make the world a better place?

No. No one is asking for a fairy tale world with princes who fight off evil dragons and live happily ever after. No. Just a good, sweet, happy place. A world full of trust, love and friendship. Something worth fighting for. Something worth living for.

At least for this, we have to, got to, must, make a change- put in every last molecule of effort to alter the very mindsets of people and make them see the good in everything. Change them. Change the world. For the better.

God

2007-10-11T13:02:00.004+05:30

I've always had very mixed up views on the whole concept of god. My parents aren't the kind who force ideas down their kids' throats at age three. They let me free, left me to explore my own ideas. It doesn't help that I was close to nine years when I was first exposed to Indian culture, or that my grandfather is an atheist. This, if anything, has made me more confused about the existence of god/gods, according to Hindu beliefs; and the whole concept of religion as such.

Sometimes I feel that it would have been better if my parents had expressed their own views of God. My dad, who grew up in a hard core atheist family, acts like he has no views on the subject. My mum, who grew up in a slightly religious one, celebrates most festivals in front of the prayer room. My grandfather does all but scorn the very concept of prayers, only to leave me dumbfounded, unsure of the truth, of what to really believe.

This morning, I was talking to a friend of mine. She talked about her mom, and how she had visited so-and-so temples before our board exams, and the hundred-and-something temples her grandparents have visited. Usually, I have something to say for most debatable topics. I have pretty strong, if not slightly crazy opinions. But, surprisingly, I was pretty speechless, unaware of my own beliefs. I know super-religious people. I have an atheist in my own family. And then there are people like my dad, probably just as confused as I am, who refuse to form an opinion.

When I expressed to my parents that I'd much rather be an atheist than blindly follow our customs with no proof and without knowing why, I was met with spontaneous screaming from my mom, "don't form such opinions without understanding the whole concept of religion." But, the thing is, no one had ever bothered to tell me about the 'whole concept of religion'. Perhaps no one really knows. It's true. There IS no proof for so many many things. You can choose to believe whatever.

Undoubtedly, undeniably, I respect my religion. Though it still confuses me, I would never go against it. Even though I don't agree with some things put forth by Hinduism. Plus, in a country like India, religion is everything. How I wish that we lived in a world in which we could form our own, unique ideas and follow them, without having to worry about religious barriers. But, such a world is only a thing of my dreams. I can only hope that I come to terms with my own ideas, and learn to accept the ideas of people around me. Till then, I shall remain as confused as ever.

Ghost of the past

2007-09-26T21:41:00.000+05:30

A shadow of the past,
She comes lightning fast,
Lingering near, forever here,
Threatening, yet dear.
Simply a step away,
Everyday, March or May,
Watching my every tone,
Leaving me, never alone.
Haunting me, day and night,
Brushing past me, always in sight.
She is there to remind me,
Reprimand me, while behind me,
My phantom, my ghost of the past.

Then, one day she disappeared,
Lost, again, never heard,
Vanished from the face of the earth,
Abandoning me of her mirth.
Never have I seen her again,
In sunshine, snow, or rain.
Truly, surely, she has gone,
Leaving me forever alone,
My phantom, my ghost of the past.

A first time

2007-09-23T15:30:00.002+05:30

One might think that being in Chennai for over 7(or is it 8?) years, would, somehow or the other, push me into riding one of those huge, green, PTC buses. But no. My first ride was today - with me over sixteen years old, 7 years of which I have spent looking at these over packed, tilted buses. Simply looking. It doesn't help that I spent a better part of these seven years living in a house over two kilometers away from the nearest bus stop. But there's always a first time, I guess.

My first bus ride... was a total fiasco. A fun fiasco.

It started of with me, Battery and Turquoise trudging along to the bus stop, from Chemistry IIT, wistfully staring at the junk-filled 'dabba kadai', with it's shutters pulled down, sleep still hanging about it.

After crossing the road at random places, with Turquoise barging in front of trucks and Battery desperately looking for faded zebra crossings, we saw the bus stop at a hazy distance. Only to realize that the bus we needed to catch was about to leave. And so we ran. Like there was tomorrow. And made it just in time to hear the engine revving up and the wheels tiresomely moving on.

Of course, we found only one available seat. But we also found out that, brilliantly, bus no.1 does NOT stop at my stop. When I heard this, I burst out into a fit of giggles. I mean, what could possibly be funnier than that? Of course, the whole bus was staring at me like I was the complete brash, reckless teenager I am(yes, there were quite a few old ladies). So I dramatically got down at the next signal, with the entire back few seats of the bus glaring at me, wondering who this madcap of a girl was, who wears huge cargoes and wakes up the whole bus for something as silly. Yes, I happen to be rather good at embarrassing myself in public.

But, at the end of it all, it was worth it. I had fun being thought of as a total madcap. A memorable first experience. With Turquoise and Battery by my side. =)

Observations from the world of physics

2007-09-20T12:48:00.000+05:30

1:00 p.m.
Eve of Physics exam

Yes, most definitely NOT the best time to sit down and write a blog. Especially when I've still got 3 and a quarter chapters to blunder through, each having a cartload of problems and formulas. Apparently, I'm not my sane self today. But then again, when am I?

No, seriously. I just stumbled upon some interesting facts which i couldn't help but pen down:

Firstly, Pradeep's Fundamental Physics has nothing, whatsoever, to do with fundamental physics. Not in the slightest. It is, infact, packed with over 1000 pages of undesipherable, advanced, bull, topped with fantastic, fact-filled IIT preparation guides, hints, and three times the number of problems in our NCERT text book. Now that, definitely, is a problem.

And I finally figured out what those weird s-like symbols represent. Calculus. They are not, I repeat NOT fancy signatures of infamous physicists. Thank God. Okay, I've already mentioned that. Couldn't resist.

'Vectors do NOT add like numbers.' Fascinating, really. I mean, when I grow up and am unemployed and go job-hunting, I can simply, accidentally-on-purpose stumble upon my eleventh-grade physics text book, chant 'vectors don't add like numbers', make millions, and get a double-suite with Bill Gates at the Hilton. Woohoo!

'For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. However, these action-reaction pairs occur at exactly the same time.' Sadly,this would mean that me and my brother screaming at each other would not make an action-reaction pair. I mean, the equal and opposite thing so agrees, but it usually starts with me, and continues with my brother. There's a gaping difference of around a second or two. Sigh.

And that is all for now. On a more serious note, I have also deciphered that I have the concentration span of a three year old. No, it's okay. Some people in my position would be scandalized. But, seriously, I'm quite alright. I'm honestly quite optimistic about my future.

My own sweet world

2007-09-15T22:48:00.000+05:30

I gaze out
Of my castle,
Willingly trapped,
Day after day.
Time stands still,
Passing by.
I am living in my own sweet world.
I fearfully look
At the other world,
From the tallest tower
Of my castle.
I am safe,
Protected,
By the strong stone walls.
Not like Rapunzel,
Or the Lady of Shalott.
I am held prisoner
By my own will.
But still,
I try
Day after day,
To make my escape.
For I am lost, in my own sweet world.

Feminism - NOT a dirty word

2007-08-25T11:56:00.000+05:30

Okay, I know I'll get loads of eye-rolls and "what the hell is she thinking?"s for writing this, but I thought that it's high time.

The oxford dictionary defines feminism as 'a movement or theory supporting women's right on the grounds of equality of the sexes.' It's based on the rational notion that women are PEOPLE too.

But when I go around telling people that I believe in a feminism, I get an uncountable number of 'Oh my gosh"s. They think feminism is a dirty word, a word so scum-like they wouldn't dare to use it. Even the choicest of swear words seem okay next to it.

What they don't seem to realise is that feminists don't exactly go around kicking guy's butts. This comment raises a myriad, "Yes. But do you really think that today's women are oppressed?" They ask me this. They do. And I get so wild. Because this question is the first sign that we are locked up, shut out from the real world because of the protective environments we grow up in.

I would have been too. Maybe I still am. All I know is that one of my best friends, she's a girl. Her family- they're one of the many urban orthodox. I know that her family doesn't care a hang about what she becomes in life, how she studies, and which college she gets into. If they could, they would get her married this instant to some god-forsaken stranger.

I have seen her struggle; cry, because no one cares. Cry, because her brother receives ten times the encouragement she gets, just because he's a boy.

And I don't get it. I don't get why people don't see all of this; don't hear about it. Is this world so deaf? Not a single girl child has been born in many places for the last few years. AND any thought of God being a woman receives shocked looks from - everyone. I mean, what's wrong in just thinking that?

I have covered nothing, NOTHING, in the above few lines. Even if I continued forever, I still wouldn't. I'm not saying that guys don't have their share of problems. Nor am I saying that I want women to rule the world and be the supreme power. However crazy I might seem, I know where to stop.

No, all I'm saying is that I'm sick and tired of feminism being branded as a dirty and out casted word. I'm sick of people not opening their eyes and seeing, truly seeing everything around them. This is where urban life falls way down. This is where our school-home-school lives become most pointless. Shows like Fashion House, the O.C., and Prison Break are so far away from real life, it's not funny. When we're on the computer, we're only on Orkut and You tube. No one seems to know about the V-day campaign. Some people haven't even heard of Amnesty.

And no one even seems to care. This world is NOT full of clouds and bunny rabbits and rainbows and leprechauns. Nor is it all about mates and dates.

I think it's time to open our eyes. I don't mean to offend anyone by talking about feminism. I know I will only be met with more weird looks than I already receive. I also want to say that people aren't crazy to go around campaigning for women's rights along with so many other things, if this world really is such a happy, 'equal rights and everything' place.

Don't get me wrong. I'm proud to be a girl. How much ever I may ramble on about this, I have grown up in a family where we are all treated equally. And, because of this, I didn't even start opening up and looking around me till recently.

Also, I do know that India is now being virtually ruled by a woman. And America too, if all goes well. But, if women and men ARE treated equally, then the issue of a woman president wouldn't exactly create so many responses, would it?

Let me say that all I want is equality. I'm not desperate to be hated by the male sex; or the female sex, for that matter. Feminism has it's limits. All it calls out for is equality. No more. But no less.

Hooligans at Zoosville

2007-08-18T18:52:00.000+05:30

As if it's not enough to bear with a bunch of hooligans throughout the school day, my IIT class welcomes me with thrice the number. I make it a point to come right on time, if not a few minutes late, to prevent my eyes and ears from being abused to great extents.

However, circumstances fail to ever favour me, and i, for the first time in eternity, turn up a whole 15 minutes early. I curse myself for my bad time sense, and search for an empty seat, trying my best to ignore the lingering smell of sweat, intermingled with that of worn-out school uniforms and mud-stained shoes.

The first hooligan of the day accidentally shifts his foot a nanometer from it's original position, only to leave me stumbling across the room, trying in vain to regain my balance. I avoid eye contact with anyone as I reach my seat. Spare me; I get embarrassed enough at school as it is.

Sadly, my choice of place is far from perfect. Unlike the usual set of brains between whom i can sit and pretend to fit in with, I'm surrounded by a bunch of dirty, sweaty, and, yes, giggly guys, who can't keep their mouths shut for more than two seconds.

The guy next to me stares, as though it's perfectly illegal for a girl to sit next to him. Some hooligans in front of me take out their phones, cunningly hiding them, placing them in the perfect position so as to be able to message each other, yes, EACH OTHER, though out class. Clever, you might think. Not quite. Especially when you're sitting right behind them and hear them bursting into fits of laughter every time they receive an SMS.

The boy on my right is sincerely doing last week's homework. Okay, maybe not a hooligan after all, but who said scribbling away undecipherable math sums is any better than under- bench messaging? The continuous scratching of his pen somehow annoys me more than deep-voiced giggles.

Metres and metres away from my inches-from-hell sitting place, a guy sits on the windowsill, twirling his pen and, yes, talking(?) to a group of girls. He occasionally runs a hand through his hair. I roll my eyes so hard, it hurts. I stuff my hand into my pocket to prevent myself from hurling my 10-inch math book onto him. Yes, the scene looks that unbearable.

Two girls walk in even later than me(and to think i never thought it possible). They make their way towards their seats. They don't topple over any one's feet. They don't find their seats between the craziest attention-seeking prats of all time. The guy next to them smiles and says hello, and is not revolted by the fact that a girl is sitting next to him. As though by a stroke of luck, their eyes miss the guy on the windowsill.

I groan out in frustration, only to be met with another terrified, get-out-don't-sit-next-to-me look from the guy on my left. Well, at least someone finds me intimidating.

Just then, the 'professor' walks in. Silence ensues. The pen stops scratching. The giggling in front is, miraculously, controlled. The boy on the windowsill jumps up as though he's just been struck by lighting(how i wish it were true...).

Peace at last. =)

DEATH

2007-08-17T21:23:00.000+05:30

It welcomed me,
It opened it's arms,
It grinned an evil grin.
It cunningly ushered me,
With promises of a better place.
It came in the form
Of the blade of a sword,
Of blood being spilt.
It lured me,
It was tantalizingly close.
It sought me.
When I refused it,
It bribed,
It begged,
It pleaded.
I knew fighting it
Was impossible.
But still, I resisted.
It allured,
It enticed,
It beckoned,
It seduced to great extents.
My resistance fell;
Came crumbling down.
It pulled me
With might immeasurable.
I then became it's victim.

The many uses of the ribbon

2007-08-14T18:12:00.000+05:30

I must confess that i DO study in one of those schools where it's an absolute necessity to wear white ribbons every single day for god-knows what reason. Okay, i do realise that they're desperate to make us hide any sign of large, flashy rubber bands with silver butterflies and bright 'pink' sunflowers, but, hey, why waste such a useful artifact on hair?

Like when it's Monday morning, and you hurriedly grab your freshly washed shoes , and grope around for some lace, and rush onto the school bus. But you lose your lace in the whole chaotic process. Ribbons are a perfect substitute. Much more classy, in any case.

Or when you're doing a must-be-finished-NOW science experiment and there's five minutes for the bell, and your apparatus chooses to get all leaky at that moment. Instead of panicking and clutching your hair wildly, why not use a ribbon to stop the nagging snag?

Oh, oh, and what about when you forget your handkerchief? Or when you desperately need a bookmark because of your ever-failing memory? Or as a blindfold at a birthday party while playing with the pinata?

And they make really funky wristbands!

Ah, the many USEFUL uses of the ribbon...

The Park

2007-08-04T21:36:00.000+05:30

As I sink into the sofa and grab the remote, preparing myself for my favorite soap, my mom nudges me. Take a walk to the park , she says. She mumbles something about fresh air. I glare at her. She has any excuse to make me shed some weight. Me? Well, it's just my excuse to eat more.

I make my way into the park, which is a street away. It's tiny. Minuscule, really. Not an inch larger than my house. Blocks of stone are placed together in groups of three. A group of teenagers flock on one side. Some kids are playing football. Noisily. But it only seems to add on to the tranquility. I can't help but feel a bit lonely.

Some old ladies are huddled together in the centre of the park. I can almost hear them whispering, complaining about some long-lost grandson or insolent daughter-in-law. A shocking trip to the restaurant or the need for stronger censorship. They throw reproachful looks at the soccer kids.

I see the 90-odd year old lady, the one who walks around the park twenty times every single day. Her steps are small, snail like. She stops once in a while, adjusting her sari, checking if all her body parts are working and still in place. There's a compelling look of serenity, even innocence, on her face. She doesn't seem to be bothered by the loud kids. I somehow feel that she realises how incomplete the park would be without their high-pitched shrieks, jests and jeers.

Just as I turn to leave, a dog bounds into the park. A beautiful, big, golden retriever. A bundle of energy and intensity. Following it is a little girl, a smile playing on her lips as she chases the dog.

The picture is perfect.

" The End is not near, it's here"

2007-07-22T11:40:00.000+05:30

Not a breath escaped me as i turned throught the last few chapters of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at 1 A.M. this morning. From the very first page, my mind was yearning for answers. It is, undoubtedly, the best book in the series. Personally, I believe it's the best book ever. With a plot so well made, a narrative so gripping, language so simple, yet impressive... what more would any reader want.

With all the loose ends wanting to be tied up, each one growing longer and longer ever since that fateful day on which Hagrid burst into the Dursley's 'hut', the wait was truly worthwhile. Even with close to eight main characters dying, even after the disappointment that Dumbledore was, after all, not alive, even with all the shock, anxiety, and sorrow pouring over me, I couldn't help but smile as i closed the book for the first time.

Of course, we all knew that Voldemort would die. Good over evil. It had to be. Shocking at is was to get to know more and more about the mirth and apathy portrayed by him, i think it was a sad, sad way to die. It portrayed his vulnerability, and shattered his supposed control , sureness, and above all, undying power.

Dumbledore's past is another thing that truly shocked me. He was not who i thought him to be. His past seemed to be tainted, because of the way he was at seventeen. Not Dumbledore-like at all. It probably explained the veil he always had around him, that reluctance to tell the truth. Rita Skeeter's right, Dumbledore was a practiced liar.

I also felt that the Deathly Hallows did not play a huge role as such. The continuous debate in Harry's mind- Horcruxes or Hallows, was rather unnecessary. Ultimately, it was the Horcruxes he sought,the Horcruxes he destroyed, to triumph over Voldemort. The Hallows were a meer distraction, Dumbledore's immature fancy.

Harry's selflessness to so willingly give up his life was quite impressive, though thoroughly unbelievable. The tragic hero, all over again.

But we've got to hand it to J.K.R for making such a fantastic last book, for winding up what is possibly the best series ever written, in such a beautiful, meaningful, undisappointing, rowling-like fashion.

Magic may be might. It may not be.

But it is the most luring thing ever.

Why blog?

2007-07-19T17:44:00.001+05:30

Just a month ago, I was allergic to the word 'blogging'. I was like, okay, what a waste of time. I mean, why would I want to go around publishing my emotions and feelings, views and ideas of the world, my life, on a boring web page? I have enough insecurities without having to worry about what people would think of my seemingly inadequate writing skills. Not to mention the time-consuming process of typing. And upon all of that, why would anyone have the patience or time to sit and read my blogs?

Then one day, when I obviously wasn't my normal, I-hate-the-world-and-its-people self (like on the day I joined orkut), I looked up for some god forsaken blog site or the other, and just typed. Typed and typed and typed. At the end of it all, I cynically stood up, stretched myself, and said, 'well, nice typing practice'. And that was that.

But I never escape the cruel, sleep-consuming art of thinking. It always finds me, weighing me down with a burden I cannot help but bear. And I decided. I told myself to look at the whole situation from a completely different angle, something which I always refuse to do, am scared to do, in fear that all my old views and interepretations will be shattered.

I told myself that's it's okay to blog, occassionally, when you write something that you want to share with all the people you know and care about. It's just your views. I needn't be all sentimental and weepy in my blogs. i needn't even be open and expressive. I can save all my emotions, insecurities and personal thoughts for my journal. No one even needs to know much about me. With life revolving around school for the most part of the week, who cares? Not to mention, the chance of someone reading my blogs and actually caring, is embarassingly miniscule.

And it's good typing practice!!!

Life as I know it

2007-07-18T22:59:00.000+05:30

On entering my class, I blissfully slink into the last bench, talking chattily with all my other backbencher pals. Sadly, bliss, like everything else, doesn't last for long. In enters my physics teacher, and a nanosecond later, we're all snoozing on our desks, our 10-inch thick physics books making up for the lack of pillows. Time passes like a snail, each second lingering around for longer than it's fair share. Then, like God coming down upon earth, the bell rings, drowning her monotonous voice, and sounding as sweet as a bird during spring.

Just as half the class is getting out for a long stretch and a nice chat with the neighbouring commerce students(who are forever roaming our corridors, by the way), our computer science teacher a.k.a class teacher, barges in and starts 'advising' us about how it's absolutely illegal to stand at the door like guards at the Buckingham Palace(can't she see that our class guys are desperate to guard Queen Whats-her-name the hundredth's castle?), and how it's even more illegal to stand within 7 inches of the opposite sex (ladies and gentlemen, Professor Umbridge for you).

By the third period, all of us are sick and tired of life. A couple of people have even considered jumping off the roof, but before they can make it out of the class, our chemistry teacher comes rushing in, a whole 15 seconds late. As usual, we take advantage of her, with half the students walking in late(crumbs of food still grinding in their mouths), and the other half asking her the most nonsensical doubts conceivable. By the time she gets the whole class under control, her time's up, with many sighs of relief drowning the noise of the bell.

Being in 11th means double-periods galore, and the first few periods just repeat themselves, driving us absolutely crazy by the end of the day, our heads crammed with weird s-like symbols (which comes under calculus- who knew?), and quantum physics(a detailed explanation of which is given in our chemistry textbook) and Oiler's formula (oops, Euler's). Not to mention a repeated, ever- torturing loop of fors and do-whiles. Optimism can't possibly exist for anyone this year. Life, as i've known it, is officially over.

Whew!

2007-07-18T22:45:00.001+05:30

Trudging to the school ground with my painfully heavy bag is a sad, sad way to start the day. Late as usual, I painstakingly make my way across the wet sand, after futilely arguing with two extra-dutiful volunteers, trying to make them let me in. I make a mental note to learn the art of flirting from one of my more experienced friends.

I quickly dodge our P.T. sir, who's capable of lifting me off my feet, 50-pound bag et al, and dumping me in the late comers line.

After making it to the huge mass of 11th graders, I quietly slink to the black of my line, hoping to escape the eyes of my ever-leering class teacher, always ready to make clean-cut comments about my lack of ribbons and humanly wearable socks.

Somehow, assembly is the only time when teachers decide to not keep the boys and girls 50 meters apart and draw one of Dumbledore's uncrossable lines to separate us. So, we're always talking, catching up with our guy pals, instead of dutifully reciting prayer after prayer.

Just as all of us are on the verge of getting sun stroke, we're rushed towards the school. But no, we dont get away that quick. We have to pass the 'inspection', which involves walking across the ever-dreaded 'ramp', with our oh-so-nice P.T. teacher checking our imperfections- hair, socks, ties, shoelace, and every other nonsensical thing possible.

The entry into the school building is a miraculous one, with only a few disciplinarians and escapists making it inside. Everyone else is caught up behind, for some reason or the other, possibly being screamed at for being late, or a zillion other illegal things, like blinking too much. I congratulate myself on being a good dodger, and, with a sigh of relief, enter my classroom.

Just four-hundred and fifty more assemblies to go.

I just woke up....

2007-07-18T22:21:00.000+05:30

Waking up to a 3000 decibel loud alarm is the least enjoyable way to start the day. However satisfying it may be to hit the snooze button, slumber is long gone. To top it all, it's Monday morning, the first and worst day of the school week. Laziness is abundant, after attending the many parties saturating my social calendar (*voice dripping with sarcasm*).

Instead of droning on about my oh-so-boring, not the least bit worthwhile school day, let me dwell upon the charmng topic of sleep, and the hysteria and madness invloved in the process of waking up.

Being sixteen, yearnig for a cup of bed coffee does not bring it to me. Lifting my 60 kilogram body from my bed happens to be a Herculean task. The events that follow are excrutinatingly embarrasing and call for omission.

Trudging down the stairs with a huge bag weighing me down is quite a challenge. Due to repeated hitting of the snooze button, there's just about enough time to dump all the books in my vicinity into my embarrasingly undersized bag; not to mention quickly tying up my ever- messy hair into two sickly looking, horribly tacky braids.

School is not a welcoming place, no sir.

Hmmm.... (observations)

2007-07-18T21:35:00.000+05:30

Okay, first things first, no offence to anyone. I was just being extremely cynical one afternoon... Trust me, this is just a general picture of any school, and i'm not mentioning anyone in particular either...
Here goes..

Lunch tables seem to have always been a symbol of categorization:
Table no. 1 : The jocks
Table no. 2: The drama kids
Table no. 3 The artists
.... and so on...
With the obvious absence of lunch tables, I have, out of utter desperation, moved on. I have entered the light.
Our school canteen is a captivating observation deck, with the whole lot of seniors hanging out there. It is, undoubtedly, the most happening place to be (not to mention an ideal place to think about how to cut those extra pounds while conspicuously munching on a sugary chocolate bar just handed over to you by Vinod anna).

1) The 'in on' gang- Notably, the only gang with both the sexes(whatever happened to girl power?). Believe me, for those of us who don't know them(ha!), ignorance is pure bliss.

2) Indian born confused wannabe Americans- With short skirts and fake American accents galore, there's no stopping them. They go on singing the latest pop/hip-hop/rap/ i wish i knew more genres. They frustrate you with their oh-so-fake accents. Culture is apparently alien to them.

3)The 'look at me, I'm cool' guys- They obviously don't eat their lunch, 'cause from 12:40 till the unanimously dreaded bell rings, these 'jocks' lean on the perforated walls, sipping colas or licking icecreams, their eyes wandering hopefully over every girl who passes by. Two words -you wish.

4)Sowkarpet 'babes'- These gals speak the fluentest Hindi conceiveable, so fluent that it is impossible to catch. Even their English is heavily accented with Hindi. I'm guessing that they're newly returns from the great north. Yeah, sure.

5) The 'kids'- Yeah, we can't forget them. They're gutsy enough to enter a zone self- marked for seniors. Valiantly, they plunge into the crowd of six-footers. Some of them have even experimented with folding down their socks. Their tininess is a big give away. I mean, i wasn't THAT small!

6)The outcasts- These people always seem to be lost, but believe me, they're far from losers. Together, they form the most intellectual band of students, and also the least sought-after gang. They spread over a wide range of people, all of whom are desperate tag-alongs. Hey, I said they were intellectual!

7)And last, but not the least, the Loners - You can see them flicking an invisible speck of dust from their ties, shooing away microscopic mosquitoes, and pretending to be in their own world, when they're actually, hopefully shifting their eyes around, digging for people they know, and trying to make conversation with random passers-by, not to mention the occasional stray dog.

Whoever came up with the lunch tables example??

The bright side

2007-07-13T23:37:00.000+05:30

Roses, sweet and blossomy,
Love, joy and happiness manifested,
Blissfulness abundant,
In each petal, so pretty.

Thorns forgotten, hoped to vanish,
Crushed with all the good,
Tears, sorrow, seeping through them
Disappear, the hurdles, we vanquish.