The Constant Critic

LONG KISS GOODBYE

2011-05-24T19:54:00.002+05:30

To Whoever Cares

This is the end of the road for me here! If I were to ever write again I shall post my new URL here. Till then, have a great life. I am off!

Adios.

What Dreams May Come

2011-04-29T19:16:00.002+05:30

Journey

2011-04-13T23:35:00.004+05:30

I blame the radio and Lea Michele for having gotten this song stuck in my head!

The Life and Times of a Closet Bad Ass---Part Trois

2011-04-07T21:56:00.001+05:30

HIGH AND DRY

Kingfisher model Poonam Pandey and her vain promise of doing a full monty, were India to win the World Cup, had almost all the perverts who follow news praying harder than the punters. Win we did, but the only appearance Ms Pandey chose to make post World Cup victory was on microblogging website Twitter a few days back where she ‘promised’, yet again quoting none other than Forbes Editor-in-Chief Steve Forbes, to keep her word. And this, ladies and gents, in spite threats from all the patrons of the ‘Indian culture’ who have risen up against her in arms!

But last we heard poor Ms Pandey had been hospitalized for kidney stones. Her publicist assured whoever cares that “she will soon speak up!”

THINGS WE LOVE

Pahar Ganj

Not one of the cleanest places in the world but right from cheap booze to cheap clothes and cheap lodgings, Pahar Ganj is an explorer’s delight. Catering to all cultures, customs and cuisines this part of the city throws many surprises were one to go looking for them. Not to mention it is well connected by the Metro and very close to Old Delhi

Turquoise Cottage, Adhchini

Serving the best Mojitos in town along with a live DJ playing a variety of theme based songs every night this pub is a dream! And for all those in love with their cancer sticks, smoking is permitted inside!

Look forward to: Karaoke and media nights!

The World Cup Victory

A victory which shoved an entire nation on the streets in the middle of the night. Delhi being no exception revelry, celebration and solidarity was the order of the day. The city never seemed friendlier and adorable.

THINGS WE HATE

The Delhi Metro

What started out as a respite from the crass and temperamental Delhi public transport has become a nightmare of sorts. Overcrowded coaches, snags, unruly people and irregular service are something that has made, what was once a blessing, a pain!

The Heat Wave
Stealthily creeping and intensifying by the second, sweaty, hot and dry days are closer than we can think. And I am sure no matter how used to it we are, we Dilliwalahs can't go through them without a whimper! (Not) Looking forward to water shortages, power cuts and huge electricity bills!

The Reckless Romeo
With his mojo practically falling out of his pants you will find him lurking in all the wrong places. With an appetite for ogling which could give owls an inferiority complex and the art of stalking the object of his affection worthy of being taught at the FBI, we can certainly do without his vulgar comments and curious hands!

Both Sides Now

2011-03-27T01:46:00.002+05:30

"...and if you care don't let them know....don't give yourself away!"

The Danes, They Know!

2011-02-23T04:35:00.037+05:30

My humility and modestly (which mostly gets projected and interpreted as under-confidence) is one of the main reasons why it is hard for me to feel self satisfied and proud of most things I do or achieve. I guess for people like me dissatisfaction and never feeling enough is what keeps them hungry for growth and wanting to push all limits to try going for the 'kill' in life. Well, results beg to differ with our idea of what they should be, what with all the efforts sometimes a poor hard-worker can make while success refuses to hold out, acting like a pricey cunt. But did I hear anyone say life was fair??? No, I didn't!

But inspite of my dismissive attitude towards it, life hasn't exactly stopped evolving, fascinating, amusing or hurting me. And even though I suffer an infallible disorder of seeing the glass half empty but I guess my pessimism does relent once in a while giving way to humour.

This post is an account of one such incident.

It was the winter of 2006. I was 20 at that time. Very unruly, self obsessed, my sensibilities bordering on mild stubbornness nurtured by ignorance. No one was above me and chasing a good laugh at the end of the day was my ambition and motivation. I was very active and popular in the collegiate theatre circuit which was my sole recreation back then (apart from reading, drinking, watching movies and bumming around the city if that counts!).

We'd come up with self-directed, self-produced plays where everything right from scripts, to cast, to props and ways to perform was decided by us, almost 20-year-olds. And I had the best time of my life being a part of that frenzy. We'd not only participate at college level competitions but were asked to hold ticketed shows at a few cultural venues in the city.

Now anyone who has ever been to the India Habitat Centre knows the kind of people it caters to. The list includes the rich or the nouveau rich along with expats or foreigners who want to get a taste of the art and culture scene in Delhi.

We were scheduled to perform for a collegiate theatre fest there one November afternoon. As per the guidelines we were supposed to reach IHC early in the morning, do the required checks, rehearse and wait thereon till the tickets were sold out and the show ended.

Now anyone who knows me knows how much much I love the idea of regular bowels. So when it taps, I HAVE to attend to my call of nature. And considering that IHC restrooms are a hygiene freak's dream, I was totally looking forward to take a dump there uptil the point I sat on the pot.

We Indian kids may have outgrown our slave tendencies since we got independence and over a period of time have managed to follow and imbibe everything western in our lifestyle. But the one thing that we are still kinda hung up on is the use of water and a water mug to clean our business, after we are done doing it, in place of tissue papers.

But IHC clearly thought and perhaps still thinks differently.

Yes...there was no water jet or a mug or anything that could be used to contain water in it in the toilet cubicle where I sat absolutely befuddled on how to finish what I started!

And oh...I forgot to mention one very important part of the story...my friend who accompanied me to the restroom. Let's call her A.

Now A is very sassy and propaaah especially when out at a fancy place. And as per our chindi-chor standards back then, India Habitat Centre was as prim as it gets.

Me: A...dooode, how do I clean my butt?

A: Whaaaat....use the tissue naa, ducky!

Me: I can't man...my tatti was too messy to be cleaned with a tissue!! Shit...what do I do??

A: Bedi....(hesitates)...relax now....wait...I will try doing something...and please keep your voice low...we are not the only ones here!!

Me: Okay...just see yaar, if you can find a mug in some other cubicle!!??

A: Ummmm....there are none man...wait...just keep your voice low okay...I'll see if I can get a cup!

(10 minutes later)

Me: A, are you there??

(no response)

Me: (Agitated and definitely loud) How the hell can these people not have a mug or a water jet?? What is this firang obsession man??? A!!

(mumbling, muttering in the background!!)

Me: What??

A: Bedi...take this cup and come out fast...we are NOT alone, so stop shouting!!

Me: Okay...but I am just intrigued and pissed man....(all this while I am cleaning my business)...how can they just have tissues? This place calls itself the 'India' Habitat Centre....Indian habitats use water to clean their thing, this is just ridiculous!!

A: (With an embarrassed giggle) Bedi...just please hurry up okay...there is a line outside!!

Me: How many??

A: Please come out FAST!!

CUT TO BEDI EXITING TOILET CUBICLE

What happened next is not something that I am proud of but it made an impression last long enough to blog about it!

A line comprising some 15 women, covering almost the entire length of the restroom, adorned me with disgust and ridicule filled glances! Disgust at knowing that I used my hand to clean 'my business' and ridicule for being such an attention whore and having made them all wait while I sat there consciously making a racket and a bum out of myself!

A: Bedi...just please wash your hands...s st sto..o...o....stoP talking, PLEASE....let's just get OUT of here!!!

Me: But..t...t ..but I had a valid point...gosh, where do they keep the soap...excuse me...hi (to the lady standing next to the washbasin, squirting her nose)...Damn.

(After realising that apology must be pelted to save face)

Me: I am sorry!!!

Danish Lady In Queue: They don't have a water jet in there??

Me: Naah...caused me sooo much inconvenience!

Danish Lady In Queue: You poor thing! Don't worry. I will make sure I publish it in the Danish newspaper I work with...Oh... them Danes, they must know your story!!

Me: I totally look forward to reading it!

Other Pissed Ladies: Hmphhh...tsk!!! Tch..Tch...!!

PS: My Danish newspaper copy is yet to arrive!

The world we are in

2011-01-24T17:20:00.004+05:30

Carelessness, to me, has become a second nature of sorts. Tell you the truth it is a bit relieving to not have reminder widgets buzzing inside my frontal cortex dictating that the banal cycle of life that seems to have become my comfort zone is a worthless investment. And that I need myself a focus. Like I haven't been working towards it since the day I learnt how to spell it. But, alas, life is a sixteen-year-old lass PMSing on crack!

As I sit in the cold lodgings of my humble duplex, secretly praying for the winter to go to hell and biting a strong urge to be sitting in a cheap shanty near a beach, sipping a chilled brewski it is becoming hard for me to ignore the fact that I miss the times when cigarettes were a novelty. A late night cuppa was misleadingly cool, independence was fresh, dreams were ripe and ambitions were raw. When future held promise and when love was more than just a capitalist conspiracy.

Bizarrely so but I have been more self conscious of the increasing number of grey hair on my scalp and my utter abhorrence of each passing birthday as compared to anything else in my anatomy worth changing lately. I still remember this car ride back home from somewhere at around 12.30am on the 4^th of June 2006 when I just couldn't stop myself from being so overwhelmed and overcome with sadness knowing that for except the next 24 hours I will never be 19 ever. That my teenage shall come to an abrupt end with so many things still left to be done and explored. (Not that it is ever too late to do any of that, provided you have dough and a wee bit of faith?)

Little did I know that getting from 20 to 24 wouldn’t even make half the impact that the transition from school to college did.

I work on the desk in a news channel which is steadily fraying with time. But if there is one thing that it maintains is its pride even at the risk of tiring itself out. Is it anybody’s guess then that most of its employees are overworked, underpaid, under-appreciated and mostly unwilling. As things go in the real world, promotions and pay hikes don’t just come with efficiency. The benefit of good 'ole PR skills, which I try very hard to incorporate in my work ethic, also count.

But the the trouble is I am in the wrong job. I have realised I am a perennially dissatisfied person and never will I ever be at ease with the idea of working under someone or working on someone else's dream. Sadly though, I don't have the bravado or the dosh to venture out on my own. But what I do know for sure is that I wouldn't mind being miserable doing and investing time in what I love or enjoy rather than waiting and withering the storm sitting cornered and intimidated in a place which in totality has no meaning for me.

So what if news channels help spread the word about what is happening in the world and what if the media is the only medium which can be a wake up call if not an informant (both in a negative and a positive way) for all those self absorbed nincompoops of the world to get over themselves and just have a look around to see how fucked up the world is. I just want to stand up with conviction enough to be able to cast my fears and store them in a bell jar and take on the unknown. And I give myself four more months, a deadline to be taken seriously this time unlike the deadlines I have been setting for myself since the last two-and-a-half years which I always surpass.

Crazy it may be but in-spite of becoming exactly what I detested till three years back, that is every other grown up I knew back then and even now, I still harbour hopes of standing out and doing something different. Like being famous and saving the world. Or at least be recognised as someone who tried before she faded away?

Here's hoping I don't end up the way I am, right now, forever!

PS: Oh...and 'forever' reminds me, the day I become king I shall sue Forever 21 for it does not have sizes beyond Medium. I mean like we fat girls didn't know how it feels to be miserable, the last thing we need is some Forever 21 telling us that we don't deserve to dress as per the latest trends either!! And here we were sitting pretty thinking we have equality!! POOF!

Trivia

2010-09-14T15:58:00.003+05:30

Q: What is it that a person needs when they are attracted to another human being?
Answer: Response

Q: Solution for the heaviness in head caused due to the eternal question of what lies ahead??
Ans: Getting drunk!

Q: Can't handle criticism?
Answer: Hang out with people your age.

Q: The advantage the youth has over all the old and the wise?
Answer: The benefit of doubt

Q: Hate your parents and parents hate you?
Answer: God save you bro but you've got to hang in there. Moving out is very costly!

Q: Love and other disasters?
Answer: A greeting card company/capitalists orchestrated sham! (From the movie 'Love and other Disasters')

Q: Don't know how to deal with a crisis?
Answer: Take my advise, stop trying!

Q: Syd Barett and Sid Vicious?

Answer: Had names that sounded similar, both were dim, were musicians, both did drugs but Vicious died young!!

Status Quo

2010-08-28T21:33:00.010+05:30

The toughest part of writing a blog post is looking for an appropriate way to start it. Truth be told I always try to preempt what to write before penning my frivolous, meandering thoughts. Yet the beginning of every blog post has me zonked, staring blankly at the screen, befuddled and confused as to how to initiate that which I need the world to know! Thankfully stating the obvious can be an unsuspecting saviour when descriptive vividness, the art that is writing, fails you!

I have been extremely productive and tired lately. Thriving in a continuous state of bulletin overkill my dreams are scattered with faces and remains of my day either bonding with the people in the Production Control Room or yelling at the people in my department (mostly because last minute newsy surprises, coupled with NDTV output desk's irrational urgency to take them on-air, have me beat). I don't blame anyone. The unfortunates that we are, working on someone else's dream, there is little choice we are allowed to exercise when it comes to decision making. For all you know you might just get fired, quite literally, for asking too many questions! I'd be lying if I were to say that I don't want to prove anything and I don't exactly care. But ironically the only thing that keeps me going at work is the assurance that very soon It will all be over. Very soon I will leave. A few more months is all the time it will take before I will find something better, so might as well just kill myself for whatever time I have left here. At least that is what I have telling myself since the last one year. A breakthrough is yet to arrive, a breakthrough that I don't turn down, though now my expectations are very low.

Bad days at work have been a very regular feature with me lately. I guess the more involved you get in it the more painful your job gets, especially if the job isn't doing anything for your already low self esteem. Secretly, after having spent almost a year-and-a-half being an invisible in this organisation, I kinda like my current profile. It is certainly not the work I dreamed of, waking up to it is tiresome still but life is brutal, mostly leaving no room for options.

In the last six years, since the time I passed out of school, there hasn't been a single day that defeat has managed to dissuade me from believing, from hoping that I deserve better in life and I that I shouldn't stop working for it. No matter what it takes, as long as I can manage, I don't say no. Never give up, never stop trying. But the problem with reality is that it doesn't stop trying to pull you down either. Unfortunately my fire seems to be dousing everyday and everyday I die a little death.
So there is this guy who I never thought I will get an opportunity to know but since last month have managed to get chatty with a couple of times (YAYEEEEII :D) . Now even though I am awkward as hell, given my extreme lack of self confidence, we did manage to touch subjects like life and the futility of what we are doing with our time and how everything refuses to move, our specific quarter-life crisis stories. The boy also gave me sound career advise and I have been trying to take all of that very seriously. I hope he notices it! (Even though I am afraid his interest in me must have waned since the last time we spoke...no offence taken though, I am boring and completely aware of it!!)

Anyway...so as is predictable I have been thinking about him a little more than usual along with the stuff we bonded over and the more I think about it the more (along with wanting to know him better) it pisses me off to know that the whole 'self-help book' concept of 'life closing doors but opening windows' is such a load o crap! Defeatist as it may sound I think the reason why we stick to most of the things around us is not because that is the best that could happen to us but mostly because there is so much disappointment all around that the whole point in trying seems so juvenile.

Restless as I am, sitting in one place is the worst form of punishment for me. So is the same kind of work. And so is regularity, predictability and the mundane. In short I should have never aged beyond five. Life is the most fascinating when you are a child. Everything is an experience and a child is excused of all blunders. But wishful thinking is a sin which the universe never gives in to. The trouble with age is that despite all the sensibilities it entails and pushes in you it does nothing to keep you from being dissuaded.

I have come to the conclusion that the reason that I have lasted in NDTV this long (and may last even longer) is because it is so easy to fail at something that doesn't matter to you than investing yourself in something that you so strongly feel for and are passionate about yet can't ever crack. I am also exhausted with the whole idea of stepping out, taking chances, falling on my face, breaking my nose and almost bleeding myself to death only to get first aid (figuratively, of course) and try again. Exhausted of reassuring myself every-time life farts in my face that it will all be okay and, obviously, exhausted of failing. I mean how much is one supposed to fail before the warmth of success touches them?? Or in other words how far is life willing to take you before it stops letting you down all the time? Just when DOES this continuous process of holding on just to be disappointed stops? And all this not just in terms of a job. The list includes people, family, friends, men or women you like!! I can't help but reminisce about this girl I knew at some point who was going out with this guy for the longest time, who was forever willing to die over anything and everything that guy did or said just to make sure he did not leave her. And the first opportunity he got to get out his hometown, that is exactly what he did. "I am NOT READY". And sadly the story does not end here. There still exists "fraaanship" which will turn into "fraaandship with benefits" once this fellow lands in Delhi next month considering the girl (I am sure) still feels the love in her veins. Just how far sometimes people go in the name of habit, confusing it with love all the time fascinates me. I have known the boy a really long time and even though I had my doubts but I am so sure of the fact that he is a bad person (Secretly I believe all this love-gunning is more a matter of ego for her now than emotional jabberwock, but what do I care??). I, on the other hand, am thinking of consulting an astrologer to help me sort out a few conundrums about my life which are driving me up to abysmal depression, honestly!

Last week I was whining to my dad about something that happened at work that day (over which I cried my corneas out for six hours straight) and I was so insistent that I need to quit because I can't waste more time to which my dad gave me the cold shoulder. Impolite, you may say. Not when that is the only statement that your so called responsible 24-year-old has been threatening you with for the last two years because she thinks she made a bad choice. After fighting with him over his insensitive attitude and callousness to the fact that he is the only person I can be totally honest with he relented post which I tried telling him how the concept of 'Faith' has left me. How I have no faith anymore. Blame it on the fact that I am not exactly stupid or perhaps the fact that there is just too much pragmatism around the youth these days to fool themselves with concepts of 'Believe in your dreams' it is so hard for me to have faith in anything. How I can't stop thinking about all the things that I thought I could be and have worked for meaning nothing now, given my status quo. My dad did not have anything breathtaking to say to me except that no one is stopping me from exploring and imploring all the things I want to do. Absolutely nothing and no one. "But survival is key. You can't sit at home at any given time and hope that the gospels of the destiny will unfurl in front of you. If you don't want to stage a tragedy, then you better re-work your script but all of that will only happen if you plan to put up a play in the first place. Themes can be toyed with." (Okay, those weren't his exact words, but this is what the gist of the matter was). Inspiring as it may seem I hope he remembers his words the next time he and my mother try fixing me up with the first square geek they think is good husbaaand material because post 25 a "girl misses the bus" (in the arrange marriage market)!

Corny as it may be....

2010-08-22T10:25:00.002+05:30

...I really want to post this song right now.

Okay....you can judge me now!

Major Buzz Kill

2010-07-28T16:19:00.002+05:30

Suck up, suck up...Take it in and bury it deep...come on...do it!

Harsh General Knowledge. Salute them both!

Reign on Me

2010-07-21T01:09:00.000+05:30

Wilted grey trees look as if they have been ushered into the cradle of life, their leaves lusciously reaching out, spreading and streching as if they have woken up from a deep slumber. I am mostly apathetic to life's everyday wonders but as I sit with my my half lit cigarette, trying to be invisible on a jaded staircase there seems to be nothing riding my mind except the stunning greenary and the ironical monotony encapsulating the cool, humid breeze making me feel one with the living and the non-living at this moment. A part of an absurd piece of art. This despite the fact that I hate the rains which mostly depress me.

Ants flying, celebrating what will be their last hours of life, crickets screeching and lizards feeding.

The Life and Times of a Closet Bad Ass---Part Deux

2010-07-11T00:57:00.004+05:30

I have this strong urge to have a big glass of a slushy drink while I write this...perhaps a Mojito or maybe a frozen Daiquiri. Anything will do...as long as it stiff with alcohol, sweet and full of crushed ice. I have been totally out of sync, a quintessential if one needs to collate one's thoughts to write something that will not add to the already overcrowded universe of futile words that nobody tires of contributing to. Words dedicated to love, to hate, to need, to pain or simply nothing.

Possessing all the vitals a person needs to end up as an old, single, batty cat lady I presumably live a monotonous life and facebook is my virtual condo. So it should not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me that sometimes people's status messages become the spark that my brain needs to recline into a profound thought about life and the likes.

So the other day a friend of mine had posted this message which was calling out people to name one thing that they'd like/want/take/give/do/redo etc. Well...keeping my current state in mind I want to play the 'GLEE' version of 'Don't stop Believing' in office in full blast and sing and jiggy with it. Moreover ODing on this sitcom since the last one month and watching re-runs of the first season online I so terribly wish I could star in it. Too much to ask? Yes, perhaps!
Anyway... So this other day I was being extremely voyeuristic, stalking these women who were faces of the uppity, arty crowd when I was in college, on Facebook and I couldn't help but wonder how they manage to remain on top of everything they set themselves on (quite literally, all puns intended) even now. At least that is how they look in their pictures (Gosh!!! It is unbelievable how jealous I am of people with happy pictures on that social no-so-networking site). I guess it has a lot to do with gusto, fearless-ness, knowledge, street-smartness, great looks (Bedi rolls eyes), experimentation, great communication skills and in all probability not being a part of (waddyasay) the 'Great Indian Tragedy that is The Indian Middle-Class'.
Having a family that can afford your voyages across the world, your joblessness (the whole idea of taking a break, ya know), a 'phaawren' education in an unconventional subject without insisting you take a student loan, a family that approves of your unconventional and inconsistent jobs without indulging you with ideas on how marriage is the ultimate 'saattlement' is such a blessing. So obviously there are gazillions of us scumbag third-world misery smacked Indians for whom this Utopian concept is a dream. Such a terrible tragedy I tell you!!
In other noooooosss...Much it pained my heart to hear a spokesperson from Dow Chemicals saying "$500 is plenty good for an Indian" when asked about the unfairness of the compensation given to the victims of the gas tragedy. Honestly, it gives me hope that crime is probably the best career choice in our country if one were to ignore the sinful aspect attached to it. And I mean crime on any scale or at any level. You could be an Afzal Guru who came with the intent to bomb your Parliament or you could be a Kasab who along with his cronies put an entire city on hold...India is the place to be if you think you deserve VIP security and stupendous media coverage after making your criminal frat proud of how far you went to make a mark on the common man's sense of safety. Our judicial system if not our politicians will just sit on your case. Surive, you will, in infamy obviously but hey, the righteous path isn't easy either? I mean look at the Naxals, the ULFA, the LeT and the likes...I mean the buggers have an entire PR dept dedicated to publicising their plans to cause mayhem and media representatives who give exclusive interviews to news channels and newspapers as they please. I have to admit that the treatment at the hands of the cops on being caught gives me the jitters but if I do end up becoming a hardcore criminal, I am sure I will find a way to deal with that I presume.
Shifting focus to personal life dope, work doesn't fit me still and no place else seems to think I am competent enough to be hired...so basically I am stuck. Bad Ass has been very social in office lately and has a new boy crush who has started ignoring her for reasons unknown so Bad Ass is a Sad Ass as of now but hoping for a good future despite the relationship jinx...like seriously!!! And as I finish the last dregs of my repulsive office tea (which I chose to drink because I am hungry) with a backache due to too much sitting and a leg cramp gone horribly sore since last night I can't help but think that there was so much I could have done with this post. Unfortunately for me I suffer from thought process constipation when there is a need to let the juices flow. Till we write again...XOXO

Rumble in the Jungle

2010-07-10T18:58:00.001+05:30

Is consistency too much to ask? Is it abnormal to seek answers, like relentlessly? Why is everyday not the same as yesterday and why don't we like it when it is? Just when you think it is falling in place, it snaps? You are directed back to the pavillion and your presumptions, nipped at their inception. You look at each other like you are strangers again and if you are loony like me, you might indeed console yourself by telling yourself that it is destiny perhaps, a jinx. Unfathomable, inevitable, invariable, conjoined at the hip.

Pity

2010-04-19T07:16:00.000+05:30

'Ah, me bollocks'

Running out of music...

2010-04-14T02:33:00.000+05:30

There is none left. I can't feel it or hear it, I don't even bump into it anymore. So many words, so many lines, so many notes that I will never be able to unearth because they refuse to find me or let me find them. It's insane. I am jealous of all those who make me hear songs which I relate to, songs which ideally I should have discovered. Music's gone!

Hard Sun

2010-04-05T11:56:00.007+05:30

The Life and Times of a Closet Bad Ass

2010-04-05T01:48:00.005+05:30

Delhi has been my home for more than 23 years now. The city does not come as a surprise to me except when I see areas which are either clean, where people are making efforts to keep things clean, places where men aren't exactly pee painting or decorating the city with their spittle, where everyone, from beggars to autowallahs to buswallah to sabziwallah to dukaandaars etc (phew!!!) aren't looking for ways to make a penny or two more in the name of inflation or 'mehangai ki chaped' by fleecing the innocent aam aadmi who, mind you, hasn't exactly been excused from that brutal 'mehangai ki laat'.

I am one of those unfortunate aam aadmis, suffering the repurcussions of the recession or whatever it was that the Indian capitalists used as an excuse to pay less, make their employees work more and de-staff. Maybe the recession wasn't a figment of the Indian capitalist's imagination after all but if one was to go by what the Finance Ministry and every other organ of the government that is accountable for the 'badhti mehangai' had to say, India was doing pretty well and that it was stable. Yet, in spite of all these reassurances, any average Indian with a below average salary will tell you that the government is a scum bag and it's statements a bunch of lies!

As much as I know myself I don't think I am too materialistic. And what are my option anyway? With inflation's brutal assault on people like me who live on a measly pay minus savings, luxuries are hard to afford! So, as I was saying, my needs are humble. I am also pro-environment. If given an option between buying a car and taking an auto or a bus I'd choose the latter to ensure that carbon footprint I leave everyday is less (not to mention that I can't drive). Now in a city like Delhi autos are not a novelty. They are scattered everywhere and anywhere, this green and yellow coloured vicious cross between a desi version of a Beetle and a mini Maruti Omni zip-zapping all over Delhi roads, their smug, stubborn drivers mostly dissipating their North Indian crassness in the form of 'choona' (pickling lime) laden spittle or the choicest of expletives without batting an eyelid, that excessive auto engine noise in most cases but thankfully no black smoke as they are all CNG run :)

Now the experienced should tell you that loneliness is a very dangerous ailment. It refuses to leave you and if it does, you sometimes end up craving it for the sheer addiction of it especially if the both of you had an affair that lasted considerably long. You can never get rid of it. An acrid affair borne out of habit. But all you need to break that crude cycle is Delhi's public transport which inevitably helps you bid all your inhibitions and reservations goodbye! This is how:

1.Persuasion: You may be a polite, calm if not a considerably quite person but man there isn't an auto ride worth the effort where you haven't had the privilege to haggle with them autowalley bhaiyya ji's. I usually don't talk much, more so if the party in question is a stranger but give me an auto wallah quoting an obnoxious price incoherent with what the meter reads and I can be your biggest morality sermonising nightmare. I surprise myself at the business like rudeness that I project sometimes in order to ensure that they bring the prices down or they charge me fairly. Not that I mind paying Rs 5 or 10 extra but what gets me going is how unabashedly they demand twice the amount of money it could take to reach a particular destination and how they start doing a filmy jig on you over the misery of poverty when you ask them to be reasonable.

The infamous blueline buses are no exception. From the conductor bhaiyya being cranky over every metre you end up travelling extra over the fare you have paid, to their royal ignore and your eventual constant chase of them to get your change in case they tell you that they will GIVE you whatever they owe you in a bit once they have enough of it (which honestly can be a bit embarrassing especially if the change is some five bucks or so). Now you may not be a pushy, loud or demanding person in real life but you ought to sit in a blueline bus to know how to master the art of overcoming those inhibitions!!

2. Taking Charge: You could be the most pitiable entity at work or at places where being a bad ass matters, taking charge or leading a solution may not the be your thing but a ride in the city's public transport can do such wonders for your leadership qualities you might as well just open a leadership school and keep a module which solely dwells on travelling in a bus or an auto all by yourself. From insisting that the auto driver take the route you want him to, to yelling at him for driving rashly or slowly, to reprimanding him to get his meter fixed for it is rigged, to actually explaining to him the difference between a red light stoppage and a traffic jam in order to ensure that he doesn't fleece you on the fare because he confuses the two all the time, to condescendingly explaining to him to not stare at your breasts if the shirt that you are wearing has a deep neck cut, this mode of public transport can do wonders for your personality. It helps you speak up and be fearless.

A blueline bus experience on the other hand teaches you ways in which you can have your way around with the driver insisting he drop you at a convenient bus-stop, ways to yell and evade men with their mojos practically falling out of the pants to hold it and not masturbate on your arm or your back, to fight for every inch of that window seat with whoever comes in your way and on insisting (that too in a merciless "it's my right" tone) that every man sitting on a ladies seat vacate it so that you can occupy it.

3. Bonding: The introvert in you could keep you away from making friends or getting your contacts straight with people whom you may see everyday of your life for years at a stretch but all it takes is one ride in the metro or a bus for you to sometimes overcome that handicap. From people insisting that they analyse you depending on their profession if not yours, to ladies insisting you play with their pesky one-year-old along with discussing with you the woes of living in a joint family, to involuntarily lending your shoulder to strangers who choose to doze off on it, to fetching water for a fellow passenger sitting next to you whose stomach refused to take the brunt of the innumerable curves that are Delhi roads and decided to chug everything out, public transport in this city certainly is vibrant!

AND LASTLY....(drum roll please)....

4. Patience: Anyone and everyone who travels by public transport in this city knows what I mean. From endlessly waiting for one empty auto to show up to have the patience to persuade an auto man to take you where you want to go that along with the snail like service of most DTC buses if not their absolute unavailability, the Delhi public transport system ensures that all those ethics that you ignored while your parents went batty trying to help you imbibe them come back to you. Patience being one of the front runners. As it is our generation is often accused of being impatient. Expose us to Delhi public transport system and all these flaws will eventually recede.

The Bucket List

2010-03-13T21:59:00.007+05:30

The Constant Critic is an epitome of self obsession and a sulky one at that. Not that she wallows in regret despite being rebuked and reminded on many occassions by those who wish her well that nihilism or self-flagellation or whining doesn't exactly make for interesting reading. You see, this Critic is an idealist. She created this blog to belch things out of her system and we all know that human waste isn't exactly known for its physical beauty. So this blog is mostly boring if not downright silly. But I love it for what it is and what this blog has done for me. No, this post is not going to be an addition to the already long list of self depricating crap.

I am a woman of humble needs. There is hardly much that I expect and desire from life which I guess shows on me. No, it doesn't come a surprise to me that a lot of people I know mistake my 'simplicity' as 'stupidity'. Between you and me, I guess simplicity IS stupidity. Presentation matters and so does complication. The world as we know it is shallow. And moreover we need excitement even if it is perilous or jeopardising, which complication ensures.

At the risk of being called indulgent (on self analysis to the point to making it look like self deprication) I have to admit that mine is the hard life. Being unpragmatic or unrealistic is as unnatural for me as the idea of fitting into hotpants. But despite my lack of expectations and aspirations from life there DOES exist a list of things that I would like to do before I die or before I turn into a hag.

MY BUCKET LIST

1. Playing someone else has always come to me easy than being myself. Having 'fessed that, there is a part of me which has been egging me to go back to Bombay and take it off from where I left (Delhi's acting scene is a sham). Cutting a long story short I would want to try my hand at professional acting again. With all its shallowness and all the dimwitted-ness it entails it still manages to excite me more than anything.

2. I want to take grammer lessons in order to improve my writing skills. I am fairly clueless when it comes to the logistics of the English language. I also plan to work on my attention span so that I can finish books that I start reading and not lose steam (or worse, start a new book) before I am halfway through.

3. Working on someone else's dream (reiterated as being someone's employee) tires me. Must start working on dreams of my own before I am 25.

4. Have to buy an IPhone or a video IPod before 24th birthday, which is this year. That along with saving up for my backpacking wanderlust across the globe.

5. Buy a Nikon D90 or whichever is the latest digital SLR within the next two years with like the best zoom lens and just go wild shooting. I may or may not be a talented photographer but I know I want to explore this subject. My Nikon N60 film camera has been gathering dust since the last two year but while we were at it, my camera and I, we did a neat job.

6. Accept myself and forgive myself for being me. Not that I should completely make peace with the shortcomings in me which make me go crazy to the point of not working on them at all, but to assure myself that sense lies in taking one step at a time.

7. Quit smoking, completely. ( That also includes not binging on other people's cigarettes)

8. Get smashed in love (both-sided and not unrequited, please) even if it is short-lived or happens to be a sham.

9. Acquire the ability to not be shattered by heartbreaks or selfish friends.

10. Travel, Travel, Travel and Travel.

11. Learn how to play the guitar and not give it up midway after learning 12 chords.

12. Perform with a band after I have mastered the art of playing the guitar.

13. Learn how to cook exotic dishes.

14. Try eating and appreciating different varieties of cheese in the world without barfing or feeling queasy.

15. Acquire a taste for wasabi (I am almost there to be honest)

16. Write a book even if it is a mean, mushy chick-lit.

17. Get that book published.

18. Find a job which I can look forward to waking up to.

19. Make shit loads of dough.

20. Sponsor a world tour for my parents with that money. (For the life of me, they NEED to GET OUT)

21. Hone the ability to speak my mind and not get pushed around.

22. Audition with MTV or Channel V for the post of a VJ, even at the risk of getting rejected

23. Watch all the best movies in the world, become a movie critic if acting doesn't work out or just use all that movie knowledge to boast around people who I figure don't know as much as I do.

24. Lose weight and become a skinny bitch so that I can hit on all the men I want to and not have them laugh at my guts. :D

25. Learn French, Spanish, Portuguese and brush up my Sanskrit

26. Above all, just be plain fearless!

So far so good!!!! We will be working on it but one step at a time.

Rain check

2010-02-08T14:22:00.004+05:30

This last one month has been like the most awkward period of my life post Bombay. And I have more than one reasons to explain why. Feeling like a push over after quitting and retracting my resignation due to manipulation at the hands of the management and square boss-man, having to explain to all the denizens of Undie TV who knew about my resignation as to why I retracted, the real reason behind me staying back (which I won't tell, only that it was propelled by the 'heart' and not the mind), the real reason behind staying back turning out to be a sham and further two of my friends quitting with one of them already out and the other all set to pack and leave by the end of this month, enough reason for things to not feel right. Truthfully speaking I have been hurting! I have been full of regret, second thoughts, backaches, sore neck, sore bum, eye-socket cramps due to lack of sleep ( I haven't slept soundly since the last 15 days), the want to do something radical in life or just going underground or getting lost.

I have been put on a new function lately. It is called OEing (for all you non-broadcast people it means Output Editing, don't ask for explanations!!!) and I can vouch that I suck at it without a doubt. Primarily because I am new to it and my 'news-sense' needs honing along with my troubleshooting and managing a crisis skills.

And considering that I am supposed to go to the control room which is like a whole new department in itself, it gets more tedious not just because there are a new set of people there whose working style you may or may not know but also because you never know what is coming you way when the bulletin is on air. And if you can't handle it the world is quick to judge.

I have come to realise that I HATE and I mean HATE being social. I am so sure I am going to either die a miserable, batty single ol' fart or, as envisioned by 'Her Holiness Bridget Jones' I will be eaten up alive by Alsatians. I am not sure. But I hate socialising. My efforts to be on good terms with people are so deliberate that it shows. My eagerness to prove that I am 'normal' and 'outgoing' ends up making me mixing my priorities eventually making my reluctance to accept who I am more potent. But all of that makes me feel very sorry for myself making me feel even more awkward.

I have also come to realise that silence scares me and so does my own company. It is shameful. I don't like being alone and I don't like spending time with anyone either. Till two years back the idea of being in a shell, sitting alone in a corner all by myself for hours was not repulsive but now I am scared that I will lose out on life and regret it later. Not that there seems to be anything in life worth grasping lately. Blah!

I am thinking of going back to my guitar once again, once I get it fixed that is. Guess it may help me keep my mind off things for the time being.

I am the Underdog....Mercy!!

2010-02-08T04:24:00.000+05:30

We're just not that into him...

2010-02-06T21:00:00.001+05:30

This post was written by a friend on her blog which with it's distinctive wit and very very subtle and clear obeservation has not left my mind since the time I read it first. I still get into a fit of laughter and nods of agreement even after having read this article some gazillion times.
Posting it for the benefit of all
xoxo

We are just not that into him.....

Disclaimer: I' m not a man hater. The thoughts expressed in this post are based on my own research in a particular phase in my life. I can totally do a turn around on any and everything mentioned here at any given date.

For all excited single girls...this is what is out there:

# THE OLDER MAN

He thinks he owns you...just by virtue of arriving in this world a few years earlier. we may as well have handed over our emotional remote control to him...cos he is now here in our lives to tell us how to live it. he is more experienced you see!

# THE YOUNGER MAN

He is too heavily under the influence of "The Graduate". Someone needs to gently break it to him that not all older women are running Mrs Robinson's sex-ed classes please!

# THE GOOD LOOKING MAN

Going out with him is like being on a community date. Cos he maybe sitting with you but he will be practically coming on to the entire room. anyone who happens to merely glance distractedly in his direction immediately gets labelled "an adoring fan"...Believe me if I'ive to sit across someone preening the whole time...I' d much rather sit in front of the mirror at home doing my nails and drinking beer!

# THE UGLY MAN

Okay a quick show of hands...and tell me who wants to go out with the ugly man?! I know its 'wrong' of me to say this...but lets accept the fact that while u dont have to be the next brad pitt...looks DO matter a little bit. if im revolted by what I see on the outside...there are very little chances that I'll hang around long enuff to see whats inside!

# THE RICH MAN

ooooo now this one is tricky. since our patriarchal setup has instilled in us that the man should be better placed in life than us...if he is TOO well placed chances are you can kiss your any and every decision making goodbye. everything is measured in terms of money and success and if uve seen 3 idiots u know what im trying to say....and girls it IS true.

# THE POOR MAN

if he ticks all the other boxes ud think he'd show promise. but beware girls. not to sound like a gold-digger or anything but he too is avoidable. especially since more than you he is concerned about his place in the relationship. and OMG his whine can even beat technology and come hit you in waves on texts and emails about how he is a failure. so going out with him.....all you'll end up with....is a huge bill...constantly putting yourself down for his benefit and hours of needless ego-stroking!

# THE OVER-EAGER MAN

He is the worst. practically drooling and waiting for you to say jump and he will reply...how high?! aaaghhhhh

# THE ONE WITH MIND-GAMES

He likes and checks all the right boxes but watch out girls...cos going out with him is a mental exercise. he wants to keep you guessing till the very end so he will bombard you with mixed signals...if we wanted that much exercise we'd put in the new video game on ps3.

# THE EMOTIONAL MAN

He is the one who wants to get to know you...the real you. he wants to talk about you...about feelings...about thoughts...about likes dislikes everything...ALL the time. its like od-ing on emotional chow chow. if i wanted myself psycho-analysed that badly...frankly id much rather pay for it and lay on a professional's couch!

# THE INTELLIGENT MAN

You'd think he'd be gods gift...but hello! his conversations are littered with the who's who of anything and everything...bombarding u with facts and figures....from scientific equations to mathematical theorams...to why jazz music was considered inappropriate to the history of the finest single malt...all very exciting subjects...if only he had the gift of story telling as well. so all his accounts will slowly numb even the most alert brains and u really will have no escape.

# THE ONE YOU LIKE

He is the one who IS gods gift. he is intelligent...smart...funny...well read...interested in music...wil hang onto ur every word...tell u how smart cool and funny you are and mean it. and just when ul blush and lay ur hand over his...heart beating so loud ur sure he could hear it....he'll cover ur hand with his and smile and say:

"the girl I eventually fall for...I just hope she likes you. cos not liking my best friend could be a problem."

So girls if we gotta eat our hearts out....atleast lets do it in style. throw in that gloria gaynor cd....with a beer in hand...and lets shake to "i will survive..." cos thats what life eventually boils down to...doesnt it?

most of us eventiually will end up with one of the above mentioned kinds...some happy some not so much...but atleast we'll have friends we can laugh and cry about it with.

so here's to my best friend...you know what im trying to say through this very long post...very very inarticulately...i love you and we will survive.

xoxo

2010-01-30T00:02:00.003+05:30

Laying you to rest J D Salinger.......you still remain....

(January 1, 1919 - January 27, 2010)

Chairlifting

2010-01-29T03:21:00.005+05:30

This could probably be the cheesiest song of the century but I just LOVE it!! I Love it and I have no one but Shubhra 'Holysuspenders' Dixit to thank for it! :)

STRAWBERRY FIELDS FOREVER

2010-01-29T03:05:00.005+05:30

Goo Goo 'b joob

2010-01-27T22:40:00.002+05:30

What's the fucking point? The bitch is not going anywhere

2010-01-24T00:28:00.011+05:30

Normally I not very attentive. I could put goldfishes to shame with my attention span if I choose to be fickle but then there are memories and details which I keep no matter how fleeting those incidents or people involved in them were.

I was 16 when I discovered Connaught Place and have never looked back since. Even after 7 years of visiting it religiously I still can't tell my A-block from N-block but I just walk, my destinations reach me. Truth be told I visit CP to get lost. I like going around in circles, I like tiring myself amidst the milieu of the crowd there. So many faces to look at, so many stories to build around them, so many voices to pay no attention to inspite of which so many of them reach me.

I don't like categorising myself as an observer. But I love to look. People fascinate me. And I hate them all. CP gives my fetish a lease and I exhaust it to the hilt. I look till my eyes burn. Every detail of how everything appears, I exploit. I choose to shut my brain, cut out thoughts, cut out people I am with sometimes, to their utter dismay and disapproval, but CP does that to me. Its intoxicating and inexplicable. Over the years I have come to dislike a lot of things. Crowds being one of them but it's surprising how CP manges to pull me to it even though there is nothing available there which interests me at all. I never shop there except for books, I prefer not eating there unless I am with someone who is hungry or getting hammered unless I am with people and we are out of options for places to get wasted at, I hate window shopping so that is ruled out from my list of activities too. I just walk, purposely losing my way every now and then so that I can walk some more. CP has seen me. It knows me and it gets me. It is not always responsive but I know it is always watching my back. It has understood and nurtured my needs, letting me be. The MCD and the NDMC's 'initiatives' to beautify the place have sometimes led it letting me down but CP has its ways with me to make up for it.

***********************************

I wasn't expecting anything other than the usual when I got off the auto yesterday at Janpath. I was to meet a friend, have lunch with her, complain and whine about our lives, feel nostalgic about college, bitch about her boyfriend, take an auto, go back home. That was how it was meant to be and that is exactly how it went. Only except that I saw him. Not him exactly, but an impression of him whisking past me I guess. The curls of his hair, that shabby manner in which they covered his forehead when he took that suede flat cap off one November afternoon after having traveled seven hours in a train. Those cherubic, chiseled hands which almost never left the pockets, the fullness of his lips, the big, almost protruding teeth only accentuating the attractiveness of his jaw and that contemporary face. The eyes which I could never see, and the depth of his voice which still resonates in my ears sometimes. His sloppiness with his guitar when he played for the crowd and how confident he was still. That air of self assurance and shabbiness only 17 permits you. The way he walked with his hands in his pockets, a kind, youthful at the same time pesky smile on his face, and his head down. His striped tie dangling loose. I was sixteen then. I never saw him again except those three days.

Yesterday CP brought him back, in the form of a 17-year-old who just walked past me. The curls, the jaw, walking with his head down, hands in the pocket, tie hanging loose.

The truth behind 'The Monkey's Paw'

2010-01-21T22:49:00.003+05:30

live¹ (lv)

v. lived, liv·ing, lives

To conduct one's life in a particular manner:

To pursue a positive, satisfying existence; enjoy life

ex·ist (g-zst)

intr.v. ex·ist·ed, ex·ist·ing, ex·ists

To have actual being; be real

The bond that ties the living with life is no mystery. I mean though existence and living are different concepts yet they infringe each others territory every now and then. Living makes existence compulsory and even though it is not compulsory the other way round but ideally if you exist, to live should be a priority.

I remember my dad narrating me a horror story once when I was about five or six. It was called 'The Monkey's Paw', by W W Jacobs. And even though I had to Google it to totally refresh my memory of it so as to write about it, but what I did remember from the time I was read that story was that if the monkey's paw granted you a wish it was not before it took something away from you in lieu of it. Sigh!!

The details of what this talisman gave and devoured the Whites of is pathetic if not sad in the story. Thankfully I don't plan to get into descriptions.

But I have come to realise that life and it's relationship with humans is at some level a mini 'Monkey's Paw' series. I don't know if you notice it or not but every time we are granted a wish something is always taken away from us in lieu of it. I mean you can't have everything in life but why are we deprived of things we already possesses before something radical or new is thrown upon in our lap? It's absolutely unfair but seems to be the only way life consummates its bond with human beings. Incidents such as these could make us happy but can be very harsh on sentimentalists.

2010-01-17T20:51:00.004+05:30

It's preposterous how the inability to fill up a blank cyber page can transform itself into a momentary reminder of all the things that you can't control or fathom. The obscenity attached with the over or under use of talent is overwhelming. And how sometimes it incites an inferno, mostly internal. How raw, unadulterated anger can be so unreasonable but so invigorating, empowering but at the same time ridiculous.

How sometimes the most inane things become saviours. How the lines that separate the living from the non-existent alter and transgress, becoming less blurry, the non-existent becoming a constant.

Happy Nooo Yeaaah!!

2010-01-10T18:38:00.002+05:30

The advent of 2010, a decade since I was thirteen, sitting at the basket ball court of my school one December afternoon and anticipating the arrival of the year 2000 quaintly gushing with my girls that how lucky we were to be alive, young and on the precipice of the new millennium.

Life has come a long way since. I have grown up, grown crazy, grown thinner, grown confident, grown smarter, lost friends, found some, am still single but comfortable being who I am and with my illusions about existence. Though the pace at how time passes makes me shit in my pants every time I think about it yet there is some reassurance that, considering my date of birth, life as I want it to turn out has only started and that there is still time.

My mother surprised me silly three months back when she announced totally unprovoked that I should "go, live my life...I give you two years more before we talk about marriage" . No she hasn't exactly reconciled to the fact that a being married can be very limiting and regressive in most middle class misogynistic Punjabi families (where the men are usually obsessed with themselves if not their mothers and wives are sex cum kitchen confined objects who must pursue "hobbies" and "carriers" (sic) if they want to but "home should be priority"). But momma dahling has been very sensitive and thoughtful lately which is nothing short of miraculous.

I have given up on new year's resolutions and celebrations because the whole charm that comes with the new year seems kinda phony. January 1 pokes me in the face every year and I usually see it sneering at me telling me how another year ate dust while I was still grappling in the dark trying to find meaning. And as far as resolutions are concerned I believe any day can be the day when you can turn a new leaf. Its just a matter of waking up! Marking a specific date in the calender for it is... immature?!!

Anyway, from now on I am going to make special efforts to see the positive side of life, the sunny side up, the glass half full. It is going to be hard, I know. But rule uno of being a happy girl is to keep moving and be unstoppable. I can't be sure if 'The Constant Critic' will not have her mopey moments but she will try to cut down on it.

Undo button

2010-01-03T00:49:00.005+05:30

It amazes me how almost everyone I know wants to rewind and redo or relive their past.Given an option each one of us wish for second shots. And how aware we are of the futility of this desire but we still want it.
(Okay maybe you, dear reader, are a smug bugger but there are so many I know who don't think like you)

Happy new year by the way...Lets whip it good! :)

2009-12-27T23:45:00.002+05:30

Social conduct is not my thing. I shouldn't push for it

If I may add....

2009-12-24T13:58:00.006+05:30

Dear Anon (whoever you may be)

This is in response to your comment:

When I think of you one expression that comes to my mind and which i may add beats every other hands down is "puck puck puckaak"

posted at 2.31 am on the 21st of December

First of all, thanks for having gone through the trouble of visiting and reading my blog and thinking of something so apt and witty to sum up the way you and many other like you perceive me. Going by your acerbic style had you been a guy whom I would have had the privilege of knowing in person and not just in the virtual world, I would have probably had a crush on you (especially if you wouldn't have been repulsively fat or ugly or bald, without pubic hair-isque facial hair, with clean teeth as well as nails and no body odour.)

You judged me right. All the biddies that I talk about, and mind you, despise to the point of obsessively thinking how could they let something like that happen to them, I see myself somewhat following their trail. So your "puck puck puckaak"-ing kinda makes sense to me.

I have to admit, your comment was brutal but it helped me put things in perspective. You know, I have been kinda hypersensitive lately. Anything and everything these days makes me want to cut off and hide. So it may or may not come as a surprise to you that after having had a hearty laugh at what you wrote I had made up my mind that I must stop blogging, its time to pull the plug.

But then honestly speaking its people like you who have always motivated me to never give up and to walk with my head high no matter what. People like you, critical, judgmental detractors, merciless, shallow with tunnel side vision.

The reason that I chose to dedicate this post to what you just casually wrote is not just because you hit home with your sarcasm and subtle observation. It is primarily an explanation, a plea rather, to you and the likes of you who visit my blog and eventually feel embarrassed for me for doing this to myself to not bother so much.

I'll tell you why.

I am a lone, bitter person with zero self respect and almost no self confidence which transcends in every aspect of my life and my relationships with people. Needless to say I don't believe in friendship and trust because they have let me down too much and I am sure there are many like me but I am not very good at doing the same thing twice. I just can't.

So this blog, this big ol rant that you see here is my shrink, my friend and my life and trust all rolled in one. It's therapy. Not that I expect people with diminished brains to understand it.

So dear friend Anon, next time you go "puck puck puckaak"-ing on me just try recalling what I have written above. Take no offence though, people like you inspire me :)

Do visit again!

2009-12-24T01:15:00.006+05:30

Hey there

Many apologies for taking the longest time in replying. I have been on a sabbatical from life and things in general, procrastination and slackly behaviour a part of the whole deal. I am sorry. I have been meaning to write to you something since I got your mail but I just couldn't get myself to do that. But I hope this mail makes up for all those days of having kept you wait! Winter has come, indeed. There is more than just a nip in the air these days which I seem to have grown lesser fond of over the years I think. Winter doesn't fascinate me as much as it did when I was young.

How is New York? Heard the snow there is a killer. And as far as your state of mind, the one which you wrote of it seems that the city has made something of a romantic, a poet of you. Needless to say both the aforementioned are interesting. What you wrote to me and how you wrote it is beautiful, that is undeniable though. Speaks a lot about the metamorphosis you are going through, which fascinates me. I hope it continues. A little bit of melancholy never hurt anyone, but don't get used to it beyond a certain limit lest it makes you disillusioned and bitter. But then I guess you see that which is positive. Which is brilliant, if you want to know the truth.

And well, just for the record, a word of assurance. You can always choose writing if acting as a career refuses to flourish, you write that good. This mail of yours was an eye-opener :)

As far as I am concerned there is nothing new or inspirational that is happening. Even though I try my best not to ignore any signs of it. I think I am in love yet again (lame!!!) but it seems meaningless as I don't see it growing or getting nurtured. It is, as it usually is with me, unrequited and, I am afraid, one-sided. I try my best to not be invisible in front of the guy in question but I think I fail to make a mark. And as far as the current state of affairs is with respect to my job there is a possibility that I will never see 'the boy' ever again. But I guess I am well equipped dealing with situations like these. Its just that I am afraid that at the speed at which I am getting old and as my options get limited I will end up being totally alone, one of my biggest fears in life. And sadly, I really like this guy. It would have been great if something would have materialised.

What about you? How is life in school? What is the kind of work that you guys are being made to do these days? And WHEN are you coming back??

When does the course get over??

Anyway, do write back whenever you feel like it :). Will be waiting to hear from you!

Have a great Christmas and a very very happy and prosperous New Year.

Missing you always

Shibani

2009-12-23T05:28:00.001+05:30

Composite dialogues, life as we know it, premonitions, presumptions, egging at the back of ones head, catharsis, stress, trouble making up my mind, right or wrong, which side to go, be seeing ya or not, flawed timing, falling hair, clothes not fitting, pay not enough, growing old, sense of responsibility, making sense and eventually failing at that, shift timings, weekly offs, resignation blues........

Time to go to bed

Over the years a few lines....

2009-12-12T23:25:00.005+05:30

...from movies, songs, books, random arbit texts have killed me, made me fall in love, made me cry, broken my heart or just simply grown me up. Some of them have done nothing but been worth remembering, mulling over and eventually write about in my blog. Which is exactly what I am going to do right now

P.S: There shall be more eventually

So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's going to change, I'm going to change. This is the last of this sort of thing. I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm going to be just like you: the job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing the gutters, getting by, looking ahead, to the day you die

-Renton from the movie 'Trainspotting'

The voice of life in me cannot reach the ear of life in you; but lets talk so that we may not feel lonely

-Kahlil Gibran

If that's what you will be, you'll be a waste of time, you've dreamed a thousand dreams, none seem to stick in your mind. Two points for honesty

-from the song 'Two points for honesty' by Guster

When I really worry about something, I don't just fool around. I even have to go to the bathroom when I worry about something. Only, I don't go. I'm too worried to go. I don't want to interrupt my worrying to go.

Holden Caulfield, The Catcher in the Rye

Therapist: Relationships are best measured by farting.

Peter Simon: Excuse me?

Therapist: The stages of a relationship can be defined by farting. Stage one is the conspiracy of silence. This is a fantasy period where both parties pretend that they have no bodily waste. This illusion is very quickly shattered by that first shy, "Ooh, did you fart," followed by the sheepish admission of truth. This heralds a period of deeper intimacy. A period I like to call the "Fart Honeymoon", where both parties find each other's gas just the cutest thing in the world. But, of course, no honeymoon can last forever. And so we reach the critical fork in the fart. Either the fart loses its power to amuse and embarrass thereby signifying true love, or else it begins to annoy and disgust, thereby symbolizing all that is blocked and rancid in the formerly beloved. Do you see what I'm getting at?

-from the movie 'Love and other disaster'

Do you know the most surprising thing about divorce? It doesn't actually kill you. Like a bullet to the heart or a head-on car wreck. It should. When someone you've promised to cherish till death do you part says "I never loved you," it should kill you instantly. You shouldn't have to wake up day after day after that, trying to understand how in the world you didn't know. The light just never went on, you know. I must have known, of course, but I was too scared to see the truth. Then fear just makes you so stupid

-Frances, from the movie 'Under the Tuscan sun'

When the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me, shine on till tomorrow...Let it be

-The Beatles

My faults, my failure is not in the passions I have, but the lack of control of them

-Jack Kerouac

In a weird way I must have loved my little collection of hurts and wounds. They provided me with some real nice sympathy, with the feeling I was exceptional...What a special case I was

-from the book 'Secret lives of bees' by Sue Monk Kidd

I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends... you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell for that brief moment you could think that you were that happy......... And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade

-Iris Simpkin from the movie 'The Holiday'

Love is anticipation and memory, uncertainty and longing. It's unreasonable, of course. Nothing begins with so much excitement and hope and pleasure as love, except maybe writing a story. And nothing fails as often, except writing stories. And like a story, love must be troubled to be interesting. We crave love, can't live without its intimacy, though it pains us. Judi told me that every person in therapy has a love disorder: never felt love, can't find love, trapped by love, unraveled by love, thinks love is lust or love is loss, fears love, loves too much, uses love for profit, jealous in love, lost in love, love affairs, unrequited love...love in embers, love in vain, love in shackles, love maligned, love that warps the mind a little.

-from the book 'Love warps the mind a little' by John Dufrense

Gawking through the rear view

2009-11-08T00:32:00.023+05:30

For the moments we have spent laughing till our stomachs hurt and jaws broke (mostly over jokes which only we understood and saw the funny side of), to the times we spend talking and bonding like couples newly in love even after five years of having known each other like the back of our hand (I sound so gay right now its not even funnaaay) and to the fact that we are in a way two people, one soul, here is the post I promised I'd write for you last we spoke (mainly because you wrote one for me too). Ishani Cordeiro, here is to us. Me, you and Anushka (to an extent) along with the fair share of nuts we have had in our lives together and boy we have had a few you'd agree!!

Writing this post is a challenge you know. I mean jotting down details of the fun you have had with people you WERE friends with is easy. You have a memory bank to peep in and extract things out of. But writing about people who are more like a part of your life, whose presence you usually end up taking for granted because you know that you will never lose them to anything, may it be distance or death in worse case scenario, is the most difficult. Not that I take you for granted. You have been there when no one else has and you have been more involved in my life than my own family. No wonder I am more confident of you and your opinion than I am of anyone else's in this world perhaps, even though sometimes I suspect a lot of things you say, you do to make me happy or to avoid seeing me get frantic. Which as a matter of fact is very sweet of you.
As you instructed, this post will be devoid of details of the antics we have done in th past, or the embarrassing ghosts we piled up in our closet while we were living it up in college!
This post is going to be a testimony of what you are not just to me but as a person in general.
You come across as someone who doesn't like the idea of talking too much, mostly because you are inherently an introvert. But truth be told you are a universe of good advice and knowledge. You know a LOT and you don't seem to get enough of it. You are so well read, thorough and clear about things you are interested in that I get sooooo jealous of if not awed by it! You are one of those rare people whom I never tire of no matter what. I am a very fickle minded person who loses interest in conversations and people before they can spell the word 'talk'. But you have the ability to keep me rapt! I hate the fact that you have a great amount of clarity about anything you put yourself in. I mean take law for example. After college you were so apprehensive about getting through entrances (and you had all reason to be, for none of us spend those three years of our lives planning our moves once we graduate ya know) but all the effort you put in at the end of the day, paid. You got through every college you applied to and ended up picking and choosing one of the best colleges there is for the course! And even though sticking to law studies is definitely hard (my palms get sweaty by just looking at the number of books that lie piled up on your desk) you have never faltered and have cleared almost every exam that you have taken!
You are a very strong person. No matter how much I detest your absence during movie or pub nights with Anushka I respect your intentions. Always have. You put everyone else's interest in the house ahead of you and I know that you don't like the idea of it sometimes yet I have hardly...and I mean rarely seen you complain about it. Only you have the patience, thoughtfulness and toughness to smile through a crisis which I envy! You actually hear people out when they go on and on about how things are not looking up for them or when they just want someone to listen to what they have to say. This ability is definitely a gift! I mean it.
So many things that you have told me about yourself, your life, your parents sometimes leave me totally dumbfounded as there are so many similarities that I can trace in them in comparison to my life. Like you remember this one time you told me how you'd gape at your mother while she'd be busy applying her lipstick so intricately? I used to do exactly that till like the longest time. And do you remember this one time when I saw these sandstones at your house which you told me your parents had collected from the banks of Rishikesh and how your parents would collect fir cones when they'd go to the hills? I have an entire collection of those in my house too collected by my parents. Yaaaaay! Same to same!!
But I do believe that there is so much to you that I don't know about, seriously! After all these years. There are times when so many things about your life and how you feel and have felt about stuff in the past pops up in front of me through your blog, which is a shame Esooo...you must talk about yourself often without having to be coaxed to open up. Not just with me but with others too. The world should be exposed to your side of the story too once in a while!
I think you are a brilliant writer. If in future law doesn't work out for you and if I can get my act together and make it as a hot journalist, I am giving you a column to write in the paper I end up working for! Getting drunk, slumber parties, pep talk and boy talk can never be as exciting as it is with you than with anyone else. You are one of the most approachable, open minded, sensible, intelligent, smart and thoughtful people I know and as if that wasn't enough you are fun too with probably the best smile and brilliant teeth!
PS: I love the way you smell..(I hope it doesn't sound too kinky, coming from a girl to another)
My bestest BFF forever!! Needless to say I love you. Don't you get over me ever :D

Darling Ishani...don't kill me

2009-10-25T14:41:00.009+05:30

Dearest Ishani
I couldn't resist the urge to post this post that you had dedicated to me on that private blog that you had started..'An evening with Friends'. Not because I am self obsessed that I am doing this. Not even close. This post of yours is just wonderful And I want whoever can read it to read it!! So here is to us. And a definite 'Thanks' from me to you for going through the trouble of penning down all those memories!!

The name is Bedi....Shibani Bedi

My furthest memory of u and me can be traced back to that fateful new year night! I have been trying to figure out how we met...but i cant seem to remember. Actually no...8th dec, cafe morrison! God..yes!!!!....Tht was the first time we came to your house..or the first time we all got sloshed together (snif snif..wht memories!). I remember making maggie at 2 (or something) in the morning. Getting up with our first hang-over together..awwww!!! THEN there was that horrid new year...never again am i going to mix alcohol and friends and family all together except for my wedding day! Then that night when you started dancing all around my drawing room...or the time we were left stranded by that horrible auto-man after the night at morrison (why did we hit on the waiter??).PILLANI....how did i forget??..The bus ride....the room that we had to stay at...the indian style loo...popcorn diet...sleepless nights...that was some trip...it'll take another awesome trip to make me forget this one!I cant think of even a single moment tht has been spent in your company when i have got bored. There is always something to say or do or cry about.At times when i think about it, we have so much in common, its scary. There are times when i know that the things i am doing is not right and when i tell you about what i am doing, i never have to explain anything. You just seem to understand why i am doing wht i am.As unreal as it seems, I really do look up to you. With everything that you go through, you somehow always come out of it in one peice. The way you can start chatting with just about anyone, your persona on stage, the comfortable vibe you give to people, i sometimes wish i had even half of the talent you do.What i think you should change about yourself though is you super-cynical outlook to life. I am so glad to have met you. Now, i cant think of how life would have been without you around me and in my life. Love you sweetheart.

Do watch

2009-10-24T16:09:00.004+05:30

I saw this movie called 'Paranormal Activity' last evening. It spooked the shit out of me!! Highly recommended. It is available for free online viewing and, on some sites, for downloading as well (will get into explanations later!!!)

Lost soul in a fish bowl

2009-10-23T15:22:00.028+05:30

Listening to Underdog and Shoot the runner by Kasabian. It reminds me of Guy Ritchie

A wise person some moons ago commented on one of my posts saying that the way I write reminds her of the way she was three years ago. And even though considering that I am way too open minded, accepting and responsive to critics (yes yes...modesty is not my middle name), that comment did not go down too well. I almost stashed my blog. That because I got a feeling that somewhere amidst that wry compliment was a subtle mockery of my immaturity.

As it is I have this funny complex that the confusions, questions and 'stuff' that I mull over, cry about and spill out here is not exactly becoming of a 23-year-old cynical woman. I sound like a 16-year-old. Between you and me I guess I want to live my late teens and early twenties, the years I lost feeling sorry for myself and wallowing in self pity. I mean I could seriously have done so much. And now that I have gumption and a few years of good 'ol bumbling youth on my side my priorities are different. Since the last 10 months my biggest fear has been waking up to a rotund, stinky, hairy Sardar from Canada whom my mother talked me into getting married because as per her and the other old ladies of my uber-hypocritical family, post 25 a girl misses the 'bus'. (Translation: If you are 25 and not married your chances in the marriage market of finding a suitable suitor plummet). Not that I have anything against marriage, fat men, hairy men, Sardars or Sardars/Punjabi's living in Canada or any other part of the world (though I do believe men who stink from any of their orifices or pores should be banished)

I mean I am the hopeless romantic who wants to die with love in my heart to remember life by!! Though with every passing second I see the fire getting weaker because love is more an affliction of habit or..erm..lust (corny) rather than love these days you know. People don't want to be with someone because they want to absolutely be with them. They want to be with someone because one is definitely the loneliest number, being single too long or a virgin or sex deprived is a lil socially embarrassing, and worse still, they want to keep themselves occupied and their needs satisfied till someone better comes along!!

I could write my state of mind off as something like a 'fringe-quarter-life crisis' but that would be too cliche and judgmental. Not that I can make sense of it. It is tedious and tiring for me now to get into a rant about how my life sucks.

How my job, even though was an object of my pride when it started, tires me now. Not because they make us work like dogs on some days and still presume that we flunkies don't take enough initiative or the fact that none of the people at my level matter in any sense to the organisation. We could be stuck here doing the same shit day in and day out and our boss wouldn't care to at least give the idea of having a chat with us a thought in order to monitor our feedback, opinion or just get a general sense of how things are for people like us.

I have also made peace with the fact that sometimes in organisations like the one I am in people may pretend to be your well wishers and support you in your decision of quitting but will never reassure you that there is a way you can be delegated more responsibility and new work if you were to ask, just like they have.

I have given up on trying to reason with my parents who think social drinking is for alcoholics, taking a break for some time to sort things out in life is slacking from hard work and your responsibilities, theatre or pursuing any other art especially when you have been a responsible kid all your life, not accustomed to jumping into things without reason, is irrational and non respectable. That for a woman aged 23 to have an opinion and fearlessness to be vocal and uninhibited could be a punishable offence at the hands of her future in-laws and 'the husbaaand'.

I don't hate my parents for having an opinion such as this. Its just how life has been for them. They let go of their identities to bring us up and to build the life that we are leading. Their apprehensions, disagreements and presumptions are based on bad experiences and they somewhere want to save us the trouble of going through disappointments. Maybe that's why it is so hard to get their support on anything remotely out of place.

But needless to say I am tired, worn out, my back is broken and I am looking for life. I feel like haven't been alive since a really long time. I don't smile the way I used to, I don't sing the way I used to, I don't look at life the way it should be looked at and somewhere I know I am to be blamed for it, not entirely though, but still. Only my initiatives can help me out of this quicksand (long time since I used that word!!). But how, that I need to figure out. I am bored bored bored!! Getting fatter by the minute and not loving it one bit. Hunt for inspiration is on!

*****************************************

October 15, 2009

Time: 12:36 am

I rammed my dad's car into a Zen parked outside the colony gate because I got confused between the brakes and the accelerator. Now I am an amateur driver, having never driven on the streets of Delhi, except with my trainer guy who never trusted me with the controls and used the parallel control equipment everytime I was at the wheel.

So in my bid to master the art of independently handling a vehicle on the wretched, crass roads of my city I coaxed my parents into letting me drive at that ungodly hour as the streets were all empty. Now I did a great job for the first three kilometers after which we reached the gates and life has not been the same since that moment.

I was gearing up to apply the brakes but then I got confused and I panicked which led to me pressing the accelerator like no one ever has in my dad's car. The rest, as they say, is history. Unfortunately for me I did not even have my learner's license at that point and the people whose car I damaged thought all three of us were drunk! But luckily for me they forgave us! Thank God!

My dad has spent an odd Rs 25,000 on the repairs (no, he couldn't wait till the insurance could cover it). And he has banished me from being seen around his precious vehicle!!

Post Script: If any of you sweet readers know any publication or something which is hiring, please feel free to ask me for my CV!! I will be highly obliged!

Regurgitation

2009-09-17T10:07:00.009+05:30

I need to smack my head on the wall for being so persistent and hell bent on making myself look like a stupid fuck for doing things the way I do.

I need to go through the rundown thoroughly as I enter the newsroom and log myself in so that in the future Nidhi Razdan and the likes of her don't give me the dirts when I ask them 'dumb' questions before I start editing their story.

I must re-work my CV and trim the excessive description of the inane things that I have done in school.

I must stop fighting with my parents trying to convince them that they should choose life over food. One visit to the hospital and the message usually reaches them loud and clear. I guess I should wait for them landing in the hospital more eagerly than anything else.

I should block all the 'someone ji's' from my life. Some people are just born to make you feel like a joke. Thou shall embrace the wisdom to sift the right from the wrong Miss Chubby Cheeks (pun intended).

I need to get past page 45 of Sweet boy at work's copy of 'Trainspotting'. His patience and sweetness should not be pushed or cornered more than it already has.

PS: I am pissed and sleep deprived. Goodbye!

Clearing the clutter

2009-08-28T06:09:00.004+05:30

God exists but is probably Life's bitch. More like the UPA government with the Congress party at its prime focus. I mean WE know that technically Manmohan Singh is supposed to run the shots, considering he is the Prime Minister dude you know, but in a way he does succumb to Congress party President Sonia Gandhi. And boy does Sonia know her game. She knows her cards and plays them right. She can be unforgiving, unpredictable and shrewd. For example the whole Varun Gandhi hate speech controversy. I agree that the bugger made a blunder so openly capitalising on the Hindu-Muslim divide but Mrs Gandhi made sure Mayawati, whom the Congress was rumoured to be allying with, put him behind bars under the NSG which in turn made sure his election campaign got delayed, BJP almost expelled him from the party and he became a national joke.

He won in Pilibhit anyway but that had more to do with the him being a hit with the public there for reasons the people of Pilibhit know. More like Modi still ending up as CM when every fuckin' being in Gujarat knows what he and his saffron flag patrons did to the innocent Muslims of Godhra.

Anyway...

So I was saying that God is probably married to this thing called Life or is madly in love with Life or is probably a Manmohan Singh who knows that he owes his stature more or less to Sonia, who I equate with Life, and can't help but oblige everytime Life decides to have her way. No wonder we all pray to God and we see rays of hope coming but then Life steps in and screws it up most of the time. Now I am not sure if Life is in a position to be equated to Sonia Gandhi but it sure is a woman. I mean what could be more unpredictable, unfair, unreasonable, constantly unsettled and uneasy than a woman right?

I also believe 'One sided love' is like masturbation. It is sexual stimulation but not sex.

And so Lennon said....

2009-08-24T02:21:00.002+05:30

“I'm not going to change the way I look or the way I feel to conform to anything. I've always been a freak. So I've been a freak all my life and I have to live with that, you know. I'm one of those people.”

“Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted.”

“Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we're being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I'm liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That's what's insane about it.”

"I believe in God, but not as one thing, not as an old man in the sky. I believe that what people call God is something in all of us. I believe that what Jesus and Mohammed and Buddha and all the rest said was right. It's just that the translations have gone wrong.”

“Part of me suspects that I'm a loser, and the other part of me thinks I'm God Almighty”

"Everybody loves you when you're six foot in the ground.”

“All we are saying is give peace a chance.”

2009-08-18T00:29:00.002+05:30

Here. This. This is your world; anything can be your truth. You create your truth, you believe your truth. Question is, do you believe in your own existence?

-from the blog http://white-dust.blogspot.com/

ShibaniB is looking for faith...

2009-08-17T23:29:00.007+05:30

...for if faith isn't coming then she is moving on!!!

Not everyone can handle growing up. Certainly not me. I want to go back to college, survive on samosa-chai during the monsoon in dim lit (mostly unkempt) shanties in the name of canteens, devour bhelpuri as mid-day snack and lunch all rolled in one, steal drags off other peoples cigarettes, day dream and feel good about all the possibilities that I could seize with my potential, go through all life's losses and heartbreaks and hope that "maybe there is something better in store", do whatever the fuck I would want to with my time and not have anyone pull me up for it (except maybe the college Principal if I fall short of attendance), not be answerable to anybody, subtly mock all the twenty-plus and judge them as frustrated unfortunate oafs who made mistakes which I never would.

But somethings you can't stop and so I am 23-years-old now. Mostly at work. My life revolves around my offs and the quality of my leisure is directly proportional to how much dough I make in a month.

Do I despise this life? No.

Am I happy? Maybe.

Have I changed over the years? Yes.

For good? Mostly.

Do I still make mistakes? All the time.

Do I learn from them? Depends if I want to.

Has life made me cynical? Seemingly.

So who in heavens names is this faith? Certainly not a person!

Me thinks with age comes a plethora of realisations. One of them being that it is not easy to fool yourself whenever you feel like it. Age and its different phases sometimes make you very disillusioned (also reiterated as being 'mature') with life which can be tiring. I mean it becomes so cumbersome to believe in things like hope, honesty, trust all of whom are best friends with my latest crush 'faith' who as all my crushes go is either not aware that I have a crush on it or is probably smitten by someone certainly not me!! So Faith, my precious...I beckon thee...crash into Me!!! Please???!!

Story of my life!!!

2009-08-09T04:49:00.001+05:30

2009-08-07T19:31:00.002+05:30

I think I need to give myself a break. I must stop thinking. Ignorance or the idea of it is bliss.

2009-08-06T22:53:00.007+05:30

I am uptight and hard to please. I can be very eager to please too and that makes me look stupid in front of all those whom I should not be looking stupid in front of. Is this bad attitude?

I am cynical to a fault. Almost everyone whom I have known I have not been very fond of or despised at some point.

The most inane things annoy me. I pick fights often. All the Otto wallahs in Delhi are my recent targets. I twice threatened two such drivers (in separate incidents) that I will slap them for charging me five rupees extra. Once I was done saying this it was obvious that I should just pay the fare and run for my life for I could be in deep shit if I waited for reactions.

I am penny wise foolish and a spendthrift all at the same time. Since the last one week I have spent some Rs 8000. My mother after having found this has been insisting I hand her all my salary starting tomorrow. I love good smells. I don't think I can ever get enough of the olfactory pleasures of life. And so perfumes are my biggest indulgence. The problem is I like them branded.

I am obsessive compulsive and my list of obsessions also include people I fancy as well the ones they fancy. But the funny thing is I am pragmatic so nothing gets to me. I have the power to say no. Which is also my biggest weakness.

I am self obsessed and I am batty. Is this normal? I won't be surprised if it isn't!

I know that you that I know that tomorrow is not going to be another day love!!

2009-08-06T01:27:00.011+05:30

The world we live in, no matter how manipulated, permits liberty. And as long as this liberty does not interfere with that of anyone else it can be used and misused and overused up till the point of its exhaustion or...erm..boredom. This moment, with anger and years of frustration thawing in me, gives me the liberty to practise my fundamental right. And practice I will.

1. We, the unfortunates belonging to the Third World, will never be allowed to rise. The Developed World will ensure that we live in the pits and we die in the pits. The world around us will make us believe in illusions of prosperity and progress. It will preach propriety towards us but at the end of the day it is all well scripted bullshit and the funny thing is somewhere deep we all are aware of this. No wonder Green Cards and NRI grooms are hot.

2. Even in our own country we are merely pawns. Common man's life is at the disposal of anyone who wants to use it to make personal gains. The term 'personal gain' definitely encompasses politics, underworld, Developed World's interest, drug mafia and more recently the concept of fighting for ones religions, whatever does that mean.

3. It is tragic not to fall in love, ever. What is more tragic is to be proud of the fact that one has never felt love or has ever fallen in love. It is heartbreaking to having found love but one which is unconditional and it is unpardonable to not try to turn it around or be honest about how one feels even it it means losing ones reputation. But it certainly is shameful to not learn from mistakes and wanting more of something that was clearly not meant for you. That is the reason it was unresponsive in the first place.

P.S: Whatever has been written above can be refuted.

4. Even though I have dedicated some 100 words explaining the power of love I can vouch for the fact that it does not exist. At the end of the day, no matter how old or young, life still revolves around who genetically is more fuckable and that is how mates are chosen. Good time, bad time, love-shove, feelings, chemistry and relationships follow. Attraction is usually limited to, I repeat, the hypothesis of what and who could be a good fuck. Brainstorming, worldliness, exceptional educational background, mental connection, language skills, brains over brawn etc. are usually excuses of the ugly or those with funny body structures or those who are plus 35 with slim chances of finding someone, I repeat, worth a good fuck. ( No wonder people who have never known how it feels to screw someone post finding someone exciting to screw or rather anyone game to be screwed usually end up becoming their bitches. (For eg: men who ignore their folks and friends whilst their 'babes' have their way with them because at the end of all that tail wagging they are sure that they will get some ass)

P.S: Those who refute this can bite dust.

5. Friendship, from my experience, trickles down to who pays the bills post 'catching up'.

6. Indian educational system is silently directing all those wanting to benefit or avail it to doom.

7. Not barring the fact that he was a schmuck who hated Jews and got Germany in loads of shite post Second World War, Hitler was probably the best thing that ever happened to that excuse of a nation. The Germans in their bid to sound politically correct seem to have forgotten that. Even though they should all be ashamed of themselves for the Holocaust secretly they ought to be grateful to him. And no I am not anti-Semite.

8. Honestly speaking we are all fools looking for ways to waste our time in the name of living a life. We all know what will happen in the end. Almost all of us are aware that we can't fight destiny. Those who are still fighting and even those who have given up. We are prudent enough to fool ourselves into believing that we have certain purposes and discourses that we need to pay heed to but it's all a farce. I don't disagree with the fact that the world is a wonder but only for those who can afford it. Come to think of it chasing an MNC dream and a fat paycheck is not such a bad idea after all.

As good as it gets

2009-07-19T23:21:00.024+05:30

I am not a fan of 'Coldplay's'. But lines from one of their songs 'The Scientist' have been haunting me..."no one ever said it was easy...no one ever said it will be so hard...lets take it back from the start"... I mean I can't even recall the last time I heard this song (because Coldplay is sissy and uncool...blehhh...!!).

I had issues while I was growing up...I still do. I was 16 when it dawned on me that I needed therapy or some kind of help or intervention. I asked my parents and they refused. As per my mother "it was enough having a fat and unshapely daughter with hormonal imbalances to add madness to the list of her ailments". She obviously is much more careful with her words now...I haven't forgiven her for all those years of doubt that she inflicted upon me and made sure that I make her life miserable at every step. I never gave up any chance of reminding her that I was mentally unstable by being extremely volatile and temperamental and she never stopped reminding me that I was exactly that by continuously taunting me. Seeing her losing her sleep and semblance over me my dad joined her.

My parents never stopped blaming me for most of their miseries. And I, for a very long time, believed them. Though they still indulge in it whenever I lose my mind yet things have improved (I credit my great communication skills for that). Moreover I am older and smarter now. I know that "to forgive is to move forward"- Georgia Rule.

I love my parents. I always have and I have hated them for never understanding me. For mistaking my every step. They have been very encouraging, sacrificing, loving, careful and giving and they left no stone unturned in making all of that obvious to me and my brother. But they haven't figured out how to handle me. Honestly, I AM rather difficult so I don't know if I should hold that against them. But I do understand there is difference between being a child and being an adult. When you are an adult you are not supposed to react to the things that your child says or does unbecoming of an adult. I still remember my mother trying to find ways to get back at my 14 year old self when I'd misbehave with her. She'd have her 'mature momma' moments but mostly she was clueless.

I know I am gifted. I have mostly stood out in whatever I have had an interest in (NDTV doesn't count) and I am quite old for my age. I have my flaws because I am only human but I know for a fact that I am not stupid. I am obsessively sentimental, a significant reason why it is difficult for me to snap ties, which is something that causes me immense pain. On the other hand I can be indifferent to the point of actually scaring myself. I am self obsessed for I am sure there are not many people appreciative of me and my life and I am very underconfident considering my history which is mostly a deterrent to all that I intended to achieve in life.

*************************************

My mother was 29 when she lost her mother. Her father died when she was 24. For a very long time my mother believed it was blasphemous to have 'discussions' with your parents. Till she started going to college, for my mom tea and chapati was breakfast, one hour walk to school was custom and second helpings during lunch or dinner ware sinful. Children sleeping to bed empty stomach meant more food for their dad and thus an idea which was never resented in my mothers household. Men were associated with despotism, showing and reciprocating love was a myth, hardwork and doing well in studies determined the amount of trust, respect and faith your parents entrusted in you, sacrifice, tolerance and compromise were values that kids were fed even before they knew what these things meant.

By the time I was born my parents were thrown out of the family house. For almost a decade after that my parents had zero savings even though they were very indulgent towards their kids and though my dad is almost 62 years old now, mostly in and out of hospital, he works 14 hours a day because he can't afford to lead a retired life as his children are young.

****************************************

I think madness begets madness. That is why almost all of us want saviours. No wonder we want someone to love us, we hold on to whoever we think 'gets' us, makes us happy, makes us smile, makes us feel worthwhile or stimulates us making us feel alive. A majority of us devote ourselves despicably seeking a God and if none of that works out some of us choose to be on the lookout for a reputed yet affordable shrink. Tragically almost all three of the above stated are more mythical than real.

2009-07-06T01:23:00.001+05:30

Mostly I do what I know best...I run...I hide or I write

2009-06-27T17:09:00.006+05:30

The weather is unforgiving, the heat is a killer and the air has been smelling of burnt rubber since morning. I am sleep deprived, I haven’t slept since the last two days. My brother in his desplicable bid to go to bed peacefully yesterday, post withstanding five hours of load shedding (aka power cuts) fought with me at 4 in the morning and almost bashed me up with his belt for I had, very considerately, woken up at 3.45am to switch on the water pumping motor as there was no water in the house and I refused to switch off the lights till I was done! Weird....bad rather!

I am so unimaginably heartbroken it’s unexplainable. We have moved to a different place and even though it is not the most luxurious place in the universe it isn’t unwelcoming or seemingly uncomfortable. It is spacious, huge, with a good view and loads of balconies ensuring privacy and loads of surface area to smoke in peace without judgmental old biddies watching and desiccating ones every move. But I was unfortunately in love with the house where I was living previously and there was nothing I could do to redeem it.
I have been having the most horrible time at work and at home since the last 36 hours and still counting. I yelled, was yelled at and later apologised by the maximum number of people at work in one single day which baffles me!! I have incredulously been very interested in news, a fact that is more amusing to me rather than motivating. I have been humming Michael Jackson's songs all day since yesterday after the news of his death made headlines. Not because my lost love for his art has suddenly been rekindled but maybe because his death has suddenly given him the publicity he could have used while he was alive to salvage his lost assets!

I am shamelessly blogging fully aware that EVERYONE is around and my screen is SO CLEARLY VISIBLE to whoever wants to see. But I am a stubborn prick so I won't stop unless they fire me for this insinuation!
I am unexpectedly looking forward to the rains. This is as incomprehensible as it gets on my part!

Saadat Hasan Manto's Prayer

2009-06-17T02:49:00.002+05:30

Dear God, master of the universe, compassionate and merciful: we who are steeped in sin kneel in supplication before your throne and beseech you to recall from this world Saadat Hasan Manto, son of Ghulam Hasan Manto, who was a man of great piety.

Take him away, Lord, for he runs away from fragrance and chases after filth. He hates the bright sun, preferring dark labyrinths. He has nothing but contempt for modesty but is fascinated by the naked and the shameless. He hates sweetness but will give his life to taste bitter fruit. He will not so much as look at housewives but is in seventh heaven in the company of whores. He will not go near running water but loves to wade through dirt. Where others weep he laughs, and where others laugh he weeps. Faces blackened by evil, he loves to wash with tender care to make visible their real features.

He never thinks about you but follows Satan everywhere, the same fallen angel who once disobeyed you.

MANTO'S EPITAPH

Here lies Saadat Hasan Manto. With him lie buried all the arts of short-story writing...Under tonnes of earth he lies, wondering who of the two is the greater short-story writer: God or he.

Troubleshooting

2009-05-25T02:26:00.014+05:30

I will be turning 23 next month and sometimes I think I am still stuck with the same perplexities and queries as I was while I was 13 going on 14, 15 going on 16 or maybe 19 going on 20... I don't know exactly!!! I mean obviously I have grown both physically and mentally, I have been exposed to a diaspora of emotions with some of them liberating, vibrant and some of them so hurtful and compelling that I have been trying to hide from, run and procrastinate them ever since my first encounter.

Over the time I have managed to get my facts right, hone myself to sound as politically correct, liberal and cynical as is socially acceptable. I have also managed to twist and twinge the so called values, or that Indian middle class hypocritical bullshit which most parents prize having fed their children enough with while giving them an 'upbringing', so as to be as non conformist as I can for my convenience. But somehow there are so many things, questions, situations, incidents which I can never make sense of even if I try. Most of the time I am reiterating everything that happens and exists with as much pragmatism as it needs. But despite that question marks never stop looming!!

Like, I will give you an example. I think it is normal as a woman to desire sex once in a while even if you:

a) don't have a husband or a boy friend

b) are not a divorcee or a widow who has kids to raise and physical needs but no time to mix the two together so must take care of the latter slyly

c) even if it means doing it with someone you barely know and may or may not meet ever in your life.

Now this third clause in my checklist may seem very controversial to the respectable denizens of a civilised (read hypocritical) society. But come to think of it this seems like is a very convenient method of attaining sexual satiation and should not be interpreted as a violation of virtue especially if your conscience agrees to spare you the slip, which may not be so difficult if one is experienced.

Okay...re-reading whatever I have written above makes it seem that I am contradicting my own stand. But no...that is untrue. All I am trying to say is that as long as it solves ones purpose without creating an unnecessary mess or leaving extra baggage to deal with later what's the harm? Everybody gets some ass....everybody is happy! Period.

And cummon...what could be the odds of your future husbaaand finding out that you indulged in so much unacceptable naughtiness while you were waiting for him to enter your life to deflower you?? And I am guessing if 'the husbaand' has problems accepting that you were a punk up till a point in your life then that is his problem, you are better off without a 'future husbaaand' like that!!

PS: Try not doing it with a colleague and blaming it on the alcohol.

On a personal note I don't have much sexual experience to boast of. The last time I kissed it felt more like as if I were being slobbered. All I could think of was the spit. Maybe because I was very drunk and the guy was an acquaintance (there were no 'feelings' involved)!! And because I am fat and shy I am yet to have a wild and vivid sexual escapade but then I dwell on hope and I am trying to build my confidence so Hugh Hefner better watch out for an upcoming sex goddess!!

My problem now is that even after having given an explanation about something that I find unsettling I can't make up my mind if it actually is all that simple to follow.

I don't consider myself as an entity. I don't know when did it happen but I have realised that I see myself more as an observer than as a human being. I am very conveniently indifferent to emotions and feelings, mine or the worlds. I am not a sadistic fool which makes sure I don't indulge in things which harm or hurt people but I don't feel alive.

Despite my lack of a hyperactive conscience, a very sensitive heart, the need for having a sugar daddy or a constant partner and considering that I have been getting a few opportunities lately to get laid free of cost, without any hassles, I have been very unresponsive!! What am I to make of this now?? Do I need a shrink or do I need some more time like maybe a few more years of age to act a bit more carelessly...??

I hope I am not frigid!!

Bingo Wings

2009-05-19T14:19:00.010+05:30

I will be honest. I have always liked to believe I am not so non prolific when it comes to ideas and specially expression. But today after random browsing on Facebook and bumping into things people post for the world to read in their 'notes' I felt slammed.

I am reeling under a very potent inferiority complex. And obviously infuriation at the thought that I need to put in a lot of effort, experimentation and reading into writing. (And also a subtle egging in the back of my head that I am extremely amateurish)

Anyway...the best way, as per the sharp Bedi judgement, to combat this un settlement is to write as much and much more (I think??!!??) ...talent or no talent!!!

I have realised I need to start an anonymous blog which no one is aware of...I mean I don't have best friends who are interested in me rambling all the time and neither do I have the time, the energy, the patience or the confidence to talk to them. Blogging is the only way I can give things which are buggering me a vent. But I can't do that with this one because a lot of people know about it and even though I am sure that that lot does not pay my blog a visit often but if it does I don't want it to start another set of controversy. And no this time it is not 'someone ji'!!
I need a drink...

Letting it flow

2009-04-16T03:25:00.008+05:30

Call it caprice of nature or just the common ironies of everyday life, everytime I consciously sit down to blog I run out of ideas. I mean I have all these thoughts and fliers running in the back of my head, usually overactive as long as I have no Internet or computer access and the moment it all is made available to me my brain freezes. Nothing surfaces. Shame!

The curious case of a crisis that wasn't

2009-03-11T00:19:00.011+05:30

Circa: March 10 2009, 6.45 am

Mother dearest jerks me out of bed for she is hyperventilating: "Minnie, ye bike kiski khadi hai hamarey verandey mein??"

Minnie, still groggy and drugged as she wasn't feeling too well the previous night: "Mujhe kya pata yaar maa...I slept at 1...there was nothing out there till that time"

Mother hyperventilator: "Mannu ne toh nahi rakhi apne kisi dost ki motorcycle....Woh ghar aya tha kal?"

(Mannu is my irresponsible younger brother who just turned 21 on the 9th of March and was busy 'partaayin' till late that night. His phone, as expected, was switched off so we couldn't get in touch with him. When I called one of his 'partaayer' friends who was half stoned, a quarter sloshed and a quarter delusional I was told everyone was asleep and everyone was out the entire time not to mention him confirming with me if my brother was an AIDS patient?? Now where did that come from!!)

Anyway...

Minnie: Pata nahi maa...he didn't call me or anything and had he come he would have atleast rang the bell...meine uske dost se baat ki par he did not say anything about coming home at all. And I don't think any of his friends who are with him have any bikes...!??!!...Ab mujhe soney do maa...i had a very strong medicine last night...please let be go back to bed...It is not such big a deal...just wait for a bit naa!!

Mother 'No Mercy': Kal ko ghar mein kuch ho jayega to tu kay soti rahegi...how can the both of you be so insensitive and careless...Kitna sona hota hai?
Minnie (the disgruntled and by now awake): Urrghhh!!!

What ensued later made one thing clear that whatever happened that day will go down here...as a blog post.
My mother refused to stop flipping over the bike thing and by the time my dad and I woke up so did we. As a result, to avoid any complications and problems later, we called the cops. The PCR van came and told us that it could be some drunk who stole this bike (as it was some tra-la-la Yamaha model....very 'Fast and Furious') and to save his ass and due to lack of finding an apt way of disposing it kept it inside our lawn. They suggested we lock our gate before the tow-cart comes and takes it to the pound.
Anyway...Mother m'lady left for work and Daddy dagger in his bid to catch up with the un-settlement at home suddenly demanded to have my brother come home "immediately".
Which my brother obviously refused to do for he was, till that point, oblivious to whatever was and was about to happen.
When I told him the reason emergency was being declared at home (even though, between you and me, it wasn't such a big deal after all. My dad just loves to do these weird, sadistic, dominating "I am the Papa, hear me growl" thing) he just casually told me that the bike belonged to one of his friends. That they parked it last night while we were all sleeping and he didn't inform me because he had no cash in his phone and was running out of charge too.

Now in any ordinary life this would do. Finding out the perpetrators, the reason behind the crime committed and realising the fact that earth didn't fall apart in the process of all these events might just put a lid on things but not in mine , rather, lets make it ours...!

Daddy-the dangerous just refused to accept such an insinuation, as to why was the bike parked without his permission and why wasn't he informed and I say he was right. But I really felt sorry for this poor kid to whom the motorcycle belonged (now this chap insists on being called 'Boo Radley'??? One ardent Harper Lee fan??!!) for he had parked his vehicle at my brother's consent and for no fault of his got the best of my fathers wrath. My dad just refused to call the police station to clear things out with them. As per him he had registered an FIR and it was for these spiteful boys to go and get an NOC or something.

Our old man just wouldn't listen.

The next thing we know is that my brother, the pest, comes home and finding no better way of handling things just ask Boo to take the bike and run and dear Boo does exactly that.

Loads of yelling, loads of tears (mostly mine...I love weeping... I am an perennial weeper) and, if I am not mistaken, a very hurt dad later we breathed sighs of relief.

Even though my father kept on threatening us that the cops can come in any minute, that he would ask them to take my brother with them to the station to make all the enquiries as he was one of the accomplices and all....nothing happened. No tow-cart, no cops, no police enquiries, nothing. (As per my dad it was due to his quick thinking that the day was saved...as per him he went to the police station after all this ruckus was over and got things sorted...deep down I think he lied)

God Save Us.

'fessign up ..!!!

2009-03-06T00:30:00.002+05:30

I don't think I have the patience to be at work, blog and think of 25 things I'd like to come out of the closet with at the same time.
Can't!
So part two may be devoid of richness in terms of information...and dear friend ANON...in case you happen to visit again, do know that you are right...I am recklessly self obsessed!!
10# Whatever is said of us I still think we are all shallow.

THANK YOU

'fessing up...

2009-03-02T22:07:00.006+05:30

At the risk of being called a plagiarist I want to mention that the title is ripped and is thereby dedicated to a marvellous blog which I used to follow till last year before the owner decided to scrap it.

Anyway...

My friends on Facebook...or rather people in my friend list on Facebook have been going all hammer and tongs with the whole 'Twenty five confessions about yourself' notes lately. And I am going green...with jealousy.

I want to 'fess up too but I am a coward. Though I don't mind being read yet I don't think I am bold enough to tell it all on a social networking site. So I decided to go ahead with it on the space I trust best. My blog. So here goes:

1# I am the most underconfident person I know. I don't know if it is very apparent or not but everytime I am with someone I am always conscious of the fact that they are judging me, my hands are usually cold and due to my continuous self-consciousness and fidgeting I am always wishing I shouldn't have been there in the first place.

2# The only people whose opinion bothers me to the point of utterly hating them and wanting to get rid of them for life are my parents. Primarily because I am aware of the fact that they are the only people I know who haven't had a problem with me being around. And honestly because no matter how much I deny it theirs is the only opinion that matters so much so it singes my heart when there is disagreement, something that happens more than often.

3# As a kid when I'd have a crush on a guy, rather than trying to find ways to floor him with the flutter of my twinkling eyes I'd behave like them. I still do. No wonder I am still single.

4# I always wanted to be a boy. Not because I had nothing to play with so I wished I had some balls. I just like the way guys can get away with shabbiness most of the time. It's harder than you think when one is a girl.

5# I am tired of being the best friend or the confidante. I want to be one who leads with the leading guy. Thank god for I have finally joined the gym again. Glamour.. here I cometh!!!

6# I have been trying to lose weight ever since I can remember. I might just lose some any day now.

7# I am the most consistent, incorrigible planner I know. But I am too much of a wimp to actually take that risk to see my plans through. This attitude sucks I tell you!

8# I hate my job. There are days when I think that this could be where I belong but those moments are short lived. More often than not I am sifting through my phone calender counting days, deciding when do I apply for my leave and looking forward to the month when I complete a year so that I can hand in my papers.

9# I think getting laid can actually change one's life...for good.

...................and...this post shall be continued.......

Going Bananas...!!

2009-03-02T00:46:00.002+05:30

Couldnt think of a better title...seriously...Maybe because I havent had banans since months...okay...stupid reason to validiate the title....
I saw Resul Pookutty in office today, along with Kabir Bedi and some Dhanvant..something...Sangvi (he is a ya-ya writer)
Felt good...especially after seeing Kabir Bedi...hooh...the man is a stunner...I wish I was Pooja.
Recieved a mail from this reporter called Samapad Mahapatra who is based in Orissa and though all his mails are very well structured and otherwise in pure English...he somehow always begins with a 'NAMASKAR'...which, if you wanna know the truth, sounds and looks hillarious!
Sitting next to a very burpy guy...croaky!

2009-01-01T02:35:00.005+05:30

To all the things that you wanted to be
and to all the ones you couldn't,
To all those things you wished you were
and to those you wished you weren't,
To all the dreams you dreamt and saw
and the ones you did believe in,
To the ones which never did see the day
and the ones you still believe in,
Here's to all those awry days that
the years gone by were witness to,
And to all those awry days
that the years ahead are going to bring to you,
Dear Shibani Bedi
A Very Happy New Year

2008-12-26T00:08:00.002+05:30

This is seriously a very bad time...a season of inconspicuous sentiments and the sheer lack of any motivation or drive to do anything...even blog. I am trying to pen down something after this really long time and I can hardly think of anything. Honestly nothing seems necessary or worthy of attention or thought anymore...not life, neither emotions, not even blogging. DOn't know why...maybe this whole 'cold season sluggishness' syndrome.

No....no hard feeling towards anyone or anything, not even an effort towards the umatchable 'Bedi whine'....was on vacation, was busy vacating all thoses fuzzy feelings lately to make some space for newer ones once I go back to work. The 'Leave' was spent in the most unexpected fashion inclusive of people and places. None of my stuff I had on my checklist did ever see the light of the day, but amusingly I don't seem to be giving a rotten rats arse so it all seems cool.

The city that was

2008-11-29T01:27:00.008+05:30

It's been a rough week. It all started three days back and its not over yet. I am talking about Mumbai. And the sight of it suffering like that, yet again, is painful.
My attachments with the city aren't very intense only except that it changed me and my life forever...most of it for the better and it goes without a doubt that I had loads of problems coping up with the challenge that it was and I undoubtedly was very vocal about it. But it burned for almost three days and that makes me sick. Not just because of the fact that the streets where the firing and the siege began were frequented by me almost everyday of my life there, as St Xavier's college is located somewhere in the vicinity, almost opposite that area.

Ignoring the fact that no matter how spectacularly alive the city is at all times, it is crumbling under it's own pressure and I am guessing it is too worn out to take it anymore-- the violence, the disruption, the destruction, the ramifications and the pollution all those attacks are causing.

I will try not getting very touchy about how it pained my heart to see the Taj Hotel, Jamshedji Tata's blow to the Britishers after being kicked out of The Watson's Hotel due to their racist prejudices, being dismembered and how desperately I wish it was left alone, not to mention the 190 people who have lost their lives and the 300 to 400 who have been injured.
It disturbs me, more than anything, to see how simple it was for the people whose brained this siege to go about their business.

How easy it was for them to enter our country, the metropolis, the buildings and the areas that were targeted, how simply lives of people who were just taking a break, attending weddings, having a good time, minding their business, taking a stroll or doing their job changed forever.

All those who had the misfortune of seeing these attacks in person are probably dead or along with every other citizen of India may never feel safe to venture out of their homes for the sake of some recreation.

It was most disillusioning to see that the best our Modis, Advanis and Manmohan Singhs could do was plan a bandh, make irrelevant speeches finding faults in the ruling government or pointing fingers at countries and terrorist organisations who have had a history of terrorising other parts of the world. And how their condolence visits to the various areas where the firing and bombing was on caused absolute nuisance.

But it is difficult to be reassured whether our lessons have been learnt or not considering this is probably the umpteenth time that such an act of terror has surfaced in our country, though this one was certainly an eye opener for it practically brought everything to a stand still for almost three days.

Now, we Indians are a very vocal lot who love to talk, shout out loud, discuss things but seldom do we believe in acting or bothering to bring about changes in the system ourselves. Seldom it is that one sees the so called enlightened ones standing up for elections or other bureaucratic or administrative posts if given an option to choose between a job that may take them abroad or provide a fat pay packet and a complacent life. Not that anyone is to be blamed. Who hates living comfortably amidst no death threats haunting them?

But going by the situation today there is a very less possibility of any one of us living a very long life. If not the pollution or the brutally changing climatic pattern and the natural calamities that it has been causing , we are bound to die at the hands of a terror monger anyway. So making our living hours a little worthwhile for us as well as for whoever cares to live in a just, secure society may not be too harmful.

I am fully aware that most of what I am saying is a futile rant. I don't see myself getting into politics or the civil services any sooner, but I am trying to find ways to at least give my vote out to someone who probably deserves it. But somehow I am pretty sure it may never prove pivotal.

I was listening to Rahul Bose talk about what can be done to prevent such a thing from happening again and how it has affected us and who does one blame for this catastrophe. And he had some vital inputs.

Firstly, the only way to avoid things like these from happening would be to execute and strengthen the already existing laws for none of them have been taken too seriously. These terrorists came via the sea. Had the coast guards been more alert and active something could have been done about it. Had the police been more alert it may not have taken two days for the NSG guards to get into full action as the situation may not have gone so out of hand. And the solution to avoid such things from happening again is not just tightening security and devouring the people of a few of their civil rights. In case that has to be done the governing body needs to make sure that they be patient with the public and not be so unilateral in their decision making.

Secondly, he added that blaming Pakistan and the Pakistani government along with that whole "Khoon ke Badle Khoon" policy may not be a very sensible thing as there is a war which is going on in there. A war between a modernist and an extremist Pakistan, just like there is one in India. Blaming will not and cannot solve anything or stop anything from happening. That we need to keep our balance.

Alyque Padamsee said in an interview that Mumbai is the perfect comeback kid. I think he is overrating his city. Bombay has been dying a slow, uneasy death due to it's own generosity but sadly is the most ignored. If one was to go by what Mumbai's deputy Chief Minister RR Patil had to say, things like these are regular shit in big cities. Fascinating. I mean how much more does one need to see or go through to realise that something is wrong?

All the most crucial front runners of the Malegaon blast probe- Hemant Karkare, Vijay Slaskar, Ashok Kamte -have been killed. Maybe it was a part of the whole plot as there were some heart wrenching leads that the ATS (Anti-Terrorism Squad) had been attaining since last month related to the blasts directed mostly against the patrons of Hindutva in our country along with all the political elements which cater to it.

I was watching Baby Moshe, the two year old kid of the Jewish Rabbi and his wife who were killed during the siege at Nariman house, desperately writhing and howling after being rescued by his nanny while they were being taken to someplace safe. It was apparently his birthday that day. I am not sure if he'll ever grow up to look forward to this date or ever forgive what our country did to him and his parents who had come to India as messengers of peace and goodwill.

It's ironical you know. The last time I visited The Watson's at Kala Ghora, much it surprised me to see that the stoic historic edifice was nothing but crumbling patterns of metal and wood which housing authorities in that area has declared unfit for human inhabitation. It's another story that despite the threat it poses there are innumerable offices one can find inside, mostly illegal.

Apparently the terrorists inside the Taj had been aiming to blow it up. They couldn't. It still stands strong, only mangled but I am sure recuperation is assured.

I remember my first month in Mumbai. I was coming back from college to take a bus from a bus stop right where Metro Ad labs is located and a four or five year old beggar girl started following me asking me to buy her a Kulfi from the nearby restaurant. The impulsive goof ball that I am I got chit-chatty with her telling her how her city has suddenly made a pauper out of me as well and how I wished someone could treat me to a Kulfi too. The kid just laughed. I assured her I will come back the day I have extra cash and she assured me she'd wait as she lived somewhere on a footpath close by.

Realising how unthoughtful I had been I went looking for her the next day but couldn't find her. Not the next day, not any other day.

I wish she survived the carnage.

2008-11-20T23:42:00.012+05:30

As he goes left and you stay right

Between the lines of fear and blame

And you begin to wonder why you came

Drive until you lose the road

Or break with the ones you've followed

-The Fray

Disclaimer: These are lines from a song I have been OD'ing on...dedicated to no one in specific and posted purely because I like Grey's Anatomy, and this song's original video (the one not made for Grey's Anatomy) and the story it potrays.

Of ubiquitous questions and answers unavailable

2008-11-12T23:16:00.012+05:30

Now that I have almost two hours to just sit and waste in the office because I am likely to miss my cab due to slackly Nooos Editrrrs not approving my tickers, blogging seems like my saving grace. Okay nothing spectacular to rant about but loads of questions brewing!!!

Have to confess. Firstly the one cute guy I was aiming for here, believe it or not, gave in his papers and quit...and no, not because of sexual harassment at the hands of chubby, very bold, new girl. It wasn't meant to be and considering that this is not the first time something like this has happened, I see myself guffawing less. (The last time it happened was in Xaviers...I mean this fellow had been a secret crush since three years and I never even knew his name except that he was in a very famous college's dramatics society. And then I saw him on the first day of college and I couldn't believe my luck. But after a month of chasing him and staring at him and all, I realized he got through IIMC in Nooo Deli and was on his way out, Damn!)

Anyway, so the cute guy in office is no more, and I am being put on tickers day in and day out, everyday of my friggin work life and it, without a dolloping doubt, is killing me.

But I can't help it.

Fortunately there is this really hot anchor guy, who is more or less stationed in the Mumbai office but usually visits Delhi, who is here and though I can't see him around anymore, he sure is great eye candy. But alas with him there is no iota of anything materialising so I am trying not to aim for anything at all :(

And then there is this all pervading question about my life and career...I had yet another bad fight with dad in the morning. I was persistent I need to quit my job 'coz I am not having any fun...and he told me, yet again, that I was a parasitic nut. And in case this time I quit I'll have to vacate the house before handing in my papers!

Funny life!

For Jimmy boy Morrison

2008-11-05T00:52:00.005+05:30

I was watching this reporter being interviewed ages back by a channel on You Tube, thanks to 'Optimistic Cynic's love for displaying various links and boxes with videos and quotes and jokes on her blog. Now I always thought Jim Morrison was (with all due respect) a shallow, sort of poetic rockstar, heavy on sex and drugs whose work shot to fame after an overdose of drugs took his life. And anyone who has seen that movie starring Val Kilmer and Meg Ryan..'The Doors'...won't really disagree with me, especially if you didn't have the patience to religiously sit through the whole thing at a stretch(or maybe you did...and maybe my presumptions about him are...well...presumptions after all since I couldn't sincerely watch it without toggling between channels every now and then.)

Okay...now this journalist was clearing out myths about poor 'ole misunderstood Jimmy. And one such was that he was non sensitive and shallow and all. In reality he was sensitive. And hypocritical behaviour used to hurt him...awww..

Like there was this one time when he had gone back to his hometown or probably his school...and there was this one girl who couldn't get her hands off him...he looked so irresistible. But this hurt poor Jim because when he was in school he was weird and fat and no one would go out with him and now this chick seeing that he was all hot couldn't get 'nuf of him, like touching him and all...Damn!

And rather than being pleased with himself he hated the fact that his veneer made so much difference in his life. And to rebel against that, for that what he was...a sensitive-rebellious-drug abusing-very good looking rockerboy...he went ahead and grew himself a beard and gained oodles of weight.

He seriously is one of my favourite guys...I swear!

Here Comes The Sun

2008-11-05T00:24:00.004+05:30

I am happy...yaaay...no reason...just happy!! The US presidential elections are on and I can't stop gushing at the tension, the frenzy that has been encumbering everyone in the office, the fact that how amusing it is all looking and how weirdly it is so not stirring my soul (though I am subtly interested...I want Obama to win). And also the fact that I have been doing a decent job at the tickers today.

By the way, all you non broadcast people must know that the tickers are the tiny creepy things that one sees running under the TV screens while the bulletins and everything in between is on air. And believe me thee, them tickers are no fun. They are vicious and so are all the editors who are supposed to track them so that the ticker person(who mostly are fresh novices with no interest in news tracking) don't do no shoddy job of it. Basically tickers are a lot of pain and today I was good at them...so yaay.

And as if that wasn't 'nuff I saw this one song from the movie Dostana...a new song...featured as an exclusive on Night Out (an entertainment show on NDTV) ...which had Punjabi lyrics telling a mom that her son has grown up (trust me it sounded much more peppy while I was listening it)...I want to see this movie...

So happy....yaay...Am so happy!!

Confessions of the purple mind...(cont..)

2008-11-04T00:52:00.006+05:30

And 'nother thing....
one of my friends whom I met over drinks yesterday mentioned this one quote to me which sure is going down in this blog...it is by one of the famous Eliots or probably Wordsworth??(I can't recall!) but it goes like this...
"If you want to be happy, be"

Confessions of the purple mind

2008-11-03T23:29:00.007+05:30

I can't exactly explain why the title...I mean 'the purple mind' and all. But I guess it has to do with a catched subconscious along with a brain and a heart which is tired of putting up a fight. 'Tis bruised....yes. Needs healing and how...but I have been trying to put it at ease for the last one and a half year and I havn't really succeded.

There are times when things are okay. When nothing from the past seems brutal enough. When the future looks vibrant and promising, when esteem reaches pinnacles it never thought it could scale and when focus seems less hazy. But most of the time the critic is up waging wars and battles and is continuously salvaging her defences. Sometimes she doubts whether she is a cynic, a critic at all....a warrior is more like it and that too more or less defeated.

She envies all those for whom normal seems normal, fitting in seems easy and being comfortable in their skin not something done out of this desperate, rather desplicable need to hide her pathetic opinion of her purpose and life in general.

I am cribbing and whining as is usual. But not entirely. Trust me this time I am not blue. I am just reflecting and hoping I stop my crusade of self destruction. No, I don't do drugs. Drugs are just one of the means. There can be more ways to let yourself go. I just hope all this helps me wake up. I remember my blog saving my life once. I hope it can do that to me again. My blog, my one constant, my mate.

Yesterday was a nice evening. I met a few friends from school..seniors whom I was very fond of. Yesterday I felt like an equal amongst them and we drank and ate and smoked and it was fun. After getting my buzzing ass out of the bar I visited the nearby Gurudwara and happened to spend the maximum time there I ever have whenever I have visited it alone.

I don't know what took me there. I think the want to see belief in its most intense form...the need to feel that it is not too bad to have faith in something that may or may not exist, or may or may not pay attention to what you have to say. Or probably the need to feel one among the temple visiting, god fearing, materialistic hypocrites. Or maybe the need to flaunt my blashphemy (Sikhism condemns smoking and drinking).

I have nothing more to write.

While my guitar gently weeps

2008-10-27T23:08:00.003+05:30

Sentiments have been running wild these days. Everything, every little corner, songs, pictures, notes, notebooks, videos, letters, everything has been killing me...driving me up the wall and I usually see myself getting extremely overwhelmed. Yes...and crying too. It's unexplainable. And I have continuously been wanting to go back in time, and oh how I have been praying for it miserably.... though I am aware its not something that may happen. I am as usual in the office, and somebody played 'sweet child of mine' on their phone which reminded me of my guitar, my first day in college, my most major crush, my first night out with a few friends of mine, the first hit I got while I smoked and how I was so excited, my first drunken wild night, of the few friends I made in college, the butterflies that rumbled in my stomach when I was in love for the first time, the kick that pseudo-intellectual conversations and pep talk used to give me at college and D-school...basically loads of irrelevant events which were stupid and stunning in their own insipid yet impactful ways.
I am publishing this post at the risk of being judged as a vague, random person who dwells in the past for she has no life..I know...but I don't mind!!

2008-10-19T03:56:00.001+05:30

Photographs do that to her. They don’t necessarily have to be hers. They just need to be pictures of total strangers, of happy moments, where hearts and smiles seem free. Where people look as if they had something to do, something to dream about and something to look forward to. Pictures which remind her of the times when she could dream, when she could breathe at peace and on her accord not thinking how it may effect the home economy or parental sentiment or her life and future, her remaining years of youth in general (which seem to be receding spectacularly fast).
She got in touch with a friend of hers just day before yesterday. She told her that dreams seem so whimsical now, life though seems bearable. The friend asked her to not live a compromise. To let life run and not put up with it for life’s sake. That “you always had the potential and still do. You just need to rethink your pririties and open up. Follow your heart and not do what seems right as of now. Follow what you always wanted to do”.
She lets out a laugh and then a sigh and then she cries. All this sounds inspiring, motivating. All of a sudden she misses college and wants to go back. Wants to relive the years she wasted, wants to redeem herself and let go of things she should have never held on to in the first place. She smiles again. She is old, maybe a little too old for her age for she knows what she wants but is also aware of what life expects of her. Pragmatism is what she has to dwell on. Hope she harbours, she wants to get back at the life she abandoned but honestly she isn’t sure. Time may tell…

And then there was me...again

2008-10-08T23:03:00.006+05:30

...only with a new URL and loads of things to crib about and 'discuss'....
Huuuh....it feels great to be free again...and i hope this time things dont go out of hand viz a viz this webpage of mine.... (though i've just discovered that were someone holding a vendetta against me with respect to something i wrote about them and wanting to trash me for it,can find me with my old blog name ....damn!! can someone tell me how to not make that happen??)
Well....there has been loads of shit I have been going through lately and the primary reason behind most of it is a blog post i wrote...more than a year back...
will give u the dirty details maybe in my next post...at work right now...lots of people are on chutti so the work load is immense these days...but (bizarrely) i am not totally hating it...sweeeeet!!

2008-09-18T21:05:00.007+05:30

Dear Reader(s)

This blog was created as a account of my day to day life and the personal discoveries that I have made so far in life and am yet to. It has been a journey, my blog. And it has helped me live the life of the protagonist I never was, the girl in prime focus, the observer, the overseer, the star of my movie... not something I am very used to in reality.

I don't have issues with people reading it or making fun of it, appreciating it or passing insinuating judgements on its contents but for some reason I have my reservations when it comes to who gets to be my audience. Though I am sure there aren't many visitors (the whole point of this mail seems very futile if you wanna know the truth) yet there are people who know about it whom I don't want to make myself known to...(this blog is an extension of me...somebody pass me kleenex...booowoohoo!!!).

And nobody is to blamed for it but me. Hence I have decided that I will be changing it's privacy settings and making it visible to only a select few by means of invitations. Whoever is interested to stick around can post their email ids in the comment box and I will do the needful within a week or so.

Thanks.

(Boe, though you are exempted from the email you can still comment..i don't want to look like a fool...okay my louuuve??!!)

What the knight told me (ignore if not prepared for waffling and garbled, more or less, thoughts)

2008-09-12T22:43:00.009+05:30

During my off last week, me and a friend of mine finally went to see The Dark Knight and boy did we like it. Heath ledger as the JOKER, may his soul rest in peace, was phenomenal and truly earth shattering in his performance. I mean being an actor and being a talented one at that is good enough, but managing to be so remarkable is worth commenting upon.
Last night, my first night after my miserable night shift, I obviously was unable to sleep up till five in the morning. And that too I only manged to surrender to slumber after five spoon heaps of chocolate truffle which I had bought on the ninth for my parents' wedding anniversary. Not that inducing sleep was the only reason they were consumed. No.
Last night (after whiling some of my time trying to read, watching television or facebook surfing and eventually getting bored) began this whole introspective phase and though it was painful as usual yet very revealing and helpful. Of all the failures I have had, the rejections, the awry moments in life, the apprehensions induced by people I trusted or still trust and lately the menagerie of 'seniors aka bosses aka assholes at work' I found the answer I needed. Before I explain what I mean lets just give you, dear reader, a backgrounder on the point that I am making here.

I hope we have all had times when we wanted to know 'why?'. Why are people nasty to others they think they can be nasty to, or why the guy/girl you fancied and were nice to chose somebody else over you despite getting all the signs you gave him/her and vice versa and why does that auntie at work who is two ranks senior to you always roll her eyes while you seem clueless about a few basics of the field that you are in considering that you are just three weeks old and job profiles aren't exactly allocated in heaven and there is no such thing as a job training inducing gene in you which is forever preparing you for what you choose to give a try in life along with giving you a discourse on everything you shall be dealing with at that place called work. Hullo...???

The movie that I saw last week had this one line where Batman's butler Alfred (played by Micheal Caine), while helping him find an answer to what the joker needed to end the havoc that he had wrecked all over Gotham, tells Batman that sometimes there is no particular reason why somebody does what he/she does. "Some people just like to see the world burn".

Convenient. I mean that explained a lot ...sometimes there aren't supposed to be any answers. People just want to see you hurt and dwell and bask on the fact that they induced the pain it caused. Maybe they were victims themselves. A study, I remember reading somewhere, has proven that a majority of child molesters in and around the world had probably been victims of molestation themselves. Okay that is a gory example but is fact checked, so was safe to quote (I am an ex-journo student, remember?? And am trying to make my dean proud who always said that facts need to gotten right....Thank you Mrs Swamy :D...). So maybe the bitch or the jerk at work just likes throwing his/her weight around trying to show who is the boss and who knows more, maybe somebody did that to him/her as well...and all the other jackasses who hurt people, mostly purposely, and live to proclaim that they are bad human beings because they are aware of what they did but are still unstoppable are plain jackasses.

Good day sunshine

2008-08-27T06:04:00.003+05:30

Catharsis, periodically, for me is therapeutic. I know that much. But rarely it is that I indulge in it. Having said that I expect people who have cared to give my blog a read and kept track of the posts would understand why the sabbatical, yet again. Its 5:40 in the morning, I am at work with only an hours sleep backing me up and this moment does not seem like a happy prelude to an otherwise promising and a very busy day ahead. But blogging seems like a swell idea. I mean lack of sleep makes me feel inebriated and no matter how disconcertingly sixteen-year-old-newly-into-booze-and-rock-music I may be sounding, intoxication or feeling like it makes me think better.
Okay, fuckwittage being something of a forte with me I'd like to officially announce that I have done my escaping act once again, have changed my job but going by the way things are so far (not counting today) life does not seem all that jinxed and the move made seems all for the best. There is crazy amount of work one is expected to do (which I realised just day before yesterday) and though it may not exactly seem so constructive yet this organisation seems worth sticking out in so one is okay being tortured this time. And though I am supposed to pretend to be a hardworking and committed employee, I am shamelessly blogging. Not that anyone, including me, will hate me for it. There is no work lined up right now...my conscience is clear!
This post shall continue, maybe I'd resume after I am done with my shift. People are coming in and showing a lot of inquisitivity as to what the new girl is busy typing on her GMAIL 'compose mail' box (yes, that's the trick to ethically blog at work)..and oh, forgot to mention, one gets TWO whole days off....very nice clause in the company HR policy...one is very happy!! :)

2008-07-25T14:11:00.012+05:30

I think it was gelato that did it. Yes, I am sure it was the taste of a fancy flavoured gelato (whose name escapes me but am sure it had blackcurrent as one of it's main ingredients and whose single scoop cost me almost fifty bucks) which me and a friend of mine decided to toy with a few days back that made me relive something that happened long ago.

Suddenly I was six years old, sitting in the backseat of 1980's model Maruti 800—DDQ-something—light brown in colour with my four year old brother next to me and one of my fathers brother and his wife in the front seat on our way back from someone's house to theirs (where me and my brother had been spending our summer holidays, very reluctantly though due to our extended family's utter loathing of everything that belonged to them, kids included-which they liked to interpret as modesty—nothwithstanding the fact that me and my brother are the only torchbearers of Bedi Khandaan's next generation as none of my uncles have any kids of their own.) The other inhabitants of the house were our grandfather, grandmother and another uncle. My parents had been thrown out long ago, and I mean literally thrown out, so we had a nuke family of our own but as things weren't as bad as they used to be initially, the yearly 'kids giving away' thing was almost regular ritual in our family to compensate for the absence of any real kids at my grandmothers.

It was an early June afternoon and the cars were non ac in those days. Me and my brother were groggy and droopy and finding no other way to lift our spirits my uncle suggested we stop by near the Nirula's outlet near Chanakya cinema, a cine complex which doesnt exist anymore- it having been tore down a few years back, for an ice cream.

"Which flavour do you want Minnie...choose one, we'll take it in cone or a cup, whichever way you want it!" he suggested.

"Ummm..I don't know tauji, I've never eaten at Nirula's...wait...I think...ummm...is that chocolate...i'll have that one...in a cup, I don't like cones" said I.

My brother was too young and too underconfident to have an opinion so he just went with whatever his sister wanted to have, me being the only influence in his life he thought he could look up to after his parents, who apparantly were missing from the scene.

So, there we were, the four of us, with our cups (my brother chose to have his ice cream in a cone...sorry..he was opinionated all along...yes Polly, i see your side now!! :D) sitting in the car, in the scorchy summer heat nibbling away to glory. But for some reason the choco-wonder was a lil bitter for my 'Kwality and Milkfood ice cream bred' taste buds.

The epitome of honesty that I was, I didn't blink an eye before being a little 'critical for my age' when asked by my taiji as to how did I like the whole Nirula's experience.

Taiji: "Minnie -Mannu, kaisi lagi ice-cream?"

Bediji: "Zaada acchi nahi thi taiji, thodi si kadvi thi...!!??"

Now the deal was, in those days when any other local brand ice cream would go up to a maximum of 8 rupees for a fancy flavour, Nirulas would charge nohting less than Rs 20 for the same quantity, rather less. And because our parents had not been living on their own for long and had two kids to takle, there were hardly any savings and money was always a luxury, a fact the extended parivaar knew and never got enough of deriving cheap thrills out of making the divide between their and our lifestyles apparent.

So obvioulsy children who are depraved of expensive ice creams when made to feed on it by their ostentatious taiji should show some respect, gratefulness and appreciation for her and tauji's concern and big heartedness even if those ice creams taste funny and even if the parents to whom the kids belong aren't exactly all that 'hand to mouth' as rest of the world believes they are. It did not come as a surprise, my taiji getting livid on the podgy six year old who had the cheek to say what she felt like.

"Badtameez ladki..itni mehengee ice cream khilayee...sharam nahhi aati blote huey ki acchi nahi lagi...(in punjabi to tauji) apney maa- pyo nu bolan na aeo jeyi ice creamaa khilaan, pher dekhaa!!!"

I think that day something in me snapped. Come to think of it, me remembering everything so vividly about that day should be proof enough that that moment meant something. It was probably my first lesson in hypocrisy, how to say what seems the right thing to say without meaning it or wanting to say it. That dishonesty and being fake makes life a lil simpler sometimes.

The next thing I remember was my friend tugging at my kurta.

"Bedi....how was it, your ice cream...liked it...?"

Bedi: "Nah, I think ill try something else next time I come here!! What about you??"

Friend: "It was okay, too bad you didnt like yours..."

2008-07-09T17:17:00.007+05:30

It seems a little weird coming out of me but this week marks the first anniversary of my tryst with Bombay city and St. Xavier's college and hence deserving of a post dedicated exclusively to it.

For all those who haven't been following my life chart I am back in Dilli and not totally hating it. But considering I spent almost a year sweating it out in a place I think was nothing short of an expensive pothole, it was obvious that I managed to let it grow over me after some time especially once the whole Balaji grind began. Though the production house and their terms sucked, I met some really interesting people who were a part of the cast and the crew whom I had started calling friends. I refer to them in the past tense because I am hardly in touch with anyone as of now. Some I refused to share my phone number with when I came back fearing that the social bees they were they may not really bat an eyelid were one of the creative heads of the show to ask them about my whereabouts, which I in no way wanted them to find out. And moreover there were those with whom I knew I had to maintain a good rapport with, considering they were my colleagues, but never really thought of them to be around forever.

Anyway. There isn't much that I can brag about Bombay. I just can't. It ceases to come naturally to me.

Just day before yesterday i was talking to a friend of mine, who was a batch mate at XIC and both of us were reminiscing about Xavier's and honestly I felt happy discussing it all with him. And I also felt sad.

I remember having gone to this one Shaktiyogashram trip during the month of October with some of our teachers and batch mates and though it was a great experience yet I was sulky as usual. This time because 'The Contract' with Balaji refused to allow me to go back home to celebrate Diwali with my folks whereas I was very keen on the trip. Had I not had those shoot related obligations I would have been home after four long months, is all I kept reeling under. In my fit of desperation I got chatty with this one chick in my class named Ruby and just told her, that too very raucously, that how everything that I have been doing is so mechanical and pointless and is this absurd compromise with life which I will make sure I put an end to and soon. I slammed the door to our shack shut and went out. I am yet to understand why I did that or said whatever I said. I mean it was nobody's fault, right? Things happen, life moves and it takes u further, sometimes for the best and most of the time just for the worse. Good times are supposed to be ephemeral, aren't they?? They may or may not last forever. Making the most of what u get is the talisman to get over the pangs of change??!!! I sort of see that now.

Well....I heard (or I thought I did) Ruby tell another classmate of mine who was in the same dorm with us that night that I am a lil too stiff. And that if only I could give life a chance. As it is you don't always get everything you want and things don't forever last.

Now I must confess that Ruby was never my best girl. I mean I always thought that she was someone a little eager to please and with a self esteem issue (I could be wrong??!!!). But what she said that night ceases to leave me. These days, more than often, I see myself repeating those words to assure myself whenever I am on the verge of losing steam.

So last to last night's trip down the memory lane, for a change, made me feel proud of the fact that I was in Xavier's and sticking it out it despite the whole PG shit happening and the utter lack of belonging to the city and the room-mates. And the fact that I sort of like dropped out of college eventually, due to lack of attendance, but still managed to make the most of my free time by reading whatever I could lay my hands on and watching whatever the fuck I could get and from whoever.

Also the fact that how Anglicised all our teachers were and though it used to make me and most of my classmates laugh yet was helpful in a lot of ways. I think I spoke and learnt most of my English there (and the fact that I fear that I m losing touch now considering there aren't many people around me at work and at home who think there exists any other language other than Hindi or Punjabi ...aarrrghh!!!)

Sometimes I think destiny, whatever does that mean, wasn't okay with me staying put in Bombay. Maybe that's why I never felt comfortable enough there no matter where I went, with whom and how. Maybe I was supposed to be here, sitting on my laptop in my room in Delhi somewhere in the month of July at six fifteen in the evening on leave from work aware of the fact that I want to go for walk only it is getting late and there are signs outside that there could be a gush of rain and that the kamwallah may come in at any moment. And considering that no one else is at home I might have to oblige his majesty the kamwaaley bhaiyya thereby ensuring that my plans get screwed.

Or maybe I should have paid more heed to what Ruby said. Dunno!!

2008-07-09T02:37:00.007+05:30

It's almost 2:45 am and I can't get myself to sleep. This time not because Bedi is too fuckin frustrated to go to work or to the gym the next morning, so chooses to sleep late so that no matter how much she tries she has a ready reason next dawn to not get her sorry ass out of bed. But because of something I came to know about someone, almost half an hour ago, which has sort of shaken me up a bit.
My father has a lot of chelas, as he calls them. No matter how much my dad aka their boss gives them a hard time at work, their loyalties never seem to dawdle. Of course all of them have their reasons. Some do it either out of respect, because dad is their boss (and that too an awe inspiring one I muss'say) and that sucking up to him could ensure them a promotion or a good time at work. And then there are those who consider my dad their mentor and are the unconditional faithfuls (and are few in number).

Mr Rao belonged to the latter. Now I don't know how and when did my dad become so important in his life but I do know that Mr Rao was my the only reason why so many times, despite his ill health and a hectic and demanding job profile my dad could always breathe easy. He was a great employee. Always there, thorough with the protocol, available whenevr his boss nedded him regardless of the time, forever resourceful and never complaining.

Mr Rao. A man who enjoyed his job, who enjoyed his whiskey, never demanding much sleep (five hours would do for him), someone who never compromised on his duty and responsibility at work as he never did on his share of grub. A man with an unhappy wife, her only grudge- his constant unavailability and the fact that it was so easy for him to detach himself from his responsibilities towards his family but also a dad extremely in love with his kid: a five year old girl he named 'Majeetha' after a sikh friend who was called Manjeet. Mr Rao, the sentimentalist, the gentle giant who would run away from home (and Delhi altogether) without any notification after arguments with his woman only to call up my father at 12 o'clock at night to cry his heart out on the phone. Seeking advice and an apology( for not reporting at work) at the same time. And within a day or two would be back on the grind.

A man without whose presence a lot of things which seem sorted in our lives would have been way to messy. Mr Rao, a man whose first name I am oblivious to yet I can say with conviction that he was our fallen angel (an unexpected one but nonetheless).
He did his disappearing thing last month again. Left his wife and took his kid to Vizag with him. No one knew what happened and what transpired at his house except the fact that it might have been ugly between the spouses, whatever it was. My dad tried calling him a couple of times but he simply refused to pick up his phone.
Tonight at around two, my dad got a call from him. Said he was sorry for going underground and not responding. He also had something to share. Today he collected reports from the hospital stating that his kid and his wife have been diagnosed with bone cancer, both in their last stages. The cancer is almost all over them. And is unoperable. His wife is 30, kid, 5 and both of them will be dead soon, gone forever. All the moments he spent slogging it out at work ignoring their pleas to stick around at home, making sense to him now. He was remorseful and speechless. He did what he always has whenever he has called up my dad like this in the middle of the night to let it all out. Except that this time he just cried.
My dad cried with him. That was the only assurance he could think of offering tonight. His tears hoping against all hope that 'god', if there exists any, excuses Mr Rao, just this once. Before Mr Rao hung up he wished my dad good health.
We may never see him again.

2008-07-07T21:29:00.004+05:30

Its amazing how bad habits refuse to leave you. Its amazing how I always have something to cry about and what is even more amazing is the fact how self concious of this trait I am and I still don't know how to see the brighter side of life. I mean there isn't much brightness coming in anyway, but the murky ness in and around me is way too overpowering and a tad overwhelming.
But what the heck...its my friggin blog and I didn't exactly invent it to be all "honey and peaches" so I can bloody well use it as my only let out when I feel the need to cry but can't summon up the rage and the tears to flaunt it emotionally. And apart from three religious faithfuls (including me) ther isn' t anyone reading it anyway, so that saves me the effort to ensure that everything that goes in here is nothing short of a literary masterpiece.
I honestly have never felt so wasted ever in my life. No wonder this whole working girl phase seems so pointless. I mean I sit in an office short of infrastructure to work on with everyone trying their best to latch on to every single PC that they see is available and the seniors most of the time displacing the juniors if they fail to find themselves a suitable place to sit. And despite whatever I do, which is in no way what I ever wanted to do or thought I'll be doing even while I was grappling with my grades in the media school I went to, it just all seems vain and no points for guessing, there is no credit that is ever given no matter what.
Not that i expect it..i mean that is what this whole working life is all about, bully whoever you can bully and step over whoever seems nice or tame enough or sometimes dumb enough to be pushed aside. Like mediocrity never existed and should be made blasphemous.
Anyway...this post has come after a long sabbatical this month due to well a weird writers block even though I m hardly a writer anymore and apparantly, going by the signs, my dreams of taking to the pen once I was out in the world trying to make a living seems dimnishing every moment.
I make pages for crying out loud, I give headlines and i give captions and i get kicked in the ass for not running spellchecks and for forgetting a comma and italicising something and not keeping something bold.
MAY DAY and how!!

Have been litsening to this song for some time now...It is something that I have lately been relating to ..

2008-06-19T23:37:00.003+05:30

...and though the lyrics may not be literally applicable to me in a lot of ways yet they make sense!!!

GOLDFINGER: WASTED!!!

Im wasted again

Passed out dont know who I am

Im so wasted again

Black out dont know where Ive been

Or who I am

I thought I could make it on my own

I thought I was indestructible

I had an excuse cause i was young

I thought I was so untouchable

I would throw it all away

I would throw my life away

Im wasted again

Passed out dont know who I am

Im so wasted again

Black out dont know where Ive been

I couldnt admit that I was wrong

I didnt fit in didnt belong

I was young

I was stupid

A life of despair

I was proud

I was angry

I just didnt care

I was everything I never wanted to be

I became my enemy

I would throw it all away

I would throw my life away

Im wasted again

Passed out dont know who I am

Im so wasted again

Black out dont know where Ive been

or who I am

They Said I had potential

They said I got whats coming to me

They say I got the devil (the devil)

and I dont know whats wrong with me

whats wrong with me

Im wasted again

Passed out dont know who I am

So wasted again

Black out dont know where Ive been

Im wasted again

Passed out dont know who I am

So wasted again

Black out dont know where Ive been

Cause Im wasted again (so wasted)

Im wasted again (so wasted)

(so wasted)

The day that is....

2008-06-16T20:01:00.009+05:30

As I sit in my office, an added extention to my...well... still somewhat uninteresting life, I can't help but write a post when despite the lack of enough work and workstations or better still, workstations with internet facility, I have managed to nip a PC from a prospect committed worker and am in the middle of blogging, shamelessly right next to the big boss's cabin.
Nothing sensational has been happening so whoever reads this post shall remain bereft of anything overentertaining or interesting per se....but I have figured that even if life is anything but static it still deserves to be credited for being existential. The novel feature when it comes to life is it's mundane ness. How it still manages to make people live up to it and wake up with it or to it despite being painfully inert and non motivational most of the times.
So now that I am a part of the world of working class schmucks, I have every reason to stand up for it even if a job does make you a complacent oaf leaving no time and energy or worse, hope to do something that you always wanted to do but couldn't because sometimes feeding your aspirations becomes a tad secondary to feeding the house.
Anyway...I am little short of work this week which gives me a lot of time to waste and observe and sometimes blog. My work only begins once everyone is done with theirs, that is post 10 o'clock. I m doing the page one panel for my newspaper which requires me to pester my editors and collegues to give me headlines, but not before a specific time.
Okay...I have to confess that I was about to post some tell all details about my organization but just realized that if by chance any of it gets read by anyone who wants to randomly browse the net and looking at a blog address may want to explore it, I may be risking my career(at least in this print house) even before it has begun. Not only this but not long ago from today a guy who I was 'just' friends with very very unexpectedly read something I had posted about the 'misunderstandings' between us and the damage done (which he very crossly denied any connection to, on the contrary blaming me as the sole reason for the mess then and now) which led to a lot of chaiy choo which I did not like...so in order to avoid the same situation from cropping up at work I m trying to not be as indiscreet as I thought I could be on MY blog!!!
Anyway...IN THE END....even though my day was not cool it was okay...I read a mail which one of my teachers from Xaviers had sent us 'ex' students which was actually JK ROwling's speech at Harvard commencement 08 which lifted my spirits and made my descision to write forever even more strong!!
THANK YOU!!!!

2008-06-08T21:26:00.003+05:30

I am out of stimulus...god help! The realisation that you know too much sometimes makes it tiresome to be receptive to any feat.
I wish getting up every morning could get a bit easier...both literally and metaphorically!!

Chronicles of the fudge, fries and the flab liason...

2008-05-28T16:22:00.009+05:30

I have steadily been gaining weight since last year which was also the last time I went to the gym for more than two days in a week. Since I came back from 'Shawshank' (read: Mumbai) I have been trying to do things which I believed I'd only be able to if I were home. Losing weight, one of my most crucial needs ever since I could spell the word food, has been my topmost agenda. Well...I am not an anorexic or a bulimic or someone with a personality or a food disorder....I am simply overweight, have been ever since I was two and no matter how hard I try and no matter how much I loose I always fall short of reaching my ideal mass. When I was young I'd just brush off my mom's continuous bickering as the 'Pestering mother syndrome' but since I grew up the 'depth' of the matter became more and more indiscreet.
I mean, no matter how much people emphasize on looks being irrelevant, the truth is you are judged by how you look, no matter what you are or where you go. One's breadth, not so much as length, always makes on stand out for the better or for the worse.
I have found myself a job, finally! And though it's not the best job in the world yet it pays so that motivates me to come to office everyday and go about my bussiness which primarily comprises of editing stories and placing them on the page before it goes for printing.
So the other day while I was at it...(my work, that it) I came across a story which went like this:

For many women struggling to keep slim, dieting can last a decade, researchers have found that is how long the average woman spends on a diet over the course of her life.
Their study has revealed that a woman will go on two healthy eating plans every year, each one lasting an average of five weeks, this adds up to 104 diets between the ages of 18 and 70, and a total of ten years watching what they eat. And with each diet seeing an average of 6.3 pounds being shed, women can lose almost a stone each year, according to them.
However, a quarter of all women lose nothing at all, and the fact that the average woman embarks on at least two diets every year suggests any weight they do lose does not stay off.
The study has also revealed that one in ten women spends 25 years or more on a diet, The Daily Telegraph reported .
I mean you've GOT to be overweight to know what this is about and how far it is actually true. And not just that. It IS sort of intimidating too. I mean women spend almost a 'Decade or Two' of their entire life starving or trying to starve themselves to look their best???!!! And even though there is no surety of them being successful in beating away the flab or keeping it off once they have lost it, there is just no stopping to how much and how far they'd diet their entire life!!!???
And ...ah...well...who should be knowing it better than me...the reluctant food addict!! I remember losing a chunk of fat almost two years back but ever since then the mere idea of execising and dieting tires me even though I pledge everyday to be watchful of what I put in my mouth and getting up a lil early than usual to take that journey to the gym whose member I have been since the last one year but can't remember the last time I paid it a visit.
The irony and the envy that the formidable liason between food and flab emanates in one's mind is boggling.
Both refuse to exist without the other, goddam them both!! You can't eat good and rich or even semi-healthy-yet-indulgent kinda food without provoking flabs arrival though utterly uninvited! The fact not withstanding that food was always meant to be savoured by the human palate and that weight should take as much time to be gained as much as it takes to be gotten rid of, when it come to a certain set of people, their AFFAIR never ceases to blossom inside them like a parasite-bugger!!
I am a victim of the same daunting love story and so are those women who spent decades trying to loose weight...
O doooode...I might be one in their league very soon!!(another one of my biggest fears!! DAMN!!!!)

To a past that was and a future yet to arrive....

2008-04-21T23:41:00.016+05:30

I came back home on the first of last month. Till last to last week I was trying to brush off nightmares of me being involved in some misfortunate situation due to which I'm on my way to Bombay to the same moth struck PG run by two old biddies and to live with the same room-mates. But fortunately Balaji hasn't beckoned me as yet so the 'dreams' are yet to become reality.

Anyway, it's not like I don't miss Bombay. Yes..it's true. Despite all it made me go through- the downs, the lows , the pain, an utter lack of belonging and the culling of an upbringing which was anything but depressing. Bombay has been missed. I think the only reason why I had so much problem liking the city was due to the lack of a comfortable place to go to- and confortable not in terms of space or location but in terms of the inhabiters- after a hard day and well sweetness ain't exactly my middle name so it was all the more difficult for me to take in everything with a lil bit of salt. Anyway, bitching about my PG, even though it makes me feel a tad lighter, won't do any good to nobody. So I shall try my best to not do so, even though the blog may contain explicit references here and there. The room-mate and the landlady debacle was not just it. There was the super rich second cousin who though was very kind and sweet enough to never say no to my sporadic plans to spend days at her house yet very low-key in terms of having a very shabby blast from her past around (and considering my really careless dressing sense, I don't blame her!!) , but she was still one of my most consolidate reason to look forward to weekends (and just for the record she, her kids and my brother in law were seriously people worth getting to know better...every dark cloud has a silver lining, u know!!). And then of course, there was Balaji Telefilms and the rest became history.
It's bizzarre but I feel that even though I was born and brought up in Delhi, I grew up in Bombay. I learnt so much apart from journalism and mass communication (the real reason why I had moved to the city). It taught me the art of survival even if your expenses are all taken care of. The idea of living a not-so-fairytale-life was given a heart and a soul.
What I miss about the city is the fact that how simple it is there to get lost without a trace. Even though literally you may not even find space enough to walk straight. How effortlessly everyone who lives in Bombay is absolutely non existent and unimportant for anyone else except of course your employer or, well, your landlord/lady. How easily one can get away with murder (but not sexual harrasment or molestation :P) is mind boggling. No one really gives a shit! And even though this 'attitude' has its cons yet the pro certainly outnumbers it. It ensures you privacy. There are the usual brickbats in he name of neighbours especially if you are a single working woman or worse still working in the TV or the film industry, but most of the time no one interferes in whatever you do.
Not only this but in Bombay even if you are out alone at 1 o'clock at night it feels as if it's 8 as per Dilli standards. And it's safe, even as a woman,to take an auto ar a cab at that time with the assurance that you shall reach your destination unscathed even if you are travelling alone.
I never explored the night life per say so I can't really second the claims that people make about any such thing and moreover the whole rant about "Bombay being fast" again leaves me gobsmacked.
During my last days in that city a friend of my dad's scrapped me on orkut (yes, my dad and his lot are net and networking savvy!!) enquiring about my well being and whether I had settled. My reply was not fabricated. I told him that I wasn't too sure about myself, but a bit of Bombay had settled in me which I still believe.
Sometimes I think getting habitual to a place just makes one start liking it anyway. I was also one such victim. But trust me going back to the PG used to give me the runs and still does whenever I dream about it, literally!! If there was anything in life that I didn't like looking forward to, that was it.
Anyway, now that I am back I can say with surety that I am happy, comfortable and at peace. Even though the people I called friends, and the memories of the time spent with them which kept me going, have sort of outgrown me emotionally yet I've figured I can live with that.
Luckily for me now I am a bit more patient and a little less ungrateful. I have started respecting my present, my life and my parents a lot more than I ever did, which I know is a good sign.
With hopes that the good phase lasts....
Yours Truly
Musty Muser
(Disclaimer: Well, this post was started somewhere in April but I could ony complete it by the end of May and there shall be more posts in the future!!! :D)

As an afterthought...

2008-03-14T23:08:00.004+05:30

I hate pessimism. I am not a very negative person were you to meet me in person. Even though my upbringing ensured early on that I mastered the art of not showing how I really felt what I felt (no puns intended) yet after all these years of playing a stooge to those 'principles' I am aptly honest and positive to an extent. I was going through the blog that I posted yesterday and got bored to death while reading it. It seemed painfully typical of everything ever posted on this blog so far. And not worth a read I daresay! Anyway...while taking a crap last night I was reflecting upon everything that has happened so far in my life (and I mean everything...the disjointing of the umblical cord to the potty time last night) and though most of the things have had no specific 'purpose' per se yet were lessons. Lessons worth learning and worth being grateful for having been taught to me.

I have got myself into deep shit over something lately which shall ensure that almost six months of my life will go down the pot, hence the cynicism, maybe. But I tumbled upon the conclusion last night that maybe it would teach me something, or a lot of things to keep me in good stead. Or at least the fact that whenever you sign a contract, you should always read it thoroughly!!

2008-03-13T17:26:00.007+05:30

I unfortunately had to break my vow!! I had decided that till the time I dont come back to Delhi (a prospect which was bound to see the light of the day by the end of March but eventually got mangled because my destiny knows not what it wants out of me and my life) I would abstain from blogging and take it all out on my last night in this godforsaken city after I having packed my bags, ready to leave. But things were meant to be otherwise. I basically am short of words and thoughts. Apart from self pity, garbled introspection and well an effort towards redemption this blogger has never done justice to her blog in any other way...and that she recognizes even without the 'mercedes benz girl' reminding it to her. Telling you the truth there never was anything worthy of questioning and for soliloquy. I think out of all the things that harangue me in life the one that tops the list is 'Purpose'. Why does something happen when it does. What is the reason behind it and what does the cosmos want out of you when it does (if it does that is) enthrust upon you responsibilities of getting by situations which may or may not be helpful or worthy of having happened to you in the first place.
Take no offence but when I think of why a lot of things never materialize the way I want them to and what is 'GOD??' trying to teach me this time by testing my patience and screwing my happiness, even though I have never been a nasty soul and except for being a bit mean to my room-mates and my mom sometimes have never harmed any other mortal soul, baffles me!
Why...? Life is not all that tragic....true, maybe!! But then why is it so irritating. I mean the bitch never lets you have things your way man...everytime you 'PLAN' something, or try to deal with something a bit more patiently and properly, life never gets enough of ruining it all for you.
Crib crib crib...thats all what Bedi does...I am sorry...but as i said..am short of words...failure just never has its fill in my case, creeping staethily in my life one way or the other!! May it be people i get to call family, the city i get to call my home, people i get to share accomodations with, people i get to work with or study with...life forever disappoints!! Or maybe as my mom always says, "apne girebaan mein jhaank ke dekho, tum mein bhi bohot khamiyaan hain!!" (translation: why dont you analyze your own self..you have many shortcoming in you!!)

2007-12-16T12:10:00.000+05:30

After what seems like a lifetime I realized that I developed a crush on someone. But, wretched luck, that dude is by far the most vague person I have ever come across in my entire life, and trust me I have had quite a few asses to add credibility to my claim.Shit Happens!!

2007-12-09T01:18:00.000+05:30

Seriously speaking...I hate my life...I wish it could all end!!I am sick of the games that it has been playing with me and entangling me in all these years!! I am too scared to do something to myself...but I seriously wish I could just be dead and gone forever!!Its painful waking up to bullshit day after day...I have nobody, not even my parents, to give a damn about how I feel and what I want. They think they know what is right for me and what could make me happy, but what they think they know is actually horse's arse!! I honestly am sick of growing more and more cynical and disgrunted with life every living moment. Nothing here will ever be what you want it to be and never will it be right!! Why am I supposed to live through it??? I have learned my lessons. I understand that disappointment and failure is what its going to be forever in my case. What good is my life doing to me by making me a misanthrope and a frustrated fart???
Fuck everything!!!!!

Ethical Blah Blah Blah....

2007-12-08T22:28:00.000+05:30

This could well pass off as yet another quasi introspective, semi sulky bullshit but considering that I am an incorrigible bitch, who won’t give up doing what she feels, obliges me to write this post.
I think I am a romantic. My sentiments have always made accepting change a challenge. May it be a different city, lifestyle or people, my holding on to the past and trying to relive it or worse, reviving it like a fool, has always been one of the most prominent reasons why, I think, I feel like a misfit wherever I am or wherever I go. It’s not that the past was less glorious or not worth remembering. It’s just that most of the things that my past conceals did no good to me whatsoever. I mean relationships with a lot of people I met during my previous life (the life before I came to Bombay) were painful, except a few whom, now especially, I can count on my fingers. I am not planning to give a discourse on who was who and who did what which lead to what. All I am trying to say here is that I need to change and stop calling people who rekindle the memories of the pain I bore for no fault of mine, and that I need to be more responsive and acceptive towards my present!!
Secondly, teething problems and filth apart, I don’t think Mumbai is that bad a city anymore. Like yesterday I was at this place called the NCPA at Nariman point and as there is no bus that passes through that area which goes to where I live, I had to walk towards a particular bus stand at Marine Drive near Chowpatty to board one. As I reached there my mind travelled precisely four and a half months back when at the same place I had, to my utter horror and to the utter surprise of bystanders, broken down in a fit of tears, while waiting for a bus at about nine thirty at night, due to sheer homesickness and for a hug or at least a glimpse of my Mom and Dad. But amazingly yesterday I realized how much easy life has become now and how much better I feel. Call it time healing wounds or me being utterly overworked to spare any time to get nostalgic, for the first time in all these five months since I came to Bombay, looking back and comparing it to my present made me feel smug and brought a smile on my face.
What I have realized about this city is that Bombay is like any metropolis, with a population far too much for its size, swelling up on a daily basis as the opportunities here are considerably more. So basically ‘this city’ has nothing to do with it bursting at the seams due to the number of people living here who, as per the sharp Bedi observational inference, lack civic sense. And honestly I have gotten very used to the hustle bustle, rather the overcrowded ness here, so much so that when I visit Delhi, I feel as if I am in a land which its inhabitants have deserted.
And another confession before signing off. I love my mother, the woman whom I believed was forever trying to repress my potential in life and tame me down to make a better woman out of me. I always thought her efforts were directed to ensure that I make a favourable bride in future for as per most middle class women, that is what life’s ultimate purpose is and should be.
Staying so far away from her, with no traces of her whatsoever in my life except ten minutes of daily telephonic chatter at precisely ten thirty at night, I don’t think that she was all that bad. What I have figured was the reason behind her continuous reprimanding was to ensure that I could become a more patient, grateful and hardworking person. I realise the value of all those virtues now, five months after struggling to get my bearings in place here in Bombay.
Though I won’t say that I am as good as I can imagine myself to be (nowhere near, rather) but life is so far so good and I hope things will improve daily as they steadily have.

Something to talk about...

2007-09-19T23:45:00.003+05:30

I had my first feature writing class just day before yesterday. Our teacher, in the process of getting to know us all better was asking us our curricular backgrounds before joining AXE AIIEE CEEE (that is how their jingle pronounces the acronym) aka XIC. Most of my classmates had impressive subjects in which they had graduated. Some had Law to boast of, some were from an English background, some had majored in science and a few in Political Science. I was the only odd one out with a degree in Philosophy. As convention would have it, my teacher was utterly amused and sarcastically (as well as mockingly) remarked, "Great career prospects with Philosophy, aren't there?? What made you choose it?" Obviously, she didn't wait for my response. Before I knew it, the topic had changed. But the 'statement' and the subtle mockery of a subject which has been an underdog for a long time, did not leave my mind.

True. I did not choose Philosophy because I was sure that it would fetch me a job of great repute and a rich pay packet, or an extraordinary and ultrarich spouse(boyfirend) if nothing else. I chose it because I did not have a choice. I wanted to be a part of the 'good' Delhi University college (and not some random 'bhaiya ji' or 'bhenji' institute...CHEEEE)...and considering my not so extraordinary percentage in the higher secondary, this dream migh not have seen the light of the day had Miranda House not come out with a humble cut off for Philosophy (primarily because it as a subject isn't very sought after or apparantly isn't too overrated.)

Honestly speaking, when I joined college and started attending classes, I did not like the subject and my classmates one bit. First year was still managable. Everything was new, I was fresh to an independent life. I was, supposedly, dating someone whom I really loved, though later he completely denied any relation to me in "that sense" whatsoever. According to him everything that we shared was mere "friendship" and nothing more.That I misunderstood him and his moves through and through. And the reason why he did not take any pains to clear things out while we were fooling each other was because he did not want to "hurt me"!!! Or maybe I was just fooling myself??? Maybe everything was an illusion I created and dwelled on, gave my heart to eventually got it broken??!!! I am a bit loopy!!
Okay, not digressing form the main point, first year was manageable. Second year was horrendous not just because of the 'Lover boy gone forever' hangover, but also the nasty experiences with the chicks in the dramatics society, no extracurricular activities, lack of friends (except a few who stood by me) and utter abhorance of the idea of attending lectures and paying attention in class. The final result, as expected, was bad.

The third year on the other hand was a fine breeze. It brought with it a new perspective and freshness to things and I tired my best to make the most of the spiritedness I felt. Theatre went really well, I acted in more than one plays in the Dramsoc, the girls in the society were great and really nice. I had friends whom I loved spending time with and had great fun with. And above all I had seven papers to take, so I was bent upon doing well in all of them and scoring well ( at least a first division to make everyone proud).

Though my resolve remained, yet it wasn't before the finals that I slogged for my exams and it was then that I discovered the wonder that my subject was. Philosophy was a plethora of ideas. All of the theories made sense, though none of the philosophers coincided with each other unless they belonged to the same school of thought and even in that case similarities were limited to the punchline only. Reading the subject thoroughly made me realize how liberal and thoughful the new schools were. That how essential was the emphasis on self thinking ( based on a few guidelines, which were free to be discarded if they did not please someone).

Philosophy offered me depth (and I secured a First Division in it too...YAAAY!!!). There was still a lot for me to learn. My studies were platonic in every sense, yet it made a lot of difference to me. My friends may not agree with me though. For most of my classmates (even the top rankers) , studying the subject was merely perfunctory. It was in no way a learning experience, maybe that is why none of them may ever care to keep it in high esteem or articulate what they felt while studying it so as to make 'the world' realize that there is much more to subject than its face value (which is definitely underrated).

Philosophy does not assure one a placement. But so doesn't any other subject except a professional one. All the patrons of Economics, English, History, Political Science etc. etc... know how to talk a lot because most of these subjects, I suppose, are rigourous and have a exhaustive curriculum- at least this is what I thought about the way DU treated them- in which students are not just spoonfed but have to do self research and study, unlike some subjects especially when the teachers teaching them are way to cooperative and more so if they had teachers who taught them the same way!

Okay, now I am tired of writing and I don't think what I am writing is going anywhere, so I will . Signing off, I would like to add that subjects are what you make of them. And no matter what you have majored in, you must never look down upon the subjects you were made to believe are less fruitful for there is no such thing. Had it not been fruitful, it would not have been a subject....(DAMN!!! I wish my teacher could read this man!! What the F***???)

2007-09-11T12:37:00.000+05:30

"Let love be a force, not a weakness"

- My Dad

2007-08-30T14:28:00.001+05:30

Bedi misses home....:
Each day, especially during the weekends, I can't wait to get back home to relax and to let myslef be, until I realize that there exists no such thing anymore!!
Sitting, Waiting, Wishing!!!......

...Bedi still missing home...(a continuation of the above stated)

HOME by CHRIS DAUGHTRY

I'm staring out into the night,

Trying to hide the pain.

I'm going to the place where love

And feeling good don't ever cost a thing.

And the pain you feel's a different kind of pain.

I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,

And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm not running from.

No, I think you got me all wrong.

I don't regret this life I chose for me

.But these places and these faces are getting old

So I'm going home.

Well I'm going home.

The miles are getting longer, it seems,

The closer I get to you.

I've not always been the best man or friend for you.

But your love, remains true.

And I don't know why.

You always seem to give me another try.

So I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,

And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm not running from.

No, I think you got me all wrong.

I don't regret this life I chose for me.

But these places and these faces are getting old.

Be careful what you wish for,

'Cause you just might get it all.

You just might get it all,

And then some you don't want.

Be careful what you wish for,

'Cause you just might get it all.

You just might get it all, yeah.

Oh, well I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,

And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm not running from.

No, I think you got me all wrong.

I don't regret this life I chose for me.

But these places and these faces are getting old.

I said these places and these faces are getting old.

So I'm going home.

I'm going home.

Khol Do by Saadat Hasan Manto

2007-08-23T23:18:00.000+05:30

We were given an assignment in class to read books so as to understand the relationship that media and the society share and how they influence each other. I chose to read a compilation of Saadat Hasan Manto’s work. It is called ‘Mottled Dawn’ - a series of sketches and accounts of the sufferings and miseries of the victims of partition, which had been translated form Urdu to English by ‘Khalid Hasan’.
While reading it I came across a few stories which were extraordinary. Not just because of their description of the mayhem but also because of the way the writer chose to express his cynicism and utter abhorrence of war and riots along with its effect on whatever it encompasses, may it be people, cities, property et al.
Among the many stories that I read in his compilation, there is one in particular which does not stop haunting me even today or whenever I think about it. Called ‘The Return’ it was named ‘Khol Do’ when it was first published in Urdu by Manto himself.
The story revolves around Sirajuddin who had come as a refugee or rather a dazed and confused survivor to Mughalpura, a place in the city of Lahore in Pakistan from Amritsar in India. Lying unconscious on the ground at a camp, when he finally wakes up he can't really understand the reason behind the berserk-ness that is apparent all around him with everyone shouting, crying, running - a state of utter disarray. It is only after a while that he recuperates from his state of shock and recalls the happenings of the previous day. It occurrs to him that while he was in the process of boarding the train from Amritsar, his wife had been killed and his only daughter Sakina had been separated from him for he had stopped to pick her dupatta which had fallen on the ground.What happened next eluded him. He could not remember what came of her, whether she boarded the carriage with him or got killed or got caught at the hands of the rioters.
After days of trying to search for her and failing to find any whereabouts, Sirajuddin comes across a group of eight armed men who own a truck and are supposedly in charge for bringing abandoned women and children from India to Lahore. He beseeches their help by describing to them how his daughter looks. The men promise him that they would get back to him.
In spite of all the ill and negative thoughts that hound him as to where and how his daughter could be, Sirajuddin still does not stop hoping to see her again. Meanwhile the men are successful in finding a girl who fits the description of Sakina in more than one ways and when they ask her if she really is who they think she is, she agrees. She was beautiful. The men take care of her, feed her and make sure she is comfortable.
But bizarrely, when Sirajuddin asks them about her while having bumped into them one day, the men deny having located his daughter and assure him that they still were in the process.
One evening while Sirajuddin is sitting in the camp he sees four men carrying the body of a young girl found unconscious near the railway tracks. When he follows them to the hospital, to his great pleasure the girl turns out to be Sakina. But she looks almost dead.
A doctor was standing next to her prostrate body and on seeing Sirajuddin asks him to open the window.
Suddenly as if something got on to her, Sakina, barely alive, moves her listless hands toward the string of her salwar, unties it, pulls it down and opens her thighs. Though the doctor brakes out in a cold sweat, Sirajuddin jumps with happiness for he was happy that his daughter was alive.
The girl had been raped so many times that though she had been brought in almost dead she still could manage to follow the instructions of dropping open her pants and opening her thighs for whoever ordered her to do so.
People need war as a reason. The beast in them does not think twice before it manages to unleash itself on anyone and everyone. Sakina belonged to the same land and religion as the men whom her father had requested to look for her. Yet they fed on her and left her to rot.
For Sirajuddin the biggest consolation was that Sakina was alive. This again is reminiscent of the fact that how pitiable is the state of mind of a person who goes through the agony of losing someone that on their return, their life, literally, is all that matters.

This Was something that i had to write for a claas assignment....thought it made sense...posting it for good!!

2007-08-23T23:07:00.001+05:30

We Indians are very tolerant of real life injustices but are quite intolerant of unpalatable views/expressions

Ours is a huge country and plays home to a large number of people. Everyone has his or her own point of view, beliefs and notions. These make way for sentiments which, I confess, in the Indian context are a little too fragile.
Most of these sentiments are usually used as pawns to augment tensions. May it be political or communal, despite of having had the most brutal brushes with them we still manage to keep them sanctified.
How we make mountains out of molehills ensuring that our repressive tag never leaves us and fail to recognize, forget alter, the most major evils that have existed since ages and still manage to breathe easy.
Almost nine thousand women in our country are killed or burnt alive and this is just an official figure which in most cases isn’t very exhaustive. They all come under the category of victims of dowry deaths. The reason why most cases go unreported or unsolved is not because there is a dearth of police stations in the country, but because of the callous attitude of the society, the police force and the judiciary. Firstly because the practice of dowry hasn’t really receded from the face of the Indian matrimonial customs and secondly because even after repeated incidents of harassment that most girls face at the hands of their in-laws, their families shirk away from sorting matters out by means of official separation or judicial assistance in order to maintain the family dignity which happens to be as fickle as ice.
When Mallika Sherawat dances in a bikini and goes around smooching men unabashed, the Indian-ness of the Jats in Haryana forces them to send her threat mails in order to end the shame that her supposed boldness is bringing upon them and their community but nothing explains the consistent fall in the women to men ratio in their state due to the heinous practice of female infanticide.
Shilpa Shetty gets kissed more than twice by Richard Gere at an HIV AIDS awareness function in front of a few truck drivers and the Shiv Sainiks go cuckoo over it, but when it comes to actually looking and coming up with ways to combat the disease and work against it, you hardly see any of these mighty soldiers vehemently contributing.
A whopping number of girls get raped everyday and the best that happens to most is a news report elaborating the crime inflicted on them followed by a coy inquiry, which slowly dies its natural death.
Rahul Dholakia makes a Parzania and Narender Modi’s party bans it all over Gujarat because, bizarrely, it portrays them negatively but there are many suffering and trying to recuperate from the scars and wounds of the Godhra riots which happened when Modi and his party were in office, yet justice has been a far cry.
Everything about Bombay that was vaguely reminiscent of its Victorian past has been replaced by a Maharashtrian substitute, ‘Jai Maratha’- the slogan is cited like a cheap whore and if you happen to dwell against it, you’d probably be slaughtered. A weird Maratha monopoly, most of it by force, is what you see being emphasized on in this city, to ensure that it remains primarily Hindu in character, capitalising on communal disparities once again. But justice and investigative breakthroughs are still on their sluggish pace when it comes to various cataclysmic events, such as the 1993 riots and blasts along with the train blasts of 2006.
When the new two rupee coin comes with a sign on its back vaguely similar to a cross, biases towards Christianity are brought up and uproar created to alter the design, which, no points for guessing, is facilitated. But there are people dying and killing themselves for they are poor and hungry beyond belief and the government is still trying to do the best it can to make life a little more liveable for them.
What we need, is to give our priorities a second thought and change them for the better before they get any worse. That mockery is all that we will stand to deserve if we keep on running after irrelevant issues and ignore the ones which are dying for our attention.

To bid adiue...!!!

2007-07-05T17:06:00.000+05:30

Okay, so the entrances and the pains taken (a sardonic undertone attached) have paid off, and I have landed myself somewhere a little less unheard of, though not very reputed either...It is located in the Dream city..Mumbai to exaggerate it a bit. It has a very 19Th century feel to it which reminds me of Harry Potter, so I like it!! It is called Xavier Institute of Communications and is under the St. Xavier's college body..nice campus, very good looking pupils...happening canteen...and me, a homesick stranger amidst them all!
It's true. Whatever has been said of Mumbai, the 'amchee-ness' that it makes you feel towards it over a period of time, the lack of conceit or vague vanity and the downright helpfulness towards novices and strangers, sounds good, but I still miss home! The Mumbai monsoons welcomed me with more than wide open arms the moment I landed. The horrendous floods and their view that had been limited to the idiot box in my case, over the last two years, had come to life...the muck, the filth, the claustrophobic lanes and streets and roads, the semi or complete gujju style khana (and I mean sugar added to dal, sambhar, bhaji, sabzi and everything you don't add cheeni to) was admonish-able and quite a culture shock.
BEST and not DTC, MH- and not DL-, the local and not the metro, matchboxes in the name of houses, skyscrapers than posh bungalows and the sea-side with heavy, daunting rains over the teeth smashing Delhi winter, home was an unknown addiction, the city was an unlikely partner with whom I did have an unknowing and an unexplainable relationship or more or less an affair.
I loved where I lived, loved my room, my bed, my mattress, the AC, the loo, my pot where I could spend hours and not feel as if a second had passed and the broadband with the unlimited download and the PC in my room...I see tears about to trickle. The terrace who was witness to my tears, my sorrows, my books, my food, my songs, my laughter, routine quarrels with family and sneaky cigarette breaks and my sole solitude provider, I miss it more than my life for that was it.
Mum and her enviable cooking, even if it was simple dal-chappatti or the grand paranthas, my late night, extremely thought provoking conversations with god, dad, ma and Lil Polly, this shall all be missed. I can feel the pain while I am at it typing. okay the sentimentalist is taking the best of me...have to rush now, the Internet lab is closing, have a seminar to attend at 6:30, darn boring...but dad has paid a bomb, so might as well...!! Gotta go!!
P.S: If the post did not make sense, don't ignore the fact that the writer just had 20 minutes to post it...so ...Peace Out!

The importance of being loony

2007-06-07T22:10:00.000+05:30

I have a major problem. My dad and the rest of the psychology influenced members of the Bedi khaandaan say it could be termed as a disorder of the unstable mind! I don't disagree. Whenever tensed or excited or nervous or without anything constructive to do, I pull my hair out! Yes, you read it right, and I did not make any typos! I mean not like an evident maniac right out of an asylum (on probation) tearing her plumage off left, right and centre!! The hair plucking is very localised, on the left hand side of my scalp. And not too oddly visible until unless the observer is observing very carefully. It is only then that the receding hairline becomes prominent.
My parents and friends are a caring bunch. They have tried to remind me time and again that certain mannerisms which destruct the physical appearance shall be abandoned (especially in a world where boobs matter more than the brains) for they do no good to one's personality, but I have been a disaster when it comes to making efforts towards abstention.
Just yesterday while watching Kate Hudson getting the chills in The Skeleton Key, dad looking at my hand going over my head, brought the issue up again (though I tried to explain to him that I was just touching my locks and meant them no harm, but alas!!). He warned me that I show all signs if a perfect loony and that I had no control over things which is a bit shameful. Those comments got me thinking. Is it all that scandalous to be one? I mean as humans we all fight our respective battles, that is, with situations, people, bullies, our own beliefs and fears. The weak accept their fate and make no bones about it. They accede to things and live with them. But then their are the rebels, the warriors you could say. Those who are not okay with the way life is shaping up, who may know that they can't help situations and change their life's cosmic or karmic plan, yet they do believe in putting up a fight. Battles leave you hurt, those are supposed to be their imprints. In a layman's case those imprints are more mental than physical hence, I think, the occurrence of some psychological issues.
I believe I belong to the latter category. I mean it's not that I have had the most miserable existence or anything but I have had my share of challenges, like any normal human being, and have been stubborn enough, most of the time, not to accept destiny's verdicts.
Shit, my hand is over my scalp again...and a strand came off!!!

An ode to Christmas Past

2007-06-01T23:10:00.000+05:30

None of us are born perfect, all of us look different, have our own set of flaws, and as life has it, commit our own set of mistakes. Though most may be trivial, yet the thought of some leave ruddiness all over our face every time they strike our mind!! It's funny, how acts of stupidity, while in the process of being performed, hardly petrify or alarm us as much as they do after they are over, what with their embarrassing memoirs and sometimes really humiliating repercussions!
I have made my own set of mistakes, some vague and some monumental!! Almost all of them I remember by heart, and almost all of them leave me blushing. Sometimes I can't help but wish to go back in time and try to put my deeds in order, not going overboard with emotions, thereby ensuring that I don't make a complete ass of myself as that is exactly what has always happened once the storm (aka my acts of boldness and bravery) swept the shore(a metaphor for my not so interesting life).
From forming a grandiloquent affliction towards a guy(or so I thought), I met when I was 16 at some fest which was held out of Delhi, holding on to fact that it was 'love' at first sight(though he had royally ignored me more than once even after I had talked to him for almost five seconds!!), to actually having contacted him four years later trying to remain in touch with him! Though he had no clue whatsoever as to who I was yet he wasn't rude or anything but I guess I was too lame and vague for him (and honestly I did do some crazy things which I don't think I can mention. Trust me they weren't all that chimerical) because of which the whole episode turned out to be a catastrophe and things were over before I knew it! (And just for the record, that dude just passed out of Harvard this year, so you see, he certainly was a bit too smart for me: so I believe!!) This is just a glimpse!
The streets of Delhi and beyond (I see Ishani, Anushka, Sandeep and Raunak nodding) along with a few pubs have sure seen me at my worst, as in my state of utter delinquency, drinking and doing silly things after getting sloshed, just to wake up the next day to either cataclysmic consequences at the hands of members of my family or Ishani's or my otherwise idealistic conscience, over things said and done in my inebriated state! Though most of the time intoxication seemed very recreational, and the guilt and the penalties of doing it in secrecy did not last very long, but I have also had times when things have gone as bad as they could get, not for a couple of days or so, but years (almost three to be precise)! Now here, my tryst with the Dram soc of my college is worth a mention . From marking my entry by trying to please everyone (thereby being considered daft, a push over, ass licker or just someone whose opinion and presence did not count) to doing really weird and parlous things like experimentation with drugs and tobacco (just to end up spilling the beans about certain really lame things in my life which made me the butt of all the mockery for a substantial amount of time, thereby turning opinions from bad to worse), things were always very abashing. But then I lived through it, and luckily for me, my last year of the Dram soc, due to the much needed departure of my self proclaimed extraordinary seniors and some unscrupulous entities, was exemplary! Gosh, I really miss them all for some reason ( I mean the members who were there during my last year)!
And then there were the disastrous dates with utterly weird men, interviews gone really bad, where I said the most asinine things which ensured I look like a fool, clothes worn which made me, in no way, look presentable. Eating habits, stinky feet, nose picking and being caught while at it, farting in public just to be heard (and sometimes smelled), procrastination which led to humiliating situations...I have done it all!!
There is much more than what has been written, a lot I can't put in words for maybe I am no good at elaboration beyond an extent or just maybe because I am a little tired of writing as of now!!

The trouble with Daddy Dearest.

2007-05-29T12:32:00.000+05:30

Every morning, at nine o'clock or sometimes nine thirty, taking my dad's briefcase down to his car, opening and eventually closing the gate behind him as he drives on to work, has almost become a ritual since the past three months. Though The Almighty bestowed on him two otiose bums, in the name of kids, yet with the exception of some outdoor chores, yours truly is whom he usually summons for all the indoor(which includes the veranda also) activities. And though I am more or less a nocturnal person, a fact that my father is well aware of, yet it still doesn't seem to deviate his inclination towards the idea of disrupting my slumber cycles day after day!
The trouble with dad is that he is a good father. A sensitive, sincere and those 'stick to one regimen' sort. If he holds on to something, it is excruciating to get him off it. For example, if he chooses to sit on a particular seat on the dining table, he would always want to be it's sole occupant and would defy breakfast, lunch or dinner if somebody else was to occupy that place (even by mistake or temporarily). If he likes his tea in a particular cup every morning and night, it has to be the same cup everyday, and if his daughter has been escorting him everyday down to the car to open and close the gate behind him, he won't have it any other way, even if it is perfectly clear to him that she went to bed at five o'clock in the morning and it ain't sweet to wake someone up like that, when it's just been four hours since they slept!!
I have tried to explain things to him, but winning against those puppy eyes is one trick I would love to learn.
But till the time I find some respite, accompanying him downstairs is the best I can do, I guess!

Ahem...to begin with!

2007-05-28T23:47:00.000+05:30

Well, I believe that for a specific breed of slackly and usually digressed mortals, when the going gets a tad too boring, blogs get created..!! Being no alien to the above mentioned category, I have been home for the past one month now, or maybe more...and despite the tumultuous entrance exams and loads of insecurities about not getting where I want to be (in life and otherwise), and eventually having to take a year off, or so to say, working as a lame flunky, at some shady production or publishing house (or none, for that matter) the motivation is yet to strike to do something worthwhile!
The most perplexing and rather irritating conundrum that, no matter how much I muse or focus on, can never figure out is that how does one fool oneself into being hopeful, so as to embark on a new journey, turn on a new leaf and get out of the moth ridden bed and take the first steps of that unending, exciting voyage called life!
I am almost twenty one now, and boy am I sick! I am sick of failing, I am sick of having given up, given up on and treated like a fool, sick of the abrasiveness that life conceals, the difficulties and the disappointments that everyone is bound to feel, which still don't assure a sunny day!! The process of growing up holding on to things, beliefs, ambitions, dreams, just to have them broken and altered eventually...sick at the knowledge of the fact that no matter how many fires and desires are kindled, there is usually a strong chance of them fading away, with the first strong, destructive breeze of pragmatism and reality!! Sick of looking at that three year old kid on the street doing tricks on every red light, while his/her mommy watches over, so that the money collected can ensure lunch and dinner and the next fix of dope!!
Too much lame cynicism there, you may conclude, but is true! The significance of whatever has been scribbled, eludes me, and for some reason, I am not particularly concerned if it does make any sense or not!! What matters is that there may not be something beautiful coming your way after a dark storm, the sun may take a hell lot of time to shine on again, to end the winter encrusting ones life, no matter how intimidating it may sound, there may be no Prince Charming coming your way within years of a nasty breakup with someone you thought was the love of your life!!
Moving on is a good thought...the process is hard, the truth of what awaits you is harder and scarier!!
But then again, halting and not waking up the next day, may not be a sensible decision!