Intellectual claustrophobia and the darkness

Being a student in a class that has an average age way above yours can be a problem. Thats when one gets a real sense of generation gap. Everything you say is blasphemous. Mouth ajar, unbelieving eyes stare and mock at your naivety. The idea that I may know/understand things that others may not is again, unthinkable. I have a problem. Intellectual claustrophobia. The need to be open and non-judgmental fades with age I guess. I may fade as well, but for now, the world to me is full of possibilities and lacks boundaries. I am not unethical and immoral. I have different ethics and different morals. My vision is not as coloured as yours. Not as black as yours and certainly not as white as yours.

I want to hold your hand. Feel it crush mine with warmth. With a sense of certainty and security. Lets walk down those yellowed lanes of memory and laugh, if just for once, till our lungs are ablaze with the gush of cold air. Let it be a winter night warmed up by the rising sun. I want to drink that small cup of tea and then drink some more. And more. Over that stone cold slab that has etched our conversations for many seasons to come.

After a very very long time I have laughed out loud while reading a book. Mother Pious Lady. It chronicles events of India. Not the epic, monumental and stupendous events, but the everyday mundane nitty gritties of an Indian life. How it has changed for real and fake. How it might change and will change etc. Its hilarious and nostalgic. I don't want it to finish.

The paints are out and the parchment is still lifeless. I am going to pump it with a colourful life. Let it breathe in the vibgyor and let out a palate of unseen beauty.

You can't always get what you want.

But if you try sometimes, you just might find that you get what you need.

Thanks Rolling Stones. Its difficult to stop wanting things but I guess one lives happiest then. Lower expectations and let things unfurl for themselves. Its true of tangible and non-tangible entities. But then are we allowed to let things unfurl for themselves? Is one free to exercise that liberty? Many argue that its all in one's mind. That if you want you can do exactly what you wish. Easier said than done.

The world is a gnawing place. Every corner of the body and every word breathed out is scrutinized, judged and commented upon. You might not ask for it. You might never. But you will get it. And it will be sharp, harsh and upsetting most of the times. It'll cage you in a box and feed you guilt till you crumble. You might see pretty sights beyond the bars but they aren't for you.

Funnily. we're all in boxes and as the adage goes. the grass is always greener on the other side. We appreciate each other's lessened restrictions. There is no such thing as freedom in its purest sense. Well, then again it depends on what one defines freedom as. Its such a relative term, like all others. Everything is relative. Nothing exists without the other.

I have a dream. I will have a small room to myself. I will have a cozy bed next to a warm fire place and a rack of books. Let it be a windy cold evening. There will be a window near my bed. And as I will rest my head on the pillow, the moon will peep into my room through it and spread its bright white light that'll sparkle the room. It will be a happy companion and it shall read with me into the darkness of the night.

I walked into that space after more than a year. It has changed so much that I can barely recognise the concrete I lived in for three years. The walls don't feel the same. The heartbeat is different, or rather has died out. Some areas still call out to me in remembrance. I have lived, loved and laughed there. Stood in the middle of the ground, that unfortunately doesn't exist anymore, and yelled to the first and the second floors. The trees still smile with warmth and welcome me. I don't want to go there again soon. Not alone atleast. I am not afraid. Just uncomfortable.

I don't have an end to this note.

And you know that she's half crazy. But that's why you want to be there.

Though the temperature isn’t exactly as low as it should be, it does look like a winter morning. It’s gloomily cloudy and it smells cold. Yes, funnily it smells and doesn’t feel cold. You should be here to know what I am describing. I would love to go to the beach now. Lie near the shore. Let the water tickle my outstretched feet. Let the warm sand rub my back. Have my book in my hand and let the breeze turn the pages for me. Serene and solitary.

I have switched from the rib-tickling tales of a rebellious priest and his arch rival communist mayor to a treasury of Indian mythology. It’s beautiful so far. The pages are new, yet there is something antique about it. I guess its the ancient tales typed on them that make them different and special. I love the calligraphy on it. Reminds me of the calligraphy pen Pa got me a really long time back. It still has its price tag on it. I was always scared to use it. I know the shelf it’s on. I am far from it right now, but when I get closer, I will use it. Write something for Pa with it.

I am doing something I love more than anything else. It can’t be the only thing I do cause some things don’t change. Some opinions don’t change. But I am proud of myself in a strange sort of way; for having kept the embers of my passion burning all through. They will burn like this today. And they shall burn like this forever.

I want to learn how to weave a carpet. Inspiration: a beautiful picture I just saw of a man sitting behind the wooden machinery that was producing the most colouful piece of art. From barren nothingness arises a splash of design in colours of one’s choice. I know I’ll love the feeling after having completed a piece.

The TV has been endlessly screaming for the past several minutes now. And what is one it makes me nauseous; the sickening background music, intolerable voice modulations and the insufferable dialogues. Just why people watch it is beyond me. I pray sincerely that I never reach a stage where the TV becomes my best friend. Never.

Give me a canvas the size of a wall. I want to splash colours on it. Use anything but a brush to paint on it. Go unconventional. I don’t want to show it to anyone till I finish. Maybe I won’t show it at all. Paint it black after I am done. It will be something I made for myself. It will remain mine. Or, I’ll paint a huge Calvin and Hobbes on the white surface and worship it. Yes, I have a strange sense of religiosity.

And she feeds you tea and oranges

That come all the way from China

And just when you mean to tell her

That you have no love to give her

Then she gets you on her wavelength

And she lets the river answer

That you’ve always been her lover

And you want to travel with her

And you want to travel blind

And you know that she will trust you

For you’ve touched her perfect body with your mind.

Suzanne- Leonard Cohen

Did the wind sweep you off your feet? Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day?

I want a room to myself. I want to paint it blue on two adjacent walls and white on the other two walls. On the white corner I want to paint a tree. Blue it will be. Let it grow from the corner and branch across on the whiteness on either sides. Adorn the walls with pictures and posters that'll make me cry with laughter. Wash them with memories of the happiest and most loved people. Have a window that'll give me a view of the sky when I'll lay beside it at night. Let the stars wink me to sleep. Let the moon read me a bed time story. A shelf of books that'll smell old and friendly. I want to stick glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. Have a stain-glass lamp hanging from the window. Let the sun sparkle through it and spill into the room. Let every breeze waltz around the wind chime. Allow it to drop in a 'hello' as it passes by. I want a Kaleidoscopic that'll show me new colours and patterns every day. Set against the same world, it'll be pretty nevertheless, without fail.

My hands are numb with glue. I have been sticking things other than the pieces of my scattered life. The table's turned into a workshop. Whether something creative will emerge from the debris strewn across is a million dollar question. I have to answer it in a few days. I will.

Justifications are tiring. The need to explain every move one makes. Every choice chosen. Every road traveled. Etc. I will, on days like these, lean on my painted blue tree and let things be. Let the branches soak my frustration and grow stronger. Let me grow stronger as well. A strange symbiotic relation that would need no words.

I have been reading about the psychology of pain. It is interesting to look at the several views people have about pain. Unlike happiness, which we tend to think comes in greater degrees to others, pain is a feeling we attribute with magnified intensity to ourselves. Tell those who wish to comfort us that they will never know the feeling. That it is worse than anything they have ever felt or will feel. Relativity is twisted to suit one's needs/desires. Is pain that cannot be attributed to an organic lesion false? Can one claim it is a case for psychological intervention with certainty then? Does the need for psychological intervention mean one is not strong enough to deal with one's problems? Does the blame then point to the sufferer? Does the sufferer become the cause and effect of the pain, unlike in the case of a lesion where the cause and effect can be separated? Does the sufferer, from a victim, become a perpetrator?

Its a gloomy day and its rubbing off on me. Sigh.

We're living in a den of thieves. Rummaging for answers in the pages.

The wind is violent today. It is insistent on blowing me away. It brings with it a new sweet smell. Usually smells bring back several memories. But this one is pure, untouched and un-smelt. It is not of the past. I am not reminiscing, for once. Though the future is still swimming in uncertainty, I feel a strange sense of control. It may not last tomorrow. So I shall let myself afloat. For now. For today.

The Little Man is thinning on my right hand. It has been a great journey of love, dreams, desires, and hopes. I have grown with him into a little woman. My aspirations are different, but our enthusiasm is similar. Our restlessness, even more.

The TV has been running nearly all day. From one channel to another, its the same story. A story that makes my blood boil. Yes, they are called soaps. I wish they'd rinse themselves clean with it. They get filthier with each new production. I am amazed at their increasing viewership. I am either degrading in patience, or the TV viewing community is gradually losing its strings of sanity. The grey matter fading into a numb white. Scary. The ladies are more heavily clad in ugly jewellery and pokey sarees. The men are using more vulgar language and torturing the women. The children are increasing cranky and spoilt. The elders are well, the less said the better. The evil mother-in-law has taken a new avataar, worse than its predecessors put together. The spineless good-at-everything, but always-ill-treated daughter-in-law is more subservient than ever. She resigns to her fate and begs her husband to not protest against the atrocities committed on her. She even encourages him to take her mother-in-law's side for she is the head of the family. I want to slap them. Hard.

Sigh, I have been ranting most of the day. I really wish the wind would carry me away to a place with silence and sense.

Trust is probably the hardest thing to achieve and the easiest thing to break. You try and build it up to a crescendo only to plummet down due to a mistake/misunderstanding. Reason ceases to exist and life becomes a whirlwind of justifications, subconscious self-questioning and unconscious guilt. I guess its a part of growing stronger. As they all say.

The year's coming to an end and when I look back (reminiscing now) I feel strangely happy. Its been a quick year like all others, but different in so many ways. World views have changed. The world I live in has changed. Physically. Socially. And metaphorically. Its going to be a warm December, strangely. I didn't start the year with resolutions. I never do. In a way I have lost nothing. But, somewhere I have lost myself to the year. To the places I have been to. To the people I have grown to love. To the gushing river in which jumps were made. To the long late night walks. To the spaces of rehearsals. I wonder how much of me is left now. I am ready to lose more next year. To what? Only time will tell.

Silence O.K Please.

Zip. Zap. Zoom.

Certainly driving isn't as easy as that. So TV car ads of this century: please get realistic.

Yet another list.

1. Fact: There are obviously other cars on the road that suffer from similar zip-zap-zoom syndrome increasing the chance of a head-on, side-to-side, back-to-front, front-to-back or well any angle collision.

2. Myth: The Traffic Lights are government's permanently placed Diwali illuminations.

3. Fact: We live in a country where the Right of the Road belongs to species other than the Homo Sapiens.

4. Myth: The mobile phone is a device that tells you who is driving behind you, ahead of you, beside you or is a foreteller of avoidable accidents.

5. Fact: The peddle between the clutch and the accelerator is called a brake. It is meant for use.

6. Myth: The horn is a musical instrument.

7. Fact: The zebra crossing is a striped strip meant for people to cross the road on. So don't wait for a zebra to cross on it. Let the people cross.

8. Myth: The mirror in front is a unique accessory meant to check if the hair is gelled properly or if the eye make up has worn out.

9. Fact: The road is not like the brain. The left side doesn't operate upon the right and the right side doesn't operate upon the left. If you want to turn left, be on the left side of the road and NOT on the right side and vice-versa.

10. Myth: It is a lie-cence. It isn't. Please make sure you KNOW how to drive before you get the official document.

I just realised my previous post title had a please too. What a pleasing personality I have I say!

I am brain dead.

Bye.

Fast-tedious-ness of it all.

I know we are all sick and tired of it but I do need to vent it out.

1. Anna fasts (after house-arrest/location controversy/time-period issues etc.)

2. People write (like they do about most things- in extremes)

3. Camera men shift focuses between an ever-increasing crowd and the figure on the pedestal.

4. Inter-State coverage of a 'freedom-like movement'.

5. Same panellists. Same comments. Same debates. Same critiques. Different channels. Different garbs. Different hosts. In the capital.

6. So called nukad natak performances/ celebrity appearances and reappearances.

7. The re-emergence of the Topi. The re-definition of fashion.

8. The weather report succumbs to the Doctor report.

9. Opposition parties get a free agenda to throw mud at the Centre.

10. So how many supporting Anna have actually read his bill?

11. Anna is Gandhi?

Well, more than anything else I am tired of the assumption that if one isn't supporting him, one is propagating corruption. Anti-corruption is, has and can only be Pro-Anna. Fail.

Why this sudden outburst? Credit goes to today's newspaper report that states that Anna will tour the country and answer those opposed to the Jan Lokpal Bill and not give up till the government passes the bill. "If required, I will again start an agitation again, if not from Jantar Mantar or Ramlila Maidan, then from some other place in Delhi," he said.

Are we ready for another round of mayhem? Is holding the government at ransom a picture of democracy? Many might not support me but I do not stand by this means of achieving an end that we aren't even sure of. At least I are sure that it isn't going to erase corruption the way we erased bad test scores from the face of the Earth while we were in school. Aren't we heading towards a parallel government? Is there a guarantee that the Lokpal won't be corrupt in the future? Aren't you scared that you might have to deal with two corrupt bodies, only one more powerful than the other? Time will tell which would bypass the other in terms of power.

Fasting is not a solution to problems, for otherwise the whole country can start starving until death to achieve ends. Anna is not Gandhi and , yes nobody can be Anna, so we can drop the 'I am Anna' slogan.

I don't wish to call this a 'people's victory'. It is Anna's victory. He got his candy bar. Or at least got the government to ponder over the provision of his candy bar.

We live in a country where The Butterfly Effect is best seen; actually better still, cause we needn't go to other side of the world to see the blizzard. One flutter in the capital and the nation has a storm. I don't mean to say we are a bunch of idiots but its true that it doesn't take much to gather a crowd. We are a bhed-chaal republic.

I believe in civil society. I am a part of it. We all are. Civil society does not mean being anti-government. Really. (Note- I am not vouching for a cabinet position by making this statement)

I have my own grudges against politicians/ redundant policies/ criteria of election candidacy etc. But I wish to have a more civil-intelligent-educated approach to dealing with the issues at hand. I seek an aversion from the immediacy to tread towards extremities. Strengthen democracy by working with it and not against it.

Enough for now. I am going to go and attempt fasting until death till I get to act with Naseerudin Shah on stage. Harming democracy? Hardly.

Argh

a few describe it as the worst human sentiment
it blinds people to facts
everything around seems wrong
friends become enemies
family becomes a prison
the mind closes to all possibilities
language turns sour
existence seems unbearable
one rants to the other
while the other bears it not knowing where to go
if it reaches an obscene level the rants pass on
and on
and on
and consumes everyone
bitterness fills the veins and flows to every part
every organ emanates negativity
the head hurts with the bad blood
hunger disappears
the body becomes stiff
almost brittle
on the verge of breaking and shattering into several pieces
its wrong to term it anger
its a gamut of emotions
hatred
unhappiness
it turns the human into a vicious being
uncontrollable
a being that one dreads
but one that unconsciously resides in every soul
waiting to break out
and devastate everything
till all that is left is guilt
and a lot of hurt people

these are things that everyone knows but then this is my rant.

Eh+Blah+Huh= Life

its been a while since i wrote something and i fear i've forgotten how to. these past few months have been maddening in a lot of ways. i was standing at crossroads every few days making decisions that would change my future. it hasn't been all pleasant. well, it never is. there are times when you feel that you should have taken the other road or rather gone to a totally different country and tried new roads! i have also learnt that all roads aren't smooth. they all have there own manholes and bumps at differing frequencies. it all depends on when you encounter them. profound point being don't be jealous of the other for happy times await you and well there are manholes awaiting the rest. :) [apologies to the 'rest'- no offense meant]
new places always thrill me. this one did too and still amuses me with its randomness. its full of people with opinions- some i agree with and some that i condemn altogether. it is full of people professing large things when small things need attention. its full of people who are so sure of themselves that at times it leaves you intimidated. its full of people wanting to achieve greater heights. (i fear falling hence, i shall not even attempt such dangerous desires)
now that i don't know what to write i'm going to religiously cut copy and paste the lyrics of the song i'm listening to. it actually states my condition well.

Put your faith in what you most believe in
Two worlds, one family
Trust your heart
Let fate decide
To guide these lives we see

A paradise untouched by man
Within this world blessed with love
A simple life, they live in peace

Softly tread the sand below your feet now
Two worlds, one family
Trust your heart
Let fate decide
To guide these lives we see

Beneath the shelter of the trees
Only love can enter here
A simple life, they live in peace

Raise your head up
Lift high the load
Take strength from those that need you
Build high the walls
Build strong the beams
A new life is waiting
But dangers no stranger here

No words describe a mothers tears
No words can heal a broken heart
A dream is gone, but where theres hope

Somewhere something is calling for you
Two worlds, one family
Trust your heart
Let fate decide
To guide these lives we see



disclaimer: this post is a result of caffeine+insomnia+work

Tryst with the P

I think i am now capable of writing a book about my encounters with P. the walk to the cc block, those endless conversations with the PAs , and the ever fierce urge to burst the P's office will haunt me until i step into my grave.

Encounter 1- meet P to fight for the existence of the college play in the year 2009.
it wasn't exactly pleasant, but we prevailed! i can still recall the dialogue verbatim. while P kept emphasising on the nuisance it was, we kept prattling about the absolute necessity of it. the enchanting experience it has sought to provide the hundreds who were a part of it. we quoted the previous burgomasters of the play, their learning, their personality enhancements, etc etc. did it move P? well, NOT IN THE LEAST. we then made promises of taking up sale of tickets to relieve the teachers from the so called wrath of the students. did this help? finally, YES, but to the extent that she asked us to go back to C to finalise.

Encounter 2- the fight for a director and hall
this was probably the most interesting meeting, as it ignited in me a hope for the future of the play as i saw a junior fighting for what i believed in. we managed to get the need for an external director approved, but the hall was still in jeopardy. her reasons for the disapproval of a hall outside the campus seemed unknown to herself as she adamantly refuted every point we made including the monetary issue(the one considered to do the trick each time) by a wave of her hand! (what wouldn't have done to chop it off)

Encounter 3- hmmm- ah yes, the meeting with the director
my favourite so far, as all i had to do was sit back and relax and watch bala amuse the sisters with his sweet talk! we actually received blessings from H and P at the end of it, i wish i'd recorded that meeting. :O

Encounter 4- proposal meet + venue fight+ fight for four shows
by far the most frustrating one as i sat in P's office for forty-five minutes the previous day for an appointment and waited for two and half hours the next day along with my teacher coordinators to meet her. her eleven o' clock turned out to be one thirty! as we entered the room all i could sense was the nerve on my temple pulsating with anger! yet, we had to put up our best smile and greet her with GENUINE AFFECTION! we tell her about the progress we've made with sponsorship, only to receive a big NO for the only sponsor who had agreed to shell out the maximum. (she asks us to give her a print-out of the proposal and a list of the sponsors along with a description of their activities by the next day! ) but we take a deep breath and smile and proceed. we talk out reasons for four shows confirming in every way possible that no college activity or timing would be disrupted by the show. she finally AGREES! (during the process of convincing her we also got a glimpse of her amazingly minute knowledge of theatre- as she blinked brightly at the use of the term- double cast! it wouldn't have surprised me much had she not professed profoundly, in our previous meetings, that she had enough experience in this sphere to outdo our very own director! ) Sigh, we smile and proceed. we then draw the stage and tell her the pros of having it in the venue previously okay-ed by her. after wasting three sheets of paper we prevail. i get out of the room satisfied and exhausted.

Encounter 5- PROPOSAL
the proposal had been lying on her table for 6 hours, but when we ask her about it, she replies- "oh i haven't read it yet". we smile and proceed. we ask her about the title of the play 'Mordant Murals', she turns to S and asks- "S, is it English?." we smile and proceed. the most unsuccessful meeting ended with us having to leave assuring her that the name would be changed to a 'happier' one.

Encounter 6- Black and Blue and Other Hues
i go to her office to get the name approved without which we can't proceed with our sponsorship. she looks at it and asks me to get the permission of all the VPs. i smile and proceed to the offices of the VPs only to find one of them seated. she asks me to wait till all the VPs are there in their respective cabins so that they can come to a conclusion unanimously! (Like that's going to happen in the next 29 centuries!) i smile and proceed to P to tell her that the task ahead is impossible. by god's grace one of the VPs was in the P's office with her, i shamelessly ordered vatsala ma'am to take the list and not come out of the office unless a name had been approved off. Black and Blue and Other Hues, emerged!

Encounter 7- Letter
getting a letter signed might sound like the easiest task so far, well it took me three days and two hours of standing outside her office to get it signed. it was done and that's all that matters for now.
that's all folks! (at least for now :S)