Salad Days

Bye

2009-09-18T20:30:00.000+05:30

I am surrounded by various animals of different ferocity. They attack me all the time. I hate them. I can't even eat them.

I have lost my watch. I love it. Make: metallic, white-square dial, Aspen. If you find it, please return it to me.

This is my last post here. Bye.

Dev.D

2009-09-10T18:29:00.002+05:30

So I've guest blogged at ultraviolet (thankyouthankyou). It was a few days back. I'm linking it here only now because I discovered it has attracted sharp comments - some happy and others not-so-happy. Go add to the potpourri! Please do. :)

In other news, Ellen Degeneres is now going to be a judge at American Idol. I do not watch American Idol but I think Ellen is fantastic at things she does.

And I just love the way म and तीव्र म playfully compete in Kedaar. It is beautiful.

Thank you note

2009-09-08T14:41:00.006+05:30

To Photoshop

It reverses time; takes away my age, the things I fear/ makes my wrinkles and dark eye-bags disappear/ and I look young, like photographs from yesteryear/ when I swore by bell bottoms and braided my hair

I'm Halal

2009-09-06T18:12:00.002+05:30

You thought google was great? Go check out the new hot search engine I'm Halal. It is Halal, apparently. Here's what it said to my search queries -

pork vindaloo - Oops! Your search inquiry has a Haram level of 1 out of 3. This means that the results fetched by ImHalal.com could be haram!

lingerie - Oops! Your search inquiry has a Haram level of 2 out of 3. This means that the results fetched by ImHalal.com could be haram!

lesbian - Oops! Your search inquiry has a Haram level of 3 out of 3! I would like to advise you to change your search terms and try again.

Wow! The site claims its ambition to become the search engine for all Muslims to carry on their online activities responsibly. It is so in your face. Like Nagarbhavi.

Censorship in Nagarbhavi has never come as a surprise. In their capacity analogous to parens patriae, the authorities authoritatively authorize ban of authors of books and blogs and websites which are "inappropriate". Dans Guardian, to which they have delegated the authority, with its yellow warning signs carries the message "You are seeing this error because what you attempted to access appears to contain, or is labeled as containing, material that has been deemed inappropriate." We've seen the website which claims "The default settings are geared towards what a primary school...", which is just what has been applied for Nagarbhavi denizens.

Whew! I'm just glad for skype.

IP gets spicy

2009-09-05T02:42:00.004+05:30

Amitabh Bachchan and many others have been taken off my blogroll. AB was PMSing way too much and I refuse to follow his K-serial-life any more. New blogroll coming up soon.

By the way, Tatas have sued a travel portal "oktatabyebye" for infringement of their trade name! Reminds me so much of Sarkozy. A comic take on it goes this way -

Fly You Fools - Indian Comics about Life.

I am

2009-08-18T03:46:00.002+05:30

thankful, that I am almost there without any major screw up
and
very very angry at attention-seeking, selfish, spoilt, rich kids who can't think beyond themselves and take the world for granted.

2009-08-15T19:27:00.002+05:30

I met this really pretty post as I was surfing the net to see how to write a book review, and I smiled. :)

Small towns and glam and glitz

2009-08-01T17:05:00.005+05:30

Remember Dominique Lapierre? The pop history guy? Have you read his Five Past Midnight in Bhopal? Published in 2001, it is a well written pop version of the MIC leak. It is tragic and disturbing - but pop. As an aside, I happen to know most of the Bhopal-list he thanks in his acknowledgement... my dad's gall-bladder-removing surgeon, my parents' friend with a funny last name, our family bones-doc, my old-best-friend's grandpa, etcetera etcetera you get the picture. Ah... the joys of growing up in a small town.

How intimidating it can be though, once you come to lawschool from a small town was brought back to me as I spoke to a first year yesterday, who, like most of her batch, hails from a small town and who like most of them was seriously doubting her self worth. Which brings me to how I love fifth year - inter alia one has many free days, one walks about with an air of a stray mongrel in the premises and one is not intimidated irrespective of small town upbringing.

On another note, someone told me that I am having an affair with my computer. Glad as I was to be rumoured to have an affair with someone, I genuinely thought how all of us here are in serious, almost marital relationships with our computers. Law school does a fair job of matchmaking for incoming first years to enter into this sacred alliance. IBM (now repackaged as Lenovo), HP, Dell, Toshiba and many more participate in the mass-swayamvar and amidst congratulations, vows are exchanged, till-death-do-them-part... and it does. My comp is about to die. I have spent many a thousand at a time on its previous health problems. At one level, I want it to die and get a glam and glitzy cool new one. At another level, I want it to last till this year ends and make a fresh start post-law-school with a glam and glitzy cool one. Basically, I am a sucker for glam and glitzy cool. B)

Crowfacts

2009-07-26T03:08:00.006+05:30

I know that cocks crow. I remember someone telling me that the call of a crow is a cock. So cocks crow and crows cock. However, I've always thought crows caw.

Importantly for now : It is 0310. Why is the crow cawing?

Okay crowjoke now : Where does the crow keep its money? In the escrow account. :-)

I am laughing in my head remembering how a professor had a "Freudian slip" of tongue (in her own words) and called Steinem's funny essay "If men could masturbate" instead of "If men could menstruate". I also wonder how she had a Freudian slip in a feminism class ... but whatever. It was funny. I am lauging more than in just my head now.

SOS

2009-06-24T04:59:00.003+05:30

For the millionth time that I have realised that I am the laziest person I've ever known. I am an impossible sloth. It is a pain to realise when I look back from the wrong side of 21 that I have never operated at my 100% for things that matter. I am serious. Really.

I have never been able to become the person who I've always wanted to be - and a most of that has to do with my laziness. Aspirations change as we age, but the fundamentals of everything I've ever seen in 'ideal-me' have been the same for a long time in my short life. And I'm just not that person who I've wanted to be because I'm lazy. I feel pathetic right now. My ambition-paradigm looks fairly simple, even to me - there's a to-do list, there's a certain, predictable and fairly reasonable course of action to reach the finish line - follow the steps, and you're through. But I've just never gone out there and given it my 100%, never followed the procedure and become the person who I've wanted to be.

It is not that I don't care enough. I am and have always been desperate to be 'ideal-me'. I know what I want. I know how to get it. I have all the resources of all kinds at my disposal. It is not confusion, lack of vision, will or resources. My effort, in most cases, is the only factor that has not contributed in the simple plan. I need help. Psychiatric help. I need help.

Sr. Francine

2009-06-09T11:27:00.005+05:30

You gave much love and cheer, caused many smiles and hopes to bloom. You gave your life to the cause you believed in, and trust me, you were very good at it. I remember you taking my KG interview, I remember you running around to save lives of innocent children at the time of the Babri riots in 1992, I remember you blessing me at the investiture in 2004 and I remember countless lovely encounters with you. Wherever you are, you will be loved. May peace be with you. You will be missed, Sr. Francine.

गणपति बप्पा मोरिया!!!

2009-05-31T17:28:00.009+05:30

29th May. Amidst slogans of praise for the New Presidential Gods - the Ganapati and the Gunda, these immortal lines of Neeraj came to mind:

नींद भी खुली न थी कि हाय धूप ढल गई

पाँव जब तलक उठे कि ज़िन्दगी फिसल गयी

पात पात झर गए कि शाख़ शाख़ जल गई

चाह तो निकल सकी न पर उमर निकल गई

गीत अश्क बन गए, छंद हो दफ़न गए

साथ के सभी दिए धुँआ पहन पहन गए

और हम झुके झुके मोड़ पर रुके रुके

उम्र के चढ़ाव का उतार देखते रहे

कारवाँ गुज़र गया गुबार देखते रहे।

-----------------------------------

हाथ थे मिले कि जुल्फ चाँद कि संवार दूँ

होठ थे खुले कि हर बहार को पुकार दूँ

दर्द था दिया गया कि हर दुखी को प्यार दूँ

और साँस यूँ कि स्वर्ग भूमि पर उतार दूँ

हो सका न कुछ मगर, शाम बन गई सहर

बह उठी लहर कि ढह गए किले बिखर बिखर

और हम डरे डरे, नीर नयन में भरे

ओढ़ कर कफ़न पड़े मजार देखते रहे

कारवाँ गुज़र गया गुबार देखते रहे।

-----------------------------------

Shame!

2009-05-29T01:20:00.004+05:30

On this blog, I've never ever discussed student politics of law school. But there's always a first; I've had it now! The situation in law school is getting scarier by the hour. The presidential contest this time has witnessed more insanity and lack of ethics than ever before. The hopefuls had speeches this afternoon (28th) and the voting is scheduled for 29th. The comments on write-ups of mandates put up by the candidates on the notice boards seem to be more than ever before, and nastier than ever before. All limits were crossed today as I saw THE worst ever, most repulsive comment I have read on a public notice in four long years at the law school.

It was made on the mandate of a candidate, let's call him XYZ. It was anonymous, scribbled all over the mandate's first page, and accused a candidate of untouchability and offences under section 377. Apart from these, the writer, anonymously, also questioned candidate XYZ if he would organise GBMs every time there is an "accident outside law school" precincts.

It might be of interest to note, of course, completely separate from the above-mentioned incident, that certain students had been involved in a road accident a few months back allegedly because of driving under influence of inebriating substances. A person was injured and what happened to him is unknown even now. (Candidate) XYZ had then put up a notice criticising the acts of those students. Some say that there are no prizes for guessing as to where today's comment on XYZ's mandate has come from even though the writer did not have the balls to acknowledge his identity!

It is unnecessary to mention how the conscience levels of the writer (and cronies involved in the accident) and the candidate/s who are asking them to plant these comments have sub-zero conscience and integrity levels. They don't have the balls to even write their names. Observant members of the SBA hint at the involvement of certain "people in power", which is as downright unethical as it gets. Such comments are not just unethical and uncalled for, they are also totally unacceptable, deplorable, repulsive and disgusting. They are just not on. Period.

Andre Beteille in Lawschool

2009-05-25T19:22:00.003+05:30

Today, Andre Beteille came to law school to give a talk. For the uninitiated, he is one of the most renowned sociologists/ anthropologists in India of this age. This post is not going to be about what Beteille talked about; largely because I was entirely unimpressed by his lecture. I found his talk too plain, uncorroborated, bereft of any theoritical underpinnings that one would generally expect an academic of his stature to enrich his audience with. This is not to take away from his brilliance, scholarship and even greatness, which is displayed through his works constantly. However, today, it wasn't to be that way. The vote of thanks proposed to him appreciated his putting across complex arguments in a simple way. I didn't think it was only simple; it was just too simplistic. To those who defended him saying he pitched it at a lower level, I think it was bad judgement to pitch it that low. The least one could expect him to do was to introduce the student-heavy audience to think from critical angles which they ordinarily wouldn't think of, provide them with some analytical frameworks which are new and exciting to them. As a friend put it - "... it was more like his newspaper articles than his books." Personally, I wouldn't even give that to him.

I wonder why this was the case. Did he think that the students here would not be a discerning academic, thinking audience? I wonder if he would be wrong to assume that, though on a gut feeling, I do think it is a wrong assumption. Was he too general and broad because the topic that he was given was "Inclusive Society", which, without having defined a scope, is too broad to have a meaningful academic discussion on? Another thing I was wondering upon was how shabbily law school treats its visitors. They tried to make an exception for this talk. A full house had (finally) been collected by making attendance compulsory for first year students. Is this really good treatment? Chairs with soft cushioned seats and cheap, shiny, new glasses were arranged for. That was cute!

The one thing that I must mention here is how charming Beteille was. He had the old English accent, spoke freely and connected with his audience and had the oh-so-charming British sophistication interspersed with gestures typical to Indians, which made him seem warm and comforting. He was pleasant and smiled a lot, a feature I don't see very often in people who come to law school to lecture us.

And obviously, I've been thinking about the big question - when would students themselves come for talks like these, without being coerced into them? It is not a "pseudo" factor that plays a role here. Even Soli Sorabjee, a man not "pseudo" by any stretch of imagination does not draw a crowd unless his lecture is during class hours and attendance is compulsory! Even PPTs by the likes of AMSS, Linklaters, AZB, which are as hard core as it gets do not attract a respectable audience in terms of number. Obviously, we are putting ourselves in for a very negative cumulative effect. Also, not only are we just too smug for words, we are also impolite, unwelcoming and basically, screwed in the head as a student community.

It's a disgrace

2009-05-07T20:03:00.001+05:30

Chelsea lost The semifinal. To Barca. Life is unfair. ***k Tom Henning Ovrebo!

As Drogba put it, "It's a disgrace. It's a fucking disgrace!"

My kinetic

2009-04-15T16:33:00.004+05:30

It became my love the very instant I was handed the keys. After much deliberation, the idea that a 13 year old could handle her own gearless two wheeler in the placid, uncrowded, smooth, wide roads of new Bhopal was agreed upon. Without much deliberation, the idea that a 13 year old could handle Honda's newest release Activa was rubbished and dismissed. My parents agreed on DX. Kinetic Honda DX. 98cc. Gearless. September 2001. Eventually, the placid new Bhopal crowded up and the Kinetic ventured into the bustling, charming, crooked, crowded and potholed streets of old Bhopal too.

Did I mention it became my love the very instant I was handed the keys? It still is. Those who have not driven their own first vehicle cannot know this feeling. It is a feeling like loving your football club. Loss in a game; you love it. You know it isn't the best and can never be; you love it. You see it slip season by season; you still love it. That's how it is.

After I came to Bangalore, it fell into disuse. Cousins and shady help-seekers were sometimes allowed to drive it. As that became frequent, it was abused. That stopped. Disuse, yet again. Then, a couple of weeks back, I decided to get it here. Packing, sealing and a 24 hour train ride later, here it was - on the side stand, gleaming in the sun, metallic grey shining away in contrast to the dull blue of the train coach. I donned my helmet. And then, even as I drove down absolutely unknown roads from Yashwantpur Railway Station back to the (still) absolutely unknown lawschool, I felt in a way, I was home.

Also, since I am here, I'll rant. It has been more than five months since I've written here. Hmmm. Sad. Sometimes friends do leave us like that for five months. It has happened to me, it can happen to this blog. Its okay. We move on. I am waiting for my sub to come. I love the concept of subs. The bread must be good, though. It can't be stale, hard, toasted too much or too little (if toasted at all). I should have been in town. I am not. Instead I am sitting in front of a four year old computer and a fat bunch of photocopied notes. I am not happy. I have an exam tomorrow which is scheduled at 2 pm (my sleeptime) after 4 hours of classes (which get over at 1:30 pm). I am not prepared. I am not happy, yet again.

Flooded with dark...

2008-11-04T01:31:00.010+05:30

Past the Cat in deep thought in the lane
Past the foul reek from the halls of shame.
Across the Corner Creep who bears the blame
In nakedness stark,

Flooded with dark.

Away from success-peaks, soul-selling games
Away from Death-sleeps and bright crimson stains.
Running from debt-leaks amid sophistication and fame
Erasing my mark,

Flooded with dark.

I run in endless streets without a name
I run through arrays of fleets bursting in flames.
Watching the Moon who weeps in enchanting rains
Walking the carpark,

Flooded with dark.

At the night's turn, as my insides burn, I stop to learn.
I really am curious,
Why so serious?

PS - The title of this poem is actually Flooded with dark...humour. If you've ever been up all night doing some random work which you hate but has to be done, you'd understand. ;P

Ok go sleep now. You're flooded with dark!!

Palin Post

2008-11-02T13:42:00.006+05:30

This is the first US election that I'm following with keen interest. One of the many reasons, and not the most trivial one might I add, is the daily laugh provided by the coverage of Governor Palin. She's been made out quite a cartoon in the media (no prizes for guessing who's to blame!) and I am really thankful to her and the media for all the entertainment. :D I was checking my mail on yahoo when I came across one of the funniest things I have read this week. Genuinely funny. Go check it out.

Update - Here's the audio. Very very funny - http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/us_elections_2008/7704673.stm

Excerpts:

TORONTO – Sarah Palin unwittingly took a prank call Saturday from a Canadian comedian posing as French President Nicolas Sarkozy and telling her she would make a good president someday. "Maybe in eight years," replies a laughing Palin.
"I just love killing those animals. Mmm, mmm, take away life, that is so fun," the fake Sarkozy says. He proposes they go hunting together by helicopter, something he says he has never done. "Well, I think we could have a lot of fun together while we're getting work done," Palin counters. "We can kill two birds with one stone that way."
Playing off the governor's much-mocked comment in an early television interview that she had insights into foreign policy because "you can actually see Russia from land here in Alaska," the caller tells her: "You know we have a lot in common also, because ... from my house I can see Belgium." She replies: "Well, see, we're right next door to different countries that we all need to be working with, yes."
When Audette refers to Canadian singer Steph Carse as Canada's prime minister, Palin replies: "Well, he's doing fine and yeah, when you come into a position underestimated it gives you an opportunity to prove the pundits and the critics wrong. You work that much harder." Canada's prime minister is Stephen Harper.
Palin praises Sarkozy throughout the call and also mentions his wife Carla Bruni, a model-turned-songwriter. "You know, I look forward to working with you and getting to meet you personally and your beautiful wife," Palin says. "Oh my goodness, you've added a lot of energy to your country with that beautiful family of yours."
The Sarkozy impersonator tells Palin his wife is "so hot in bed" and then informs her that Bruni has written a song for her about Joe the Plumber entitled "Du rouge a levres sur une cochonne" — which translates as "Lipstick on a Pig." [she has still not caught the prank!!!]
He also tells the Alaska governor that he loved the "documentary" made about her and referred to a pornographic film with a Palin look-alike made by Hustler founder Larry Flynt. She answers tentatively, "Ohh, good, thank you, yes."

Random

2008-10-30T00:01:00.009+05:30

Weird things happen. This French company released Sarkozy voodoo doll a while back. The doll has a range of funny statements he has made which you can stick pins on. So basically you can poke needles into Sarkozy-doll. Sarkozy didn't like this and sued the company saying he has exclusive and absolute rights over his image! What the f**k! Anyway, his law-suit was dismissed since the doll was within the authorised limits of free expression and the "right to humour"! These French! Did you know that this is Sarkozy's sixth legal action since he assumed office? Even I didn't know. But I saw on BBC ... haah! I read somewhere or someone told me that some guy has filed a suit against Columbia University alleging discrimination against men because the uni offers courses in women studies and not men studies. WTF dude, get a life.

Anyway, Gambhir made 149 today and I'll pray for him with all my heart before I go to sleep. God would certainly think of me as selfish since I am not really regular at prayers... but at least I'm not praying to make a double century myself. I am praying for Gambhir which is not that selfish after all. I was wondering why Olympics, Asian Games, Commonwealth Games, Afro-Asian games do not include cricket. How much more money it would mean for them...

I've been listening to music; some with really beautiful lyrics -

Baawara Mann from Hazaaron Khwahishein Aisi

Jaage Hain Der Tak from Guru

Let it be, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds The Beatles

The Humpty Dumpty Love song Travis

Anyone for tennis Cream

Song sung blue Neil Diamond

Stuck in the middle with you Bob Dylan

Fix you Coldplay

Don't look back in anger Oasis

Drops of Jupiter Train

Have you heard the cover of Mera naam Chinchin Choo from Bollywood Hollywood done by Usha Uthup? Go hear. It is fun.

iPod Nano

2008-10-26T20:10:00.005+05:30

So finally, after a really long time of it being on the wish list, it has been bought. The iPod Nano. My own. Wow! Till now, the universe was conspiring against me and despite several attempts, I could not buy one. Today it was simple - blues, whim, phonecall, bus, train, walk - bought!

The Epidemic of Rape

2008-10-24T11:36:00.004+05:30

In a political science class, there was a provocative video shown upon the Gujarat riots. I am not sure how unbiased it was and how true a picture it presented. However, there was a scene in which a rape scene was being described rather frankly by a person involved in the atrocities that happened in Gujarat - telling how exactly women were being raped. It caused much mirth among some sectors of the audience of 18 year old students apparently due to the sexual connotations in the language used by the narrator. Excuse me! What other connotation except sexual can there be? Forgot about brutal, carnal etc.?

Here are selected excerpts from an article about the situation of the conflict ridden Congo. I can't even get myself to say what I feel - I was just so shaken when I read this.

In Kaniola, they have coined a new term: reviolé.
Re-raped.
At the Catholic parish office, on the cramped and crowded ledger pages where they list rape victims, at least half the names appear more than once: women who have been victims of sexual enslavement or public gang rape by rebel groups or the Congolese army; women, 30 in an average month, who have come to the parish to get help reaching a hospital to repair their injuries; women who have been healed, come home and a year or two or three later, been gang-raped again, during another small surge of the conflict.
The youngest victim on the list is 6. The oldest is 74.

N.B. - There have been other reports which say that 17 month old infants have been raped.

...

“On a Friday in September, 2007, I heard a knocking on the door in the night and a voice told us to open and when we did, they caught me,” said Esperance, who was a 19-year-old student at teacher's college when she was abducted. She did not give her surname. “One tied me to him with a length of cloth so I could not run. They took all our cows, and they took me.” She was held by the militia for eight months, until she was heavily pregnant and they were paying her less attention and she found a chance to slip away and run for home.

...

Esperance is staying put in Kaniola, for now; she lives with her infant daughter, born weeks after she escaped the rebels, and her mother. Her father was killed by rebels years before, and after the night last year that her home was looted, the two women and baby girl have no money to go anywhere else.
“I'm really afraid because the interahamwe are still in the bush,” she said. “And if they come back, they may take me again.”

...

Soul searching? Is there anything left to search?

Blogger Bachchan

2008-10-24T02:49:00.003+05:30

This is from Amitabh Bachchan's blog! I visited it for the first time, and trust me, it is a phenomenon! He will soon be on my blogroll. :)

The Vow of Silence Unsilenced!

2008-10-20T11:31:00.002+05:30

Yaay! I posted on my other blog. Please go read. I see more posts coming there soon!!
Separately, I was wondering what my blog would think of this post... Would she feel jealous and betrayed that I haven't posted on her in so long just because of the other blog and now, I am pimping the other blog here? Anyway, it makes me feel all intellectual. Not this question, silly! The post on the other blog! I dare not call it blawg. That's not what it is meant to be.

Promise

2008-09-15T21:50:00.007+05:30

This is my blog's 50th post. Thank you.

Just like birthdays, this fails to add any excitement to my life. However, I am making a promise - I shall not post on this blog until I post on The Thought Factory. Poor thing. I am glad I made this promise. As Bjorn Borg would say, good girl.

Oh also, Happy Birthday, Wild Strawberry! I know what you're saying but by Singapore time, it is. I hope your birthday brings some excitement in your life. :)

2008-09-14T11:04:00.005+05:30

Now I have made my choice
And you are not a part of it
Your unrelenting hurtful voice
and words; they don’t really fit.
(c) AS

This was tough to say. I've been used to you for all this while - I've been used to all of you, every part of your being all this while.

More Conversations with the IA

2008-09-11T02:30:00.003+05:30

IA - Hey... (looking constipated, still...) so whadd-yud-dow-in-nere ... Aye-Dee-Ta?
Me – (smile) Hey! Not ta, ti.
IA - Okay... Aye-dee-tee?
Me - A-di-ti
IA – Ahh okay... Aye-dee-tee!
Me - (???)
X - Oh I'm going to Ein-dee-yah in the mid-sem break. I know all about it. I read up all day yesterday. But tell me something, do you guys speak Indian all the time?
Me - (???)

Conversations with the inscrutable American

2008-09-10T21:41:00.008+05:30

Small talk going on as I wait for class to start... Excerpt
...
IA – Ein-dee-yah?
Me - Yeah.
IA - But your English is good!
Me – (???) Thanks. So is yours.
IA - (gawks and looks constipated)
Tries to make more polite conversation. Truly Inscrutable.
Truly American.

I'm likely to have a crush on you if...

2008-09-09T14:41:00.015+05:30

1. You're male and heterosexual, and
2. You write well, and
3. You're either Bong or Tam, and
4. There are atleast two vowels in your first name, and
5. You're either taken (maybe even married with children) or you're not interested in a relationship.
If you're all of the above, you have a better chance if you're left-of-centre or/and crazy about some sport or/and wear specs or/and are balding.

The above analysis is based on data of my previous 4 years of crushes in law school. Ofcourse I believe love is blind and all that. And more importantly, dumb.

The Battle of Algiers

2008-09-08T11:16:00.003+05:30

As I watched The Battle of Algiers just too many layers of thoughts ran through my head. As it is, I am a puppy when it comes to getting really emotional while watching movies. This movie, however, went beyond. It caused a lot of stimulation in many layers of my thought process – left me, to use the Seth cliché, shaken, not just stirred. It forced me to think – the kind of thoughts I don’t think very often – which is why I liked it so much.
I wonder whether they screened it at the Pentagon because they wanted to earn some sympathy by suggesting that "torture works" or siphoning off the balanced sympathy that the director is able to generate the I-am-a-good-soldier-that's-my-job image... I wonder if they gave enough thought to the fact that the director was a communist Italian :) I had a lot more to write here... thoughts are just overflowing but it has to wait.

Dedicated to Pammi aka Kakkar, Puttar, KK and many other things

2008-09-07T22:39:00.006+05:30

As soon as I saw this on xkcd (thanks to them for the picture), I thought of KK... just so her thing! And as if this is not enough, she has actually done it as well! Here's to KK!

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

2008-09-06T21:26:00.004+05:30

http://community.livejournal.com/m15m/2237.html

This is supremely funny. GO. Read it. NOW.
(Best enjoyed if you've watched the movie)

the magic sauce OR the elite-rich-brat-coloured things

2008-09-02T09:36:00.004+05:30

I’ve always loved supermarket shopping. Here, in Singapore, it was different of course. I was buying essential commodities like food to cook on my own and things essential for my room and existence. It was such a liberating experience. How terrible my words sound here, painted in the elite-rich-brat colour. That’s an aside though.

As I was saying, I love supermarket shopping and this time, I bought some penne – wholewheat, organic (okay, this is too much even for me!). And, I discovered The Magic Sauce. Boil the wholewheat-organic-penne-pasta (!) and add to heated Magic Sauce. Add salt. Mix well and the mouth-watering pasta is ready. Alternatively, beat some Magic Sauce with your omlette eggs and give a whole new texture and taste to it. Or spread it on bread, put a cheese slice and toast till the cheese melts. Or add to assorted namkeens, add salt and you have firangi chaat to snack on! Heat the sauce, mix some salt and add it to your mixed veggies, sandwiches, salads – it is all good. The elite-rich-brat-coloured Magic Sauce in the Island of Convenience.

I am in the NUS law library, finally, battling the air-conditioning of a ferocity which would put the average refrigerated container to shame… trying to read Briggs, who I must say, writes well. However, “trying to” remains the operative part of the previous sentence. By my side for comfort are my large cappuccino and elite-rich-brat-coloured raisin scone.

Thou shalt judge

2008-08-31T21:39:00.006+05:30

In the past month I've spent at NUS, Singapore, I have done things, read books, watched movies and visited places. And I shall judge! So here I go... rating some of them off the top of my head. It is my blog and I can write all the nonsense I want to! (hahaha - evil laugh)

BOOKS
Guide (RK Narayan's famous work - didn't like it all that much) - Rating: **1/2
An Equal Music (Vikram Seth's very beautiful novel - very moving, very touching. Have decided to buy a copy. What I enjoyed most was how well written it is.) - Rating: ****
The Old Woman and the Cow (Mulkraj Anand's book, better known by its republished version's name, Gauri, the book is moving in parts and is a very graphic description of many predominant societal realities of Anand's time- very nicely developed plot. While reading around it, I discovered that Anand was friends with Orwell and worked with BBC's film division during World War 2. Sounds interesting!) - Rating ***

MOVIES
Bachna Ae Haseeno (Ok. Don't watch it, please! I guess I watched it only for the thrill of watching a Hindi movie in Singapura...) - Rating: *
Rock On!! (Highly recommended. You would love it even if you are stranded alone for the midnight show because the person you were supposed to go with cancelled when you were almost there. Yes, that's what happened. Satisfied? Farhan Akhtar's acting is raw but his playback has a LOT of feeling, Arjun Rampal is good. Acting isn't the high point of the movie. But the concept and the soundtrack carry it off. Very good songs. ) - Rating: ****

F&B
Cafe Iguana, Clarke Quay (by the riverside, you can choose to sit at the brilliant bar, cosy tables inside or with the terrific evening view outside. Do try margaritas. Not too expensive. Very nice.) - Rating: ****1/2
St. James Powerhouse (make sure you are entering where you intended to; there are a lot of places in that one gargantuan convent-school-type building. Ladies, Wednesday is the day to go. Do check up the website for all details. Choose where you enter there depending on the music you prefer.) - Rating: ****
Chocolate Buffet at the Courtyard at The Fullerton -Pure bliss. Around S$40. We managed to catch the post National Day fireworks (yes they have those in Singapore). The view from the Fullerton gallery was gorgeous. - Rating: *****
Some Japanese food place (I just can't remember the name even to save my life - Food Republic, Orchard Road) - They cook in front of you and serve right there - very fresh, very nicely done. - Rating - ****

This is fun! More coming. I am too sleepy right now.
Oh, today I decided to go buy an Ipod from the electronics fair at Suntec City (a mall here). Instead I ended up buying a sweatshirt from a terrific sale because the iPod I wanted was out of stock. Think I'll stick to B's advice and wait till the newest one is released & the prices of the one I want come down. If you think I am cheap, I can give you hours of gyan on developing country -less income jazz but since I am sleepy now, I would just say, F**K off. To others - good night, sleep tight.

Phlegmy Rhymy

2008-08-26T19:33:00.011+05:30

As I re-read those blogs, all of one breed that I often read
I found some grime, a lot of whine and meaningless rhyme
I had always sighed that this hobby I prized was ill advised
But I am freed ‘cos they are my creed and they have agreed.
(c) AS

Thanks Mami and Happy Lawyer in most part and some others as well. :-)
But right now, I don't feel like meaningless rhyme. I have a question: Why do people always have to make me do things to realize that I am terrible at them when I tell them so myself? Or make me wear strange clothes and haircuts to discover that they don't suit me despite my protests that they would make me look awful?
Ok sorry I asked two questions.
The universe is conspiring against me.

To do list #1 - Singapore

2008-08-15T19:28:00.008+05:30

Hot, humid, bustling with activity, with much curtailed media and what wikipedia calls an "illiberal democracy" - Singapore is now my home for a few months and has been incredibly nice to me. There are some fun things which I have done and hugely recommend... so here we go!

#1. Attend the National Day ceremonies
Now this is an absolute must if you are around in August. Though I was lazy and didn't attend the whole thing, it is really worthwhile. Tickets are given away free of cost (yay!) but by lottery - and by Murphy's laws, be assured you won't get them! So go early to a good place to watch and park your posterior there long before fireworks begin. What was most astonishing for me in the National Day celebrations this August 9 was not the fireworks but the thousands and thousands of people who had assembled to watch the whole thing. They had poured out from everywhere on to the street ... even at suffocating places like behind a tree which was behind the gargantuan Esplanade with a thousand other people stuck as close to each other as mankind in a Delhi bus! Yes, that's where I was and yet I cheered with them with as much energy as I can generate only while watching an IPL match as I caught a glimpse here and there of some firecrackers in the sky. To be honest, they were awesome and caused much smoke (but oh-I-am-a-city-in-a-garden Singapore can endure that).

#2. See the Merlion
Yes I am doing you a favour - you can see it here in the photograph. It is a really cool lion with a mermaid's tail. Apparently there's one on Sentosa islands which is huge and you can climb into its mounth or on its head and get a breathtaking view. (For me, the thought of standing on a lion's head or even better, its open mouth is exciting enough - view or no view!) Haven't gone to Sentosa though... will go sometime.

#3. "Discover" Indian food
An example - roti-prata shops. There is a very famous one two minutes away from my room in the hostel and open 24 hours. The Indian "cheese-prata" is a much savoured dish here. You will also find on the menu "Roti John" and "Maggi Goreng" which you have obviously never heard of or seen in India.

#4. Travel on the MRT
Public transport in Singapore is awesome and travelling by the MRT is a must-do. Buy an EzLink card if you are here for even a week and hop station to station. It is extremely safe and very punctual. There are signboards with directions everywhere - you don't even need to think. But read this signboard carefully and you can thank me.

#5. Go to Clarke Quay at night
It is awesome. Look around the place, take pictures and then head to Cafe Iguana and cool off with Strawberry Margaritas that are out of this world!
More coming...

Jana Gana Mana

2008-08-14T23:16:00.002+05:30

funthings

2008-08-01T12:38:00.006+05:30

You Belong in New York City

You're the energetic, ambitious type.

And only NYC is fast enough for you.

Maybe you'll set yourself up with a killer career

Or simply take in all the city has to offer.

What City Do You Belong In?

singapore

2008-08-01T12:38:00.005+05:30

Though that earlier quiz placed me in NY, the place I really am in and where I think I want to be for a long time (since I have already fallen in love with) is Singapore! Now there are some places you tour and explore around and grow to love and others which are just like love at first sight. Clearly, (thanks to NUS where I am on exchange) I have the second kind of relationship with Singapore. More on that later.

I am also damn kicked because I got so many freebies and goody bags - waterbottles, bags, post-its, pens, stress ball, stufftoy keyrings, notebooks, other stationery stuff, folders, gift vouchers and discount offers, Armani perfume sample and even coffee powder! I love it!

Classroom Clarities 5: Champagne, please?

2008-05-19T14:36:00.007+05:30

I have joined the club!
Yes!

Before this most auspicious event (to mark which, I write in a different font), I only used to admire those great souls who follow only their whims and nobody's brains (in the lack of their own?:-), whose spirits are free as the westerlies and whose hearts are full of unconditioned, raw bravery which morons of the time call foolhardiness... but today, and for ever, I am one of them. Distinguished personalities endorse this elite club; the patron teachers of the law school - Mr. Justice Kotach, Sr. Counsel D. Nath-aniel and legal s-TAL(L)-warts pR among others. We are courageous, anti-establishment, academically resourceful, extremely tactful and amazing crisis managers... we overflow with the ability of doing things very efficiently at a magical pace.

Yes, we are those who submit projects on last last (yes, the very last) day!

what keeps me busy these days

2008-04-27T17:09:00.008+05:30

i am in thought deep ....
as to which side of the bed
should i keep my head
when i sleep.

when those notes on
fluorescent ugly post-its
would have more ticks
and would be gone.

how to avoid them
when they try yet again
fifteen times a day in vain
to make me a gem.

why i can't ever figure out
the urgency to decide
the course of my life
can i just shout out loud?

when the face of that young girl
with the blood soaked shirt
and hands smeared in dirt
in my sleep, would stop its twirl.

whether i would find myself
one day when i learn
and read, write, for fun
pressure at the back of the shelf.

when ironed clothes afternoon swims
would find their way to my life
as i can lie back or dive
and live on my whim
(C) AS

Bad Mood - Difficult Questions.

2008-04-16T00:28:00.010+05:30

you know you are not meant for this place when the only hope you have is that you will get out of here

in this law school full of all the world's grime
where we appreciate distinctions subtle and fine...
where our world consists of arbit goss and random rhyme
why is it that women mostly bitch but men mostly slime?
(C) AS

thank god for the exchange! i am so glad i am going.

Classroom Clarities 4

2008-04-01T14:54:00.003+05:30

Oh that's so like Professor C! And Professor D! Ya, also, Professor E .... Ah! Law school.

Thank you phdcomics.com

Classroom Clarities - 3 (Nonsense)

2008-03-31T01:07:00.011+05:30

WARNING - yOu arE herEBy WarnEd.

PrEscRipT - sOmeOnE iS a laWscHoOlitE.

sOmeoNe oNcE gOT drUnK. aNd tHen WenT tO PolsCI cLaSS. SomeONe cOulD nOt TaKE nOtEs. sO sOmeOnE wRotE tHis. tHis Is A reSulT oF MixInG sOme iNExpErienCed drInKinG wIth SoMe poLSci... iT is ExPloSivE.

MuCH LatEr sOmEone fOunD tHe ExPlosiVe miX aNd puBlisHed iT oN a BloG wHen sOmeoNe wAs noT iNexPerienCed aNy MorE.

treaties and charters
on hills and waters
over soups and starters
make me smile...

your fingers and locks
and shoes and socks
and skirts and frocks
make me smile...

schoolchildren in a line
those cones over pine
free passing time
make me smile...

i wrote this poem
niether for the treaties
nor for you nor for pines or lines

i actually wrote this for
derrida, to deconstruct
foucault, to interpret
and me... to fret!
(C) AS

Classroom Clarities 2

2008-03-29T15:26:00.007+05:30

There is a pleasure sure

In being mad, which none but madmen know.
– Dryden, The Spanish Friar, II, i

Context -

Two ordinary lawschoolites talking while in class, as they scribble and scratch away from the same photocopy kept in front of them. Identical notebooks. Worth 100 bucks each. Complete with official monograms and prominent embossed lettering "PLACEMENT DIARY".

Conversation -

"What SHIT man!"
"Really. Such shit man."

True enough.

Diverse experiences at office and court, feelings, emotions and conversations often find place in these diaries. Sometimes, court experiences and work done (fictional or actual) also nudge in. A classmate most accurately writes (and I quote verbatim) "Today my creativity and ingenuity were stretched to their maximum as I had to find keywords to research on manupatra dot com..." Another one observes "Today I toured the accounts section of the office" and another "Today our client Mr. ___ took us all out for lunch (names and venue of lunch mentioned in parentheses)... I learnt that not only do clients have to pay their lawyers but also have to take them and their interns for lunch."

Writing Placement Diaries is indeed yet another one of those tiresome and time-consuming futile law school activities which is really harmful to the environment; it entails waste of at least half the paper that the diaries are made up of. Also, it adds to the bulk of law school activities labeled as ‘not for enhancing academic experience’. On more positive terms, it most certainly enhances the law school coffers as two hundred and forty students buy them for 100 bucks each once every year.

I have submitted mine. I am satisfied at my contribution to the repository of s**t that two hundred and forty odd Placement Diaries are. If you go through them, you would most certainly gain the uncanny knack of discovering human (as well as animal) eccentricities with accuracy. Need I say more?

Classroom Clarities 1

2008-03-28T10:48:00.006+05:30

Thursday -
8:45 - enter class. "Professor E" not here.
8:46 - read the newspaper in the corridoor.
9:00 - "Professor E1" comes instead.
9:10 - give attendance. cut.
9:30 - message xyz to take care in case of re-attendance. xyz offers to take care next hour as well! take a deep breath. go sleep.
11:10 - go to class.

Friday -
8:45 - enter class. "Professor E" not here.
8:46 - read the newspaper in the corridoor.
9:00 - "Professor E" enters class. you too.
9:03 - cut after attendance.
10:00 - enter class.
10:03 - give attendance. wonder what to do. cut.

does there have to be a reason? even if "Professor E" says that all procedural law is retrospective because the 1872 law is applied to a 2007 case?

Dazy

2008-03-27T22:16:00.004+05:30

Dazy.
April 1999 to August 2008
(on Holi last year)

A scared dog I spotted in Nags... I fed her a little something I was eating.

I don't think I ever really moved on.

Dazy, I miss you.

Being a Woman

2008-03-21T17:21:00.005+05:30

Today I went to Nags - the area outside lawschool with some shops and eating joints. This post is not about, or specific to Nagarbhavi. It is just placed in Nagarbhavi. So there I was, with a friend, we were walking on the Sweet Chariot road and suddenly something hit me really hard on the neck and the back of my head. It made a sound like a tight whack which made my friend turn around. We found nothing that could possibly have hit me. There was no one in the vicinity near enough to hit me. Within moments, a couple of bikes some 50 meters behind us sped up towards us and one of those nagarbhavi ninjas asked me as all others laughed: "kya ho gaya madam, kuch laga kya?" (What happened madam, did something hit you?) before speeding off again.

Irrelevant facts:
I was wearing decent clothes.
I was showing no skin.
It was 4.30 in the afternoon.
I was not alone.

Relevant facts:
I am a woman, as someone put it in my class a few days ago, the wrong sex.

What did I do? I asked my friend to take a look at my head and neck. He said the skin was a little red. But there was no blood or swelling. Relieved, without even bothering to find what hit me, I walked on, continuing our conversation, took a bite of the bhutta my friend bought and came back to campus. Materially, it affected me only to the extent that I decided against a walk to SAI and back in the lovely weather because my neck still hurt. Had this taken place a few years back, I might even have gone to the extent to noting down the number of the bike and reporting the incident. It is a different matter that the first question I would have been asked would be - "why did you go out wearing such clothes?" "why don't you be careful?" "why do you have to go out of campus?". However, now, I have matured and think better of it. It is so not worth it. In fact it is wrong. Things are meant to be this way. I know it was not his fault. The fault is mine. After all, I am a woman.

But I just so wish I wasn't a woman. I think I had the thought subconsciously in my head since I was 2 feet tall. Back then, I would wear boy clothes, get a boy-cut at the salon, play with all the boys in the colony and pretend to be a boy! Since I got 3 feet tall, socialization progressively put a veil of ignorance over me as I stopped all of the above except wearing the short hair. Eventually, I grew my hair as well. Despite all that, I have come a full circle. Today, I think it is my most desperate wish - being a boy.

It is just so inconvenient being a woman! It is a constant problem, a baggage to bog you down all the time, just a shitty state of being. For starters, you are so much more susceptible of being beaten up (your fault, you are physically incapable). Eve-teasing happens (your fault - because if you are a woman, you are slutty. Plus you feel you can go out and roam on streets!). Sexual harrasment of a higher degree - rape, molestation (your fault, you crib too much - it happens only in films). You are invariably underrated intellectually and in terms of mental capacity (your fault - women are dumb, not meant to succeed). If you have sex, you carry proof of it under your clothes (your fault - you want that germ as a child - you didn't nip it in the bud). There are so many other instances, and I feel so guilty, because it is always my fault, being a woman.

Obviously, being a man may have some grave consequences. After all, you have to pay more for stag entry at a bar. How outrageous! If you are the sissy type - you have to open doors for women, pull chairs, carry luggage and fix bulbs. (Obviously, women also do all of that - but they are meant to do it). Women always get the better deal - it is so much more convenient being molested instead. You have to be in the armies because you can't let women do all that (obviously you can molest them, beat them up and still expect them to do all economic and non-economic work they do - day after day, year after year. But they are still too weak and dumb to get into the military). And it is such a problem because even though women have to do things twice as well as you do to be considered half as good; invariably, they do it.

But you know what... being a man is still better - so convenient. After all, satisfying your sexual masochistic urges is SO easy - just throw things to hit women walking on street!

The Cocktale

2008-02-23T16:29:00.006+05:30

I took a final swig at my sinful chocolate drink, gave myself a pat on the back and sprawled on the garden swing, gazing at the beautiful sunset sky with a thousand scattered hues. My little tan dachshund chased invisible fluttering butterflies (and visible flitting moths) and yelped happily (much to the annoyance of our neighbours). In short, it was a lovely evening perfect for a classy cocktail party when the cocktale starts.

[SCENE 1]

In my moments of peace… suddenly I hear –

Voice 1 – {Shreik} Aaaaaarrrrgggghhhh!

Voice 2 – Abey, kyun chilla raha hai?
(Hey, why are you yelling?)

Voice 1 – Da, uss ne mujh se mera cock cheen liya yaar! Mera purana wala cock bhi tod diya thaa uss ne; ye wala mummy ne kal hi mangaya tha.
(Brother, he has snatched my cock from me! He had broken my earlier cock as well; mother got this one just yesterday.)

Voice 2 – Sun re, tu ne iss ka cock kyun liya? Tere paas apna cock nahi hai kya?
(Listen up, why did you take his cock? Don’t you have a cock of your own?)

Voice 3 – Mera cock halka ho gaya hai yaar. Kabhi seedhe chalta hi nahi hai, ghoomta rehta hai har waqt. Itna zyaada khleta hoon uss se. Abhi iss ke cock se dus minute khel kar waapas kar doonga. Waise bhi wo apni sponge balls se khel raha hai.
(My cock has gone light mate. It doesn’t ever move straight, it keeps turning all the time. I play with it so often after all. I will play with his cock for 10 min and then return it. Anyway, he is playing with his sponge balls.)

Voice 2 – Sun, tu chal. Miaoon miaoon mat kar. Tera wo cock to wasie bhi chhota hai. Main tujhe apna bada cock doonga. Tu uss se khelna.
(Listen, you come. Don’t mew like a pussy. That cock of yours was small in any case. I will give you my big cock. You play with that.)

Voice 1 – Arre da, uss ne mera cock udhar phenk diya.
(Oh bother, he has thrown my cock there.)

Voice 2 – Toh ja, mar uss cock ke peeche!
(Then go, die after that cock!)

[SCENE 2]

{Two boys, a snotty little brat (voice 3) and a quiet little cat (voice 1), anxiously look through the bars of my gate at a skipping, yelping tan dachshund on the green grass; and a swing, swinging gingerly. }

Voice 3 – Oi, jhoole wali didi!
(O Swinged Sister!) :P

{Even such an address was not enough to perturb me after that milkshake-generated-peace in the lovely cocktail evening. I took a peep outside to take a look at the caller and his petite friend and walked up to the gate.}

Me – Haan… kya hua…
(Yes, what happened)

Voice 3 – {confidently} Tumhara kutta katega.
(Your dog will bite)

Me – Nahi nahi, wo nahi kategi.
(No no, she won’t)

{Silence.}

Me – Errr… kya hua? Tum log andar aa jao.
(Err… what happened? You guys come in)

Voice 1 – {crestfallen} Nahi, wo actually mera cock gir gaya hai. Iss ne aapke garden mein phenk diya hai.
(No, actually my cock has fallen. He has throw it into your garden.)

Me – Accha ek minute. Cherry! Get it here! Come ‘ere good boy!
(Oh, just a minute. Cherry! Get it here! Come ‘ere good boy!)

{The dachshund bounded towards me with a tattered little white-feathered shuttlecock – her new plaything after invisible butterflies. I rewarded the hound with a pat on her head as the boys came in, picked up their shuttlecock and went away without thanking us. Typical.}

PostScript - Those boys must have been 8 years old. Does this cock-a-doodle-doo come to men so early in life?

Or is it just Raipur?

Mane stream!

2008-02-20T00:41:00.027+05:30

My sister has been pressing rather keenly (with quite a strong distaste) on the fact that the mane on my head is really long now . I am sure the reason for the distaste is that my hair has created history by being longer than her's for the first time. Till in school, I wore my hair really short - like a boy's.

The rest, as they say, is h(air)istory! :-)

that's me in the beginning of the second year....

and going strong, that's how it was at the end of second year.

...and that one is about two months back, that too, only a couple of days after a haircut!

PostScript: i don't know how it happened but my blogroll just deleted itself. i was trying to make a list of the dormant blogs to separate them from the not-so-dormant ones. and i have no patience to redo that now. maybe, on a sunny day, it will happen. i remember a few of Ben Johnson's lines.

Here's to the short life of my dead blogroll... :-(

It is not growing like a tree

In bulk, doth make man better be;

Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,

To fall a log, dry, bald and sere:

A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May,

Although it fall, and die that night;

It was the plant and flower of light.

In small proportions we just beauties see,

And in short measures life may perfect be.

PPS: but life goes on... so i got a new template! yay! :)

Unnecessary hype

2008-02-17T01:44:00.016+05:30

It is very well past midnight and I will wake up to welcome a Sunday morning (maybe afternoon); I am bunking work tomorrow (yaay!). So, for the read-before-sleep I decided to look through my books instead of the usual routine of picking up the first book I see. However, I discovered some over-hyped titles and decided to blog-before-sleep instead... here they go (not in any particular order).
(1) Jane Austen's, Emma (Image - Cover of the 1909 edition)

(2) Gustave Flaubert's, Madame Bovary (Image - Cover of the first edition in French)

(3) Daphne Du Maurier's, Rebecca (Image - Cover of the first edition)

(4) Daniel Defoe's, Robinson Crusoe (Image - Title page of the first edition)

(5) Herman Melville's, Moby-Dick. (Image - Title page of the first edition)

My reading has reduced to negligible levels these days :( ...and I realise that the only bonding that's happening between mum and me is bitching about B and whether the cause of my skin's newfound coarseness is Thailand tan or Bangalore water. That's all we seem to talk about. (bleugh) A(yawn)yways... goodnight.

(All images from wikipedia...Why did I actually bother finding them?)

bored

2008-02-15T16:13:00.004+05:30

लेटेस्ट टाइमपास - चेक्किंग आउट ब्लोग्गेर्स हिन्दी टाइपिंग ऍप्लिकेशन , रेटिंग: एवरेज
previous timepass - stumbling on lawschoolites' blogs (not-so-accidently) and tagging them, rating: bad to great. but tagged them all.
life status - extremely bored.
:-P

PostScript- I think I should make a blogroll with batchwise classification. The present list is quite cumbersome... Also, I should add blogs... I AM jobless.

Channel Hopping on V-Day

2008-02-14T19:43:00.007+05:30

Third year internship-breaks are not all about me reading trial court files written in such technical Hindi that I have to discover a language I call mother tongue. It is also about satiating my television-watching urges (which are left unattended during the term). Times have changed, so has the TV. It is all about the money now. But I had a good time as I caught F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (the one with the friend who Rachael made out with in college) ‘between commercial breaks’. After all, it is all about the money now. During the breaks, I caught up with some news. Aaj Tak “Sab se Tez” had a speacial Valentine’s Day feature that starred cheap-controversy-queen Rakhi Sawant and boyfriend Abhishek (or something like that) having a lovers’ tiff on live TV. Aaj Tak repeatedly showed it to make sure everyone catches publicity-starved Sawant slapping publicity-starved boyfriend, live on TV, telling camerapersons to not interfere and to “please go”. Well well, no prizes for guessing who paid them to come to Rakhi’s apartment right at the time when Abhishek would come over with a bouquet of red roses and they would play their parts in the rehearsed drama (Sawant’s bodyguard fighting her boyfriend at her orders inter alia.) After all, it is all about the money now. Thankfully, the commercial break on Star is over as I switch to F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Season Seven to catch the final moments of Rae-rae kissing her friend Melissa to prove a point to Phoebe! Isn’t it all about the money now?

(Aside - what would the Shiv Sena say about this one? And Samajwadis?)

BAD TIMES

2007-12-22T17:55:00.001+05:30

How about having a very very bad travel-all-across-the-city-in-the-rain, going-to-babysit-bratty-three-year-old, traveling back on walk-in-dust-and-rain-then -auto-then-bus-then-auto, and losing a wallet with money-id-two bank cards-and-photos over 48 hours? That's how I feel right now. Because that's what just happened.

A few DON'Ts -
1. DON'T decide to go to LGs who live 3 hours away! (Dude think rationally, three hours means Delhi to Meerut! And half way to Hyderabad from B'lore.)
2. DON'T decide to do 1. when you know you'll need to do things there which you like least.
3. DON'T decide to do 1. and 2. when you have a viva the next day!
4. DON'T ever ever think "O, my wallet will be around somewhere in my bag". It never will be.
5. DON'T ever ever ever have less change of money than that you require, if you are traveling in B'lore in an auto/bus.
6. DON'T even think about saying sorry to parents. They never scream or get angry - that works worse in making you feel guilty than it would otherwise.
7. DON'T ever do anything bad to anyone in life - this world works in karmic circles.

3rd December

2007-12-22T01:34:00.005+05:30

This post comes late. About three weeks late. It should have come here on December 3. Many things are associated with the date. 3/12 stands, and will always stand - for only one thing - tragedy. What comes off it is a different story altogether.
I
Few are those schoolchildren who got an arbit family-holiday on 3/12 out of nothingness - often to enjoy hot pakodas with green chutney and bread-omlette instead of cold paratha-achaar in the recess. That lukewarm sunshine in the balcony... reading Agatha Christie lying on your back on a durry occasionally eating peas from the plate on ma's lap - or catching a match on TV - who gets that privilege in the middle of the week?
II
As a result of being from Bhopal and being in the law-school's torts classes is enough to get you nicknamed MIC, bhopal gas tragedy, bhopali and have (good-humored, well-intended) jokes thrown about over which everyone can have a good laugh.
III
Bhopal People's Hospital - multi-speciality-huge-building-bade-doctor-saheb hospital which is made especially for the gas tragedy victims. Passes supposedly issued to gas affected families for free treatment - sold, auctioned, misused - chalta hai!

Are we not missing a point somewhere? Come to Bhopal. The site where Union Carbide stood, still stands. There is some industrial raw material lying there - till today. Everyone in Bhopal still drinks the water mixed with methylisocyanate. YES.

THEY DIED
------------
They died, all of them. Their neighbors, a family of seven saw them all dying and saw each other being suffocated and to lead a life worse than dying. A life of impoverishment, a life of disease, a life of antipathy and a life of repeated death – to suffer till they finally die and rid of the gutter they are left to be in. This is no fiction, no story and no script of a drama; this is life, the life of those who were there in the small, insignificant city, somewhere, which suddenly became “famous”, for wrong reasons though! …The miniscule insignificant place, Bhopal.
I
The black birds fell dead on the ground,
While flying
Yes, I saw his father dying, while he sat beside,
Crying
I ran away, I ran away,
Sighing
To catch my life, which was flying away,
Flying.
As I ran and scurried about like maggots
Trying
To wriggle away from the hawk’s sharp sight,
Prying
I ran away, I ran away,
Lying
Telling myself I won’t die while I was
Dying.
II
The white cloud came about
I could not even shout
Scattered, shattered, strewn aghast
In the tumultuous rout
There was no scope of doubt
All I ate I now threw out
Writhing in pain I had never known
I felt life escaping through my mouth.
III
My three year old tugged on to my shawl
Brave one: with life he was in a brawl
While the eight month old thing in my womb:
In its mother’s blood, it found its tomb.

While I felt its blood, my blood, run down
I noticed, its father was not around
Gasping for breath with burning eyes
I saw its father with death, tying ties.

Holding on to my son I began to run
Under the white cloud of death, he succumbed.
On that cold night of December, I tried and tried
And finally writhing in pain, I died.

(C) AS

Of Chappan Dukan and Ghamandi Lassi

2007-10-11T15:44:00.001+05:30

I was thinking about the first time I came to Bangalore. It was a terrific experience to look at Brigade Road at night. It was bustling with people, it had tall buildings and it was lit up, as if for a wedding. I loved Bangalore. Coming from a small sleepy placid Bhopal, it was a delight. But this post is not about Bangalore. This place is about a place which is so not like Bangalore. Indore. Unlike Bangalore, Indore has no night life, no lit up Brigade Road, no firangs all over the place, no women drinking, no Kanadda nationalism and of course, no National Law School. Unlike Indore, Bangalore does not have Rajwada, or Chappan Dukan; it does not have the Holkar history and is not called Mini Bombay and of course, Bangalore does not boast of Ghamandi Lassi!

I have some history of firsts with Indore. The first AC in my parents’ first car was installed in Indore. I bought my first Woodland shoes in Indore. I ate my first black currant ice cream in Indore. I did my first outstation quiz in Indore. And yes, I ate my very first pizza in Indore. However, my visits to this place were very very short and I hardly had time to explore the place enough to write about it. But now, here I am. I’m in Indore at the end of my two week holiday – time I spent with my sister who studies here.

Indore is a small town. Becoming big and proud of it. If you come here from a metro and are missing the big city, go to Treasure Island – yes that’s the name of a big shopping mall which everyone here is proud of. But that’s the least of the treasures of Indore. The first underlining feature of this town is … well, dust. There’s dust everywhere so beware if you have sensitive skin. If you’re driving, God help you. But even the dusty drive is totally worth it when it comes to food.

One must visit the night bazaar of Sarrafa – it has, among other stunning things, some awesome street food – be it malpuas or kulfi falooda. And Chappan Dukan (literally translated - 56 shops) is another one of my favorites by the night for street food. Find Pizza Place in a basement in that market and get awesome HUGE pizzas which are dirt cheap. And the chaats and sabudana khichri are delicacies only Indore can serve the way it does. By the day, don't miss the poha-jalebi breakfast. For some classy and really delicious Mughlai food, catch Moti Mahal and the likes. But one place you cannot miss is located in front of the only McDonald in Indore – Ghamandi Lassi. Ghamandi is the Hindi for proud and arrogant. Lassi is a drink made of yoghurt – and it is awesome. Order special lassi and get a huge glass all of your own. That is something you cannot miss.

Shopping in Indore is great fun. People from a lot of nearby towns and even capital Bhopal come to Indore especially to shop for weddings. With large variety at great prices – Indore is a shoppers’ paradise. I think I’ll write some other time more about this… and also some great sightseeing.

Alyousha

2007-10-07T01:29:00.001+05:30

Alyousha has DIED. Shit. He has died. He has been killed. Stabbed.

Did he realize when he fought that those men would get a knife and dig it in and out of him seven times? That he would be killed in a matter of minutes? That his parents would be flying down to see the stabbed corpse of his declared brought dead son? That someone would be reading about it in the Times of India later?

Alyousha. Short. Strong. With a good body as someone had put it... I had thought for a long time that Alyousha was hot. And I remember the last time I saw him, was the day of the last exam... the day before he was stabbed to death. I had told my roommate then, that he looked ugly in his beard. That he should get back to his clean(er) look.

I remember saying hi to Alyousha only once... (so might I add I never knew him, I just knew of him. I am not sure if he even knew of me) ...That hi was when he was standing waiting for __ as I was talking to her. That was the only piece of conversation that I had had with Alyousha in my two years and three months at the law school. Typical! I do remember watching him play long pells of basket ball. I used to watch his game with interest, everyone else's too. His frequency of playing basket ball reduced immensely from the time I joined law school till the time he died.

I remember hearing a lot of things about Alyousha. I never paid much attention to that... all the same, I can't forget some of it, ever. I will always remember Alyousha.

Alyousha Kumar. Sort of hot. Played some good basket ball. Subject of many a rumour. Short. Wore baggy white drawstring pants with bright tees to his rare visits to the library. Unforgettable. Stabbed to death.

Eh... Meaningless

2007-10-04T20:46:00.000+05:30

Dude today I asked myself a question. Yes. Why do I own this blog when I write in it so infrequently? After all, this blog might just be in line for the most inconsequential blog in the world... But I am fairly sure I don't want to be in line for the most meaningful, lovely, interesting blog or any such title. Then why do I have this blog? This blog is not for a cause. I don't write in it regularly. It doesn't cover most of the most important parts of my life! Then why this blog? I am not particularly fond of having my life's details published up there too.. Then why this blog? I write in here only during holidays. Is that when I am largely free and need to find something additional to do with my life? Is this blog just another way to ward of boredom? Is it an escape from the long hours of TV when I have nothing else to do apart from (perhaps) stare at some fat electronics engineering books! Then why do I have this blog? Such a meaningless futile existence.
But then, does everything need to be full of depth and meaning? Can't some things exist just for their own sake? For old friends when they are needed? Can't some things not be away from the web of races we get entangled in so often?

O forget it! I am in no such debate. This is my blog and I love it whatever. :) I am happy. I will write in it when I can.

Why Raipur sucks!

2007-06-27T20:08:00.000+05:30

the place has no friggin bookstore!

you can't get a NEWSPAPER of the day forgodssake! if you are really lucky, you'll get yesterday's newspaper in the evening today...

there is no place to hang out

there is no one to hang out with!

there's dust and dirt everywhere

it rains at all the wrong times

there's no place to get half-decent icecream

there's no decent footwear store

u don't get cds/dvds without horrid obnoxious dubbing

its very very hot

the local cable guy doesn't put any good movies

half the channels aren't shown on tv, the other half don't have decent transmission

there's NO public transport

stray dogs on the street come and bark at your door only to tease your dog (its TRUE)

there are no eating places where you can get good food, or where you can get cheap food

there's no traffic sense

there's no parking sense

roads are BAD

shopping is non-existent, there's nowhere you can shop

the fresh-cream is NEVER fresh... you had better check your mfg dates if you care for your life

i know this is all upper-middle-class elitist bullshit. i know there are people, infact, most people in this country, ok most people in the world... who are suffering much more than i am. but i have the right to crib. this godforesaken place is supposed to be HOME!!! dude how i miss bhopal...

Parzania

2007-06-25T12:09:00.001+05:30

I never watched many movies. The count of movies I have watched is very easily lesser than that of most people I know. The reasons for the same and the consequences thereof are many and significant but let that be a matter of another post. Since I have joined law-school, things have changed a bit. In my trimester breaks, when I am not interning, I manage to watch more movies than I have watched in years! The same was the case this vacation too. With five more days to go, I have already watched five movies in a span of two days. One movie, that deserves a mention here, is Parzania.

Now, I am no movie buff. This post is not about the finesse of Parzania as a motion picture or its merits and demerits on the fronts of direction, production, screenplay, or the quality of the actors. I think Parzania deserves a mention here, not because it’s a good movie with good acting, not because it touched me or because it failed to. It was not even a different movie. It was yet another Hindu-right-bashing, emotional drama and the depiction of a heart-rending story; a genre so often covered when you are in lawschool. I may mention though, that I think the people who played the parts of the true story Parzania is based upon, did a good job.

Yes, Parzania is based upon a true story of the Godhra carnage/ genocide/ accident/ communal riot (I am not decided on what I should call it). To me, Parzania was like many of those Hindu-right-bashing movies, yet different. I have seen Father, Son and the Holy War, the god of this genre. I have had the opportunity to (courtesy, lawschool) have seen documentaries and short films, read books, hear lectures, write project papers on the same broad theme. My views on the right-wing religious nationalism and the combination of religion and politics in my country are not yet mature. Yes, I know I hate the violence attached to all this but the fact remains that I hate the violence attached to the Naxalites, to the Salwa Judum, to those who the world calls terrorists. So left-winged or right, I don’t like that mass scale violence. Oh but that’s just an aside.

Let’s come back to Parzania. I think it does deserve a mention here because it made me think. Not the political-me or the family-person-me or the social-animal-me or the i-hate-violence-me or the i-cry-in-emotional-movies-me. Parzania made me think as a whole. It made me think about a lot of things. So while I watched the movie and thought about how important my family is to me, I also thought about my politics and India’s. I thought about the kind of husband I want and I thought about America. And I thought about friends and about whether I would shelter a Muslim neighbor in my house if a mob of ten thousand is out there to hunt them out and kill them. I thought about how little I know about Parsis. And I thought about the saffron. I thought about rape and murder. And how fathers love sons more than daughters even though many might like to believe otherwise. I thought about what it would be like to live with a brother. That’s another aside.

While I watched the movie, I knew I was thinking. Some things overflowed on to my laptop as a watched it. That’s here.

Parzania – of muslims. of hindus. of family and of love. and friendship and the lack of it... and of tears. of parsis and gandhi. of killing and violence. of destruction. of random jargon and gyan. of alcohol and cigarrete stubs. and a jobless american thrown in. of governments and inefficacy. and death and religion. and of parzan and parzania. of lost sons and teacups. of rehabilitation. of servant friends, muslim friends, hindu friends, parsi friends. of anger. unwanted, unwarranted. of men and boys. and girls and women. of the police. of a mother saying "you bring me my son". of religions, of purity, of faith. of swords, petrol bombs, of blood and news. Backlash. of wedding vows and cricket. of nine days and promises. of fire temples and burnt houses. fathers and sons and daughters and mothers. of butchered men and blames. human rights? what a fucking fucking joke. of violence. of "re"actions! what does my religion ask me to do? this is a thinking movie, a questioning movie. come, question your faith. and yours too. of raped daughters and lost sons. of tearful fathers and hapless mothers. of slaughtered grandfathers. of macho ninjas breaking down. of butchered people and burnt people. of truth and lies. of veiled women and saffronned men. "and i am ashamed to call myself a hindu" am i? of the right. madness on the margins? madness in the mainstream. "cutting their breasts and throwing them around". of responsibilities and governments and families. wicked right and the right left? of emotional drama and theatre actors. of communal violence? overdone? undone? taken too far?

What I DO understand, is that any form of popular culture, any imagery, any depiction, art, film, theatre, music, writing, painting, speaking, language itself, is all a part of power dynamics. Filmmakers, in this context, in particular, with efforts such as these, can tell any story, based on true stories. What also I DO understand, is that Hindu-right, Hindus, Muslims, nationalists are not single bodies, monolithic entities which can be put to blame for all the blames that are put on them. I DO understand that the blames are many – true and false. What I DO understand is that nationalism is not necessarily and not always a bad thing.

What I don’t understand, is the dynamics of faith-based nationalism, religion-based nationalism. What I don’t understand is where to draw the line. What I don’t understand is, whether Godhra was a genocide. What I don’t understand is, whose fault it was. What I don’t understand is, who started it all in Godhra. What I don’t understand is, why Parzania made me think so much. I don’t understand the Hindu in Parzania. Is someone more Hindu than I am? Is someone less Hindu that I am? Has anything but religion got to do with all this? Has religion got anything to do with all this?

Bhopal

2007-06-15T11:09:00.002+05:30

Bhopal, in the middle of nowhere significant [a small town, unknown, less spoken of], let us clarify before I begin, is the place where I grew up and schooled. Bhopal's "claim to fame" [bleddi NLSism ;-)], the ONLY claim to fame, is the Bhopal Gas Tragedy which has been marketed and commercialized by many, but let that be a matter of another post. The place saw me grow up from a toddler to a teenager and I saw Bhopal grow from laterite roads to malls and skyscrapers. This post, like a oh-so-typical-salad-days-post is about nostalgia and aahs and oohs about this place that I grew up in and grew up with and grew to love more as I grew up more. This post is about Bhopal.

Until 1 July, 2005, I used to live in Bhopal. After that, till October 2006, I used to visit Bhopal, once every three months. In the same December, my family shifted out of town. With my family elsewhere, the lack of free time from lawschool and other committments; Bhopal, though loved was left. Left... but not forgotten. Because my family had moved, we had moved from our house in Bhopal, but the town was and is still my home, in ways more than one.

After October 2006, it was only once that I visited Bhopal; on 12th June, 2007, for a precise duration of four and a half hours. My home. My town. Bhopal. As the train pulled near the town, I saw familiar sights. After having lived in Bhopal for 18 years, it is not surprising that I knew the roads, the signals, even the flat apartments as the trian sped on. The railway station. Lal Parade Ground. The jail road hillock where my mother would always show us the sea of tiny lights that would shine tirelessly from the stretch of the valley below. The MP Nagar circle and around, where I had loafed in my school days, the roads where I had driven at top speed without my parents knowing. I knew all the turns and bends and speedbreakers... afterall this was the way where I had upped and downed for school for 14 years and eaten Top 'n Town icecream on countless evenings.

Here I was.

In the much loved, the never forgotten, Bhopal.

Where the direction of the breeze and the taste of the water and the bumps at the speedbreakers were all mine.

As mine, as they could get.

Houses and shops and buildings and billboards.

Autos and minibuses and Bhatbhats.

And naakas where they drove.

Petrol-pumps and puddles and old trees and new roads.

No, and I am not writing these in different lines as a verse. It is not meant to be a verse. It is a revisit to these Parts Of Me - of my home. Bhopal.

Korea - Seoul actually

2007-06-13T16:23:00.001+05:30

ADiTi in Korea ;-)

Randomly me... and the view from Yonsang station

I left the really small, really sad Bangalore international airport on 4th May, at some midnightly hour to board a comfortable Thai Air flight to Incheon, Korea via Suvarnabhoomi, Bangkok. After consoling the nostalgic middle aged lady sitting beside me, juggling a series of confusions at the airports, changing USDs to the oh-such-a-rare-specie-of-currency Won, having a good taste of what it is like to communicate only by animated hand gestures (no English in Korea), and battling sleep really really hard - I with a group of six other equally tired, sleepy and confused lawschoolites sat in a tiny bus to go to Seoul from Incheon.

View from the bus

Little Sarayu, my constant companion through a good part of the trip continuously nudged me to keep me awake in the bus till we reached the stop. Then, well, we walked and carried our luggage (which was lots) for a kilometre or more to find Holiday in Korea hostels. After another fidgety-happy interaction with the guys there, we were sent to our dorm - actually more like a flat. And it was quite a delight for the pittance we had to pay!

On my very first night in Seoul, when I had finally found sleep in the wee hours of the morning after desperately fighting insomnia (after the unbearable sleepiness the same morning-afternoon-evening), I suddenly got up to find all lights on and to hear some conversation. As soon as I had assured myself of a burglary, I found that it was actually the check-in of a few Japanese debaters and adjudicators (Minori, Ayuri and Iko who became good friends) in the same flat dorm. People kept coming in after that and I was so envious of all those who were peacefully sleeping that I shifted myself to the other room to the computer to chat with Shruti late at night (in India).

We spent that night and the next day in Seoul. Considering the only Korean that most of us knew was Gamsahamnida (Thankyou), the sightseeing we did was considerable.

That night in Seoul

Seoul...such character

I will never forget Insadong, the "big electronics mall" (where Wadhwa and Datar got locked shattering Chaitanya's ambitions of eating in the "really famous vegetarian restaurant with Korean dancers"), the street food, the Gyeonbokgung palace and much more.

The "big electronics mall" :) ... and the Gyeonbokgung palace

...of street food and soju

Little Sarayu and I struggled with our luggage, Wadhwa saw Korea through his camera and never through his bespectacled eyes and Probot didn't come to sightsee because he wanted to play Korean videogames (SERIOUSLY). Datar ate and ate and Ramac(sh)andran wrote "i am vegetarian" in Korean on a piece of paper to thrust into every streetfood-seller's face to get vegetarian food. This was soon after attempts to convey the same by doing breaststroke in midair and saying "no" for food minus fish and saying "no moo!" to indicate no beef (Pandit's antics!). Not surprising that no one understood this fine imagery. Finding vegetarian food in Seoul IS a little bit of an issue.

foodsights!

Then on 6th morning, 10 o' clock, we left for Paju, north of Seoul for the All Asians. Next post...

Just to Wake Up!!

2007-06-05T22:22:00.000+05:30

My blog has been sleeping for a while... forgive her and forgive me! Two exams are over and two to go. But just to shake up and wake up, I'll post a few pictures. There are so many things to write about - my trip to Korea, All Asians , exams, lawschool, holidays to come and so much more! Watch out for this space. More later...

World Cup

2007-03-25T12:29:00.001+05:30

I remember very clearly the earliest times I watched men's international cricket on television ... One very distinct memory which instantly comes to mind is that of my dad sprawled on his bed watching a cricket match on TV on a Sunday evening much to the annoyance and boredom of my sister. I, as a 4 year old, on the other hand, decided to watch the weird monotonous scenes on the small fluctuating screen just to negate her claims. That is perhaps my earliest memory but I was too young then. I remember another time when my sister and I were staying at Misras' as Mumma was busy with Dad's surgery. Even though their kids and us, both had exams, we were allowed to watch an India match which I watched with much interest and excitement. I must have been 7 then. After that, I watched all international cricket India played and eventually all major tournaments which I could possibly watch. I remember watching every single match of the 1999 and the 2003 World Cups, the latter being while my 10th grade board examinations were going on.

Law School changed a lot of it; I watched lesser and lesser matches and discovered that even before 2 years in Law School had passed, I had lost track so much so that I didn't know half of the players who were in the 2007 World Cup teams. However, I made it a point that I would find time to watch part of atleast those matches which India would play. Much as I enjoy the game for its own sake, it was hugely disappointing to see the team lose to minnows Bangladesh. I would however, remember for a long time the match against Bermuda where India piled up some 414 runs. The first two wickets of Bermuda fell in the first few overs itself, after which I decided against watching the whole match and hit the sack at 1.30 or so.
The match against Sri Lanka, crucial to define the team's entry into the Super Eight was overwhelming. It was decided to watch the BIG match on the BIG screen but as usual, permission was not given to screen it in the Quad beyond midnight. However, surprisingly, we got permission to screen the match on the wall in the boys' mess for everyone! I had ordered pizza and coke with friends and decided to watch in the hostel itself for a while. After dinner, we decided to go to the boy's mess. It was amazing to see about half of lawschool sitting there on tables, chairs and counters staring at a wall with frequent wild cheers and shouts. I found a chair to see the backs of about a 150 heads with many more behind me. India was good at the field but the batting was pathetic. I left after the seventh wicket of the Indian innings fell. India lost the match by 69 runs and their chances of making it to the next round depend on the most improbable event of Bermuda defeating Bangladesh.

I was clad in an Indian T-shirt and covered in blue over all; it was really disappointing. I decided as I sat in a friend's room that I wanted to get drunk over this! I also decided that I would never watch cricket for the Indian team but for the game and the game alone. I don't know if I shall stick by this decision.... but I didn't get drunk....

David

2007-03-17T18:43:00.000+05:30

This is the first time in the short history of this little blog that it is available to me while I am in a moment of personal happiness which is too much to not spill it out through expression. Before anyone could be subjected to the spill, I have with me this blog and so this post. The cause of the joy is David, my friend and one of the best human beings I have known. I just got a very silly Orkut scrap from her but the operative part of it was that she is coming here! She didn't mention why she was coming but I can't complain... she after all has mentioned when exactly she'll be here and beyond that is too much to expect out of David.
My first memories of David date back to the fourth grade as a runner in the flat race. I didn't know her then. The first time I spoke with her was in the sixth grade though I don't remember the subject matter of the 'official meet' which was the forum of this first conversation. I became friends with David for the first time after I started going in the same bus as she did. I still remember the grand event (if I may call it so). All the bus goers of St. Joseph's, which practically meant all of the school's 3500 strong student body, were in the auditorium as the bus strengths and stops were reorganized. The next morning, I found myself in a different bus with David and some others of my batch, and that's how it all started.
David was called David for the first time in our seventh grade. I may be corrected if I am wrong because I never used that name for her, neither then, nor later. Maybe once in a while I used to refer to P as David, mostly in conversations with others in which she was mentioned. David is just how a person should be; not the flawless saint, not the wicked slime ball. David is just the right balance of all that is worldly and all that is possible. A happy child is the perfect description, perhaps. She would be the eternally fun loving schoolmate, continually jabbering; and yet, the perfect listener when you would need her to. I remember trying endlessly to give her all those countless ideal student talks on how she must chill out a little less than what she did. Now, when I look back, I find myself the loser of the century to say the things I did.... the only excuse I have is that I was just a kid too after all. But David endured it all without a word. I remember the sweaty, red and panting David in the bus back home from school when David and I would dissect the match, the day's and other days'. She played everything on the field that was possible in the given framework of space and time. She would sing and dance and participate in all that was there to do. We liked the same people and disliked the same ones. We bitched about the world at large in those bus rides and otherwise. David had a life (unlike me, then). I have not seen her in a very very long time now. Her house, her family, our bus rides and time spent in school together, the matches, the fields, the cabinet time together ... I miss all of it.
Here's to David, I am so eager to meet you.

How many deaths?

2007-03-16T16:33:00.001+05:30

I got up late today morning after the long sad chat session at night with my roommate. It is so easy for us, the elite, the blessed to engross ourselves in our little, insignificant and perhaps even non-existent problems which we just seem to be creating all the time. I am as comfortable, careless and uncaring as any member of this category of people can be... living in their own world, enjoying the best resources that are possible in the given frame of place and time and occasionally commenting on things that happen around them with the ease and detachment which only those who are cold and untouched can have. This post is perhaps yet another example of the phenomenon of us (elite, rich, privileged) taking liberties with words and phrases to spit out some random angst which our unexposed sensibilities are exposed to every now and then by the reporting of events in the world around us.
All morning newspapers today reported the immensely gory death and destruction that has taken place in Chhattisgarh yet again. I do not know if it is the naxalites who are the cause of the ever-increasing disease in the state, or if it is the Salwa Judum. I do not know who is more right and who is more wrong, the ideology struck, blood-thirsty naxalites; or the state sponsored legitimate militia terrorism of Salwa Judum. While the naxals may have their own reasons, correct or incorrect, to cause the scale of violence they cause; what I am not sure about is the extent to which the government, the people, the system, you, me, can be made responsible for the blood. I do not know what the government is trying to achieve by making martyrs of thousands of innocent villagers every year in the name of glory of Salwa Judum.
The naxal problem in Chhattisgarh, especially in the southern part of the state, bordering Andhra Pradesh has always been a cause of concern. Earlier the then Congress MP government had that issue and it is no less for the Congress and later, the BJP Chhattisgarh government after the formation of the new state. The standard of living in the southern areas of the state is certainly not the best in the country. Chhattisgarh (and even MP) were never (and are still not) anywhere in the top half rankings in terms of monetary strength, educational standards, welfare levels, standards of life, health or anything that may be even remotely connected to prosperity or development. The naxals probably kill because they feel a compulsive need to gain attention and claim that they are concerned about the low level of development there. I don't know how much they are concerned or what they do except kill for the cause they claim their own. They never seem to do anything for welfare themselves. They seems to just loot and shed blood and build armies to kill and bomb politicians and others and slaughter the common people.
To counter this, the government and the opposition seem to stand together! No, its not a healthy sign at all. The politician who was instrumental in establishing the Salwa Judum to apparently counter the naxalism issue is from an obvious political affiliation. The other party which is opposed to the abvementioned in all terms supports the apparently "people's" movement. All who get killed there are common men. The innocent villagers are often coerced into joining the Judum. They consequently get killed either by the naxalites or by the Judum in case they do not join in. There are killings over issues of land disputes and personal enmity which are not even remotely connected with the "cause" of the naxalites or the Judum.

The naxals kill, the Judum kills, we kill. How many deaths?

Delhi Diaries – Food

2007-03-07T15:38:00.001+05:30

I am back from Delhi and have chilled a lot in my days at home. Now is this one long post on Delhi, a city I have come to love. There’s loads I can talk about – work, hostel, friends, momos, travel, shopping, metro, judges, lawyers and supreme court… and other things as they come to mind. This trip was great even though I was away from home during holidays.
Being the foodie that I am, I did eat out as often as I could. The first and the best ever memories would be of momos. Be it GK or South Ex or Dilli Haat or Lajpat or anywhere! With the amazing hot red sauce and occasionally with the tasteless soup…yummy. And definitely the fruit beer at Dilli Haat and Hot Chocolate Fudge at Nirulas. I have nothing to say of the Mc Donald’s Chicken Mc Grill that I ate all the time except that it’s cheap on the pocket. Then the Dum Biryani and Kakori kebabs at a takeaway joint Al Kauser was just amazing. The Biryani was given in the earthen-pot (haandi) it was cooked in! The haandi had an earthen lid too which was sealed using a line wheat-flour dough. And the kebabs were amazingly cooked over coal and had a distinct flavor one would never find in tava cooked kebabs. I also went to the incredible Nathu’s in Bengali Market which has amazing Indian fast-food and Big Chill which is very much worth its expensive food. Apart from these I went to Pizza Hut, Barista, Café Coffee Day, Subway and a special mention goes here to the Supreme Court canteen. Tha canteen was just so full everytime I went for lunch there with the many other lawschool friends that I am amazed how they managed to serve their customers even as slowly as they did! Also deserving loving mention is the home food that my friends treated me to. I was A’s guest twice and had amazing ghar ka khana there. K’s mom was really sweet to call me home for a wonderful dinner while picking K and me back from shopping. And KA was really kind to get her mom to cook and pack just splendid idli sambar and pulav for me. Love you guys. That’s it for food I guess!!
More to come….

Procrastination

2007-03-01T20:19:00.001+05:30

I am home. Finally.

I am lazy

I am procrastinating

I am happy - largely

Hope I get to writing soon...

Till then... this dog reminds me of me!

Delhi Diaries - Friends

2007-02-22T18:08:00.001+05:30

Go Delhi! I met friends who I had not met in a LONG time... And friends who I had not met in not-so-long time too.

The day I had to meet them was a shimmer of excitement. .It didn't even seem real. I was standing in front of two people who I had not seen in 7-8 years. I mean talking on phone twice or thrice in all this duration is different. But seeing them standing right there is, well, AMAZING! They somehow sounded familiar, yet not the same, and they had changed the way they wore their hair ...they looked like well preserved memories which had grown up! Considering that the last I had seen one of them was when our 6th grade began and the other in the 7th grade... that was bound to happen.
--
It seemed exquisite and yet very childlike and innocent. Mutual hugs exchanged and some small (yet very excited) talk, we went for lunch. More excited talk. We start talking more! Having finished eating, I realised that in less than an hour, we had talked about each other, our families, our interests, how (un)changed we looked, about politics and problems, our colleges and friends and my internship, school days, people from school and a lot more. Is that what primary school friends who meet when they're in their graduate courses do? I guess yes. We then went to their college, I made my Metro debut, took photographs, saw thier hostel, met their friends; we had a LOT of fun.

What I am really grateful about is the fact that whatever else, we had undergone absolutely no change in the way we were friends.
--
Three cheers!

Delhi Diaries 1

2007-02-19T15:28:00.001+05:30

Morning came. I finalized my packing and ate very little from what was supposed to be a heavy breakfast. Feeling glum and happy and nervous and confident and sad and excited, I kissed my mother goodbye. Despite having at least one of her children away from home for the past three years, she still sees us off with tears in her eyes.
The car pulled on to the airport and Dad and I got off. We had a lot of time at hand and nothing to do. My dad's perpetual phobia of getting late at railway stations and airports has ensured I never miss a train or a flight; also, that I observe a million different people at these places.
At that small airport of the small town, middle class still shows off mobile phones, eager beavers are still overawed by the idea of a first air travel, salaried class seems to be speaking as loud as possible on phones and to each other to pretend to be engrossed in their work, well off and self-acclaimed "important people" look out for the airport staff who happen to recognize them and offer a complementary extra service (like someone may carry your hand baggage) to show exactly 'how' important they are, and teeming crowds push and pull to rush through the single gate to the plane to get the best seats! Low budget domestic airlines have made it possible for the not-so-elite to travel by air and make the most of the experience.
The odd foreigner tourist looks at all this in wide-eyed disbelief, trying to gauge if these are the ways of the "orient", to be emulated while still here, ever puzzled as to how to behave and react to the gazes of the locals.
The flight arrives after a long wait, we board and I get a good window seat. The pleasure of staring outside the window as the plane gains height overwhelms me each time, while the pleasure of dozing off in the comfortable flight temperature and largely undisturbed journey seems to overwhelm (?) my father! (The air hostess announces the rules of a contest to which no one pays any attention.) Due to some delay by the airports authority, the plane hovers over Delhi for fifteen minutes. Then we land.
Raipur Vimaan Tal to Indira Gandhi International Airport, New Delhi in 1 hour 45 minutes.

"Party"

2007-01-29T19:52:00.002+05:30

supposed to be a "rock show"... "only for me!" ---- my expectations low...reason...the place is Raipur ---- still ask who's coming ... no answer ---- jump into jeans and a random t-shirt ---- told to change into something "not so dirty(!!)" coz dinner later ---- actually we'll stay at the rock show for only for 15 minutes (and it was supposed to be "only for me") ---- change into traditional stuff - formal.uneasy. ---- go to someplace not remotely like the venue of a rock show ---- prostrate in front of random strangers i've never ever met, formal boring onerous smalltalk ---- well sigh...another sigh.... ---- pack up into cars ---- go to the venue ---- beyond expectation, there's actually a stage, drums and 3 bass guitars, keyboard lying around (sniff sniff...) ---- random speeches by "dignitaries" i.e. the aforementioned random strangers ---- organizers anounce some unknown band from an unknown place, not distantly rock! ---- yes they play some new hindi number, and then summer of '69 (rock band eh?) ---- well, some music anyway ---- too loud and crass for dignitaries, so closing speeches for our lot with interruptions in the "band's" performance ---- i can't even think of staying back due to the way i'm dressed ---- go for dinner packed in cars ---- sit amongst 55 year old women to "chat" - HELLISHLY BORING ---- go for dinner after an HOUR ---- seating at dinner: some 50 odd plastic moulded chairs lined up as if for a class, some sofas and chairs in front of the classroom-like chairs in a semi circle ---- dignitaries sitting in the semi circle, people mumbling, some formal speeches and felicitations, everyone knows all about PR intentions of each host and each guest ---- bored beyond words ---- eat ---- talk to more people ---- feeling how futile my existence is there! ---- minutes crawl into hours ---- finish ---- sit in car ---- annoyed. sleep.

Ganatantra Diwas

2007-01-26T19:25:00.001+05:30

R Day has always been special for me. I remember almost all Republic Days while I was at school since my class one... and the next two R Days, in my college years.

I give this prelude to those who WILL raise serious objections, to the text with the picture I’ve posted up. I can see so many vulnerable loopholes there – ready to be torn apart by (self) acclaimed historians, leftists, subalterns, post-modernists, debaters(?) and others! Dear ones, please do consider how special the day is to me – leave alone the domination, hegemony, homogenization (andgodknowswhatelse) behind “one nation”, “under God”, “God”, “God Indivisible”, “flag of the motherland”, “motherland” et al. Don’t ask existentialist questions on republic, liberty, justice, united, stand(!) and other “objectionable content”. Incidentally, a news channel, on R Day morning, held a live debate on how anti-national and futile it is to hold military parade on R Day.

While I may be tolerant to the arguments that there is no such thing as an eternal India, an ageless timeless entity...I may agree that R Day does not necessary entail a show of arms; I am tolerant ONLY because my views are not yet concretized on this. (Like most other issues of "importance" - Iraq, Iran, Nuke-tests, Economy, Cricket etc.)

I know, however, that R Day has always been important to me and I love to watch the morning parade on TV. I am sure I would go to Rajpath on as many 26th Januarys as would be possible had I stayed in Delhi. I know for a fact that I don't mind being woken up at 7.30 on a cold morning in the middle of holidays from lawschool at the pretext of watching the parade (which happens to start only at 10!!) and watching the devilishly boring cultural tableaus to catch a glimpse of the final aircraft formations and the bike pyramids. I know I don't really relish the TV channel debate to scrap the military parade from the R Day celebrations.

Salad Days

2007-01-25T16:06:00.002+05:30

Salad Days - "Salad days" is an idiomatic expression, referring to a youthful time, accompanied by the inexperience, enthusiasm, idealism, innocence, or indiscretion that one associates with a young person
The phrase was coined in Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra in 1606. In the speech at the end of Act One in which Cleopatra is regretting her youthful dalliances with Julius Ceaser she says:
"...My salad days, / When I was green in judgment, cold in blood..."
Delightfully appropriate for my blog... That's for the ... I am sure I'll live up to it! Which 18 year old soon turning 19 wouldn't? Let's see how this goes.

Onychophagist - A person who bites his or her nails.
It comes from Greek onux/onukh–, a nail or claw, plus –phagia, eating or devouring. (It should not be confused with onychotillomania, which is a nervous habit of picking at the fingernails to the extent of destroying them.) Though onychophagist (and onychophagia, for the condition) are known, they seem not to be used even in the academic medical literature, the English nail biter being preferred. The same Greek source gave us onyx for the stone, a variety of chalcedony that is often used for carving cameos, because some kinds of it resemble the pink and white of a human fingernail.
Well that's (idunnowhat)... I do bite my nails.

Gigi Rongak - The space between teeth (Malay). Its just a delightful phrase! We shall talk some day about gigi rongak... till then, you can visit this blog at http://gigirongak@blogspot.com and I can sound like a boring afternoon gameshow anchor.

dolce far niente

2007-01-25T00:04:00.001+05:30

Yes, indeed. Dolce far niente.

1st post!

So I've got a blog.
Wait on...