Misgivings of the Solitary Mind

B A R B E D

2011-08-10T16:16:00.001+05:30

B A R B E D, originally uploaded by souparna.

That fleeting moment of realization that you are getting stuck in a rut.

Via Flickr:
... fences to define boundaries.

Some that confine. Some that restrain. Some that even keep us safe.

The third eye arrived September '09. Passion got equipment. No looking back since.

10,000 views. Hope I'm getting some headway here.

From my first ever trip with my own camera.
Chilmeri, Uttaranchal, 2009

On Black

W H OOOOOOO S H

2011-04-27T16:04:00.001+05:30

W H OOOOOOO S H, originally uploaded by souparna.

Routine is a funny thing.
Changes you before you realize.

Rye Chor

2011-03-15T01:13:00.003+05:30

C A T C H E R in the R Y E, originally uploaded by souparna.

Or something like that...

".... I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around - nobody big, I mean - except me.
And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff - I mean if they're running and they don't look where they're going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That's all I do all day.
I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it's crazy, but that's the only thing I'd really like to be."
- Holden Caulfield in The Catcher in the Rye , by J D Salinger 1919 - 2010

A short paragraph, and perhaps not as vividly described. Enough said, and still enough left for the imagination.

Nothing makes me feel better, than these two tiny paragraphs. I can't put my finger on the thought, that makes everything go away so easily.

Maybe it's the wind I feel on my face.
Maybe it's the idea of the bright blue sky.
Maybe it's the blinding shiny sun.
Maybe it's the brown in the swaying fields of rye.
Or
Maybe it's the serenity in the air.
Maybe it's the simplicity of the task at hand.
Maybe it's the familiarity in a foreign land.
Or
Maybe it's just the peace I feel within myself.

It's definitely the nicest thing ever written, and yet left unsaid.

3:42 PM Monday. Yeah, the Monday explains it you'd think!

W A L K

2010-11-02T17:46:00.001+05:30

W A L K, originally uploaded by souparna.

Sunday. Cubbon Park. Dogs. Two. Boxer.

Running. Behind blue squeaking ball. Behind dogs. Away from dogs.
Panting. For breath. For water.
Eating. Infini-tea-ly.

Well spent.

All those who sleep tonight

2010-09-24T19:49:00.001+05:30

C U R V E D, originally uploaded by souparna.

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above

Know that you aren't alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years.

From 'All those who sleep tonight' by Vikram Seth

I am not a poem person, but this one I've liked the moment I read it.

Side-tracked

2010-07-09T19:01:00.005+05:30

S H O O T I N G from the hip, eh?
Originally uploaded by souparna
Photographs. Have always been in awe and love for taking them. Sadly though, haven't had the time lately to take as many.

Manage time, and frames here and there. But really hoping to take this one to the next level [not that i know what that is.. ].

This might be the one thing I like, and can hope to get good at.

Too early to call his 'My Work' so far.. but this is where it rests for now.. Will get to a PRO once I get to a pro ..

My most favorite shot of mine, credits to the photographer..

Eternal Sunshine

2010-01-13T01:58:00.001+05:30

"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot
The world forgetting, by the world forgot
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd."
-Alexander Pope

Her

2010-01-12T16:57:00.005+05:30

Her, originally uploaded by souparna.

It is probably the lack of brain waves, or the sudden overspill of inertness, that I chose to blog.

What is even more special, is that this is directly from Flickr. Enabled, and trying for the first time. And this photograph makes all but more sense to be the first one.

Just when I thought, I had a enough and more to talk about to go on click-ity clack on my keyboard, words fail me yet again.

It's hard enough for people to find their respective 'soul mates' or 'companions' or find the 'right relationship', all of which comes with some excess baggage of its own, or in due time develops into this one huge obligation that each struggles to stay afloat in.

I, on the other hand, was handed the easiest task ever. Given this one person when I was all of 12, to be insane with, jump over 6ft walls, lie through my teeth to save my skin, dream like I am living it, laugh like I am OD-ing on nitrous oxide, or having the perfect 'Bhaang' effect, have an extra set of shoulders when my dainty ones couldn't take much.

To her, I owe a lot of who I am.

Hoping that there is never a day we have done it all, and done enough.

Time and Space

2009-11-05T19:14:00.002+05:30

The weirdest of things come to mind, when you are clicking away on Minesweeper trying to put aside work that 'has to' be done by the end of the day.

Absolutely random thoughts through time and space.

I was sitting behind my dad on the scooter, wouldn't have been more than 7 or 8. That was the one time this had happened. Don't recall what exactly I had asked him that particular day, but I know I always had this way of asking him solutions to problem I was having in third person. They oft started with - 'What would you do, if you had.. '. And without asking further questions, he would always give me what he thought was a good, workable solution.

I only realized after many years, that he always knew they were personal concerns of mine, and knowingly gave me solutions. I had never known this until very late in my childhood, almost adulthood perhaps.

Weird.

Going for a game now, clear up this set of thoughts, for newer, random-er ones!

2009-08-13T00:21:00.004+05:30

Yesterday is finally over. Very few times I have been as relieved for a day to have gone by than I am today, as I have been over the past few years. I am not really sure what the reason for the anxiety is, that builds itself up for 11 whole days, the moment you realize the fatefull month has arrived.

I spent most of y'day as I would any other weekend - without any order or system to it all. Something I have come to realize I quite fancy. It's not so much that there is anything wrong in particular about the day in itself. The sad irony is the expectation it comes with. From the people around you, and also partially from you since you have spent a certain number of them in a particular manner. You are expected to do something miraculously special. Something that would ideally set the tone for the next iteration.

The only time I have, in my head, set the tone was when I broke 2 glasses on new years and have been breaking endless glasses and bottles at home and otherwise since. Not the best thing, you somehow start believing that whatever you actually did do at 12 on a particular calendar day would define how your entire year would look like.
I tried my best to understand what is it that I dislike about the day. That it makes me want to jump the calendar if I really can. I think its one of the 2 possible things:

I don't have anyone in particular to spend it with. Anyone or a group of them.
There are people on the other hand who might extend [some who actually did, and it did feel special] themselves to spend it with me, but to me somehow it always appears that I am causing some inconvenience to them. Which may or maynot be the case.

The root cause in either of the possibilities I think can be traced to a basic problem from kindergarden. The capability and therefore the lack of as well, to befriend people. And all of this, since it is in reference to kindergarden, is a purely platonic friendship we are talking about. You meet people, you spend time together, have some great laughs, and continue this cycle for as long as you can, for as long as you chose to carry on their numbers in your phone with every change in the SIM or the phone in itself.

The only difference now is, that you are no longer 4, you no longer have a 'no past' situation, you are a person who has their set of experiences, traits, personalities, behaviors and expectations, and most importantly levels to which you are willing to open yourself, intellectually or emotionally, to these new people.

As confused as it leaves me, with all of this to figure out, and I know for sure there are going to be a sect of people, who will with all conviction denote this to my over-complicating and over-analyzing life in itself, the one thing I realized today in this discussion of 'friends' and all that, is the different levels of friends modern life presents itself.

Folks who'll call you at the stroke of the clock.
Folks who'll send you an SMS at the stroke of the clock.
Folks who'll call you sometime during the decent human hours.
Folks who'll send you an SMS during the decent human hours.

Even as they do have an order to it, there is no telling in which direction this order would be. If you are lucky, or unlucky as you chose to see the situation, people will either gradute from the SMS to the call. Or downgrade from the call to the SMS.

Funny ceatures, humans.

The number stands at 27 this year.

Random

2009-05-25T12:10:00.001+05:30

It will all come to an end one day,

What would you have to show for it all?

"

2009-04-15T12:08:00.000+05:30

Certainly solitude is dangerous for active minds. We require around us people who can think and talk. When we are alone for a long time, we people space with phantoms. " - Guy De Maupassant

An SMS at an obscure hour, has remained still in my inbox. I go back to it, and somehow find myself in it. Not sure what to make of it, be elated to read something that's been written for you, or be scared at the thought of what it really means.

Comes from one my all time favorite short story writer, easy read for all those scared to pick up books.

Bitter Sweet Symphony

2009-02-16T18:13:00.004+05:30

Never in my well.. so many years (:P) have I celebrated Valentine's Day.
But this year was memorable and will remain.

This year I mark it with new beginnings.
This year I mark it with conversations I couldn't make and am left wondering.
This year I mark it with games I didn't win and don't regret.
This year I mark it with Delhi as I never thought it would be.

Bitter Sweet Symphony.

Once...

2009-02-05T19:18:00.002+05:30

I once lived far, far away, where the streets had names but no direction. Where the people has faces, but no names. Where everything could be seen, but not heard. Where, the world was coherent and not as placid.

Where there were families and friends, and foes had no presence. Where you could be you and still be you. Where who, what and how you were, was of no greater significance than the existence.

In that land of glory and anonymity alike, I knew what life was. The town untouched by it all and still very much in being. Where we played from dawn to dusk, and went home to sleep. Where the women waited at the door, not for the men, but their children. Where the men were as unequal as the women and the children listened to all that was said. Willingly. Happily.

That is the land I wish to go back to. Where I know all and all knows me. Where I am myself and everyone is them. Where the laughter is real and happiness, not fake.
Where I laugh because it’s funny and happy and not courteous.

Clearly the writing as gone for the proverbial ‘TOSS’.

050209
1920hrs
B'lore

Re-Ramblings

2009-02-05T11:47:00.005+05:30

I have always had the habit of conversing with folks in my head. And two-sided: 'Conversations'. Always, and who I speak with has changed from people to people over the many years. I remember having imaginary friends, when I was a kid, specially in 3rd and 4th std, when we had moved to Calcutta. Friends was only school, rest was family. Calcutta, old regular Calcutta with no apartment complexes and such is without the parks, and playgrounds. People play on the road, kids already have friends. So for my brother and me, we splurged our imaginations at home, running around in what seemed and will still remain in my mind, a mansion in my mother's house. Playing hide and seek, to cricket. Well, this in itself is a different post all together. Laters. The recipients of all these conversations have changed from people to people over the many years. The first I remember was a family friend's son, that I used, and in some ways still look up to. I still think my adult being in more ways than one is because of him. He is the only one who took me seriously and as an adult in my adolescence. A time when you are seeking approval for who you are and becoming. I am who I am in parts because of him. And needless to say, most of these people have varied from crushes I have had, folks I never said anything to, since you always know it will not amount to anything. And the greatest achievement at the time would be when I would stop talking to them in my head. It always was this clear indication that I have moved on. That subconsciously mean nothing to me anymore. More importantly, I associate no importance with them, and my natural urge to speak with them, tell them tales of travels, imagination and sorrow and joy alike.

[And pray, Big difference between 'Venting Out' and 'Cribbing'. Some people don't get it! No one expects you to fix it, just be a friend and listen for a change :)]

But now, I talk in posts, things I would like to write about, how I would frame my sentences, edit them, rephrase them. I find it a lot more constructive. Even though it needs to be said, I am running out things to write about. Everything that comes naturally to me sounds sad, remorseful, a state I want to alienate myself from.
I wish the sights and sounds that take me back years and months will all go away.
I wish I get my rhythm back.
I wish I become who I was,am.
I wish I can undo and forget ever single time you drilled into me that I am sad, unhappy and 'weird' and incapable of being happy.
I wish in spite of everything I hate in today, and yesterday and the day before, I don't forget what I learnt from you and still look for the silver lining.
I wish someday, you can still brighten my day like you always did.

Its funny when..

2009-01-22T13:36:00.005+05:30

...things change so much.
It's all a state of mind

Sights n Sounds

2009-01-19T15:07:00.003+05:30

Mind: Thoughts. Countless. Limitless. Numbing.

Sounds: Distant. Close. Laughs. Chuckles. Whistles. Lyric-less. Complains. Meaningless. Annoying.

Sights: Dull. Blurry. Streams of motion

Time: Countable. Uncountable. Limited.

Work: Compulsion. Interesting. Hopeful.

Self: Tired. Very.

Does it Matter?

2009-01-14T18:43:00.004+05:30

This is the second attempt at writing, no I mean publishing a post here. Third I think, counting the drafts I have already. There are too many of them now that I remember.

Well either ways, this is how it stands, and we will pick it up from here. There are a couple of things I did want to write about. To get a general perception on how people look at those scenarios – situations I mean. Clear indication of the fact that my work is definitely taking over, no - too hard a term, having an effect on my vocabulary and thought process. This in ways for sure is a good thing. I think more logically and objectively now – which may or may not be applicable on certain facets in my personal life, they still seem unreasonable. But this is where the talked about logic helps – This is how it is. Deal with it.

I think more often than not, we try and avoid situations that don’t make sense to us. That we don’t see reason to. That seem unjustified. That seem plain unfair. That you wish you could go back in time, just this one time, or be given a second chance you will do it right, you will fix it. It’s the same feeling I got from my gut, desperate need, want to have a second chance to take the penalty shot again – you know for sure almost that back to back penalties will def go – and perhaps win the cup! And I can count multiple times that I have had this desperate, praying, pacing around and wishing against reality that there was a second shot. But if we were to look at it objectively and realize that solutions of any kind are not in your hand, that there is nothing you can do about it – NOTHING – it makes it much easier. Than to go on brooding over it, wishing and hoping against all possible odds. This is where I totally am against those in your face optimists, who go on parading on your face how perfect their lives are. Because the rest of us are ignoring it, doesn’t really mean we are unaware of it. We don’t want to know, you are happy, great! Now if you would excuse me, I have a not so pretty situation to deal with!

And I am sure that more often than not, even when we are stuck to that glimmer of hope, we do tend to lose it. Ourselves. In our minds. But this is the thing that makes me go through each and every time – there have been some for sure – I know it for a fact that I am not going to be unhappy or mulling over whatever this present unexpected/expected turn of events life has to present. We all have been through enough nonsense that we know it’s not the end. For you. This shall pass too. You will go on life like you were meant to. You will be happy. You will have most of things, hopefully, that you desire. You will lead the ‘regular’ life that you are trying so hard to get. You will not care about what people have to say. You will not seek acceptance. You will not change to be accepted. This is who you are. This is who everyone around you likes you for. And if by chance, along the way you meet, see some people who don’t accept that, well too bad for them! As long as you like who you are, as long as people, most of your ‘friends and family’ are happy about the human being you are. That’s all that matters.

It’s like how I don’t understand people listening to sad songs when they are sad. I don’t get it. If you are sad isn’t your first priority to make yourself 'not sad'? How does a sad song, about lost love, about lost times, about life in all its unpredictable glory help? I don’t get it.

And all of this has little to nothing to do with forgiveness. If you can forgive yourself, to have treated yourself not nicely, not cared about yourself, not given a damn about eating/sleeping. That’s who you need to forgive. Forgive yourself to have become harder a person that you were. To have become a cold. To have become someone you perhaps didn’t recognize from behavior, action.

I definitely have not forgotten maybe even will not, but I just don't care. In spite of myself.
Move on.

Finally, Excitement on a Surprise!

2009-01-06T15:44:00.006+05:30

This is a major problem, if I may call it, a very major BIG problem. I tend to get even more excited about surprising others - Planning, sending, receiving, reaction. About them being excited about it. How happy I would be if I were to get one. I by far have seemingly overshot my excitement and joy of planning it all out, over what the 'surpris-ee' might react with - is expected to react with. This has fallen flat on my face twice, actually a lot more than that. Perhaps things might be different this year!

But not y'day. It was absolutely perfect. The gifts was bought in time, with enough thought, was packed in time, was sent in time, and was definitely received in time. And my excitement as always knew no bounds. But for a change, a big change, it resonated over my phone. There were as many screams and yells, as many 'Oh-My-God's as many 'This is awesome', as many 'I can't believe it', as many 'Man I wish you were here'. The clencher of course was the 'almost' tears of joy, but guess it was the somber quiet 'Thank You', that I know for a fact meant the most.

Wishing you have a blast of day, that your year begins and ends with just as much velocity of joy, enthusiasm and excitement. That this year you are closer to ticking off items from your 'To-Do' list. That this year, you have more courage to do the things you want to do, that this year you are EAGER to do the things you want to do. That this year you give yourself a chance more than anyone else. That this year you are happier than you have known yourself to be. That this year you are happy in everything little thing you do, mundane or otherwise. That this you have the most number of scrambled smiles and sunshines across all of lives harsh, mean regularities!

And this year, may my present be Grander, Bigger and Merrier! :D

Happy Birthday Akanksha!

PLANNed - Given in to Temptation

2008-12-31T18:06:00.003+05:30

Given in. Meeting some friends, after a REAL long time. REAL LONG. Then off to a house get together as the honorary guest! :)

Jack Sparrow will have to wait until a re-run!

New Year

2008-12-31T13:12:00.007+05:30

It's the weirdest thing I have noticed every year. Plans. Some more plans. And even more plans. Year end and people realize this innate need to be somewhere, do something, be prepared, be pre-occupied, have a PLAN. Absolute sudden need. To be doing something at 12. Just this one day, one night. Perhaps justified. This is one time and perhaps your birthday that you realize exactly how many people are around, you have that you are willing, wanting to spend the precious 6-8 hours to bid farewell to yet another year.

To think very objectively, it perhaps does make some sense. At the end of the day, it is only another excuse to have some fun, societal norms have made it easier to be digested among the rest of the clan that if you are smashed or stoned, or do something out of the ordinary and perhaps regrettable to yourself you will be forgiven. After all its the year end bash. Its a date easier to remember by one and all, 31st December. The last day in all calendars across countries, across cultures. [And yes, keeping aside and ignoring all references to financial calendars and finances in all its entirety! Not the time to realize how poor you are :D!]

What are we possibly celebrating here? End of a year? Of a successful year? Of a year full of mistakes that since you have already made them, your sanity insists you will not make again? Of expectations and high hopes from the next, perhaps brighter calendar? Of expected new loves, and marriages, or as someone I know expecting to be new parents (who by the way are going to keep it calmer this year just to be safer)? Of having enough expendable leaves? Of having sudden urges of doing better, being better?

And at the end of it all when we break one of these resolutions, if lucky, not any sooner than the 3rd - 'They are meant to be broken' or if you cannot get over your inherent procrastination - 'The whole year is there'. I find it to be quite a super comical situation. Not that I have not given in to on one rare occasion, it was quite fun, people were drunk and super happy, a friend got unofficially engaged :) , they were dancing around in all weird funny ways. Was nice to see people happy in all their glory, in spite of all the mundane brutalities life presents us with.

Honestly hoping that everyone I know is happy in whatever they do, better still if they get what they want, or else are able to be in peace with themselves to find small instances of scattered smiles across the inevitable. Good luck and best wishes to all the would-be parents, hope-to-get-into-some good university, get-through-to-good-colleges-to-put-structure and direction-to-life, to-better-job-that'll-allow-to-save-and-go-to-San Siro, would-be marrieds from February to December.

And for myself, peace of mind, to let go and overcome struggles within, over a year is long enough to be wasted, mourned on anything however important, to be detached, to be less cynical, to be strong to take on whatever unexpectedness life has to offer - Fair or Unfair.

Souparna and Jack Sparrow.
Yo-Ho-Ho and a bottle of Rum err Wine :D

Unfinished

2008-12-19T11:54:00.001+05:30

when words go racing through in your head, its kinda hard to hold on to any o 'em and pen 'em down...

hence this shall remain incomplete...

i remain

Life: Unfair n Unyeilding?

2008-12-15T12:43:00.003+05:30

Life will be, what it's meant to be,
All will not be fair,
All will not be explained,
All will not be acceptable,
But all will be what it is intended to be,
Watch the show from your high raised pedestal,
Eat the humble pie,
And have the last laugh!

Crown of Thorns

2008-12-10T13:39:00.003+05:30

Covered by Pearl Jam. Has been on my playlist all morning, and is likely to remain. Brings back time, and meaning.

" You ever heard the story of Mr. Faded Glory?
Say he who rides a pony must someday fall
I been talkin' to my alter
Says Life is what you make it
And if you make it death well then rest
your soul away

It's a broken kind of feeling
She'd have to tie me to the ceiling
A bad moon's comin' better say your prayers
I wanna tell you that I love you
But does it really matter?
I just can't stand to see you dragging down
Again

So I’m singing

This is my kinda love
It's the kind that moves on
It’s the kind that leaves me alone

Yes it does

I used to treat you like a lady
Now you're my substitute teacher
This bottle's not pretty, not a pretty sight
I owe the man some money

So I'm turnin over honey
You see Mr. Faded Glory is once again doin' time

This is my kinda love
It's the kind that moves on
It’s the kind that leaves me alone

Like a crown of thorns

It's all who you know
So don't burn your bridges woman"

My To-Do list

2008-12-04T17:21:00.005+05:30

24/xi/2008 - 2-2:30 AM where-abouts, boredom has various effects on various people I have realized. Can't wait to strike out each n everyone of these! Flew off to Calcutta last saturday on an impulse, expensive but no regrets! Amazing feeling to have people shuffle their life around to include you, nothing you can rely on more that family and the Poulomees and Akankshas you've known for 16 years!

Lost Glory

2008-11-25T16:16:00.004+05:30

My mother's house is... was... will now again be... in Calcutta [Yes, to us folks it’s still Calcutta, like to you all it probably remains as Bombay or Madras. The pronunciation has worsened I think now]. The house in itself was almost 100 years old - 60/70 odd for sure. The house has been a witness to three generations.

Different times, financial crisis, Re. 1 could get you a meal, Lanterns for street lights [my great grandfather was so tall that apparently he lit his smokes from these!J ], no traffic, good weather, no television, huge transistor, the traditional olden telephone - and yes it was black, only Bengali, Hinglish, discussions on communism to Paolo Maldini, Correcting university papers, studying for 3rd grade, never been yelled at, to being thrashed for messing up. Three generations playing 'Kumir Danga' - that’s our version of -'Uuch Neech ka Papda' - no clue what it’s called in English. All three generations, everyone, slipping on the terrace when the infamous monsoons hit. Births - marriages - their kids. Naming ceremonies - anniversaries - funeral service. Broken leg - traction - cancer. Never giving up.

For some reason, when I look back now, I think the people in the house echoed the house - never gave up, had fun with whatever was around ... HAPPY.

I have wanted to post on the blog for a while, had a LOT to write about, but most of them got edited. Remembered Umesh's photographs of his house in Kerala, and it made sense. Since my grandmother passed away, things have not been the same. My aunts and mom have tried their best to keep that spirit alive that their mother had resonating all over the house. Our generation – my cousins, brother, me, new brothers-in-law have all tried to keep that alive. Have a night out when we visit, play cards, buy garlands to put over frames of the deceased, have a lunch/dinner suiting everyone’s schedule. Almost as a replication of what was a routine once. Good times.

Last I was there, 2006, we all almost knew it was the last time. The once rugged strong foundation was giving in to the time. Cracked floors, dilapidated railings and staircases. Had to give in to the unsaid need, no one to take care of the house, the house has been broken down. What is going to be there is another house that you can’t tell from the thousands in the city. Each sister has a floor. And some stranger will have another. Discussions to and fro of color of the walls, the floors will no longer be the red, blue or green and have the room named after it. The huge helicopter propeller for the ceiling fan, which in all three generation has never seen a point above the occasional 3 on the regulator. High ceilings have given in to the stipulated 11 feet walls. The cracks in the floor of my grandmother’s room from the super heavy safe – never seen it being used, sold off by the price of iron – will now have a brand new floor, with no impression of her footsteps when it was still wet during construction. Losing all its character. The character of all the people who have lived in it at one point or another.

It’s all the same with relationships. You think they will stay on forever coz they are that great. New ones come along but you were so comfortable with the old ones that it takes time for it to become a home from a house – perhaps never yielding. Chances are that it might become the ‘home’ you would like it to be, but definitely not the one you had, and are likely to miss forever.

It’s a nice rainy day in B’lore, reminding me of the winters in Delhi. There are no sweaters, sweat-shirts or mufflers, or getting wet in the faint unexpected drizzle playing basketball. But the thought of it all makes it pleasant and worthwhile.

Back with.. err not so much of a bang!

2008-05-26T15:12:00.001+05:30

Been a while since i wrote here, and I just realised that most of my posts start like that! Ctrl+A. Del. Fresh Canvas!

I was up last night watching some mind numbing television when by a surprising sequence of divine intervention [I guess!] one of my favorite songs came up - Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day. And it reminded me of some vague memories that I really couldn't put my finger on [Elderly Women - Pearl Jam]. And I from then on I went on this trip by myself - Its so much easier to take a trip like this.. within your mind- no reservations, no traffic, no heat, no sub-passengers cribbing about the food or unavailability of luxury.. anyway.. and hopped from one song to another. And each song reminded me of some instance, or smells or colors or people or situations or celebrations or just sitting outside of college and 6 girls singing away in their own octaves and baritones, asynchronous and having a time of their lives!

Jumping from song to song, from time to time, from rainy to scorching sun, from Connaught Place to Manali. And I thought - given that work has been manageable - will list 'em out and see how far back and around do I take this trip. Here goes!

1. Where'd you go, Fort Minor - Bombay. Local Trains. Hanging by the edge. Wind on my face. Moist smell of the rain. Getting each song of the album on a zip mail, thanks to Persistent. Pandora. World Cup. Italy!
2. Leaving on a Jetplane, John Denver - College. IIT Delhi. Barista. Sitting on the footsteps, playing the guitar and singing away with no qualms about the Discrete Math paper the next day. And two of us invariable sang the 'Armageddon' version in the sad mopey way with too much heart in it, while the rest of us were way to happy in life that he was finally leaving!
3. Kitni Baatein, Lakshya - Beach. MBA. The road trip which left us with no behinds by the time we came back to campus. Noticing the pain in the music. Appreciating hindi/bollywood music. Gray head-band
4. More Than Words, Xtreme - IIT Delhi. Megha Bhandari and her squeaking new sneakers. Slowing dragging her feet so that she didn't make any noise while we spend the entire night on the IIT campus and singing in a 'frog sitting in thy throat' way! Sitting with the security guards while they lit a fire on torn out cardboard boxes to get rid of the chill on a February Delhi night
5. Sweet Child o Mine, GnR - A dingy room in Lajpat Nagar, Delhi. House party at 3 in the afternoon. Poulomee and Akshat playing the songs some 27 times and dancing and jumping away to glory. This is their favorite song. To this day it reminds me of that room when I hear it. God, I miss her!
6. Alive, Pearl Jam - Me and Aparna. In my place in Delhi. Sitting next to my comp,which was snuck away in a corner, drinking coke and blowing rings of fire. Burning CDs, and getting all profound and serious on life after listening to Vedder n Floyd
7. Comfortably Numb, Floyd - Wall. The doors all shackled and chained and vigorously shaking and then suddenly breaking free the people! Aparna.
8. Pink Bullets, The Shins - Rains in Bangalore. My room. Smell of the rain and a beautiful smell that I can't place my fingers on. And it always leaves behind a smile, unknowingly.
9. Jamaican Farewell, Harry Belafonte - IIT Barista. 6 girls, crowding over a single table, singing away to glory. People staring. Not giving a damn. Fun as we knew it.
10. Fanaa, Yuva - B-School parties. Watching a friend o mine go bonkers and dancing on one of his favorite songs. Linkin Park.

I had started on just listing out songs, but my random thought sequence took over. And I went along on the chain that came along.
There has been this concept of tagging people with the same, but I'm not sure how many regular readers there are. Open to all, if you can come up with even one song that reminds you or you associate with, put it up! And pray drop me a line so that I can come look! :)

Surprise - Happy Bday!

2008-04-04T18:10:00.004+05:30

I am late. I was totally planned out to put this post up at 4:04 but its 5:55, at least there is some symmetry! J

I am in a surprisingly happy mood since the last couple of days. Actually, just ignoring the real state of affairs, but let us NOT get into that whole fiasco that I have almost successfully neglected in my sprints of sanity :)

So, I have yet again done it successfully, and I often take pride in it, even as I might be the only one [ :D ]. Lets just say there was a birthday, there was a surprise, there were raised eyebrows, and a certain brief stint of speechlessness. Though the only sad part, and yes I am going to change that the next time, is my total lack of self control over my excitement! I am more excited with butterflies in my stomach that the one I am surprising! And it was the exact same situation this time as well!

But then again, some people are more ‘Composed’ than I am, and I was expecting it :)

For my fellow ‘surprisers’ [Need to get in touch with Oxford University to get in to the dictionary :P ] to be happy forever, I’m going to give out a little secret:

People, even if you are the ‘composed’ kinds, for the happiness of our entire clan, a little enthusiastic ‘Oh my god’, or a open mouthed expression, or a quick hug, or jumping up n down.. [ok.. let’s not over do it :P ] would do wonders for us over-enthusiastic folks!

Hoping for a great birthday and the most terrific year ahead, and that you are happier this entire year, than you’ve known yourself to be.

PS: I know how excited you were. And it makes me so happy that I could do that for you. Even after all this time :)

Happy Birthday!

The Memory Remains

2007-11-21T16:46:00.000+05:30

I have exactly 4 minutes and 11 seconds to finish writing this.

Every song we hear, reminds us of something, somebody, some particular day... something...

And this song reminds me of the first time I paid attention and heard this song. It was during this one trip some of us friends took to a place from our college. We drove down. Sitting uncomfortably, thankfully the driver was a man with a good sense of music, so saving the occasional requests that I dint care for much, we had a pleasant musical journey - specially more so coz no one other than the playing track serenaded and crooned with the song!

So I was sitting perched on my folded legs, on top of the laid out back seat of the car, and peeping through to the wind screen from between the front seats, when this song came up and our wisely driver raised the volume, which thanks to the softer shade of the song didn’t discomfort the back seat travelers catching some zzzzS in all un-attainable 'YOGA' positions!

I 'listened' to the lyrics for the first time, and somehow some of it made sense. Some of was difficult for me to practically foresee happening at the time, though I can’t say the same now. But the one comment that made me come back to 602 and put that song on repeat was - [after further raising the volume towards the end of the song] 'listen to the flute.. You can feel the pain in the music'. Now if you knew the driver, you would think this was somewhat a very philosophical phrase to come from him, but credit due where it is... there are very few people I know my age, who listen to music with such deliberation as he does, given the varied tastes, with such intensity to know each and every drum stroke, to be able to figure out the rhythm of a screaming woman with the bass of the song - that was definitely the day I was awestruck! It’s a different thing that to this day I try putting on the song and feel extremely happy when I am able to figure out the rhythm in a feminine high decibel 'Oh My God' and the leading bass J

The flute will definitely take you to a place you did not think you could be. Make you realize you have sorrows you did not think you had. Make you smile to yourself only in a way you do only when you really like something that you do not mind not sharing. Make some regrets flutter over all the pretence that surrounds us. Make you happy that you heard a wonderful song as you feel your mouse pointer nearing the play button, or hitting 'X' and happy that it was not on radio and you can put it on repeat.

I don’t even listen to or like Hindi songs. I’m surprised that I wrote this. If you have read this, I would really like it if you'd leave behind on this unpainted canvas of mine the first song that comes to your mind and what or who it reminds you of, any song, probably the one on your iTunes right now, the one you heard on the radio in the morning on your way to work, the one coming from a far off cubicle that you wish they would put up the volume to. Anything. Would make my day! :)

Lakshya - Kitni Baatein - 4:11 - heard it again at a friend’s cubicle at work today. Re-played 4 times before going to bed. Some things are always left unsaid – saddest part being, you don’t know if it’s a good thing or bad?

'Night

"No matter how cold the winter, there's a spring time ahead. I smile but who am I kidding"

12:08

2007-11-05T16:23:00.000+05:30

So, nobody's heard of this before and if were to take a guess, no one even ever has noticed this on their own, and I stand a chance of publicly, voluntarily proving my insanity, albeit within acceptable human limits. It’s a moment of joy, a smile that takes you unaware, a co-incidence that you don’t expect to notice even once out of the two chances you get in 86400 moments that life graces you with each passing day.

I've been noticing it a lot of late, and there has been more than one occasion when I have achieved the cent percent strike rate - both the two times. and I can understand how some of you who are wondering are figuring out the math with the figure 86400 and what can possible occur only twice, the less intrigued have already clicked on the tiny 'X' on the top right corner of the page, or have scrolled down fast enough so that this becomes a 'Read' item in their 'Google Reader' - Why doesn’t Google Reader have a mark as 'Unread' ad opposed to the mark as ‘Read’?? Every time I have one of Umesh's technical articles on Whitespace, which are a little long and I would like to read in detail, I have to be very careful to not scroll down the article, lest it marks it as read and I lose it on my reader! Is there a very basic error I am making each time? coz I have missed more than one of his articles this way, and the mental note to go to his site and read it more often than not erases itself from my much cluttered black board in the brain when I am scrambling to find space in there to write in CAPS 'Transfer Education Loan Installment before 7th' or 'Ask Novex how he implemented the Tag cloud on the presales portal' or there are a bunch that I am not going to bore you with, I can see your fingers fiddling with the scroll of the mouse already.

We, me and my blog, both appreciate your patience.

12:08. 86400 are moments, by that I mean seconds. The CAT people will immediately know what that number is. Others are lucky to have been naturally smart without the CAT impulsion will know as well. It’s a simple multiplication routine. It’s the number of seconds in the day. And that time 12:08 comes only twice. And that translated by my heuristics, stands for 12th of August, which was the fateful day I was happy to know that there is more space to kick around my tiny legs than the 2 by 2 allocated space, throw tantrums more vocally than just kick around the walled membranes and get a humble appreciated pat in reply . It’s my birthday.

and I don’t know what it is, or why it is but every time I have incidentally looked at the watch or checked the time on my computer screen, I have always been elated to know that it was my special moment, that it was a time probably that at that instance, no matter how many people saw it meant something only to me. That it is a unique thought only I have that no one else does. That even if people shared that date with me, 12:08 on the watch didn’t imply to them the same way it did to me. that it always accidentally brings a smile at the coincidence.

I don’t know if it makes sense to you. I’m not sure if I like the idea of others knowing this little secret of mine, perhaps not important. But I didn’t have too many second thoughts when I realized that it might in some way bring across a content elated self to others like it does to me. One whole minute that is mine. One whole minute that now you will find for yourself. If you chance upon to see the watch and realize its 08:02 or 07:11 or 16:09 or 15:11.

It’s almost 4 minutes past 4 now.

Dont call me Daughter.. not fit to...

2007-10-09T12:48:00.000+05:30

Listening to 'Mera Kuch Samaan' from Ijaazat and blowing it out the window with the lights out at 1:46 AM. Unknowingly it took me back some 7-8 months when this was all that came to mind as a definition of what life was. And times have changed, from what it was to what I never thought it would be. Living in a city full of strangers, trying each day to make friends and acquaintances out of faces I have never seen before. And thankfully to add to that I have been successful in most of them, only that I have lost the faces that I once knew so well and never imagined a life without.

Life has been quite eventful over the last month, albeit unexpectedly. Been places. Done things. I don’t think I accomplished as many things since I moved in here, that I did over the last six weeks. Met people, went places, did things. Has been good. Nothing that I can complain about.

But on that odd occasion that you are left alone suddenly with your thoughts that you realize if this is all you wanted...want, if it was the right wish you made, not knowing of course that it would come true. My mother of late it turns out has been complaining, no not to me, thankfully to others [ yes I know I am a bit of a coward, but its not that you are not :) ], how the son across the street took a lesser paying job just so he could be with his parents. what I am confused about is whether it was a poor decision on my part or am I right in standing my ground and not giving up the 16 years I gave through chemistry classes, and history assignments that I couldn’t care less about, the electricity and not to mention the telephone bills I cranked up putting out all nighters so that I did not have to pay the 350 bucks for the re-exam and save face for my ISI pass-out mother.

It’s odd sometimes to realize how the dynamics indeed change when you grow up. I can't say I am sad about how it turned out, yes it was expected but only because everyone else told me it will happen and I always thought that it would never happen. My parents actually seem to realize my absence [yes, I side-stepped the phrase 'miss me' or the word ‘feel’]. It’s odd to realize this given how you grow up with your parents scolding you and 'belting you' [I have picked up the b'lore lingo!] and you practically hating them and wishing they would disappear only for a second and let you watch the AC Milan match without explaining how it would not matter if Maldini defended well or not, or if they kicked Inter Milan’s ass when you wouldn’t clear the discrete math paper the next day!

But given some perspective with age [one fourth a century is quite a bit!], and a salary which remains to peanuts by the 18th of the month, you realize how great a deal it is that your folks have done. To have tolerated you, being the obnoxious kid that you were, the son they were happy they never had, to never give them reason or courage to meet other fellow parents when the final year results were out-throughout school!, to have bought in to most of your whims and fancies - though my mom never bought me the denim skirt I was so crazy for throughout school, but finally buying the super expensive Levi’s corduroy jacket in 3rd year college, for putting them through hell when you were almost sure you will not be educated beyond high school since you couldn't clear any of the entrances, but then miracle happened - I think God took more pity on my parents than me, for making them re-enter hell, when you scrambled through real analysis and discrete math, for them willingly entering hell all over again on their own when you thought you were never get a job and be just a graduate they probably have to marry off.

Guess it worked out all right. I know one mustn’t complain. And I have learnt through ample long conversations over the phone, and being ignored in ways by people - that in retrospect I am thankful for, that its way more important to be grateful for what you have, than always simply aspire for more, and yet not be complacent about it.

And there is only one person I have to thank for this, to have made me realize in more ways than one, though I am not particularly happy about the current preaching... :)... I think my prof is a little off this time... but then again... my data structures lecturer finally figured that she was messing up the pointers '&' and '*' functionalities for 30 minutes in my C++ class in 3rd year on her OWN.. So I’m not giving up this time too :)

Life's good. I’m grateful and thankful about how it turned out. And I am going to be super nice to my folks this time I go home and call them every other day as my mother has directed, just so she knows I care.

I do care. Still.
I don’t give up that easy. I don’t want to.

DNA : This is how i look

2007-08-01T18:51:00.000+05:30

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Back to School

2007-06-21T11:43:00.000+05:30

So, every morning, I walk down from my house, to the main road to get a rick to get to work. And how long it takes me to get the rick .. is a question I will sideline for a while... and preferably take offline considering profanity is not a good practice on a public forum.

About 7 minutes from my house is "Florence Secondary School". It is well built, gray in color and has the hustle bustle that reminds of your days when a break meant running around, after and along a bunch of 3 feet people with no worries in life as opposed to just coffee and chit-chat which often still and sadly includes the WPF screens and UI designs. I like that talk as well, but for a change would like it if it were a little more varied :).

There it was .. on the road a row of kids all in their ironed uniforms, school bags on their back with the water bottle hanging on the shoulder, and an occasional one whose mother insisted that she pinned the kerchief to his shirt pocket. With one arm outstretched on the previous one's shoulder, they were oblivious to the traffic around them, the many adults running to get the rick with out the fast music to quicken their pace, [not all of us have the IPod shuffle you see], the hammering and yelling from the breaking down of the corner plot, the cling-clang from the make-shift open garage by the park, the hollering of the guy who wants to sell all his vegetable which I am sure only he is of the opinion that they are the freshest of the lot.

I couldn't help but slow down for a bit to see how calm and serene all of them were, to be doing exactly what they were told, all 15 of them in a straight line. Reminded me of Madeline somehow. And to top it all, I came to work today and found my school's website - with the photographs, and the annual days, and sports days.. all the places we'd sit, and the library where for some odd reason, even till the last day my teacher would holler " Poulomee and Mousomee".. refering to my friend and me - we used to be chatting all the time, is a girl thing i guess. The labs, 'The Temple of Understanding' - where we had our assembly everything. It just flashed by. Its been seven years since I left school. I know they were special days for each one of us and we all have our reasons, be it the playground, the yelling in the classroom, the teasing our profs in more ways than one, going ga-ga over the new crushes we would have every other day, or the one we have had for more than just a few years perhaps.. all good.

Suddenly i have lost my chain of thoughts.. but yes.. when you dont have much on your "To Do".. you kinda look back and realize that life's been real good all this while. If you didn't have the bad time, you probably wouldn't be the person you are and I think we all like who we are.. pretty well :)

Nothing as it Seems

2007-06-05T10:06:00.000+05:30

I'd like it if someone else told me otherwise, but as a personal opinion, I have always considered myself to be a not so great daughter. Faltering more than once, in more than one way, I thought I had learnt my lessons and had done a fair job of implementing them, at least in the past few weeks.

But since its a rule that the good things shall not last for long, the demise of the almost perfect time has come.

I have often wondered how well do I know my folks. Do I know them well enough to mime them? Do I know what their favorite color is? Do I know what kinda food they like best? What they detest eating? What they dislike most in people? What political party do they support? What is their favorite book or movie or song or actor or actress? How are they likely to react to a situation? What are their typical behavior or things they do.. tapping their feet...or saying something repeatedly while they talk.. some phrase.. some action.. something.. I had wondered.. and I still do.

What makes it worst still is the fact that I know these things about my other friends. From my school, from my MBA- which is only 2 years may I add. I know they do not like pickle if there is lime in it, that she has to wash her feet before she goes to bed, else she doesnt get sleep, that they have a habit of writing 'okie' instead of 'ok', that they will order the same 'Chicken Arabiatta pasta' every time they go to Pizza Hut, that they have a habit of shaking their wrist with their loose wrist watch, that they crack all their knuckles all at once... there are too many things to list down...

I know my dad likes green and Zeenat Amaan. Mom loves reading and traveling. But that I guess that holds for almost one-fifth the population.

What is worse, is when an outsider points it out to you that your action "shows how you treat your parents".

I took me forever to sleep last night. Though I am glad I was told, I would have liked to have explained myself. But I guess somethings are to be explained to yourself alone.

'Nothing changes, but very soon everything is different'

Afterglow

2007-03-03T04:59:00.000+05:30

The sabatical is over. I am back. Though I am not sure if I will be able to write anything at all. I thought I should write something, coz things are moving real fast. Though it might not seem so here on campus where the only happenin thing is probably the menu changing with each meal and day of the week. And that too, mind you is pre-determined. So if you are observant, you know exactly how bad a meal is goin to hit you today!

Its all come to an end. The MBA is done. Or so the certificate shall proclaim in a months time. We are heading back home as victorious soldiers, who have conquered their own battle against themselves - against their laziness to get up for a lecture in the mornin, against their natural instincts to not work until the 13th hour, against their respect for their taste buds and paid holy visits to the mess, against their in born knack of not cleanin up when there wasnt any space for even any dust to settle.

There are heavy bags and equally heavy hearts leaving with each bus. Some who get overwhelmed, some who are just glad to get out of this mad house and head back to everything they left behind, some who are running back to their companions. But still there are some left, who dont know what exactly to feel. Some who are still living in denial, who think it'll all be the same. Some who think they are not leaving behind anything at all, except the notes to be left by the dust bins. Some who think that they are still the same as they came, and will blend in just as well when they get back to what has now become unfamiliar terrain.

I think I have lost more than what I got here. I think I am leaving a bitter person.
I think I like my denial phase better. At least its pleasant. Is that better than feeling sad? Is it smarter to be happy than be realistic? Is there a smart move at all here?

Im sorry about b'lore.

But soon enough you're gonna think of me and how I used to be.

Répondez s'il vous plaît

2007-01-14T00:46:00.000+05:30

Insignificant event. Tempers soared. Yelled. About something else to someone else all-together. Realised. Guilt. Apologised. Not accepted.

Sick feeling in stomach is back.

Why is it that we screw up the one thing we want to work out the most??

"just read your blog…all your topics have an element of me or our discussion on the fone eh??? ;)"

kinda still holds .. now doesnt it.. ???

From the torn pages of memory....

2007-01-13T23:53:00.000+05:30

So, then I thought what the hell I might as well go home and have a blast. Either way there wasn’t much happening on campus, so it only made more sense. But the weirdest thing that happened was the simple overlooked fact. We are more often than not used to measuring time in 12 hours instead of the global 24 hours. That is the mistake even my father made. What was supposed to be a safe afternoon flight to get me home just in time for coffee, turned out to be a middle of the night adventure at 0300 hours. But yes, I will not complain for I was treated to a sumptuous meal at Burger King, and atop the bonnet ride of a Tata Sumo at 0125 hours. Was quite a blast. It’s odd how we often end up doing more things than those on our “To Do” list, and still crib no matter how much fun it has been. Perhaps just coz there isn’t anything to tick mark against since it never featured on our list, and the list is almost as new as it was when you were thirteen.

I am a Bengali, and my parents originally hail from West Bengal – mom from Calcutta; dad from suburban Calcutta – though they have been living in Delhi for the past 26 years. I’ve been visiting Calcutta every year since my childhood, except the last two year - thank you very much MBA. So this year I went to visit the one place which is family for all of us. I will not take you to the nitty-gritty of the special treatments, the lavish meals – Bengali food and sweets, family trips etc mostly coz it will not interest any.

I recently checked out Umesh’ Flickr and came across his grand mothers home at their native place, and it reminded me of my mom’s place in Calcutta. Unlike my cousins, I have been very attached to that house, simply coz I have lived there for almost a month every year, saving the two when I lived in Calcutta itself. I know the smallest details of the smallest nooks and corners. The stories of each and every place, of every room, of how my grand mom would be sitting in her patent chair and screaming at my mom for untidiness as she would be perpetually organizing and re-organizing her suitcases for our million and one mini trips to visit our gazillion relatives, how sweets would be kept in heavy bronze utensils under the stairs when my grand dad would return from the college – he was the principal, how my aunt used to look outside the window and scream every time she heard the slightest noise in fear of it being a thief, the rusted pipe the only time a thief actually ran down, the cupboard where final year exam sheets were kept by my grand dad, and how he gave my mom and aunts 10 paisa each for re-totaling the marks, how my grand mom stood and got the third floor of their house done- its all blue, including the floor. It’s beautiful. You can still see her footsteps on the floor, from when the cement must have been wet.

I don’t why, but yes I am very attached to that house. My grand mom passed away two years back and the house is going to be broken down. There is no one to look after it. No one to keep intact the thuds and bumps from when we slipped on the terrace running in the terrible Calcutta rains. Or the screams and yells from when we played hide and seek. Or the chorus voice in the pale, humid afternoons when the entire family sang away in glory in multiple unharmonious chords while chewing ‘pan’ after sumptuous meals on banana leaves. Or the voice of my grand mom serenading while she would run up and down the stairs, even when she was 76. Or the dancing tunes of the three daughters while they took turns to play Saira Banu and Dharmendra while listening to the radio. Or the .. I think I can go on and on.

The house has played witness to four generations and at least few hundred family members. I realized this when I saw my mom sit on the terrace and play some rather ancient game with tamarind seeds my brother found in some dusty shelf. It is all done and over. The past is gone. Time is up. New concrete. New iron. New memories. The past will soon fade away like the yellow-ed photographs that no longer can be restored, and die with my generation.
The house is almost a hundred years old. I won’t see it the next time I get to Calcutta. Whenever next time is.

Enjoy it while it lasts

2006-12-03T15:13:00.000+05:30

I have been listening to Dido lately. I know it’s a little too late for my age to start off with this music, but since I never got my hands on her music, I am quite honestly enjoying her husky voice and the soft melodious tone to most of her tracks.

I was studying, more appropriately simply reading up on [hold on, ALT + TAB] on Information Security Management Practices. There is a presentation t’row which I am trying very hard to make sense out of, but the 03:09 on my phone is neither a welcome nor an encouraging sign. You can well imagine my excitement about it, considering I am busy talking to perspective reading people in my head and typing to glory.

There is a bunch of stuff to write about. But I am wondering how much of it I am allowed to share out because of propriety issues. Any interaction, being an “inter”- action has in the least two associated parties. And hence, even though I am a part of it, it still gives the other a 50% right. Or is 100% each, in which case I can you all that is bothering me for a few days now. That has been on my mind.

Life was as rosy as rosy could be. I was glad to get outta bed, excited to be alive, and somehow overtly cheerful enough to not being sleep till 5 in the morning, no matter what. Each day went by without me realizing what day of the week it was, what I did the entire day, or the fact that life has its bad days, but I wasn’t having any. Any at all.

………

I deleted all that I wrote. I realize I am a coward in more than one way. Because I am scared to even write the reality, for it gives it form, language, meaning and makes it a fact that I am not ready to face. I never have been. Always in denial of everything that went wrong, that I didn’t care about anything, anyone. That I couldn’t care less even if everyone left me stranded on one leg in the middle of the road. That I do not need anyone. That I can be by myself. It’s the first time I have admitted this to anyone. To myself. Its been in the least ten years that I have had sense enough to think. And this is the first time this is being documented in whatever form. I still am not sure if this will get to be white scribblies on the black screen.

I am such a coward. I don’t even have the guts to read it back, to check for errors, to proof read it. I can do without another realization.

It sucks to be misunderstood. I miss Poulomee.

…..for it doesn’t last too long anyway….

For the smaller joys in life....

2006-11-23T17:15:00.000+05:30

Its a beautiful day. Its 17:25. Its a thursday. I think.. coz if you live where i live, and do what I do.. you will have no recollection of the day.. the time.. the month.. and the weather.. coz its that unpredictable.. Its november the last I checked my system clock.. but it just rained... and winters are nowhere close, so to even guess the month with the weather is a distant dream.

I am sitting in my library. You would be shocked if you knew me, coz thats the least frequented place by me. And the only reason I am here is coz my friends machine had been lying here.. he's got a bad headache situation.. I hope it gets better .. soon.. it really bothers him a lot.. I dont like it much...

But I'm loving my seat.. Its next to a window.. a big window.. the air is fresh, crisp, smells of wet earth... I can see the mountains.. the blue sky with glimpses of the sun, reflecting from behind the clouds.. and music.. talking to one my most favourite friends.. I refrain from using "best".. coz it reminds me of 7th grade school...that wasnt a good year...

I like times like these.. when I am happy for no reason.. when I smile by myself.. when I am happy for who I am.. for what I have.. for what I dont have and dont need... for the people I know.. for the people I have..
somethings could be different.. somethings could be better... but this is pretty darn great as well...

we often forget to be grateful for the smaller things in life.. a lot more often than often.. its kinda sad..

I love goin to bed with a smile on my face.. with a reason to wake up the next day morning..

I love being happy.. everyone does I know... but its a little rare thing for me.. prehaps someday you'll know why...

I have no idea why I wrote this.. its very unlike me...

Down Memory Lane

2006-11-05T14:20:00.000+05:30

I have been home now for exactly fourteen days. The past two weeks have been more than eventful. Eating out, more than once, movie, a puja at home, bike rides, shopping, also an unexpected treat by a not very close friend, and most importantly , an out of station trip to the deserts.
If you know me, even a little bit, all of this by far constitutes to quite an interesting, unexpected week at home. Went to Jaipur with another family, well actually, the parents of my closest friend. It was quite a trip and needless to say, the food was what kept me glued to the four square inch space I was allotted in the car.
All that apart, I did a major important task this trip. I cleared out my table, i.e. my study table for the past few years. Thankfully my mother never messes with my mess, or even my stuff, so the table was still as unkempt as I had left it a year back. And the only reason she got this work done outta me was because there was the puja I told you about before. [We are not a very religious family, so this was particularly a big deal for my mom and her religion illiterate family.] I have a habit of keeping, or shall I say collecting everything. Big or small. Relevant or insignificant. Important or trash. So it was quite a task to clear out everything, to throw everything out. It was unbelievable to see the things I had kept, and the reason I had kept them for. I could give you examples, but that would simply go on to strengthen the theory that I am insanely crazy, and would definitely not help my case, which I plead with lung power mostly. I threw out many things. Things which I had for more than five years, things I had not even gone back to since I last left them there. But there was this brass box I had which had a lock on it. And I could not remember where I had kept the key. The craziest thing was I knew which key it was, which key chain it had – a key chain my younger brother had got for me from his Nainital school trip in class IX, was a translucent red heart with a small teddy and a diamond shaped stone. But I couldn’t find it. I stayed up till 2 in the morning, looking for it, but it wasn’t a waste. And to my surprise, it was unbelievable the things it had. From platform tickets to barista bill. From telephone bills to movie tickets. From paper planes to boarding passes. From lyrics written on a paper cup to broken guitar strings. [Ironic- Alanis Morrisette]. It was all there. And there was a reason each of them were there. And I remembered them all when I saw them. Each and every reason. Each and every day. Each useless day spent at IIT- D Barista. Each depressed hour spent alone, leaving an imprint on the tissue with nothing but meaningless words. Each happy wonderful moment spent in close company. Each fun moment surrounded by people who cared so much about me. I can’t tell, or write anymore fondly, how much I miss it. Even more so knowing that it would never come back again.
Have you ever opened a folded piece of paper… folded for a very long time… and realized that when you try to fold it back … it more often than once takes more than one attempt to get to the perfect crease of the paper. Memories are just like that. The deeper the imprint, the difficult to let go. It’s perhaps best to let them be. To let them wear away in time. To throw away the junk. To not run after what is not even willing to wait for you to get there.
I wish I could go back to where I came from. I don’t think I belong here.

This is the end my lonely friend... The end

2006-10-11T17:59:00.000+05:30

The days are creeping past at a speed that I am put on hold for the next breath. There are a million things that are going through my mind, for there isn’t much to occupy the gray matter with. It is at times such as these that the brain doesn’t do much but observe. Observe what is being said, observe what is being done, observe what you are saying, observe what you are doing, observe what you are being a part of, and observe what you are being left out of.

I do not like an empty mind. I am terrified of mine. I engage in keeping myself occupied with whatever that perhaps does not even leave behind a consequentially insignificant trace in my life in six months time. And I can already see the toll it has taken on me. I am not sleeping well, especially since they are the odd hours of the day, my appetite has taken a step back, its like after school or college all over again - when you did not know what to do with your life, when you were clueless about so many things, when you wasted your lungs out each day, when you felt miserable about how life isn’t fair, how you end up way at the back o the line, no matter how early you came to stand in the queue.

It would be unfair of me to crib and cry out, when my life for a change has taken some direction, when finally things seem to be looking up, when I have perhaps reached the instant that we are always assured and re-assured by our loved ones in times of disappointment, the time when – “ Everything IS alright”.

I have nothing more to ask for. But alas, I do. Alas, I am only human. Alas, it will never be okay. Alas, it will never be.

I am just wondering where to point the finger at this one time, lemme know if you do know where…

PS: ‘All of our unhappiness comes from our inability to be alone’

"Just let me be"

2006-10-04T18:33:00.000+05:30

I dont have words to put forward what i want to. There is a lot that has happened, the good, the bad and the ugliest possible fear coming into reality. I am left with a loss that only i am aware of, that only i can fathom, that i alone have been left to deal with. How far should you go in a friendship? How much do you do for the others? How much do you trust? How much do you give up? How much do you give in? How much do you let go? How much do you go outta the way? And what if you did all of this willingly, knowingly, that there wasn't anything in return, that expectation would lead to nothing but disappointment and you never did. There is so much you would do for others, inspite of yourself, when you are not keeping accounts of who did what, how much, when it all comes naturally to you, when it just seems the obvious thing to do, when you have not paid as much attention, when you have not strategized to gain that attention, that confidence that no longer is yours to take.

And all this while i do not speak of a lover, of a companion, but just a friend, or perhaps an acquaintance. Because I believe in not expecting anything in return, because i never staked any claim, does that mean you are allowed to wash your hands clean, accept to be on the wrong side of the fence, get outta the situation, is noone ever answerable, is courtesy too much to ask for, does that also come under the heading of expectation? Don't some things become implicitly understood, or are you wrong in assuming all of those? I just have too many question,answers to which i dont.

Indifference is bliss. Attachment is a mistake. 'Friendship' is over-rated.

Its not my fault if people do not like me.

I think i will just "let it be".

A Saucerful of Secrets

2006-08-22T11:09:00.000+05:30

When was the last time, that we met someone, and wondered what they were really? probably somewhere between.. 12th grade and our graduation years...?
someone filled with intrigue, with such dynamism, that you wonder how is it they really function, how come they think so differently, or for that matter so weirdly alike as yourself...
We have all tried our best to not show.. to conceal.. to be in denial..
that there are people who do not give us as much importance.. and whose presence makes the moment more magnanimous, even by just that much...

No.. I have not fallen in love with someone, or have a crush on anyone either for that matter, simply coz, I don't do that..

But, everyone has their own bunch of secrets, their own share of the sky, which eludes from everyone, which escapes the naked eye.. which we often fail to observe, even as we ignorantly stare at it....

I have had a bunch of such people I have wondered about from time to time...

From a Rajput looking Islamic-named Che worshipper, who kept looking from over his glasses as he spoke about Chile and kept putting his long brown locks behind his ear in his khadi shirt on a hot Delhi summer afternoon
To a football freak with Sylvia Plath and Dimu Borgir throbbing in his skull at the same time, as he leafs through the pages of statistical physics,
To the Floyd fan who wrote the analogies that you'd never think of, the blatant of all truths and the symphonic of all poems, the sweetest of deaths at the end of each recital,
To the man who is happy all the time, no matter what, who ~~manages to~~ make's' the silver lining way thicker than the dark black gloomy cloud around it, ~~who I thought and think is lying to himself... And if not...~~ concentrating 'on the right thing at the right time' ..He's the best artist I know, and the epitome of optimism and positivity in life...
I'd be blessed if I could think parallely with him... Even if it might be a million miles away....

Perhaps it is this mystery which makes the world even more fun, which keeps the brains at the tip with the guess work...

We all have that one person, that we are wondering about.. all of us.
Don't admit it to me.. but you know exactly what I am talking about...

And boy, you are lucky if you don't, in a sad kinda way, you dont have the constant agony of wondering but you lose out on all the possibilities that imagination leads you to...its a constant thrill..

My 'unknown' acclaim

2006-08-21T11:29:00.000+05:30

Thanks to a friend, though I am mostly lost and minutely acquainted to 'Google Analytics', an incredible tool, wherein you know of your secret admirers.. who unknowingly leave their footsteps behind... I came across the source of 28.57% of my visitor, shikha.wordpress.com

so needless to say, I paid a visit to this once upon a time regular site of mine.. and was pleasantly taken aback by seeing this solitary mind's presence on the list...

what was even more flattering was the description..

"Souparna writes in from Bombay, on poetic expressions, in her solitary mind...."

I dont think I am poetic... but I have to admit.. she is the one who for the first time, in my entire life, mentioned poetic and my meanigless ramblings in the same sentence... and mind you without a negation.. :).. and I would be lying if were not to admit that a certain solitary mind temporarily residing in bombay was boasted with self-pride and re-read the post in context for a certain number of times.. just short to be memorized like the national anthem...

was a good day to be alive, sir

until next time...

2006-08-03T17:12:00.000+05:30

Goodbye, cruel world,
Im leaving you today.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

Goodbye all you people,
Theres nothing you can say,
To make me change my mind.
Goodbye.

If luck be on our side.. i will see you on the dark side of the moon...

an empty mind...

2006-07-31T12:19:00.000+05:30

i wrote and deleted. this has happened twice already. am not sure either whether this one shall see the black background of the not so known chaotic corner of my mind.

there is a lot going through my mind and its getting difficult by the second to keep them under control and to pen them down. when you are not doin anything of consequence, you become even more aware of what is goin around you.

The CIO is busy in a meeting in the glass room, that i hope to have one day.
His PA sitting behind me is busy on the phone talking to her daugther, "dolly" and telling her to finish up the writing she left for her to do.
There are bleeping noises once in a while, implying that the busy corporate people are free enough to speak to the one in the next cublice, but only on IM.
My project manger is on the phone, speaking to someone in Tokyo about the consequences of putting the rec on 'production' since the testing has not been done yet.
Bleep.
Three pretty ladies are off talking about the hectic married life on their way to lunch.
The weather is very fine outside, but we are all too busy in this air conditioned concrete box.
I havent had any work to do in the past two days. Only because others are too busy, to put it forward to me.
Bleep.
Vinay is busy typing something. He doesnt blog, so i am wondering what is keeping him busy.
Its 12:48. so lunch is close by. Another task on this not so hectic monday morning.
Its 4:20 in Tokyo.
The printer screeched again. Atleast someone has work, or maybe they are smart enough to print pages of 'Catcher in the Rye' to read.
John cancelled his one-on-one with my PM. She is very happy.

I think i will go get coffee.

When was the last time you were ecstatically happy? Just because it isnt right now, does it mean you are unhappy?

caught off guard...

2006-07-17T10:53:00.000+05:30

I have made a very strong mental note, as I type this. I am going to write to the point, precisely, and be as simple as I can. Because this is intended to be read by others, and understood as well.

I consider myself an average human being. No one too great, or full of too many qualities and virtues. No one likes to say nice things about you on your face. It’s a fact. We don’t do it. We appreciate them behind their back; speak of their virtues, their talents to others, and how proud we feel to even know them, to be in their company. But when it comes to us, sometimes, just sometimes, we think it would be nice if 'we' would be praised to our faces, just to boost our ego by that much. We don’t want to hear it, to [im tempted to use validate] 'confirm' their fondness for us, but it simply feels nice to be appreciated aloud by your loved ones. I often ask people to say the same about me. Though what they do not know, I think, is that I am not really looking forward to hearing anything, it just something I say, and never even expect a reply to.

But what do you do, when suddenly, they say the nicest thing about you at a time you were least expecting it? As overwhelmed as you are, do you simply say a thank you, and get it over and done with? Do you scram and use the biggest adjectives, without knowing what they mean? Because, it has miraculously happened to me a few times in the recent past, when unexpectedly I have been complimented and I run helter skelter fishing for words, that make the right sense, and tell them what I feel...

[I’m deviating from the resolution I made at the beginning, I think]

My old friends know exactly what they mean to me, 15 years is a long time. But its the new ones that are putting me into trouble. It’s difficult to put into the exact words, my fondness for them without sounding lame and fake.

I don’t know how to say thank you.

Thank you.

Our endless numbered days...

2006-07-13T12:26:00.000+05:30

With the first breath we take, there is but just one certainty... that there shall be a last one... that there shall be a day we will leave behind all that we have achieved, all that we have accomplished or everything that we failed to...

There is so much we aspire... Some realistic, getting a good job, some unrealistic... floating on the Dead Sea and reading your favorite book... but we know for sure that all said and done, there will be a day when you no longer want all those things... when you are tired, and have given in to your fate, lost the battle you fiercefully fought when you were 28, its not about pessimism, as many have pointed out, its about being realistic, does that mean you do not dream.. Aspire...and just give in at each and every hurdle... but i guess if we don’t work towards it... Then there is no point to it... Because there isnt a greater need than today... Now... We are what we are in this moment... Right this instant... i am an ear-phoned - broken back with guitar in my head... And you are the one behind black frames in what was a crisp shirt at 10 in the morning.... it'll go on... You and me... in our own ways... in our undying efforts to understand that one person who means the most to us... in our limitless ways to make proud the ones who gave us the privilege to go through the 60 numbered years of what shall be our sole trace in this gravitied existence...

...and it kills me to realize the possibly of not being in the san siro... And be a part of that hollering red and black Mexican wave...

i remain...

2006-07-11T11:03:00.000+05:30

the pressure has gotten to me... i am not able to write.. simply because it is no longer the blank back page of my notebook.. what was the escape route is now a journey i dread to take... for the expectation has risen.. from myself..when you write for yourself, you write without a care, without the concern for it to be a literary masterpiece. but the instant there is a third party mediation, the moment you start using the backspace, because it "doesnt sound right"...the vanity creeps in...

we think we are, in our own ways, very modest, not working for the accolades, but when it comes to "creativity", we want it to be liked, the moment there is an audience, the criteria changes, the hues and shades become brighter to self proclaim, to be appreciated...

i couldnt write for a while for this simple reason. for i refuse to be hyprocritical. i write for myself, and if i can not, if i am unable to detach myself from what i am writing, from why i am writing, and for whom i am writing, i shall not write. but i shall have the guts to acknowledge my vanity, to accept that i am only human, to agree that i am not as different as i would like to be.

that i am not 3 feet above gound... but perhaps six feet under....

E = mc2

2006-07-03T14:48:00.000+05:30

Its important to let some things go.... Specially if they have become a big deal in your head.... You get disappointed without even expecting.... Just coz it didn't work out like you imagined.... And there aint anyone to blame either... :)

Life is quite complicated at times... Its not fair....I'm not that smart...

PS: there aint a connection with the title.. i couldn't think of anything.. and this just struck me..

'Morning

2006-06-24T09:42:00.000+05:30

Aunt woke me up. Urgently. Had to find out the lowest prices and book tickets. For Delhi. Immediately. A lot was on the line. Needed to find out all available tickets from Mumbai to Delhi and back. So I did the mini ritualistic "research". Air Deccan. Spice Jet. Jet Airways. Go Air. Spice is the cheapest for the round trip of 26 Aug - 7 Sept. Rs. 7894 for 2 adults.

I have a splitting headache now. Which is usually the case if i am woken up suddenly with high decibels. The day of doin nothing and sleeping has begun at 8:30AM. The plan on the contrary was to sleep till 1, lunch, and continue with what I do not get to do through the week. Sleep. Again.

I do not have a capability of going back to sleep. I can not. I am up. But will give it shot. Waiting for my uncle to give me the credit card details so that this highly urgent deal can be finalized. And I can rest in peace or hopefully pick up where I left, and find out what exactly I was doing that was making me so eternally happy. I was dreaming, of course.

And the urgency did you ask? A bet betweent the two of my aunts,that Air Deccan has tickets being sold at Re. 1.

The rest as they say, is a "poor child" story, outside the tapri as an explanation for my swollen red eyes and the irritating temper.

Yes, I understand you are all busy today to meet me.

Ramblings I

2006-06-23T15:20:00.000+05:30

I am at work. By that I just mean that I am sitting in a corporate office space and having free coffee and paying nominally for my meal.

As any other usual day would go, my eyelids are heavy, involuntarily closing, leaving the distinct letters on the screen a blurred trail of black. I widen my eyes in a lame attempt to refrain from any typographical error. But not to worry, I do have a weapon.
“<--Backspace" and the "Delete", my sword and shield in my war to defend my sanity.
Sorry, for the delay, was cracking my knuckles. I know it’s a bad habit. But sometimes it’s the only entertainment you have so that you do not have moss growing on you because of stillness and lack of action.
It’s a Friday. Implying nothing more than two days of not waking up to an alarm and starting the day with profanity. A ritual I have given in to, and religiously follow, sharp at 0645 hrs.
In case you are looking for a topic of discussion here, you are going to be heavily disappointed, for there is none. It is just organized rambling. And is getting mighty big, on second thoughts.

Well...
I had a slight stomach ache in the morning. I have a nephew who is cute and four.
Connection: I was talking to a friend about him yday, and discussing this one rhyme he [my nephew] taught me, the last time I visited him. Aah yes, the stomach. He once sang this one rhyme to me, " stomach is hurting , stomach is hurting... see the doctor", which is sung in the same tune as "Clementine" if you don’t know, you need to get out of your offices and meet some interesting three year olds... they are rather interesting people. So here I was, staring at my VB interface, trying to understand "profound" piece of "syntactical art" on my screen, and singing this song in my head. For some reason, I was no longer feeling as sick. I went on to a certain Mr.G and found the original rhyme and enlightened another friend of mine, who I have to say, was not half as excited as me. He did not even sing it. Even in his head. But he does humor me all the time. I like him. He’s fun.

I get excited at the smallest of things. Happy, sad, or furious, at technically fictitious things. One-sided conversations in my head. They either make my day, or make me ruin another one's. Which is why I started this. To write them down. To tell the right people that if im rude to you, it not really coz you i don’t like. I will always mean well. Always. And I do not take you for granted. And you will know that I am talking to you, when you read this.

I’m told I’m weird. I think they are right.
I don’t mind.

PS: Im not good at telling the right people what they mean to me. Please take the hints.

Selfless love is redundant

2006-06-22T10:31:00.000+05:30

What’s the first things that comes to your mind when you find out that someone you know... or lets makes it a little unbearable for us to handle... very close has passed away.
What’s the first thought that we stumble upon. Sadness. The levels of which are directly dependent on how close we were to them. More often than not, the next thought after we recuperate from that sudden shock is "How will I live without him/her?” our major pain and agony lies in the fact that we cannot think of a life without them. They were integral parts of our lives, and a life without them is unthinkable. And there is still no question on our sincerity of love we have for them.

But, after how many such questions, do we come to the part that says...”he loved life and he died"... " there was so much he wanted to accomplish"..."he never will 'be' from now on".. "The end"

Given how much we love these people, its pure selfish that the sole selfless thoughts about them come to our mind a lot later than any kind of pure love would ideally imply. As humans, we are expected to be selfish and anyone who says otherwise, I think needs to be a little more honest with himself than he is with the rest of the world. The plain idea of 'self-less' love I think is non-existent. We love because we want to. Because their presence makes us happy. Because ultimately it’s our happiness that we solely identify with more than anyone else's.

So the next time you see an act of "selfless" love, think about it... every time we do something to make our loved one happy, we are not just doing it for their happiness... it is because it makes "US" happy to see them happy... because "WE" feel better about ourselves... that "WE" did something good....

Selfless love is non-existent. The entire human race is built to be selfish. At the end of the day, whatever we do... self-lessly or selfishly... it’s only because it boosts our self esteem in some ego-maniacal way. And I’m not complaining.

DISCLAIMER: There was no intention of questioning anyone's undying love for another. I’m sure we all love. Deeply. Sincerely. This is just a passing thought and was not intended to hurt anyone's feeling in any way.

I love because I want to see them happy. Because their happiness means a lot to ME. Because nothing makes ME happier than seeing them smile and exclaim when i have gifted unexpectedly, something i know they are crazy about.

I am selfish.

I am what I am

2006-06-19T14:45:00.000+05:30

I read through another friend's blog. It was a colored print of mine. Happy. NICE. Pleasant. Left a smile on your face, even though you just barely knew the characters. I was quite inspired by that for a while. Hated mine. Dark. Gory. And most of all didn't make anyone happy. Not that I by any means, take it upon myself as my duty. But I never got the chance. Not because happy things didn't happen to me, but because they didn't really leave a grave enough impact on me. I realized both Umesh and I have different reasons for writing. He probably writes to share them with his family and friends and the lone reader who wanders on and off. Probably to relive the moments, the excitement, the joy, or maybe at some odd curb, the pain and agony that it brought along and left somewhat an impact.

I on the other hand, write when I don't want to or can not share things with others. When i have too much on my mind. And if I talk, its plain blabber. Things I can't rationalize. Situations and incidents which make no sense to me, and I do not wish to thrust upon anyone, giving everyone the voluntary decision of reading and wondering what the white characters on the black screen mean. I write because I need it outside my system. And if you talk it out, even by yourself, your sanity refuses to let go of the one on one conversation in your mind with yourself. More analysis. More discussion. And even harder to get out of. This way it is a full stop. No discussion. Only information.

And Umesh, I still stop by your blog to smile once in a while. Nice shirt. Honest.

Un-named

2006-06-07T19:45:00.000+05:30

thought it was a blog-less day,
implying nothing more than a clear mind, and a happier being..
but here i am .. at the shores of unsettledness again...
and the words make not much sense..
leaving my being a little less than justified...

where to ....

2006-06-06T18:18:00.000+05:30

..the day ends..

but the dreadful new day stares back at you ..stark naked...

...the song remains the same..

2006-06-06T16:12:00.000+05:30

dont expect.. for you shall be disappointed..
dont be in denial ...for you shall be weaker still...

"Dont ever tell anybody anything. if you do you start missing everybody"

giving in to who you don't think I am ...

2006-06-05T16:28:00.000+05:30

what do you do when you realize that all that you know.. and all that u believe.. is a frame of sanity far away from reality.. do you give it up.. or do you mould yourself into being who you are not.. just so the world makes more sense to others... with a spinning world around me and a light breezy air within my head...

I remain...

...and I shall leave behind a world untouched by my presence and far superior in my absence...

And it continues post lunch...

2006-06-05T14:05:00.000+05:30

with another two thousand and four hundred minutes between me and my freedom... I stare at the screen for a sudden strike of excellence.. and the consequent sanity on the black page... in hope we live .. in darkness we wonder if the sanity shall ever be granted.. and if this day will have a beaming traffic-free way back home....

always cried for the limited time... and still stared at the watch.. waiting for it to pass us by...

i remain.. ironically wondering...

just another manic monday

2006-06-05T12:18:00.000+05:30

my watch no longer shows the date... but I can tell you for sure it is the monday after the sunday we [Meg n me] got totally tired of chocolates...

if you have stumbled upon this by mistake and are not enjoying the not-so refined english.. I suggest Alt-F4..
if you know me and are either a friend or acquaintance, read along for just another minute out of sheer formality and an assumed love for this humble being...
and if you do not belong to either of the previous two categories and are still on the page... pray read along, for like me, even you do not seem to have too much of a purpose in life...

out of habit.. a pencil.. And the last page of my notebook....thought of the concept.. the realization.. and hence the initiation...

we think what we are not.. we do not think what we are...and we are what we do not even comprehend...

and suddenly.. there is no more to say ... no more to write..

until the next momentary lapse of reason...
I remain.