My first second post of a month!!

I was thinking about a lot of things today. One of them was how my blog never lived up to it's name. When I started it, I thought it would be my own little corner, where I could pen down my inner-most thoughts, all my silly day-dreams, my world and my future as I saw it at that point of time.

It was a naive idea. Reading about my own daydreams a year later would probably be hilarious, but I'm not really sure I want to do that now. It would just make me realize all the things I had hoped the year would be, and none of which were remotely true. That is one strangely alluring, and at the same time, terrifying thing about the castles in the air that we build. We usually forget about them, but to actually type them out, would be like setting them in stone. Some part of me also believes that it would probably be jinxing them as well. It's like those things we dream of, but are too scared to admit even to ourselves, for the fear that even thinking it aloud could mean it might never come true.

Added to that, the thought of sharing my secret thoughts with the world doesn't seem to be very appealing idea. So most of what I write ends up being a veiled attempt to vent out some queer thoughts, without actually conveying anything useful to anyone. Contrary to what I would expect, I actually like doing that. It seems like a little private joke out there, which no one seems to get, but I can smile and nod knowingly to my heart's content.

And now, since I have rambled on for long enough, and I have 2 assignments to submit and a grueling 7:30- 4:30 schedule tomorrow, and far too many things on my mind than I'd like to admit, I'd better get going. Cheerio!

Of Paths and Crossings

Once in a while you come across a fork in the road. You sort of know what to expect from each choice. Not the nitty-gritty details, but you can see rather clearly the larger, more significant ramifications. The choices don’t always include moving forward. At times, one includes backtracking a little bit, going back, from the little detour you had taken and continuing on the expected path.

The sane, practical people you see around, usually take the latter option. But sometimes they get bored of being sane all the time. So they take the road less travelled. Despite the big signs advising them against it. It is allowed. Even the most sensible people need to do crazy things. They have fun for a while. But they soon realize that they miss the comfort of the expected. So they take another crazy turn, and end up on the road they were originally following.

However, more often than not, they choose the backtracking option. Ever been in a position when things are great, when there is a tremendous amount of possibility, when you are having an immensely pleasant time playing all kinds of games? But then something happens. You start to rationalize. You decide against taking that alluring path. Bet even as you reach that decision, that magic portal seems to have closed its doors. All the incentive it needed was a little hesitation. And then you are confused. Sure, you are relieved to be back on the beaten track. But is that nagging feeling regret? Are you perhaps wondering what could have happened and that you missed a wonderful opportunity? But then you remember it was for feeling precisely that way that you had once taken that other road. Maybe, the experience was worth having, but not one you would want to rush back to in a hurry.

And then there are those other sort of people who always do things they feel like doing, never rationalizing, never stopping to think about it. They go through life just as well. Living a little more fully, perhaps. But then, that is why these people fall in different categories. They think differently. Different things make them happy. And to each his own...

Another Day on the Job

“I can’t wait to grow up and do all the things that I want to that my parents won’t let me!” As a typical teenager that would often be my angry outburst. I don’t know exactly what those things that I wanted to do were. But it did include not going to the insanely torturous physics tuitions, bunking school, probably going out more often, but again, where and to do what, I have no clue. Someone once described me as fiercely independent. He couldn’t have been more precise. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be asked questions, and I wanted to do exactly what I wanted.

Now, however, that I am staying alone in a new city for a couple of months, and there is no one around to be asking me any questions, or to tell me what to do, after returning from a 10-6 job schedule, I find myself curled up on the sofa, sipping coffee and reading a book, or doing something on my laptop. Not going out to discs, not partying, not talking on the phone late at night, and not even doing a lot of shopping. In fact, I desperately want to go back home now, but I suspect that has more to do with home food than anything else. It was while talking to a friend about not doing anything that I realized I am doing exactly what I would have done at home. True, I don’t have to go to SG’s classes now, and I don’t have any studies either, but those were pre-JEE days. Still, I comprehend this is exactly who I am. Even when I am older and working, I will come home looking forward to the cup of coffee and the book waiting for me by the sofa, or the movie that my roommate and I had been waiting to watch for ages. I’m not the partying-boozing-going-out-every-night kind of girl. I don’t like dancing and I don’t particularly enjoy alcohol. I admit it’s fun at times when you are with friends, but it’s hardly something important to me. I’d rather watch 90210 and Friends or Big Bang Theory with my friends. Or ‘Roman Holiday’ with my sister for the umpteenth time and still be mesmerized by every single scene.

I look out from the train window to see the crazy rush outside, when you have to just stand and wait for the crowd to carry you out, where you have to wait for at least 10 minutes to cross one road, that isn’t even anywhere near the most crowded parts of the city. I see the people rushing, hurrying, as if possessed. But then I notice the grey monsoon clouds wafting across the murky sky. I see the tiny droplets dancing in the muddy puddles, I see a couple of kids playing “Ham-cheese-Ham-burger” undeterred by the world around them. I see the sun disappear between the tall buildings, but I can still see the brilliantly orange and purple tinted skies. And I don’t care what others are up to; I just know I don’t want to be a part of that crazy crowd. I turn up the volume of my iPod, and with John Mayer’s husky voice singing “Who says I can’t get stoned” in my ears, I step out of the station, oblivious to the noisy insanity around me, walking back at my own sweet pace.

P.S. I just realized that the first line makes me sound so old. For those who dont know, technically, I'm still a teenager. :)

Walking in the sun..

I was walking. Walking back from class on a hot Friday afternoon. I was walking because my cycle was punctured. It had been a while since I had walked alone. The sun burned bright in all its furious glory. And there was silence. Silence, except for the rustling of the dry leaves under my feet.

It was a long walk from my department. I checked my phone. No new messages, no missed calls, and no balance. I looked in my bag. No iPod either. It would be a lonely walk with just me and my thoughts. I had walked these paths many a time, sometimes, like now, with the sun at its glory, and sometimes at night, when the pale blue moonlight washes over it all. Sometimes in the evening, when the streets are buzzing with activity, with people returning from classes, going out with friends, or just aimlessly roaming around. And sometimes early in the morning, at 7:30, when the unlucky few who have just woken up and shoved down breakfast hurry to class, still in a daze. And I had been one of those people, too. One of the people rushing to class in a hurry, or one among the giggling girls- chattering away, or even one among the random set of people wondering “why am I with them?”

And I have walked these paths in winter, when you savour the sun’s warmth during the day and shiver at night. I have walked these paths in the rain, trying hard to guide my cycle with one hand with an umbrella in the other. And then, sometimes when its too hot and its pouring I just walked out into the rain and let it drench me from head to toe. Or sometimes, when I am in a playful mood, I have made it a point to jump on all the puddles on the way, squealing with delight like a little child. And in the summer, I have been wishing I had an umbrella, or a cap, or even a sunscreen lotion or a cycle that worked so that I could get out of the sun as soon as possible.

I see one of my friends walking hand-in -hand with her boyfriend. Cute couple, I say to myself, while yearning for one of those walks again. And I remember those walks, a year ago in the middle of the night, when such things were wonderfully new and exciting. And I smile, lost in my thoughts.

But life from the first year has changed. For one, a lot more seems to be happening around me all the time. Before I realize it the day has turned into a week. But maybe, more than the things around me, it I who have changed, become more social and relaxed in peoples’ company. I feel the need to do more things now. And, surprisingly, I enjoy them too. I actually like being busy. Life seems to be good for now. Its tiring, but its fun too and it promises to get even better

New Beginnings...

It's been nearly 6 months since my last post. The dry heat I was complaining about has given way to a chilling winter and yet another semester has passed. And like all the other semesters, I have, but a fleeting impression of what happened. It is indeed, strange, how the days never seem to pass, but the months come and go, almost without one noticing.

And the reason I did not write anything? Surely, I wasn't too busy. It was probably the lethargy and procrastination that seem to come so naturally to me when I am in Kgp. So, yet another screwed up semester, and more screwed up grades, and I am back to where I started- Just as clueless about what’s going on and just as messed-up. Maybe, with a few closer friendships, and a little more loneliness, a little less wisdom and a lot more of wasted hours. Here’s to hoping that this year, things are different.

Meanwhile, I read this line somewhere and loved it :

"To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance."

Observations on a train..

I have always liked observing people in public places. It’s a strangely satisfying activity. One is surprised at the conclusions you reach, just by seeing how people behave or interact with others. Recently I had a 10 hour long train journey where I had ample scope for people observation. It also happens to be the most unpleasant train journey I have ever had.

Things were going fine till, at a certain station, nearly 50 people barged into the compartment, which was one of the few reserved, AC compartments on the train. It turned out that none of them had tickets, but they were all high ranking railway officials, so they considered it their right to travel in an AC compartment, irrespective of the fact that it was reserved and no one had tickets. Obviously, the ones who had tickets protested. What followed was the first ever public brawl I have witnessed. Voices were raised, abuses were hurled freely, people were getting agitated, tensions were running high, and I was suddenly scared. Scared at how suddenly the peaceful compartment had exploded in rage(thank God there was no violence), scared because I had never heard so many men shouting together, scared because the people behaving in this manner all were decently dressed, educated, middle aged men, not street side thugs.

After a bit of delay and some chain pulling and more abuses, the train got going. The ones without tickets were still there, breathing down our necks, blocking the passageways- very disconcerting. But what was more disconcerting was their complete lack of embarrassment or remorse. Some were feeling bad and were talking about getting down at the next station, but there were others (there was a particularly nasty man in a horrible peach colored shirt standing near me) who were smirking, their air plainly saying that they believed they could do no wrong. And the ones, who were talking about getting down early, didn’t do so either.

I was appalled at the anarchy and lawlessness of the whole situation. One would expect the officials to bear in mind that there are certain rules to be followed for the smooth running of any system. These people definitely expect others to follow the rules, but for some unexplained reason they think the rules do not apply to them. As if being a part of the system separates them from the common mass of humanity.

It is perfectly understandable that they didn’t get reserved tickets, but they didn’t have to travel in an AC compartment. Not being without an AC for some hours wasn’t killing anyone and why would they take certain priviledges when they were certainly not entitled to? Sadly, none of this seemed to have come up in their thoughts. I heard what some of them were talking about and all of it was so amazingly petty that I couldn’t imagine people even thinking about such things, let alone have lengthy discussions and conspiracies. I felt like yelling at them to stop and pause for a moment to reflect on what joy all this pettiness had brought them all their lives. But I refrained.

And every time my nerves had eased and I had settled down comfortably just about to enjoy a nap, another heated argument followed. Ultimately, even though I was dead tired, I couldn’t sleep a wink.

But there were other disconcerting things coming to light in the wake of these events. A couple of young boys were seated a row ahead. One was in class 8 and the other in class 11. When all the shouting and abusing was taking place, these two had taken an active part in the proceedings, even standing on the seats and shouting alongside their dads. And no one told them anything.

Again, I was stunned. It didn’t matter that they were right and the others were wrong. Because what was wrong here was that two young schoolboys were behaving outrageously, raising their voices and abusing people three times their age, and their parents found it something to be proud of. I’m not saying that standing up for your rights is wrong, but when there are elders already doing it on your behalf, there is no need to abuse others. If there was a situation where some older people were picking on kids and taking advantage, you are surely entitled to stand up. But even that can be done with dignity and respect. These boys then seemed to be very satisfied with themselves and their parents followed suit, singing their praises, rivals in the tales of extraordinary intelligence and bravery shown by their respective children. I listened and cringed.

Again another thing I noticed was the general tendency to show off in public. There were constant discussions about thrilling tales of trekking under the most difficult circumstances, about how their kids dismantle computers and hard drives at lightning speeds. I didn’t know whether to laugh at them or be sad at the pathetic pettiness of their lives. At first I found the conversation entertaining, but soon it got on my nerves- no one stopped blowing his own trumpet! How amazing! Especially as showing off is one thing I have always been repulsed by and one thing I have never seen anybody in my family doing.

All in all, a horrible train journey, where all my nice thoughts were invaded by ugly brawls, irritation, distress at the current state of affairs in the country, and dismay at the way people choose to conduct their lives.

The Holidays

I’d never had holidays this long before. And never one in which I had less to do. So in a desperate bid to lessen the boredom, after devouring too many books, I pull out a pen and an old diary and try writing… it doesn’t work so I shift to my laptop… and churn out incredible pieces of highly embarassing, sentimental trash I never thought I was capable of producing… all the effect of utter joblessness and queer moods. Sigh.

And then I wander about aimlessly, having the messy but strangely satisfying orange sticks, even as tiny bits keep falling off into the dimly lit, desolate neighborhood streets. Sometimes trying a jhaal muri just because I love watching them make it …. Going to Park Street or College Street with friends or cousins and wander about aimlessly again… spend hours in completely futile adda sessions, hunt for second hand books in the narrow streets… stopping for a phuchcka or a roll, despite the heat….Going off to New Market or City Center at the slightest pretext and buying bags, slippers, loads of chunky jewelry that I know I will never wear, obnoxiously bright nail paints which I just might try on due to the sheer magnitude of my boredom…..

Eating at Flury’s, t3, kookie jar, dominoes, KFC, Pizza Hut, CCD and also zeeshan, coffee house, aminia, nizams… and feeling guilty about gorging, trying to convince myself that I’m home for not very long so I deserve all the heavenly food, and then dragging myself to swim at 6 in the morning in a hopeless attempt to check the calories….

Or sometimes I go up to the roof when the sun is about to set and stare at the flaming sky for God-knows-how-long till I can almost see the stars, trying to spot the shapes in the clouds, the colours in the evening sky, trying to make out the silhouette of the far off Howrah Bridge through the smoke and dust and the city lights, trying to find a pattern in the way the cars snake along the busy broad way, trying to make sense of all the chaos, of whatever is happening around me, trying to understand my ever changing moods and emotions, trying to figure out a reason, or an excuse… always trying… but then I get tired of trying and I just decide to let things be… and revel in the fact that I so love being home, not just because of my mother’s awesome pampering, or my sisters awesome cynicism, or even the air conditioned bliss in these amazingly sultry days, when I’m almost sure the monsoons have decided to abandon us… its more because of the fact that I know me better when I’m home and am not always running at a frenzied pace, I’m less confused and I can breathe more freely, but most importantly I can think…. Think about nothing and everything at the same time and keep thinking without anyone or anything ever interrupting me… so I keep thinking, even as I lie peacefully, into the wee hours of the morning, sleep not being able to pervade the world of my fantasies, gazing dreamily at the dancing shadows on the moonlit wall, the hint of a smile lingering on the corners of my mouth….

And now I am rambling so I guess it’s time to stop......

P.S. Actually, I did do something this summer- learnt driving! Will be getting my license soon. And then Calcutta streets, look out- here I come!