Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
I wrote something in class today that I am half disturbed by and half deliriously joyful about.
It was gory and bloody and so unlike what i stick to. I'm usually subtle about violence-depicting the aftermath or events preceding it. This is because i know that nothing make-up and write can rival a person's imagination. So i take the more effective (yet easy) way out.
Point in fact- its not my style to write something that includes the words 'bloody stumps'. Apparently now it is. I feel like its a barrier I've broken. And it feels good.
But of course, as some sort of unconscious response to what I thought was non-existent societal pressure, immediately after the disturbing piece I wrote a 'normal' one. (Well, for me anyway)
A dent in my momentous 'toeing the line' incident.
Eh, I'll live with it.
Saturday, 10 January 2009
The following is something I posted ages ago(March 29, 2008) on my Minglebox blog. I read it and in the vain ways of myself found it hilarious. And it also reminded me of that dreadful time in college when it happened. Coincidental that the 'friend' I mention is Yakub. The boy always seems to be laughing his arse off at me.
Here eet ees!
Kind sir, can i have a plate of embarassment please?
Hmph, street urchin! Embarassment is dessert not a main course!
Oh, then can i have some anxiety-induced memory loss and then the embarassment?
All right. Coming right up!
The psychology practicals were bad. They were really really bad. I mean, not the I'm-saying-this-coz-actually-i-SCORED bad. The actual BAD.
I haven't had a chance to let in sink in for the long term. We had only two things to do. Conduct an experiment. Do a stats sum. Not difficult eh? Well, leave it to me to screw it up as royally as i can. I FORGOT, yes forgot, to do the stats sum. i was so relieved that I had done away with the experiment that I gave my paper a cursory look, got up, deposited it with a smirk at the teacher's table and then left the room confidently.
I found out later from a laughing friend that the teacher held up my paper, laughed at it (a few students joined in), and asked who the brilliant person was. Every single person in the room now knows my name. cheers!!
Thank god there's a few days break before i have to go back. But no matter, I'm sure they're laughing at the next idiot already. (i hope. I desperately, hope)
Interesting thing i saw yesterday.
On the back of a cute little green Medicine Van: "Khuda Hafiz"
Here's your medicine, see you on the other side!
Friday, 9 January 2009
I was in an auto on my way to college and I happen to see a boy on a bike-complete with helmet and gloves. Except one of his hands was halfway inside his helmet trying to stuff his cellphone up there. You know, into that little hollow round your ears. Stupid child. I laughed quite a bit actually. Early morning laughter does not require too great a reason apparently.
"10 Rs extra!"
I wanted to kill him. Instead I got into the auto while muttering "Painful you'll are."
"What?" he said.
I froze like salami in a freezer. And then in an act of brave stupidity or stupid bravado- (whichever) I repeated my cuss.
Luckily he repeated "What?" so i got away with that one.
*Ticks 'staring death in the face' off her list of things to do*
Yakub and I were in the bookshop. I was pestering bookshopuncle for change when Yakub suggests i buy one of those greasy sweets that bookshopuncle often stuffs per force into our hands. I ignore.
Meanwhile girl next to me asks for greasy handful.
Here Yakub feels the need to ask "You don't eat all this or wat?"
I look, pause and then say, "NO!" so vehemently and with such disgust that bookshopuncle and girl turn to me, hands awkwardly frozen in the moment. (The greasy perpetrators staring me in the face.)
I cower in embarassment while Yakub tip-toes backwards and laughs his gut out.
I sneak out a little "sorry!" to the girl but i am met with a cold withering glare that gives me shivers to this minute.
But we laughed at that one for a while too.
Thursday, 8 January 2009
My grandmother on the other hand, happened to read it over my shoulder and said (after a shocked exclamation) in Malayalam “But why would someone say something like that?” She was very concerned about the person’s well-being and also went so far as to delicately ask if they already knew that they were dying.(!)
Needless to say it took a while for me to get it through to her that the person was probably all right and that often people listen to songs and say such things to express the magnitude of the emotion they attach to it.( I did not mention I was one of them. Whatami crazy?) All my explanations were interspersed with the occasional “Endana?”(But, why?) that my grandmother said in wonderment to herself. She finally trundled off, unsatisfied by my explanations, while saying something that roughly translates as “This youth is so morbid”
We're morbid apparently. The youth of today.
Caution: All too long a postscript to follow.
And after this entire sploosh (don’t ask and I won’t have to make something up) of a blog it just struck me: Am I still in the youth category at all? I mean, ever since I was fifteen I was shooed into this 'youth' and it’s a comforting yet uncomfortable place to be in.
At this point when people said things like 'the future is theirs' or 'change is up to them' I knew they meant us; my generation, as a collective. And obviously I gloated at our good fortune of being in the limelight for that millisecond. And I gloated; every time some kid in a vague corner of the world created a working model of the universe, or became the first 'youth' to take part in a world greenpeace seminar; or became a graduate summa cumme laude in business and management or even managed to become a star at 16 (for widely unknown reasons). I watched them all and gloated with a shared sense of victory. (“Any victory of theirs is surely a victory of mine?”)
And so obviously I've gotten comfortable with the category. There are throw rugs and comfy cushions of 'ambiguity' and 'confusion' and 'silly decisions' all over the place (don't forget the humongous mattress of 'lazyarse-ness' in the corner) and I'm not sure I want to leave. But then again I don't want to be the old maid who wandered in, refused to leave and started taking over the place with her vaguely formed ideas of responsibility and maturity. (and millions of cats to add to the confusion) And so....
it’s officially over for me. Prematurely, some might say but hey, when you feel it honey, you gotta deal with it. (Too forties film dialogue like? Eh, whatever. I’m all growed up. I’ll do whatever I wants to!)