I want to write and write and write. Explosively.

"Calibrating Your Eyes"

Over the last one month, I have been lucky to meet some remarkable people at graduate school, some friends and others, Professors. I know I wont be wrong if I said, meeting new people is like seeing new perspectives and refining your own.

Sometimes, we get morphed into a singular vision that makes what and how we see- blur. And its probably looking at the way others look at things, that makes us 'resee' how and what we see.

Dr. Kenwyn Smith said something remarkable and very beautifully articulated to this effect- one of the things we're going to do is ' calibrate your eyes.'

New Found Meaning

There are words and phrases, words of wisdom and advice, songs, poetry and stories too that have new found meaning with passing time and phases of life. Some make more sense, while others cease to make any.

I last read 'If' by Rudyard Kipling when I was in school and jotted it down in my book of favorite quotes and poems.

Am reading this after a long time- and how different it sounds, how much more it means.


If by Rudyard Kipling


IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

PS: I dont think the poet meant to be chauvinistic. So the last line is free from gender bias. I would interpret it that way.

Why I hate comparisons...

I seldom use extreme language in the written word.
And when I do, its more to emphasize on something VERY CLEARLY.

I hate comparisons of any kind, flavour, type. Probably because its this comparison- drawing that kills individualism, more than anything else. It also leaves life long psychological scars that mar the growth of the unique U.

I've seen it as a kid, within family, uncles and aunts drawing comparisons- but thankfully, I have personally been very fortunate not to be in the receiving end. Even within my nuclear family, my elder sister was the stellar star who always performed well academically and held leadership positions in schools. It was the care my parents took that became an auspice in protecting me from the comparisons that others would tend to make. As I grew up, I learned to observe the point at which this heinous habit would take off- comparisons of grades, physical features, wealth, luck, fortune etc., and chose to shrug it off besides abhorring it!

The repercussions of being a recipient of such demeaning comparisons can be long lasting, especially on/ for a kid.

Its often hard to appreciate and nurture something that is not in our field of familiarity- be it a virtue, a habit, a culture, something that is not up to an expected mark, a personal way of thinking or an established norm. This either causes discomfort or creates a complex.

And that's why I think its best to immediately step back from the subjective mode to an objective mode when we begin to see ourselves getting into the mode of comparison-making, either with ourselves or for others. Getting clarity before making comparisons and conclusions and forming opinions- its all a thin line and we need to think clearly to see them.

Sometimes we tend to succumb to the mind's natural tendency of making comparisons. But its only wise not to do so- to protect ones own peace of mind and that of others. We'd rather celebrate the differences that make each of us unique.

PS: A conversation with a friend today, steamed this post from start to finish. Otherwise why would the other posts lay dormant, half-written... ?

A thought just struck as I was watching the demonstrations agains the G-20 summit in London. A banner read ' we wont pay for their crisis'.

Somehow, I wonder if all this recession got triggered off because of the war US unleashed. War entails huge losses, economic also being one of them.

Who really knows what's happening, behind the secret veils of power?!

There is so much to conserve

I was pleasantly amused to find this- The Endangered Language Fund

Ice Tea

Photo credit- http://www.pennysallamerican.com/pics/IceTea.jpg

Just a little than a year ago, I met my beloved dearest. Ever since, the 'I' has become 'we'. My world turned upside down, as I started a roller-coaster ride with him. It took him one day, and me two, to decide to live the rest of our lives with each other. Pretty quick for a self-confessed romantic atheist. (Whatever happened to that proud exclamation!)

In a month we were engaged. And in the ensuing 4 months, married. From the night he took me out to dinner until now... approximately 270 dinners we might have had. The first evening he said he'd have an Ice Tea. Second one, Ice Tea. Third one, Ice Tea and so on and so forth. The only other drink that he considered was Lemon Ice Tea or may be Peach Ice Tea. It didnt take me too long to know the guy was hooked on to Ice Tea, and that's something the cooking-apprehensive lass should learn. And she did.

Since then making Ice Tea has become pretty much a routine. Until now my only connection with tea, was the glorious tea gardens where I spent a huge chunk of summer holidays at my Aunt's and Uncle's. ( Another post on that has long been due.)

I brew tea this afternoon for the first time, the authentic way. As against the practice of dipping in the tea bag ( My Uncle, an expert in this field, says, tea bags are made from the worst quality of tea). I realised this would definitely give away the classic aroma ( We watched Bridges of Madison County over dinner last evening and Meryl Streep is serving Ice Tea from this huge jar, needless to say, the man's eyes light up :) ).

Some straberries were lying idle in the refrigerator so the lass went over and crushed a few of those and stirred them in with the fresh brew. The aroma of the crushed strawberries was simple exotic- earthy, divine and indulging to say the least. It tasted better with the Ice Tea. (Its another detail that Mr. hates strawberries.)

The man has been busy all day today. A few minutes ago (around 6.30 pm) I send him a mail saying I was sipping strawberry Ice Tea as I was working on a project. And he exclaims... 'Without Me!?'

So I told him, a pot was waiting for him. And Quesadillas for dinner, he boards his Fiesta and says, am going to come home and work. I say yes. In return for a game of basketball.

Sigh

What an uncommunicative civilisation we have become.
We have the speediest means, most inexpensive means, and yet we have become thus.

We have more of everything today, and less of the real thing.

Very few things matter to us, beyond our shrunk, selfish lives.

Sigh.

How absolute is Slumdog Millionaire?

I've been munching on this thought for quite sometime- On what parameter, is it justified that Slumdog millionaire portrays the real India?

I would wish for some statistical data. What percentage of Indian's live in the slums? Then we can conclude with the above statement.

I would not defy this so-called acclamation if it was said that this is also an aspect to multifaceted India. I think its absolute, and nothing really is absolute. And its not complacence that makes me defy that statement. There are just too many facets to India to narrow it down to slum-children from Dharavi in the streets of Mumbai.

Though, even to me an overall perspective of India is very gloomy, its too overriding a statement that Slumdog Millionaire portrays the real India.

Another way of looking at it...

Its been three days since, ants have been trying to make their way inside our new home.
As I was fast-pacedly jotting out thoughts, teary-eyed for some reason... I saw a string of black wiggly creatures decidedly making their way in, through my bleary-eyed vision. And then all was forgotton, until getting them out was done.

I didnt want to smash and spank them dead. And talking didnt help. I tried putting turmeric, that seemed to help, but little.

And this, in the room least used.

I asked my maid this morning, in my very fluent hindi :), 'yeh yahan kyu aaya? yahan tho kuch khaane keliye bhi nahin. AC ka hole se aaraha hain.'

She kept looking, looking, and she bursts into a laughter and says in her bengali hindi 'baaran manzil tak chala aaya, dekhno ko itna chhota, itna chala aaya.'

Though I cannot reproduce what she said here with its twang of humour, I think her thought silently struck me with its plainness.

I cant put a finger on it. On why I dont write as much as I used to before.

For one, it could be too many thoughts muddled and intertwined together. Am not really able to sieve it out and untangle them. But its definitely not about other things taking precedence, I've written in the crunchiest of days. Or may be there's so much happening and happened at the personal front.

But right now my mind is brimming with- slumdog millionaire, tonight's dinner menu for 12, absurdities of the world, setting up home- the great experience, waste dumping, consumerism, folk arts, fixing the istriwala for doing the sheets so shabbily, beloved's b'day hangover, baby showers for my dear sister, the li'l one on his way out :) eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, travelling (when have I not had this on my mind!!), the got milk campaign, apartment culture, friends- the real ones- and the real ones who got lost, maid matters and more...

Lucky by Chance...

I'd like to start from the end. The end of the film is a li'l flat. One is so used to Hindi films having those dramatic finales! And am really sorry, but I have to say this ( for those who haven't watched this, u'd be disappointed that am spilling the beans on this one...) One wud really expect that Sona ( K Sen) would go back to Vikram ( F Akhtar) or that F Akhtar would never really go back to K Sen guilt-filled and all.

Anyway, we missed the first half an hour of the film. Hmmm.... we got a li'l lost finding our way through the streets of Gurgaon, we were driving out by ourselves for the first time, to see the first movie in this new city, which I have christened, Mallgaon.

I also don't understand why the film is called Lucky by Chance, as the protaganist propogates exactly the opposite. Is it ironical? As his big break, happens, only by chance?

It was good to see F Akhtar dance in Bollywood style. I liked the film for the objective perspectives it throws. And what a product of sheer talent! Rishi Kapoor is great fun, as always. Such refreshing acting! And ofcourse I love the funky aesthetic set up, that is Konkana's home.

I'd still want to catch up with that first half hour, not that it would change my opinion on the film. I can comfortably sit through any F Akhtar film- he picks stories that are worth his time and ours.

i've wondered how my life is interconnected and interwoven with so many people.
how our paths have traversed and met.
and how these have grown into significant parts of my life.

Am beginning to wonder, if all that hype about globalisation stands justified?
Where it has got us, and where is it taking us?

Towel-wrap In Times Like These...

P was watching Filmfare Awards, I took a disinterested, but curious, peek.

I was short of being shocked at what I saw. Shahrukh Khan and Saif Ali Khan were dancing on stage- bare-chested and more. They were wrapped in turkish towels with shaving cream on their cheeks. I was like, what if a (planned) wardrobe malfunction happens? Just then, the two chimps turn around and protrude their back to the audience and lift their towels up! They were wearing half pants though... ( in a few years that's going to get shorter and then disappear, I bet!)

I went up to M beloved and said- can you ever imagine Tom Hanks & Brad Pitt jumping on stage in front of millions of viewers wrapped in a towel?! When I told him what I saw, I saw my reaction replaying in him.

In times like these, when we need a civic renaissance, here we have our so-called, supposed role models displaying their immaturity in this manner- showing their merit to the world, doing what they do best. I wonder why the adulatorised Bollywood can't do something sensible- first of, atleast make some inspiring movies- like- Yuva by Mani Ratnam- which not only portray the state of Indian politics, but also show the action that can be taken. And it has it all the elements of a Hindi masala film- the dance, masti, glamour, music, violence & romance in good doses.

May be their holding back from doing something constructive for the people being tipped off by the underworld. May be their too wrapped in their glamour, like we are in adulating them! May be it just doesn't matter as everything's fine for them- ever wonder how these people are never held hostage or get caught in such situations like terror attacks?

I'll wrap this post now. With another thought- in the front page of Deccan Herald today, a quarter of a page was clinched by a photograph of the 'Miss World beauties'. My reaction... In times like these?

Become Aware... Make Aware...

http://www.storyofstuff.com/

This whole study/ presentation puts in to right perspective so many relevant aspects of our lifestyle and how that is directly connected to the deterioration of the very planet we inhabit. Which means, we are responsible for it in someway, which means, ignorance is no bliss, which means, we cant take what's dumped on us. Which means, alarmingly, we need to be more AWARE.

Annie Leonard spent nearly 10 years of her life researching & traveling around the world, gathering information and putting this http://www.storyofstuff.com/ the way we see it. What we see is hard-hitting and candid.

I wonder if we did a simulation of this study that is India specific what would the findings be?

The noisy beginnings that some may call 'interventions' are too scarce to redeem the drastic damage already done- to our planet, its people and the systems arouns us.But each of needs to resolve to do our bit. At the rate the deterioration is happening, it would take millions of us to do something- not just voice our opinions or feel terrible about it.

To start with- I decided I would never get packaged fruit juices anymore- fresh, they will be made. And a religious practice of carrying cloth/ jute bag to get veggies- wont be a sporadic practice anymore.

And yes, do tell your friends and folks about this- circulate.

I've seen plenty of this kind of talk,
I've read enough in friends blogs,
I've felt it myself- to miss THE point.

When you touch the quarter of your life ( assuming the 100yr, else you've lived well past that quarter!) you tend to look back, increasingly. Look back at school and how that load of homework wasn't really that onerous, you look back at pictures of siblings and smile at those meaningless plays and fights (my Sis and I indulged in a game of catching butterflies, crushing them and making a soup of it.. ofcourse we didnt eat it! Pretty much a carnage...), the teachers weren't mean, wearing uniform wasn't all that bad. What stands out most is the fact that whatever Dad and Mum chided you for was for the ultimate good and love of/for you!


Its long-years after its gone, that childhood becomes a cherished chapter! Well past that utopian sheen of teen has abraded, that you stop feeling anger towards this world and you become a part of those who have given up! And mysteriously, it all seems to happen at that quarter of a lifetime.

I once was...

Anil Kumble retiring from cricket- it was a rush of memories for friends and folks and for me. Quite a few msgs and mails like this one from A (It had me wonder... "God! Folks actually remember! Sheesh!) "sending this ( http://www.guardian.co.uk/sport/2008/nov/02/indiacricketteam-cricket) to the most hardcore kumble fan i know! :) in memory of that scrambled scooty ride to catch up with the tall man for a happy pic together."

While in school some sort of a crazy Kumble fascination just got to me. Right from watching ALL of his matches to creating a scene to meet him at the benefit match in Hubli or the crazy bike ride to catch up with him along with friends and folks at a shop inauguration in Hubli, or getting another opportunity during an internship with at a production house... The fascination has waned away.

But here's to a cool sportsman, I could never figure out why Kumble though... didnt matter then, now either.

A plane full of kids...

Written back in time, posting now...

After quite an eventful visit to Delhi, we had no idea that more was in store for us on our return flight.

As we boarded the bus to get to our flight, I knew this flight is going to be different. The bus was filled with kids! The bus was in terrible shape though (I anticipate Spicejet is soon going to be in for a long haul- the bus was pretty much akin to a public bus plying on the streets). M and I got talking with this kid who was sitting near the window, bag cuddled and all. The kids were on their return flight to Bangalore after an excursion to the Himalayas, happy to have been there but eager to get home as well. WOW! (I spun back to my school excursions- of their own kind packed with fun! )

They were a melange of a 50-60 bunch of kids- some sober, some mischievous, some haughty but all of them- highly spirited. They didn't stop talking, murmuring and or whispering for a moment. When the plane got jerky, the kids were going ooooo....aaaaaa and having their share of fun! They had a senior nun who was with them, chastising, shooing, losing-her-nerve over them.

For M and me, this was the first time with so many kids on the flight- and sure it was a big difference and one I can still feel, each time I recollect that experience.

Think About It...

An e-mail forward I saw today spelt this out so well and clearly too.
Its something we all probably know, but the wisdom does not knock us when the situation is such-

The stone after the throw
The word after it's said
The occasion after the loss
The time after its gone