रास न आए हमारे...

यह मेरा पहला प्रयास है हिन्दी में लिखने का। जो मुझे जानते हैं वोह यह भी जानते हैं कि हिन्दी मेरी मात्र भाषा होने के बावजूद मुझे हमेशा मात देती आई है। कई लोगों ने मुझे यह चुनौती, ज़िन्दगी के इस सफर मैं, कई बार दी कि मैं बिना अटके बिना रुके कुछ समय के लिए सिर्फ़ हिन्दी मैं बोलूं, और मुझे यह कहते हुए बहुत दुःख होता है, बहुत शर्म आती है, कि मैं इस चुनौती पे खरी नही उतर पायी। कहने को तो मैं हज़ार बहाने मार सकती हूँ, पर सच क्या है, क्यों है, यह तो शायद मैं भी नही जानती। अंग्रेज़ी हमारी ज़िन्दगी कि एक ऐसी लड़ बन चुकी है कि चाहे नचाहे एक न एक शब्द इस कम्बख्त ज़बान पे आ ही जाता है!
दुनिया है कि अपनी दौलत को संभाल के रखती है, हम हैं कि उसे ख़ुद से छोटा समझते हैं। जब भी मैं आगे किसोचती हूँ और बहार जाने का सपना देखती हूँ , तो हसी आती है कि मुझे अंग्रेज़ी का टेस्ट (देखा?) देना होगा...कभीयहाँ रहने के लिए हिन्दी का देना पड़ा तो मेरा क्या होगा? मैंने तो मुंशी प्रेम चाँद कि कहानियां भी अंग्रेज़ी मैं पढ़ीथी। कभी यह भी नही सूजा कि अपने हिंदुस्तान के महाराथिओं के उन चुनिन्दा काव्यों का रस मैंने नही पिया परविदेशी कथाओं पे लट्टू रही। सोच के भी अब बुरा लगता है।

आज मस्ती मैं इस पन्ने को हिन्दी मैं लिखने के चाह उठी
दूर दबे उन ख्यालों कि कश्ती उम्भ्री।
लिखने चली थी कुछ नग्मे प्यार के
दिल से बस एक आह निकली
चाहत थी कि इन लम्हों के संजोके संवारूंगी
आँसू हैं कि बहते हुए काजल की धार बन गई।
सोचने को तो बहुत है
दुनिया विशाल होते हुए भी, चोटी पर गई।
कहना चाहते थे अपने दिल की वोह खामियां
देख आपके अक्ष दिल की बस आस निकली
हस दें आप तो क्या बाहार आएगी
होटों पे हलकी सी जब मुसकुराहट छायेगी।

Control me not...

this post comes for britney spears. I've never liked her music, I've never liked her life but frankly i can never ignore her. she burst onto the music scene a few years back as this teen singer who rolled out hits and empty-headed lyrics with groovy music, she went on to marry her back-up dancer(lucky guy?), gave birth to two kids in quick succession and made a wreck of everything she subsequently touched. she's been labelled a 'threat to herself and others', almost made it to an asylum and been into rehab countless times(at least for me). then y do i write this? a recent article cum interview in the Daily Mail talks of Britney today. Britney who's made a come back, one who's mending her ways, one who's not allowed to see her sons and one who earns enough so people can be paid to keep her in control. that's right. paid to keep her in control.

the article talks of the men who've taken control of a life that paying them. literally. her father, who she was estranged from till recently, a lawyer(don't even ask!) and body-guards who decide what where how she lives. frankly i don't give a damn! but what got me wondering was the way a mother was being kept from her own children. and it's not just her that i see and wonder over...a whole bunch of people kept away from their kin for someones good.

i agree people can be bad influences ,especially with children being so impressionable ,but who decides who's bad? you keep them away hidden from hurt and torture and make them endure the agony of separation and isolation? i understand i cannot be completely right with my conviction of "good or bad, it's family", but can the heartless wretches of social service be doing any good to two people who want to be together by keeping them apart?

life in my back yard

thinking of all the deaths in mumbai, i look around the house and i find life. life not just as we know it, but new life and all forms of it.
there is a pigeon couple(if they have couples!) that had made their nest securely between the air-conditioner in 'my' room and the floor of the balcony. now skipping why the ac was taken off, the point is last night the pigeon and their nest were exposed to the big bad open world. ma and i finally came up with the idea of covering it with a shoe box, but it didn't work. finally after having scared the pigeons away twice, leaving the little chicks probably all scared and worried we managed to satisfy our worries and left it to nature and the pigeon's maternal instincts to take control from there. this afternoon when i woke up(yes afternoon, morning is going to bed time :P) ma informed me the chicks and their mommy were back on track...food n milk courtesy my mother's hospitality! as of now, they are comfortably sitting in my balcony and no one is allowed in it, lest we scare them again.
these pics i've loaded are really from my backyard. this nest was hidden in the leaves in a creeper!! i don't quite remember which bird but she definately wasn't around when i went photo hunting. the nest i remember quite clearly was very strategically hidden under the big leaves and practically suspended in mid-air. the chicks look so limbless(compared to my previous animated exposure!) and almost merge into the nest. the pigeon's chicks though, as i saw them last night in the moonlight, were much bigger, furrier and pale yellowish-whitish.




this parrot here is from the hollow barren tree across my house, and directly across my li'l cove. i simply love this snap...one major reason being i managed to click without shaking my hands!
the next two snaps are of a woodpecker...i'll try putting up the video too.

Chronicles of the U-Special

The Delhi University provided DCE with one thing similar to the rest of the university...a university special bus! Then DCE became DTU but thanks to the efforts of its die hard fans, it survived! It’s been 3years, this January that I’ve been travelling in that fixed 4th row window seat in that rickety DTC bus that the depot does us a favour by allotting. This January I am not in it and as it is I have just a semester left, so I decided my U-special deserved a mention in my life.Oh the convenience of it all, that it didn't allow the hostel to settle in my system. I remember me craving for teleporting powers just so I could spend all night in my hostel, sleep with my friends and wake up at home with the uspl always there to take me to college. Alas! science fiction never became my reality and I gave up(as much as hostel authorities with me) on the hostel and in ways I’ve never regretted it. I met more people in the u special than I would've otherwise, being the outsider that I was back in 2nd sem. if nothing else, it forced me to endure random people's company and in return forge wonderful friendships with not just classmates but batch mates across branches. Shy, reserved, dumb, ostentatious, bold...I met each kind and life made a wonderful routine! As blissful as it sounds, these rides through the better part of the route traversed the city forests of ridge and I’ve lost count of how many times we've had a prayer on our lips just so that the bus wouldn't break down! Oh but it did! So dramatically and like such an over drawn tragedy scene! As I remember our misadventures, I list them here:

Scene I: a much-in-need-of-retirement bus is allotted and even before boarding, it refuses to start. Somehow it coughs, spews some smoke and relents. We start crawling towards college. We stop at the first stop, it takes time to restart. We reach our first flyover; it feels like someone with a heart condition's chugging up some mountain and failing miserably...our bunch of qualified mechanical engineers just gaze all lost. 2nd stop it dies for good! By now it's almost 8:40 and we're miles away!

Scene II: another season, another time the bus, this time loaded to full capacity, decided we were much too heavy for her delicate frame. I can bet we never tipped a 30kmph that day but she pulled along just fine, till we came to our 5th flyover and guess what the driver did...asked us to get off and see him at the top of the flyover. So there we were, some 50-80odd kids walking up a flyover and then scrambling for seats just when the driver took off at full speed! It had been decided that we'd try not to slow down and never to stop! Sadly we had at a crossing and without saying a word we all knew this would be as far as we'd get that day!

Scene III: in other misadventures, the bus broke down once in the midst of the jungle on a winter morning! That was when Salony coined our trip as "jungle main no-mangal" or something. that would also be the day when I realised for well and good, that "big" boys at dce will never take responsibility...they happily sauntered off, hitchhiking with strangers, leaving behind a bunch of scared, hysterical, angry and plain lost people behind to wait it out for a replacement bus with the oh-so-weird driver and conductor!

Scene IV: let me see...hmm. Oh yes! We had a bus breathe its last next to a big huge slum and hence our abandonment! Also once we travelled all the way with the engine throwing out black smoke and even threatening to burst into flames! I remember bikers turning around to check if it were really a moving bus on fire.

Scene V: one fine summer morning, in the midst of our semester exams (or mid, I don’t remember) we travel happily studying. Since it was an exam day, only those who had a paper at 10 were travelling in it. By now the dear never-to-be-sent-to-retirement bus is familiar and no one pays heed to its groaning and grunting. I call it a sheer attempt at attention seeking, but the bus managed an unimaginable feat...the rear axle broke and popped out!! And bang in the middle of the jungle! Oh the panic! How will get there? What of our exam? Oh this and oh that...and all this from the boy-folk. No offence, but I can't call that behaviour man-worthy! So then groups formed and a taxi was hailed to get us to the metro...6people stuffed into one cab and going zigzag like a pot-boiler he got us there after happily fleecing us. One of the guys, who'd declared himself our leader, proudly proclaimed, "Main baniya hoon, mujhe paise bachane aate hain!". Poor him, it took us a minute to prove how badly we'd been fleeced! All I can say is I gave my exam somehow!

It’s not like I have no sweet memories. I have so many I can't start to put them down here. Early in the 2nd, 3rd semester days Salony and I would sit and laugh all the way. It wasn't like any of us had some great sense of humour; it was more her thirst for gossip, my inadvertent supply mixed with her unique drama-queen style and my cynicism. Oh what fun! But then she stopped coming and I, around 5th semester on, found a smart Monday morning company...aka swayam. Monday morning fun only but our male bashing sessions were hilarious and heart-ache tales so similar! It was great having those intelligent conversations that didn't make me feel too dorky or too romantic or too cynical, depending on my mood, and was even better learning from her!

Not to forget, there was the "chi-chi" gang. Mayank and Prannay christened three irritating, loud, ill-mannered females, a year junior to us as the CHI CHI gang. the head chi chi was a migraine inducing female who had too shrill a tone and their conversation wasn't even ever fun, far from interesting! The conductor once had asked them to shut up, he'd had enough!

Coming to the last 2-3 semesters, it's noteworthy how on most days, I’d end up being the only female aboard. Given how this was nothing more than a passing observation of my own, I’d settled very comfortably in the entire atmosphere. I knew I had friends here...Mayank, Prannay and Anoop. Silence was comfortable, debates a lot of fun (I’d always be quiet), EPL almost a religion and taking my, Anoop's or absolutely anybody's case, Mayank and Prannay's best time pass. But I loved it all!

Now as college comes to an end, my daily dose of music, score updates, match analysis, newspaper reading and gossip will not come out of the same 1hour early in the morning. As for what's passed, I wouldn't have had it any other way! Look what I’ve had...

GIRLS AND THEIR TRICK BOOK

location: mom's workstation
day: monday evening
why am i here: didn't wanna travel...will take a ride home with ma.
why i write: just because i do :D

i have a travel companion. we make sure to check before leaving, coz we both hate travelling alone. we both talk on any and everything under the sun and frankly they are very insightful conversations. people often misinterpret our relation as romantic...ask me, it's far from it! a very cliched line, but we're good friends. not to waste time on that, let's come to the point. todays's conversation was ruled by love stories...mine, his and loads of other people's. we laughed, we blushed and we were in for suprises. such is love i'd say...never perfect. stories lead to analysis and analysis lead to what i've now labelled the 'Girls' trick book'. evrything i list here has been my travel companion's obseravtions and as a girl i must admit, they are very insightful, funny and freakingly true(to a large extent).

1. if girls like someone they'll try their best to get talking...but no first moves(for reference: A Lot Like Love, Ashton Kutcher and Amanda Peet). since they won't necessarily make a move, steps in the 'best friend' to guide the conversation along acting like a mutual friend till it's self sustainable and she's kicked out!

2. once they get talking, if they really like the guy then they'll try their best to set him up or atleast tease the guy with someone else. now my justification for this one(i've done it, hence i had to justify) is that she can't tell him to consider her...so she picks up random people with the hope that he'd reject them and fall on his knee to express his undying love for her instead. in built female optimism i'd say, coz as i was duly informed...it's bound to fall flat or badly backfire(tell me about it!).

3. if the girl still can't get the guy to notice her, she'll play for jealousy. tell him a story, make up a hero, create a legend!! as always...the guy happily says "good for you!" and poof!! vanishes, period.

4. if at all she's gathered the courage to ask him out...after having giving up on him, of course, she'll fumble and tumble and fiddle and twist and turn it so much that it might've been better she'd never started! it's weird and rejection is not a very good feeling...but still the girl risks it...

5. now apparently a female vying for attention is easy to spot. here i disagreed, though i was promptly dismissed. according to this particular guy, women state their intentions in clear and loud terms...u can tell when she's ready to play the field! a guy when he spots a female admirer in his radar is extra cautious, coz he knows he's being watched...why and wherefore he acts in the manner he does, is of course his personal tuning. and then they say women are difficult to understand! hypocrites...

come to think of it, i can list my 'romantic' bloopers pretty similiar to what i've stated, but unlike male mannerism, i can't be so heartless about it. to me love is sacred...i tread stupidly maybe, but i tread carefully. having seen absolute heartless pusuits and rebound affairs in abundance, i still hang to the hope that some guy will say to me that he'd rather have me, than all monica belluccis that i could pick out for him. ha, fat chance!!

:P

i claim to write about english...but my heading for the last post is itself misspelt!!
the reason i chose to write a new post for it is that i acknowledge my stupidity
in case u still haven't figured(considering u rolled down to check), i've spelt an ISTHMUS as ISTHAMUS
somehow it doesn't feel better still...so if i've still not got it right, leave a note

english: isthamus or strait?

There are always things each one of us takes for granted. What those may be, vary. I, for one, have taken my communication and language skills as an integral part of me for the last two decades, which is what drives me to share this piece with you…
The queen’s language might as well have been my mother tongue, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelid, but college has made me meet people who through no fault of theirs are often criticized for their lack of it.
Does having an English medium education all through your life make you any better qualified or any better suited to face life? How come in India our own mother tongue is so badly treated that those who hail from Hindi medium backgrounds are made to feel inferior and thus ignored, left behind and unknowingly chastised? I know this because I’ve seen it. And it doesn’t make me feel any better to realize that initially I’d reacted with incredulous amusement and horror. Blame it on my south Delhi hangover!
Today I write this because something broke my heart. A classmate, who I’d seen carrying a dictionary and a ready reference English-Hindi translation set in the first few months, was asked to explain the term inventory. Now considering it’s not a very good term to explain in terms of management, the kid fumbled and stumbled and our teacher lost his cool! He blasted him off saying preposterous things like that word forms basic English and how could a person who’d qualified this far, not know. Not know? Good lord! It just pained to see that person bear the humiliation in public.

Teachers are meant to be an understanding tool to the knowledge we aspire to gain. They are our guides, our mentors and often our philosophers…how then can they be, albeit unconsciously, so heartless?

If you wish see this, come watch a viva-voce of any of us. If you’ve ever stumbled, ever felt at a loss of words you’d know what I mean. And to think of those for whom the queen’s language is just a big barrier…

ah those days!

watching those american chick flicks is good for the body(no exercise) and the brain(no exercise, again!). the guys are down right gorgeous, the leading woman is identifiably smart, not-so-sexy and gives a damn about it, the people are almost like what u've known through ur school life from the dick-head football captain to bimbette sluts, bespectacled nerds to good doing nobodies! how can generation after generation spread over continents, school still be so identifiably similiar?
what i write today is not about my school life and exactly how i'd classify my presence, or lack of it, but something that is absolutely hilarious, now that i look back at it. believe it or not, i was a cheerleader! and a downright good one at that. looking at me now or even these past few years it's hard to imagine me ever being so svelte and supple to be a cheerleader, but yes i was. the only reason i was one was that back in class 4/5 i was about the average height of a class 9 chick...who were the cheerleaders in fact. i was picked because:
1. i was as tall as them(lord they must have been short!)
2. my built sorta compensated for my obvious lack 'curves' and a bust at the age of 10!
3. since i played basketball(people assumed i must be good since i was tall), the coach knew me and the 'didis' adored me(that, i later figured, was all thanks to my brother who studied in the school rt across mine and obviously had attracted some female attention).
4. our convent was running short(haha...pun unintended!) of suitable ladies for this job

so there i was...daily being escorted from the junior school to the senior school wing for my practice. truthfully the part i loved best was getting to play with my pom-poms!! i had red and silver ones and it was soooooooooo good! much better infact than those trots and jumps and twists and loops. LC was to host the basketball tournament n this was the opening ceremony...n i the youngest participant!
i haven't thought of this li'l event for so long that details skip me. i remember faces, not names; my dress, not the day. no one outside school knew i did something that can be classified as cheerleading in a black bodysuit with a red skirt over it, no one asked, i told no one. no one asked me how it looked, how i felt and no one came to see. at least no one i knew!
but i did...n that's the best part! i've been a cheerleader :D

tales of love

Some quotes I've read n heard:

• A man may plant his seed anywhere he wishes to, it's a woman's job to restrict it to one- Everybody Loves Raymond
• I don't love you enough to hate you-Kamasutra
• The opposite of love is not hate. it's indifference. if you hate someone, means u still care-Desperate Housewives

• Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love- Neil Gaiman

• You know when i hate you, it's because i love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul- Julie de Lespinasse
• Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was choice, but falling in love with you i had no control over
• No woman hates a man for being in love with her, but many a woman hate a man for being a friend to her- Alexander pope
• oh, I've loved him too much to feel no hate for him- J Baptiste Racine

• I must learn to love the fool in me the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs and cries- Theodore Isaac Rubin

in defense

i write this today in defense of a movie that's faced a lot of flak from all quarters for being a piece of insanity. it's taken me over a year to get my hand onto this one...not that it was unavailable, just that no one i knew had it, or would ever let me be convinced or motivated enough to watch it. i remember when it released along side the head-ache grosser called om shanti om, people were initially divided and most ended up watching both. i, on the other hand watched neither. i barely watch movies in the theatre coz my friends n i can never agree on movies to watch, where to watch and what time. so sad it may sound...'m a clg student who barely bunks clg to watch movies.

om shanti om made people laugh because of it's sheer senselessness. it made me hold my head and doubt my sanity when i did around to watch it. people around me were going gaga over SRK, in love with the line "ek chutki sindoor ki keemat aap kya jano something babu?", it made people hum and laugh. those who watched saawariya hated it...it's all blue they said, it's a chitrahaar they called it, it's eewww! when i declared recently that i watched saawariya n liked it...i was declared crazy!

i stand by what i feel. saawariya is beautiful. I'm no movie buff, I'm no avant-garde expert...but i haven't seen such a spectacle. the moon...with the intricate patterns to show the darkness; the streets...unlit to show privacy; the river...to show the eternal divide between the lover and the loved; the bridge...our catalyst in the union; the umbrella...sakina's preparedness to face hardship; music...the universal language; shades of blue all through the movie...couldn't have been replaced; the flowers lining the pot holed road...beauty with the beast; the prostitute...friendship in unlikely quarters.
i can go on and on about what where and how it appeals. the camera moves ever so slightly to show the amused fear, the jilted lover and the sole tear on a smile. the lights are there, somewhere...they don't glare ontot he face to show u layers of make-up. they play with the emotion. it's garish, it's subtle, it's loud, it's soothing...it's a wonderful love story, where not everyone gets their love.

Mind over Body

i am not a feminist, as some people consider me. i do find myself at odds with people when treatment of females is considered. i don't like the downtrodden way women are treated at each step of the way, getting the raw deal in life. elaborate l8r, or just ask me when u meet me. i don't also ask for favours, as most people consider women liberation to be all about. i just ask for equality. you be you, let me be me!
this one's about how my self made principles gave me a bumpy ride. buses in Delhi are a nightmare. men in those buses, nine cases out of ten, are horny bastards. if i could shoot them, they'd be in line before the auto wallahs who consider it their right to over charge. at least they only rob me of my money, and that too at face value, not my innocence and dignity in "oops! madam jagah nahi hai kya karun?" style. those are the times i wish i could just slap, kick, castrate and dump the entire male population of Delhi. i just can't...i know good men too, and i thank the lord for them!
today i had an exceptionally long journey to make into a part of delhi I've never been to. i insisted to travel on my own n learn n declare myself a big girl...no more mamma's li'l baby(though I'll always be one :)). standing in that over crowded bus, i saw the ladies seats had been promptly occupied by guys. three of them, pretty young. i kept standing. it was long ago that I'd decided I'll never ask for a seat. the guy sitting on it could be just as exhausted as i! so i kept standing. the three guys, young blokes, couldn't spell chivalry if they wanted to, n how i missed chivalry!
women came in l8r, who managed to get a few seats my ordering the men sitting to stand. not even requesting...more like whacking their heads n looking down their noses. i kept hanging. those guys had some nerve to remain seated even after those aunties(can't call them anything else) had done everything but call the police.
i was so tempted to join them. i was already tired, hanging onto the rod for sacred space to rest my feet on and keeping my bag on my shoulders. but i couldn't. i wouldn't. to join them would be against my battle for equality. my self appointed battle in every sphere of life. i was losing.
finally a guy's stop came. he first tapped on my knee...that's all he could get to i guess. he then asked me to take his seat when he vacated it. the world made sense again! i wouldn't shower him for praises for telling me his seat would be available for a micro second, but i do thank him. never did i expect any one to offer me his seat, i would've declined anyway! but for whatever reason, i did manage a seat a little beyond the halfway.
i finally got to my no man's land. or better, no woman's land

Of Tonga rides...

Last saturday was supposed to be my day out with my parents and indeed it was, albeit a little out of the ordinary, but none the less a lot fun. It was decided we’ll head for Sadar Bazaar for some deal hunting and exploration of our own. This is our hobby…go exploring a part of the city that’s absolutely unknown to us after having done our basic homework as to what’s available and how much to pay for it.

Once at Paharganj, we had to choose our mode of transport to get to our destination. Our car was safely parked away at the metro station close by. Mom of course picked a rickshaw, but I had a better idea…a tonga! I so wanted to get on one, just for fun, though I’d never imagined I’d manage to do so in the heart of Delhi. So it was, the three of us atop a tonga and hardly able to keep our teeth in! My mother was laughing all the way, dad was holding on tight and completely avoiding the horse’s tail and I was trying to keep my feet in so I don’t hit a cycle or an auto that stops behind us. Good God I had so much fun…I’d happily do it again J

The rest of the escapade was the typical exploration filled with ooos and aaahhs. Each of these places remind me how protected a life I’ve led. Standing in the middle of Asia’s biggest wholesale market I had this feeling that I know where to get whatever there is to be bought. There is talk of life in the fast lane…I saw people busy with their work and sprinting away with loads more than just what’s on their shoulders in lanes as wide as my dad n me side by side, even narrower. But no one stopped for anyone, people didn’t offer us water when we got in and they especially didn’t seem very happy to see a bunch of giggling adults just picking a piece or two of random things. This place was hardcore trading and a business hub and I doubt a classy, clean, air conditioned, marble floored skyscraping centre would make the same amount of money as these people here.

I wish I had better skills and more patience to relate to you what I saw today and what each of those narrow lanes brought out of me. It may sound weird but each place I go to I make my own rapport with it, and I feel the place the place respond. Today’s was not a picturesque journey but nonetheless it was worth capturing the sheer madness of the critical equilibrium that place runs on

jumping into in

today i went shopping. nothing so great anyway, i do that for purely fun reasons and often stress busting, but today i had a reason and behind my quest for that elusive piece of clothing that'll stop me in my tracks, was my personal vendetta to see if i manage to find my size! not a very ego-boosting affair when any and every damn thing is unfit...shoes that don't fit , shirts that look like they'll tear, skirts that are too short, bangles which are too big(exceptions :D) and my tastes which are too expensive and ideas too wild!
i'm rather excited...in a bad way. although i did manage to fit into clothes today at first shot, i was pretty disheartened at the range available. in the tiny trial rooms, where more often than not i manage to hit my hand on the ceiling or the whiny fan, i came to a sudden conclusion: are clothes designed keeping in mind anorexic female who have no curves to speak of? i definitely agree. why else would shirts have the same width on the top as say more towards the waist? even cherubic(don't even dare call me fat) people like me call claim to have some difference in the two! god shopping is so stressing!
this post is utter crap...i just had to vent off my frustration in someway without getting too graphic about female clothing n fitting. i'm just happy i managed to find what i needed after having to pull it over me n often jumpin into it!

the long and the short of it

i saw this female today in a pair of shorts. were i guy, you would be better able to understand my fascination with that item of clothing. but nevertheless i'll try. you see it had been a part of my school uniform n i had to wear it whether or not i was comfortable carrying a a very badly stitched, riding up the legs, cotton blend shorts and not just in school but the also on the walk back home. the latter is what was the worst thing that you can imagine.
it is any mother's nightmare and mine's no exception. a young girl, with a rather developed body(embarrassing), walking down the deserted colony road on hot summer days in something as awful as those particular shorts...don't even remind me! i did have a stray incident or two too, though ma never got to hear of those, i was rather terrified as it is, didn't want ma to curfew the society. i know she's capable of doing it if required.
the solution thankfully came in a few years down the line. we got track pants for winter sports uniform which after much fighting and grumbling and growling i adopted as my all year through
sports uniform. i finally got rid of those god forsaken shorts!
looking back at those shorts i often wonder they couldn't have been so bad afterall. a certain person i know wore it all through 1st year of college. girls, mostly, loved it coz they got to flaunt their well toned legs and well it was conveniently modified to hot-pants length to work to their advantage. i never seemed to like that. call it under confidence in myself thanks to my potato sack figure or repulsion at the idea of being treated like an object by the cassanovas of school, either way i didn't like it.
only time i loved wearing it was when i had to lead my house-Perfection- for the annual sports meet. a matter of pride! not only i was leading my house, i enjoyed the surprise in my classmates eyes when they saw i too had legs!! i think by that time i was out of my gawky teen mode and much more comfortable with my body than previously when i struggled to look at myself in the mirror.
i still crave that 'perfect' figure. i still manage to put a potato to shame, but i don't hide now. i'm happy i've finally accepted me!

blah

its a wonder i continue to write here. no one reads this...

justice for all?

reading my previous blog entries i came across this:

it's suprising to say the least that i could write things about other people's lives...i usually stick to me. noting that Nitish katara's murder case has finally led to some sort of justice, my first thoughts go to the BITS mesra student, Abhishek. what happened to him? where did his battle for justice vanish?
i asked my father this first thing in the morning and his prompt reply was: case daba diya!
i only stand and wonder why.

Virtual Exhibition :D

what i do when i can't do anything else is either make rhymes, or draw anything in sight. i've finally decided i'm ready for an exhibition(haha!).
welcome to my virtual exhibition of my 'works'. shot by my handy phone camera of varying resolutions, i present my two canvasses n sketches i could find.
though i doubt anyone's reading this, do say something this time if u can.
tada

painting fishes

it's an absolute magic i manage to get something written here. all day long when either i can't access the net or when i'm studying i come up with such brilliant things to write on, sort my ideas out, pick a name and even build its body. but as soon as i'm online, i write utter crap like this!
can't be blamed, i think at the most unusual of places and times that it's impossible to follow it up like this.
now i finally have an idea! think purple.
those who know me, will know my fascination for this colour and its all encompassing shades. i have so many purples that i've managed to go to college for a week in only purple wear(baring my jeans, that is). i have purple reeboks(my latest :)), i have purple shirts, tshirts, sweat shirts, sweaters, shorts and even kurte! i just don't know how i managed to collect all these...i never shop with a particular colour in mind. coincidence.
the latest purple is my room. my mother bought me blue-pink-purple curtains long back and yesterday when the house was being repainted i opted for a light pinkish purple to adorn my walls. call it obsession if you must, i simply love my royal colour fetish. it shouts, "shivani's room!".
the beauty of purple(not violet) i feel, is it blends beautifully with any colour. wear it over black, it brings out the paleness and the boldness of the colours; couple it with blue, it perfectly complements it; top it up with red, it looks like a blueberry mousse on a cinnamon cake!
the best thing i've done till now with that purple-pink paint? paint fishes and stars on the aqua coloured wall of my reading room. blobbing colour of freshly painted walls with a roughly made stencil is so much fun...you can't go deathly wrong on that fresh wall, coz it won't be repainted and then u'll be stuck with blobs of colour on your walls. but i've managed a decent job and my li'l aquarium looks so adorable with purple fishes :D

btw: the aqua is this colour and pink-purple this

Fine Arts

Fine Arts, conjures up an image of something that requires a flair for the arts, a talent for the brush strokes and of course a lot of sense of design. And when all of that is supposed to be brought out in our college…uhmm, don’t get me started! At the end of it all, I think it was worth the effort each one of us put in from making a list of requirements to putting up our make-shift registration desk and especially pulling the crowd. One day we had events that were overflowing from our schedules and no people to assist us, while the very next most of them had been scraped and much to our relief and disappointment that day and horror the next, all of them were back on schedule!

Day 1

The day had an exciting start. We didn’t know where to start! We had no stalls no desks and of course no crowd in sight. Hauling a tent house’s rickety table, decorating our corner with satin drapes, painting our banner in random fonts and a whole lot of bonding later, we were ready for our events. Lined up for the day we had FACE PAINTING, TATTOO MAKING and HAIR STYLING.

As people poured in from colleges afar, their talent spoke louder than the blaring sound checks in the OAT. Imaginations and issues ran parallel and judges. I bet, had a tough call. See for yourself

Day 2

Picking up the threads from the previous day, the next had SKETCHING and WALL PAINTING. When the registration sheets got filled in faster than we could keep track of, we could but smile at the little successes we were experiencing. Watching heads bent over a piece of art that spoke volumes about its creator, listening to distant blaring of guitars in unison, soaking in the soft sunshine…Saturdays never seemed better. And when those sheets returned, we could only laugh, stare and marvel.

Wall painting turned out to be more fun than expected. It’s not everyday you get to do graffiti on college walls and splash colour all around! TnP walls, the usual somber looking sandstone, looked a like the RDB rebel wall!

And to top it all i didn't regret spending my 20th bday running around working! even my bday cake had to wait, and then all the cream on my face had to wait to be washed off! Boy, were my friends mad!

Day 3

If you had to make an ad for a hair gel using a drafter what would you do? Give up? But not these guys! Day 3 saw DAD OF ADS, PAINTING and COLLAGE MAKING. Dad of Ads was a concept prop based ad making competition and we just had a lot of fun giving random products with even worse props! Slippers for soap, pillow for a washing powder and muffler for a drink! This one takes my vote for the best creativity. Short, witty and down right serious comedy…they left you convinced that a good salesman can even sell your own stuff to you!

Each participant, every moment of the three days that made up the Fine Arts of Abhyudaya was worth missing all the ‘good’ bits. A bunch of unknowns came together and we left as friends. We shouted, we screamed, we sang songs…we did our job. And we did it well!

language deprieved

just logging onto blogger and reading the date of my last post as one in dec makes me realise i'm seriously suffering from a minor attack of 'writer's block'! i've got so much to say and so little time to actually sit down in front of my pc, type and still make sense of my jumbled up thoughts that a sunday afternoon just has to sacrifice its sleep for the literary cause :D
emoticons, i've come to notice, rule our lives. i wasn't intending to write on emotions displayed by a sickly yellow faced non-human like thing, but when i placed that beaming grin at the end of my sentence just so that the reader may know that i am in a happy mood, i realised that maybe i don't trust my writing skills any more than i trust the intelligence of a chihuahua. sad simile. sadder topic.
moving onto why i've chosen language today as my topic of choice, my sense of grammar and pure language have gone down the western yamuna canal that flows nest to my d'ling college! i simply crave for a challenging conversation that will make me dig out words i know but chose to ignore, make me sit up and make an effort to be flawless in my line of thought and perfect in my diction! ahh...what days! as of my current situation, any speech slurring grammar marauding piece of crap will pass because it achieved its aim of getting the point across! i'm getting hyper about it because i miss good language. my own vocabulary is so varied now that i can count the number of swear words i know beyond my ten fingers. bad thing to flaunt but thats all i get to hear everyday all around me and practically used as an endearment for my friends who then have the gall to pretend that 'good' girls shouldn't listen to all this and actually make us close our ears, when they realise we're in earshot. phew!
the weirdest thing is when i come home after five days of pure college with its freedom, bad food, lingo at al i take time to get back to having things being done for me and actually behaving myself! i use my college lingo(see the effect on language?) with my unsuspecting parents, esp ma, and leave them boggled about precisely what i said! issme koi fight nai hai...panga tab hota hai jab ***** ma ke samne yaad nai aata ki main apne hi ghar pe hon!
so hoping i get some freaking good convos real soon so that i may mind my language!

Delhi International Arts Festival

life has its many firsts. the DIAF was a very attractive multi event, multi venue affair. the only drawback I'm a sunset Cinderella in a city labeled unsafe for women and i doubt I'd ever be big enough to be let out for such things unchaperoned by a member of family. so moving out of self loathing misery let's get to the point.

oridssi:
on 16th dec my parents and i were witness to the opening of the classical dance segment of DIAF and it was splendid!
the evening under the sprawling branches of the peepal tree on also the coldest delhi day, began with mrs. sanjukta mohapatra performing oridssi. she's the disciple and daughter-in-law of famous oridssi exponent late shri kelucharan mohapatra. i've previously only seen oridssi in school and never could(and still can't) tell the difference between the various mudras in the various classical dance forms! i doubt they're different at all so majorly but for me they do mostly the same stuff in different dresses! i never thought i'd ever say such things about a beauty that is dance, but ignorance brings out the trash. so the dance we enjoyed began with a ganesh vandana and then a prayer to lord vishnu. these were followed by dance presentations on a poem and the very beautifully done-varsha. I've never watched a professionally done dance and with such reverence...it was touching! i don't know what else to say... my hands are frozen!



kuchipudi:
the second piece of the evening was a dance performance by the very famous couple-raja and radha reddy. before the dance began i was showered by snippets of well known information like he's got two wives-radha reddy and kaushalya reddy, each has a daughter who've both completed school etc. soon enough the attraction of the night himself came forward on stage and gave a li'l explanation of what was to come...shiv lila! he mentioned why he's called the neelkanth, umasutham and mrityunjaya and also a little tale of the demon tripura! i only sat wondering why a whole state in a deeply religious country of ours would be named after a demon, considering superstition almost in every way rules our lives. but then we love contradiction don't we? so now that mr reddy explained the whats and the whys of his dance performance,i just waited for the how! it started pretty slow...mr and mrs just entered from ends of the stage and started moving around in circles...literally! then it picked pace with mrs kaushalya reddy doin the rhythmic toda bit...man i loved it! the ballet carried on in much the same way as he'd mentioned with beautiful characterisations of and by the couple, facial expressions and mudras. now since I'm no art critique nor an avid follower of dance of any kind, i'll stick to my version and impressions. it was good but the petite mrs reddy was seemingly getting too old for this while the chill seemed to have travelled up mr reddy's leg. i mean no disrespect to these very talented far superior seniors, but then 'bandar kya jane adrak ka swad!'. so basically it was something new, something good and something that went over my head after knocking some sense into it!
lesson of the day: i should've stuck to learning bharatnatyam when i got an awesome teacher instead of showing him how adamant a donkey i could be! boohoo...i started making wrong decisions when i couldn't even spell it!





modern ballet:
on the 17th, monday, we went to catch a contemporary dance performance by a group from the Slovak republic. the presentation was titled "night peace". momma chose the dance over kathak and manipuri because we'd had enough of open air theatres and chilly evenings and as kamani
auditorium is far better, we headed to it! we got there a li'l late, though just in time for the dance. I'll give you my interpretation of the ballet...i have no idea of what was meant to be portrayed or what was. going by the title of night, here is what i picked up: night falls among chaos and people having spent all day in their own activities, in their own world at their own leisure, forget that there is a world beyond their own. to them every stranger is a nobody, you'd not even register their presence were they to stare at you in your face. the night brings to you its own gifts of peace and rest, but the human psyche always has a zillion things to do before it goes to bed. no one stops to take the selfless gifts she brings, no one wants it. period. you've got parties to attend, people to meet and of course carnal pleasures to be attained, but the night can
wait. then comes the burn out! life comes to a standstill and you just land up like a log on the bed. once the sleep takes over that is when life's beauty actually comes forward. but sleep is hard enough, dreams are harder. you've got to fight the demons of the life in daylight in the darkness of your head, you've got to get it out of your system. peace can only reign when the place for it is free of clutter that blocks the drainage system of the mind! that is when night becomes peaceful...that is when life becomes beautiful! relationships becomes clearer and emotions becomes sort themselves out. love pours through life! this is night! this is peace!
we had to walk out towards the end due to lack of comprehension by my company, so i'm not sure how it all ended but i do know(and console myself with) that we didn't miss much.
my cheeky comments go like this: the guys were very good...tall well built good looking hunks! their dancing agility made me realise that if i were to roll like they were, I'd keep on rolling like a cylinder! all in all a good show, with typical Indian humour and movie like comments. the best ones i heard went like,"yaar yeh to saanwariya style hai, samajh nai aayega!"; when the music went boom like a bomb, a little baby cried making the whole crowd laugh out real loud! next time the baby spoke, it was a cute giggle when they were trying to portray the self-demons being fought and most people thought she had a terrible itch, one guy even said she was a chicken!!

bharatnatyam:
since we still had time on our hands and momma wanted to see the youth festival, we headed to ashok hotel's amphitheatre just when bharatnatyam group dance began. a young duet was on, and was done very beautifully. i mean it...vigour and vitality severely contrasted with ageold movements of the day before. the last piece presented was a group dance titled "geet govindam" and was an outlet of gopis' love for lord krishna. good coordination, simply to comprehend and
quite tastefully presented. i enjoyed it, and thankfully so did my parents!

muzok: fusion music
the last jig of the day was a fusion music band. this one from kiromal college's music society. i had absolutely no expectations and since i'd never heard of them, or heard them, i simply waited. guitars rolled out. the usual. a synthesier was placed, i yawned. a tabla came, i took interest. a violin and dholak followed, i decided my parents will now sit easy. the guys came out and my eyes were wide open! now we're talking...they looked pretty much like the rest of 18-21 yr olds i know, but still i soaked in all at offer. :D hehehe! then came the pin prick-pa says,"kitne lousy ladke hain, koi bhi khana nai khata kya?". does he always do it on purpose? oh whatever! so now back to the band...tehy began with a female choir doing a prayer, then a duet choir doin the necessary desh bhakti, then a powerful rehman composition to top it up! by this time, my mother is thoroughly bored! then they bring on bruce springsteen's june! yahoo! umm, well, my parents are looking at my beaming face...wondering if they're finally on my turf! bring it on! so they...and the cutest guy is the lead singer, ah my luck! if only we'd stayed till after their jig, i could've known his name. but then my parents had had enough. so here we come to an end of my diaf...i think so.

another year

a year gone by
and still it feels like new
the things i've said here alone
make me all the more easier for you!

another year of blogging...more coming up!

Spirited Stories

Getting into the mood of writing is not very easy for me. There are the dry months and then there are days like these when each morning I decide to revive my darling blog. So today I’ve decided to share my talli experiences with who ever will care to read this stuff!

Having an older sibling meant starting early with everything...basically following them blindly! So when they decided to explore alcohol at their ‘proper’ age this baby as a faithful sidekick promptly followed them around just wanting to take a sip! Naughty baby ;)

so what if our first bottle of beer had to be washed down the bathroom sink because neither of us liked the taste or smell of it? It taught me to wait till my proper age! Good bottle of beer! And it taught to stay away from beer forever too. Wine, whiskey, vodka and gin...ah, well they came in much later and stayed more like tasting jobs needing to be accomplished.

Wine, white wine, will stay special to me for reasons beyond the high. I got my glass of wine a day before my maths' pre-board and I managed to score a 98 with an almost hangover beating drums of hell in my head! it was almost all thanks to a jerk I happened to know back then, who thought I was kidding in the middle of the night, but then realised I wasn't because I was really talking drunkard crap! So you see wine wonders!

People may say Johnny Walker is expensive and delicate. But how many of those people have washed down their whiskey glasses in the rain because it was too strong? I did! On a chilly February night, with a thunderous rainstorm beating down on a hapless city, somewhere a youngster decides to taste the god’s drink. It tastes okay by adult standards but yucky by Hershey’s chocolate syrup standards. So well the rains had to wash over all sins!

The ‘vodka and gin affair’ happened on a very important day. In the morning my bosom buddy decided I had to be initiated into the very important phase of life and took it upon her to do the honours! So before much ado we were sitting with vodka in our hands trying to act as if we’ll gulp it down like grape juice…only trouble its fermented grape juice and it tastes and smells awful! So somehow I managed to finish my drink and felt elated that I’d had my first drink! Wow! Man my head is swinging and is the same sun that’s just shining brighter?

The evening came and my parents decided that should their daughter drink, she might as well do it with them. So I got to choose my drink and I chose a ‘lady-like’ Gin. Only trouble its drier and hits harder than vodka! At least with me it did. So I did a very lady-like thing of passing my drink to my saviour-my brother, who though is not much of a gin person, very nicely finished it for me. Thanks dude!

So basically I’ve had my share of spirits and alcohol adventures and somehow coming to the conclusion that it isn’t quite my drink, has been more satisfying than perhaps other frustrated females who are just told that ladies don’t drink. My foot!

Alcohol has been an adventure that’ll continue as long as this world shall exist. But to be able to taste it, label it unpalatable and then gloat about it has its own high!

Cheers to life!

its a new world

i'm now officially a hosteler. my hostel warden may disagree due to lack of attendance but i still feel like one. personally i hated it the first few days and having home at a distance of five or six and thirty kilometers can be quite a temptation to a baby like me! so i came running home(only metaphorically) whenever i possibly could.
last week i resolved to stay. and i might add, on the third day when my mother asked if i missed home, i promptly replied a no! i really didn't! yes there were other things that pulled me home wards, but definitely not stuff like an ac room or momma's cuddle. they are things that i need to resolve in my head and which if i mention will not even relate to a hosteler's life. but then my life was never that easy.
the kind of independence and a whole grown up kind of feeling that i've experienced has been an eye opener of sorts. in the hostel u're left to yourself and u actually come to realise what bonding is all about! i always had a fear in my mind that i may be left all alone like a loner i portray to be at the point when i am in most need of human company...but here i've learnt and realised that not everyone can see through the facade and to let the bee into the parlour, even the spider had to invite it! i've made some friends who're unusual to say the least, they're unique. each one with their own ideas of life and each one with their own tastes.
i've been lucky in more than one way. my roomie is a gem... getting to understand me and protect me in so little time as we have spent together, she's precious to me. it was almost magical to know that our likes, dislikes, hobbies and mind tracks run almost parallel...she writes poetry, loves decorating the room. loves earrings, keeps an extensive wardrobe and believes in cleanliness! although i give her enough reasons to keep cleaning the room after me...she never loses her temper. we can laugh at jokes together that no one else even noticed, we can discuss movies and grammar with the same level of ease and then we can just roll with laughter just trying to imagine femina with a playboy like centre spread!
i owe my love of the hostel to the sexy female i live with(i thought of worse lines, but then it maybe taken n kinky forms!). she's a true blue gem and i really thank her for it.
this one's for u Sexy PJ!

Barriers

to wake up one morning and find barriers around you may be a more conducive environment to swallow the fact that there are boundaries that must never be crossed. but to actually have them round you since the moment you first wailed, while being swung in mid-air and not to be told what they meant till you understood on your own. to see it there and always be told how wrong they are, to be allowed the freedom to dream that they'll vanish into thin air some air but then to be reminded that dreams just acts you'll never accomplish, hurts.
it hurts far more than what it must to have them imposed overnight. at least in that case you have the option of tearing your lungs out to make your voice heard, that that what happens is wrong! in this case you can't even say you didn't see it coming. it was always there for you to see. it was you who chose to ignore.
what difference will it make if someone is so narrow that they fail to acknowledge that dark ages are over. what do you do if they refuse to believe that their understanding of liberation was justifiably valid some ages ago when man knew only a few desires-power, food and sex. i can't disagree by saying that man has in anyway changed his priorities or ambitions, but i do believe that they do not employ any kind of force to acquire it from unwilling people. again psychopaths abound. but what i question is can we let fear and socially acceptable behavior rule our lives? especially in a world when you're not sure who your next door neighbour is.

School-revisted

its been over a year since i left school and stepped into a place they call college. saying it is quite a change will be an understatement, it is a revolution! The Mother's International School to Delhi College of Engineering is a major jump, to say the least. i have changed into someone who no one from school would recognize and if any one from college were to see me backin school, they'd laugh their guts out!
this is not some revelation that dawned on me in the early hours of my sleep like other ideas i get, but something right in the middle of the day. my two better friends and i were having a girl's day in...eat, chat, gossip and indulge. so in the middle of all this we decided to pull out the school album and see all our friends again. so out came a big album full of pics, mostly of class 12 and voila! all three of us suffer from a bout of something that can't be explained. it was definitely not nostalgia(we weren't quite missing the people, coz those who matter are still in touch), it was not depression(we're butterflies now, not caterpillars), it wasn't even a regret as to what we are, but something absolutely inexplicable.
looking at those pictures and looking at all of us now, its really a magic of a newly acquired fashion sense. not just the three of us...but each and everyone that i've happened to meet this summer from school. be it long unruly locks for the guys or some hippy skirts for the girls, everyone has a new identity beyond the daily white yarns we all ever saw the others in. and everyone seems to always notice the other person's changes more prominently than their own. i thought i was still the plain jane, the goodie two shoes i always had been in school. but no i am not.
i personally have undergone a metamorphosis of sorts. looking back at my pics from school, i could only cover my eyes! i looked so terrible!!! not that now i am in any position to give any one a run for their money, but still i have some sense. back then i was the trouser wearing, plait porting tomboy! at least now i can say i have some female clothing of repute. i can behave like a girly girl too. something i never could back in school.
so ignoring the academic parts of school and college, the two still stand apart with which shivani they know. the dumb looking smart fatso or the not-so-outstanding female with some brains. two worlds apart yet ingrained in me. a part of me that shows as and when i need it. but i still wish i never look the way i did back in school!
but i still love my school!

Love is Blind

It’s a quote immemorial-Love is Blind. Well I happened to live through it. So I sit here, listening to my any time companion, the very musical radio, and I wondered what made me not to notice the obviously flawed little creature that is so very dear to me-my teddy.

Now King Kong is not an ordinary teddy. Starting with the unusual name to the incomparable little tweed pants he wore when he was first gifted to me to even his inane ability to cry like a little baby, he has been quite a part of my life. To put it quite simply no one liked him-not my mother when she first set eyes on the crying monkey (yes he’s not a bear! I discovered it to my horror only recently), not my grandmother who noticed his flaws like they were mentioned on the packing. The only exceptions were the men in my life because one of them had bought it for me and the other didn’t bother to notice! Even I never realized how much I loved my King Kong till I grew out of my Barbie world and stepped into teenage holding onto the faithful monkey for my life.

To mention his flaws is just to prove how love is blind. King Kong is a monkey-not that it is bad but it is shocking. I mean people always say a teddy bear (thanks to the Yankee prez) but you don’t quite associate a stuffed toy a decade back to a monkey. I am still to spot a stuffed monkey like mine and I certainly abhor those chocolate coloured swinging chimps you find everywhere. My darling is different. He has a squint too. And this too surprised me…I never noticed it all of the eleven twelve years that I have had him. When I did mention it to my mother, she just smiled and said,” You noticed that today?”

This lovely teddy of mine has seen me through all the clichéd teenage events of my not so eventful life. I have cried gallons of tears into his fur, clutched onto him for moral support esp a night before the exam, shared my deepest fears and uncensored comments on everything around me, pretend he can talk to me when I need someone to say exactly what I want to hear and more recently used his expanse of a belly as a very comforting pillow. And then I innocently took him to the family doctor to say he’s lost weight!

He’s more to me than most other people I know. He’s precious and I just have to kiss him good night before I sleep even if in the morning he’s on the floor. It’s hard to imagine spending my life without him…so maybe you’ll just see him shuttling like me between home and hostel every week. Love seriously requires no criteria and never any biases.