Friday, June 27, 2008

A Secret Tag

I was tagged by Nirmal to reveal 10 of my secrets. So here they are after much ado:p

# I am shit scared of crossing roads. Especially crossroads and highways. I mean I don't faint in the middle of the road , but I always join a group of people about to cross the road, or if I'm with someone I know, I grab their hand. Very, painfully ( at least I think, it must be painful), hard.

# I love all animals, wild and tame alike. But I'm scared of cows and bulls. And I have had too many bad experiences to ever be convinced otherwise. Yeah, if they are tied up, then I don't mind feeding and petting them.

# People think that since I talk a lot, I'm very outgoing. Actually I'm an intovert. What others know about me is only what I want them to know. So you may think, ooh I know you do this, you like that, but all that you know because I told you about it.

# And my face is NOT an open book. You can't guess what I'm feeling from my facial expressions unless I am really pissed off. Then you'll know very well what I'm feeling. :p

# Whenever I'm out with someone alone, I don't like it when that person keeps talking on the phone for ages. I mean five minutes maximum unless the call's urgent. Afterwards I get the feeling of being ignored and lose interest in the outing and that person too with whom I have gone, be it my cousin, relative, mom, dad, friend whoever. ( at least for the duration of that outing ).

# I rarely lose my temper or feel hurt by what someone says or does to me. But when I do take it to heart, I never ever forget that incident and so i guess I never really do forgive them. Yeah, I'll tell them I have forgiven them to make them feel better, but there always will be a little less respect for them than what I had for them earlier. Maybe this isn't good but that's the way I am.

# I didn't cry watching titanic. I didn't cry in Black. I didn't cry in Rang De Basanti, but I was like a human hosepipe when I watched The Green Mile, Passion of the Christ and Taare Zameen Par. And I cried a lot when J K rowling killed off Sirius Black and Dumbledore in the 5th and the 6th Harry Potter parts respectively. And when Steve Irwin died? I couldn't even eat for two days.

# Back when I was in 5th standard, I had swallowed a 5 rupees coin ( unintentionally of course. :-| How it actually happened is another long story about which I'll talk some other time.) So to remove that coin without surgery I had to eat a dozen bananas for two weeks. And I hate bananas, so it was particularly difficult. But after that incident , I haven't eaten a single entire banana till today. :D And I wish to continue to claim this as long as I can. :D

# I love to see my brother laugh. Sometimes I act dumb and and do other crazy stuff at home to make him laugh. Same with friends too. I act nutty because it makes them laugh and I feel very happy to know that I made them laugh. ( aahh, so there's a bit of selfishness involved there I guess.:P)

# Ahh. The last one finally. I hate to dress up. I'm usually most comfortable in lose tops with capries or tracks. But on every occasion, I dress up according to the dress code expected because I feel that otherwise I'll be insulting the person who has invited me to the occasion, or even at public places, if I'm not appropriately dressed I feel I'm letting my folks down or something.

I have done enough gut spilling today to last me a few years at least. :D. And I don't know if I'll let this post remain on the blog for a long time.

Saturday, June 14, 2008


Yoo hoo. Rains are here. Maybe rains read my blog and decided if they didn't arrive soon, I might get the urge to write another poem like 'monsoon o monsoon'. :D Whatever. Monsoon brings many things with it. The leaves of the gulmohur tree get laden with water droplets which fall on you when you shake them. ( try it , it's a really cool feeling. Yeah , maybe I'm a bit partial to gulmohur trees after the flower incident). Then the oh-so-good-and-widely-talked-about smell of the earth. Then come the water logged pot-holes, overflowing gutters and amazing winds with biting rainfall (like duh, monsoon will of course bring rains with it). Hey, have you ever tried looking up at the sky at night when it is raining? sans your umbrellas and wind cheaters I mean? if no, then do it tonight, if it rains that is. If yes then don't the raindrops look like diamonds falling from the sky just before they hit your face? Also try catching the raindrops on your tongue ( NOT because that sms which says, next time it rains, try to catch the drops on your tongue. The drops you catch is how much you miss me and the ones you miss is how much I miss you, but beacuse it's real fun and nourishing too if you must know. Raindrops have vitamin B 12 in them ).

But I haven't titled this post judgement to talk about pros and cons of monsoon. I tend to digress. A lot. I just discovered a new test to check how caring people are of others' feelings. All you have to do is watch them drive in the rain. Especially, when they encounter aforementioned water-filled pot holes. If they slow down near the pot holes, then they are cautious about their actions and considerate of what their actions will do to others. These are the rare good ones. The rest are, well, inconsiderate. But then, I would be generalising and I hate generalising or being branded a hypocrite. :P

The rest fall under three categories :
# 1 Those who deliberately do that. These are the real scums. And leave without a shred of regret. I guess these are the people who are majorly involved in hit-and-run cases.
# 2 Those who are not aware of their actions. They didn't know that they splashed the pedestrians with mud. These are the careless ones or maybe they hadn't been able to slow down in time to stop the damage. Like those who just started to drive or are still learning to drive. These usually don't stop to apologise.
# 3 The really good ones who genuinely regret their actions and sometimes even stop their vehicle to apologise to the pedestrian.

Probably this was a silly post but I just felt like writing something. Couldn't think of anything better.

Monday, June 9, 2008

An Inspiring Article

I came across this article when I was reading someone's blog. This someone in turn had read this article in "The Statesman". So, this post is not my own in totality unless you count what I'm babbling right now. Usually I don't just copy paste articles from somewhere but I loved this article so much that I'm posting it here as I read it. You can copy the article from here and post it on your blog too. Yeah yeah I know, enough build up eh? I'll post the article now before you shut this page in disgust without actually reading the article but here's something about it without which you wouldn't know who spoke this. The article is an excerpt of Mahasweta Devi’s inaugural address at the Frankfurt book fair in the year 2006, in Germany. Don't ask me who is Mahasweta Devi because I have no idea whatsoever. Go wiki her or something.

Extracts from Mahasweta Devi’s inaugural address at the Frankfurt Book Fair, Germany

“At 80 plus I move forward, often stepping back into the shadows. Sometimes I am bold enough to step back into the sunlight. As a young person, a mother, I would often move forward to when I was old. Amuse my son. Pretend not to see, or hear him. Flail my hands like in a blind man’s game, or make a mockery of memory. Forget important things. Things that had taken place but a moment ago! These games were for fun. Now they are no longer funny. My life has moved forward & is repeating itself. I am repeating myself. Recollecting for you what has been. What is. What could have been. May have been…”

“Nothing happens unless you know how to dream. The establishment is out to destroy, by remote control, all brain cells that induce dreams. But some dreams manage to escape, and I’m after those dreams. The right to dream should be our first fundamental right. And what I say next is an extension of those dreams”

“What do we mean when we speak of Indian culture in the 21st century? What culture? Which India? 60 yrs after our hard won independence, the Khadi sari is India just as the mini-skirt and the backless choli is. A bullock cart is India just as much as the latest Toyota or Merc. Illiteracy haunts us & still the same India produces men & women at the foremost of medicine, science and technology. Eight year old children toil mercilessly, facing unimaginable working conditions and abuse as child labor. And yet there are another lot of 8 year olds who spend their time in Air-conditioned classrooms & call their mothers at lunch break using their personal mobile phones. That too is India. Satyam shivam sundaram is India. Choli ke peechey is also India. The Multiplex and Mega mall is India. The snake charmer & the maharishi, that too is India.”

“Indian culture is a tapestry of many weaves, many threads. The weaving is endless as are the shades of the pattern. Somewhere dark, somewhere light, somewhere saffron, somewhere as green as the fields of new paddy, somewhere flecked with blood, somewhere washed cool by the waters of a Himalayan spring. Somewhere, the red of a watermelon slice. Somewhere, the blue of an autumn sky in Bengal. Somewhere, the purple of a musk deer’s eye. Somewhere, the red of a new bride’s sindoor. Somewhere, the threads form words in Urdu, somewhere in Bengali, elsewhere in Kannada, somewhere in Assamese, yet elsewhere in Marathi. Somewhere, the cloth frays. Somewhere, the threads tear. But still it holds. It holds”

“The pattern shifts, flows, stutters, forms again & changes shape from one season to another. I see one India in the pattern. You see another. Light & shadow play. History & modernity collide. Superstition & myth, Rabindra sangeet & rap, Sufi & Shia & Sunni, caste system & computers, laughter & tears, Governments & oppositions, reservations & quotas, Sanskrit & SMS, hamburgers & hari om hari. A seamless stitch. Many hands have stitched, are stitching, and will continue to stitch India. My country – torn, tattered, proud, beautiful, hot, humid, cold, sandy, bright, dull, educated, barbaric, savage, shining. So chaotic, yet so calm. So flexible, yet so rigid. So rich, yet so poor. So understanding, yet so easily misunderstood. After all, there are many Indias, as I keep repeating. Simultaneous, even parallel. India. My country. And its myriad cultures. There is room in India for all faiths. Despite the communal threats, the fundamentalism, the backwardness of rural life, the memories of underdevelopment (which are no memories but harsh realities for us), the threat of AIDS, natural & man-made disasters, farmer suicides, police violence, environmental disasters wreaked by industries and farmlands being purchased by MNCs, despite the battering of history & circumstances, India still is. Its culture still is. India has learnt to survive, to adapt, and to keep the old with the new.”

“I dream of an India where ‘backward’ does not & cannot ever apply. I wish to be Third world no more but the First! I wish for children to be educated. I wish for women to step into the light. I wish for justice for the common man. Survival for farmers. Homes for the poor. And hope for all. I wish for debts to cease. For poverty to vanish. For hunger to become a bad word that no one utters. I wish for the environment to be protected, to be loved & restored. I wish for the lands to be healed, the waters to be pure again, for the tiger to survive. I wish for self-reliance, for self respect, for independence from the shackles of superstition. I wish for equal medical aid for all. For light & water & a roof above every head. I wish for more & more books to be written, published in every language of the country. Let the words pour out. Let stories be told. Let the people read. Let the people learn how to read. To trace their fingers over each alphabet until they can spell their names, till they can write for themselves – I know. I can. I will. Let us battle ignorance with knowledge, and hatred with logic.”

“I wish for no more satis. No more dowry deaths, no more honor killings, no more flesh being bought & sold. Let no more parents have to sell their children to survive. Let no more mothers drown their daughters in the dead of the night. Let the downtrodden awake. Let the ignored & marginalized, the forgotten faces & the muffled voices arise to claim their own. Let the pattern make room. Let these new threads find place. Let new colors set the tapestry afire. Into that heaven of freedom, let my India awaken again & again. It is a big dream, I know. But not an impossible one. For any culture as old as ours to have survived over time through adversities, there can be only one basic & common acceptable core thought : humanness. To accept each other’s right to be Human with dignity.”

“This then, is my fight, my dream. In my life and in my literature.”


Though I 'think' she may be an author. Pretty inspiring, no? If you read the entire article you may get this urge to post it on your blog or share it with your friends. DON'T quell this urge. Follow your instinct and do whatever you thought first after reading this( but don't expect me to be very co-operative if you feel an urge to kill me), because I think that if you start thinking about it, you may not do what you wanted to. Moral of the story : Thinking kills impulses and impulses are what differentiate people from one another, uhh according to me at least.

Friday, June 6, 2008

From an insomaniac

Dear Sleep,
Hey there. I know we met just a few hours back but, you seemed distant and aloof. It seems you haven't forgiven me for past month's negligence. * sighs heavily*. Since you are one of my closest friends, and I have spent almost one third of my entire life with you, I'm writing this letter to explain my actions in the past month.
Mind you, if it hadn't been for the above reasons or the fact that I really need you, i wouldn't have bothered to write this letter. So when you do read this letter, keep in mind the honour I'm giving you by betraying my other good friend, Laziness. Now really, you know about my fair-weather friend Exam ( really, isn't the weather fair in summer???). I had neglected the preparations for his arrival in the day time, due to the bad influence of my aforementioned good friend Laziness. So I thought, you, my nocturnal friend, would understand that I had avoid you for a few days to get rid of Exam, but for that I needed to prepare properly or I knew you would refuse to come to me, if I hadn't been good to Exam. You were good to me in Kashmir, but that I think was because, you didn't want to alarm my cousins. But later when I returned home , you refused to even come near me!!
Just think about it, is this fair? After all the wonderful nights we shared together? After all the stuff I had to put up with to please you? You would always start sulking whenever I thought of someone at night. I tried to keep your jealousy at bay, but I always gave in, in the end. You bring sweet dreams with you most of the times, even though you know I find sweet dreams very boring, but I smiled at them and was good to them because they came along with you.
It wasn't easy for me too, when you were away from me. I had to endure terrible headaches, during the day ( and night too), in your absence. ( for which I'll be eternally grateful to coffee for saving my life). I am very sorry and I really need you and will always will need you. Please , please , please come back to me.

Your good friend ( still hoping to be),