Wednesday, December 20, 2006
So, we (Hannah and I) left MUWCI on Friday, after a delay of about an hour, with Tom, Annabelle, Francis and Jerome for Pune. We were supposed to go with Zaen, but we were fortunate that we didn't as his jeep just didn't turn up, and then we'd have been completely screwed. By the time we got to Pune, it was about 5, and so we went and shopped Clover centre for Hannah's Golden Virginia (if you dont know what it is, it doesn't matter. Just know that we went to shop for it) and filters. Then, we decided that the time was right to catch a bus to Bombay. So we scuried off to the train station, where we found a busthat was supposed to leave in 5 minutes (it was 5:40 when we got there), and we promptly got onto it. The journey was scheduled to take 3 hours we were told, but after sleeping on the bus for an hour and waking up to an A/C dripping on me and blowing in my face, I was startled to realise that we were still in Pune city. By the time we got onto the highway, it was already 6:45, and so we decided to pull out my laptop and watch Madagascar on it. Soon, we paused at a local rest-stop along the expressway, and hurriedly had a cigarette and pav-bhaji, and we even managed to find a power-point to charge my laptop. Just as we finished eating, our bus decided that it wanted to leave, so we ran back to the bus. As we were heading to it, we found a Mia and a someone-else in a jeep, also presumably heading to Mumbai International Airport. We waved em off, and got back onto the bus, and continued watching the movie. As we were about 2/3rds through the movie, my laptop died a gruesome and unflattering death, and so we fell asleep (I did, at any rate...), and was awoken from my sleep just as it was getting good to the Dadar bus stop scenery. Looking at my watch, I found that it was already 11:15!
We took a cab straight from there to Colaba, as it would be pointless trying to catch a train at that hour, not to mention moderately dangerous knowing the Mumbai janta (Slang for people). We reached my place by about 11:30, greeted by Hannah's inhibitions about my cousins and relatives not liking her, as well as my cousin's dog's noisy uproar. When we arrived, only my mami (aunt)was there, and so we chilled out a bit, and washed and cleaned up. We sat around for a bit, and soon enough, my cousn Hrishikesh turned up. We sat and I talked to him for a bit, after which he decided he was going to retire for the night, and Hannah was going to smoke downstairs. So we went down for a stroll, she smoked one and we came back up, properly de-smelled. We decided that we wanted to finish watching Madagascar and so we did, after which we proceeded to watch as much South Park as our brains could possibly handle. Soon Yashodeep, my other cousin, turned up from his work, and sat down to talk with us. That got over in a bit, and we all decided to get some deserved rest.
The next morning, we got up at about 7:30 (fine, Hannah got up, and proceeded to nag me till I did too), and had a quick breakfast and proceeded to leave for the airport. We got onto a train by 8:40, and were destined to ehaed to Malad Station, in Andheri. However, by the time we got there, it was already 9:35, which meant that I could either take my baby to the airport and risk taking my flight home, or pack her into a rickshaw and head back myself. I chose the latter, much against my will, and packed her off.
Hannah: Babe, I hope that your rickshaw ride wasn't too eventful, and that things went smoothly. Hope that your not too pissed with me, and that you got home safely.
Then, I went bak to Dadar Station, and managed by some lucky chance to get a bus that left, again 5 minutes after I got there. So, I got onto this bus, and sat there. Now, the guysaid that the bus would leave at 10:05, and I got there at 10:00, so I was shitting bricks as I tried to find it amongst the vast set of Volvo's parked in the damned area. Anyways, I got there, and sat down, only to find that the whole thing was completely empty. By the time we left, I'd been grumbling about the bastards not sticking to time for over an hour. I did, however, ahve a jovial teacher that I really liked sitting next to me, so that kept me entertained throughout the journey. Looking at the time when I got into Pune, it was just 2:50. I figured that I ought to find Zaen and Co. at Mocha (DUH!!) so I headed there. I ended up there at about 3:05, and found to my horror that Zaen, Rico and Naina weren't there. However, it was all smooth sailing now - or so I thought. The stupid stoned genie (terminology couresy Zaen Alkazi 1989- ) couldn't help me out for shit, so I took a salt shaker from there as revenge. The salt shaker broke within two minutes on my left foot - a sure sign of bad luck. By the time I managed to actually get Naina to pick up - I was trying her number for 15 minutes - they were all already at MG Road, getting Nain's ear (or whatever else that it was) pierced. I also found out that my mega suitcase had been transferred to Misha, as she was on the same flight back home.So I got into a rickshaw and made my way to Mars-0-rin,where I found a content Zaen and Rico talknig about american stereotypes, and how they are actually everywhere. The time was 3:35 - a long way to cathing my 5:30 flight home. I was quite content with myself, albiet a little dissapointed knowing now that I might have had the time to take Hannah to the airport after all. We decided that a departure time of about 4:00 was good for us all, as Zaen needed to pick up some film from a place 20 minutes in the opposite direction.
At 4:35, we were still on the road, however, being driven by a sleeping (literally, Zaen and Rico can suport this statement) driver. We decided that if I didn't change direction and destination of travel that instant, I would definitely not make it home that day. So I got out, stumbled across the middle of the road, almost got runover by a bus that decided to swerve dangerously close to the sidewalk, and got into a rickshaw driver on speed. I mean it - this guy had pupils the size of the bloody moon man!! And he talked in fast-forward, in a dialect that only the french could understand. Anyways, by the time we figured out that I neede to get to the airport, it was 4:40, and things were looking very foreboding indeed. The guy finally reasied that I needed to catch a 5:30 flight (who needs to give him 10 extra minutes to relax, eh?) and he started to zip through the streets, taking smart ways around signals, buffalows, pedestrians and the like. At 5:00 we were still well within city limits, after having asked the guy how long left and how far away it was for the umpteenth time, I finally gave up all hope of getting there. I consoled myself thinking that it would be a character-biulding experience missing a flight and figuring out what to do next.
I did, magically, however, reach the airpost at 5:15, and ran in to find a very sour Misha teling me to check my bag in and get a boarding ticket for the flight. So, in a rush, I got my bag checked in, and then the lady at the counter informs me that the flight was delayed by 30 minutes. OK, so it was all smooth sailing again. Good news. So I stand in line with my oversize bag and hoody, waiting to hit security check. When I finally got there, all my stuff went through security check, but for some reason, my jacket kept beeping insanely. So did my shirt. So did my pants. So did my shoes. So did my friggin' navel. So, they strip-searched me. I was in the middle oif security getting myself stripped to my boxers, with the damned metal-detector still beeping like nobody's business. They also found a lighter and my swiss knife in my hoody - they were now convinced that I was there to blow the plane outta the skies. Anyways, after quarantining my knife and lighter, they finally let me go. Went to collect my bag and wallet and stuff, and found that my bag was in the middle of 6 security-surds. Was definitely in trouble. One of them came by and asked me if the bag was mine. When I told them it was and that my flight was in 20 minutes, they told me that they needed to scan it again. So there was another hold up. Upon scanning it, I was told that I had another lighter, another knife, 2 forks, a camera, and a bottle of water in it. So i decided that I didnt need any of them, and I started to unpack. That was when I unpacked a bottle of Vodka that I had completely forgotten about. I asked them what to do now. So they cancelled my boarding ticket, and asked me to get another one issued after checking my bag in to check-in baggage. OK. So, I go out, and the helpful geeky guy asks me what I need, so I tell him. It is now 5:45, and I am starting to get edgy again. The guy unnecessarily puts it through the big X-ray machine again, and checks it in for me, and issues me a boarding ticket. That is when another guy runs from the X-ray machine, and demands my bag. They run it in again, and then they ask my to remove the entire contents of my bag. So, here I am, with 15 minutes to go, unpacking a bag filled with all the sins of MUWCI, wondering whether today is the day that I will get busted or not, and whether I will catch that damned flight or not. Finally, the guy searches my bag, and takes a few assorted things out and hands them to me, like my laptop. Rather confused, and not sure whether to be relieved or not, I grab the laptop, and head for security check again. It is now 5:50, and my flight has started to board, says the nasal woman over the intercom. As I go through security again, I am faced with another checker guy who doesn't believe that I got checked before. So, I go though the strip search again, while the guards are going " Zabardast, puttar!!!" . Bastards. By the time I get out, I am informed that my flight has a minute left to go, and so some random dude comes and offers toescort me to my flight. He takes me running on the tarmac to a Boeng 747-600 and before I know it, I'm getting onto the aircraft home - or so I think. As I climb into the aircraft, I notice that the entire thing is empty, and looking at the card in the side-seat, it shows a flight serial different from mine. Going through this whole proscess in real time took about 10 minutes, and as I looked back despairingly at the guy I told him what had happened. Fortunately, he did have a walkie-talkie, and so before the aircraft had a chance to move - it had been sealed and ready to leave, but yeah - he radioed in and told them to wait up.
All said and done, I did finally manage to make my flight, though it was an absolutly on-the-edge weekend - one that I would not like to experience again anytime soon, but one that I am not likely to forget. Thank you two for being a part of it all. Cheers!!
(Oh, yeah, in case you want to know what happened when I came to Bangalore, I fell asleep in the car, and now it's Monday evening, and I just woke up. It's been a very tiring weekend, after-all....)
Guess this kinda stuff isn't just made for the movies, eh?
Monday, July 10, 2006
The jeans Small Pocket
Originally uploaded by aveek.
The Jeans Pocket. Marvellous contraption, but no one really relises it.
I was watching the World Cup Finals (Viva Azuri!! Zidane is a B*st^rd) when a friend of mine asked me to hold on to his matches, saying he'd need 'em in another minute. So I put them into my pocket, and started to walk along. I started wondering how much pain it was going to be to reach into the depths of my pocket for that tiny matchbox, when alluva sudden it hit me - THAT'S what the the tiny pocket you find in almost any set of jeans' right hand pocket is about!! It's there for nothing except a matchbox.
Think aobut it, thats the only real use that it would have - sureit's been adapted to fit other things. But we all know that it was most certainly not designed to hold most cell-phones, as Motorola might ahve you believe. After all, these things have been around on Jeans when people were holding those monstrocities of cell-phones, that came with a carry-case of their own. They were designed for the working, smoking American miner/worker, weren'tthey?
Jeans were first worn by workers, and the whole drive would be towards practicality, not fashion. The workers needed a place to store a tiny match box that they used tolight things - from ciggarettes to gun-powder, and it was a hassle diving into one's pockets at the most inconvenient of times, so some bright mind must have sown a small pocket into his jeans. Being right handed, thats where it went. The trend obviously caught on, untill at a point, the manufacturers decided that it would be wise to put those little pockets on as standard.
Amazing thing, this little piece of design. Never noticed, but providing a subconscious relief. Ma, the things designers must think of when gonig through the developmental proscess!!
Just thought it ought to be pointed out that one ought not to ignore the tiny things in life that DO make a difference.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Since I could hold my head up high.
It's been a while
OK, I'm not into the poetry-to-express-yourself on the blog anymore. Enough of that stuff.This is in regard to the appaling fact that I haven't posted in almost 5 months, or some other absurd sounding figure like that.
It's been a month since I got back from campus, assured that I am, in fact, comingback for next year. I am sicerely hoping to rid myself the connection of my2nd years,who are pretty much just plain old coward bastards from the Graduating Class of 2006 - ring a bell, anyone?
Anyways, thats that. The thing is that, I do miss a few people from there, but I just on't think that I was really on the same thinking field as anyone else there. Either that, or it just hasn't hit me yet, which is strange, cause I don't think that it'll ever hit me. I don't even miss the people that I was really close to... not one strand of remorse, guilt(which is not a first), sadness, lust, desire, boredom, nothing. Man, I can barealy even remember what people look like. Sometimes, I acknowledge the fact that there must be something wrong with me. This is not supposed to happen!! I want to ahve funky memories, I want to be able to smile. I guess that its a good thing once in a while to be emotionally detachd from events around you, but man, that has a sucky downside!! I feel like shit!! AARGH!!!
Anyways, enough about that. I finally got to drive, so now I can smirk at my dad as I sit - legally!! - in the driver's side of the car, and fix this shameless grin on my face as I pass him going the other way!! MUHUHOHAHAHAHAHAH!! I've beenwaiting for this since I was 10, and these 8 looookng years are finally paying off. I am going to have sooooo much fun drig=ving around with my frineds for 10 days beofer I'm back off to college. But thats alright with me. Just the knwoledge that I can drive is almost enough to keep me happy.
This is a pretty happy post... and this is where it stops.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Last night I asked myself, what am I doing here? Why am I here? What am I getting out of being here? What is it that I really want? What is my purpose in life? Do I have a purpose in life, or is my existence pointless, just a gap to be filled in because we're all just extra's in this huge dramatization of life? I realized that I am doing absolutely nothing here. I sit on my arse and read books, play sports, and help de-weed fields. WOW. Isn't that going to make a difference to everyone and anyone? I realized that I don't want all this information. I want knowledge. It's true. But I don't want the garbage that they teach us in school, college, university, jobs. I want real knowledge. I want to know everything there isn't to know. I want to see everything we think we never will. I want to explore the depths of thought, space, sound, and sense. That is what I want to know. I have no desire to fill my head with 'knowledge' that so many people already know and have already classified. It's a waste of space, when we have everything that we will ever need in the palm of our hands in the form of microcomputers. I would rather that instead of moving through the blackness of the Unknown Thought, holding on far too much to our safety ropes, one of us just let go and took a bold stride into the darkness of beyond and spread the light. At the rate we're going, all we're doing is shooting a tiny beam of light into the vastness, and all that we recover is the infinitely miniscule part of it that blocks the beam. The part directly in front of it - nothing up, down, side to side, after and before it. We know too little, and at the rate that we're going, we'll never pierce this store room of everything that we will ever encounter. I just want to be a light beam and travel to the ends of the universe, and see everything I never will.
Another thing that has really pissed me off is this construct of life. We all live by a set of rules and regulations. Let’s call them restrictions, because that’s what they really are, after all. Society has taught us to think in a specific way, to talk in a specific way, to act in a specific way. Everyone I know just wants to get a good degree, get a good job and own a nice car, a big house and have a happy family. That is their idea of a happy existence. How mundane. Everyone wants to live in a cycle of safety. No one I know is willing to put a stick into the spoke and observe the motion then. No one I know wants to climb trees in the middle of the night with me for fun. No one I know wants to Dive into the pool when its freezing cold, just to see what its like. No one wants to surf the tsunami with me, just for the high. No one wants to stand up and think for themselves. Society has restricted itself from blossoming. We have stuffed ourselves into a box, and cramped our minds into cubes of restricted motion. The worst part of it all is the fact that people create pseudo-happiness when all they have to do is reject the rules. All we have to do is take ourselves out of the box that has been forced upon us for a minute, and we'll see how close-minded we have become. We live in a tiny system. Do you know why Microsoft keeps upgrading? ‘Cause there are flaws in the system. Every system has flaws, and that’s why we move onto a better system, with flaws of its own. With more complex, convoluted flaws, even less evident than the last, but present none-the-less. We need to destroy the system. We need to stop restricting ourselves with these metal constructs, that shouldn't even exist. Every time I meet people, there's always a few who laugh at me, think I'm weird. What they don't see is the fact that I'm outside their world. I am, quite literally, on my own plane. And that is how everyone should be. If we don't like it, then we can revert back, but otherwise what's the point of calling yourself open minded? One of my friends told me that this sounded like it was straight out of some play. What he doesn't know is the fact that we're all part of a huge performance. We are all just actors on a grand scale. Now if only you could walk off stage and into the audience, and watch it with me, you'd see. You'd see the truth. You'd see a more complete picture. What I want to know lies outside, but at this point of time, I can't make it there on my own. I need help. I need someone to come with me. I want someone to come with me. Someone who I can share my freedom with, someone who'll appreciate liberation from liberation as we see it. Someone who'll help me convince more people to take a bite out of this apple. I want someone to get up and walk out of the theatre with me. I wish to know what lies outside this theatre.
I wish to know the truth. I wish to dive, head-first, into the vastness of space, time, and the dimensions. Einstein once said that time was the 4th dimension. I wonder if that’s true. We have become masters of the 3 dimensions. Length, breadth, and height. We have frozen them, and move around in them freely. They are constant, and we move through them, forward and backward, up and down, from side to side. But what about time? Have we managed to control time? We have managed to understand it. Or have we? Is using time to co-ordinate our lives a proper understanding of time? Is it understanding at all? Or is it just usage without comprehension? The sun comes up and goes down every 100,000 times I breathe, so let’s call it something. The 25,00th time I breathe, I should eat a meal. Let’s call it lunch. Is that our 'understanding' of time? I think not. I believe that this is a dimension that we are yet to comprehend. There is more to time than we think. We do not control Time, Time controls us. It pushes us ever forward, despite our attempts to stay still. In order to believe we control it, we have sayings like, "I watched Time pass me by", as if we're a separate entity all-together. But that isn't true. We are all moved forward by this dimension, regardless of our orientation. We do not control this dimension - it controls Us. How does it control us? Is it, after all this, just a mental construct? Is it really a dimension? Have we created it from our imagination, and has it overrun us, like a wild child, and taken hold of the leashes we never knew were around our necks? Can thought create dimension? Can an electrical impulse being interpreted in a different way each time be a machine that churns out a new layer of reality? Or is it a pseudo-reality that we create around us, but that doesn't actually exist?
I want to know the truth. I want to know everything there isn't to know. I want to travel the universe and see everything I know I never will. I want to catch the twinkling of an eye, and put it in a box, and open it every time I want. I want to grab every star from the sky, make a necklace out of it, and give it to the one I love. I want o shoot up and down over to the other side of the rainbow. I want to view the cycle of a star, and drink the milky-way. I want to open Pandora's-box, and know everything. I want to unleash reality upon myself. I want to meet aliens, and communicate with them. I want to gain another's perspective without having an opinion on it. I want to turn the earth inside out, and have a steam bath in the molten crust. In want to bend time, and travel till I see every major event first hand, and create my own understanding of history. I want to go as far as all the money in my pocket will take me, and walk from there. I want to go backpacking across the depths of space, time, and mathematics. I want to find myself in a champagne supernova in the sky. Catch me if you can, I'll meet you at Me.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Some of you might know Savina, a really good friend of mine, ever since we were 4 or so. She's here as well, in her second year, and hasn't been spared of this ordeal. You could see, after the first two weeks, that she was taking way too much stress. She looked tired and de-motivated, and thoroughly stressed out. You could see that she wasn't exactly happy anymore, so Deeksha and I decided that we'd do something to make her Sunday a little special. We decided that we'd cook her breakfast in bed. So, the whole week we went about figuring out just what she'd enjoy for breakfast, and made a list. Then, on Saturday, I went to Pune, and we bought everything for the meal. I got sausages, cooking chocolate, Ceres fruit juice, eggs, butter, cheese, and strawberries and cream. When I got back, we decided the menu. It was going to be Sausages and a double sunny-side-up masala egg, along with sliced tomatoes and grapes. There was going to be strawberries, and a huge goblet of Red Grape Juice. And, to top it off, mum gave me the idea of making her Chocolate Truffle!!
So, Saturday night I stayed up till 12:30 and made the chocolate Truffle liquid, poured it in a nice yellow bowl, and set it in the freezer to cool. I then covered it with chocolate shavings and two strawberries to give it that finishing touch. It looked really neat, all swirled with the light and dark chocolate mixes in it. Then, I got up Sunday morning at 7:30, and woke Deeksha up. Together we washed all the other items, and proceeded to make the masala egg, and the sausages. We borrowed a plate, a tray, and cutlery from the cafeteria, and we borrowed this HUGE blue goblet from Tom (god-alone knows why he has it) and proceeded to cook everything. After about an hour and a half of going back and forth procuring a non-stick pan, olive oil, and various other minute details that completed the picture, we had Savina's meal ready. Just as we were setting it all up on the tray, though, she ended up walking towards the common room. So Deeksha went and distracted her in her room, as I proceeded to pour out the crimson grape juice into the goblet. All was ready, and I took the tray to Savina
's house, and we then presented her with her "Breakfast-In-Bed" (fanfare et al).
She was really thrilled. After 10 days we finally saw her face light up, and you could sense the happiness surging through her again. She proceeded to demolish the food without furthur ado, and drank the grape juice like it was wine.... hehe... I found that so silly, but so cute none-the-less!! She is an angel. By the end of it, she seemed almost entirely rejuvinated, stuffed till her eyeballs were popping out, and with a huge grin on her face.
It was a brilliant experience for me as well. I don't know why, but seeing her so happy just seemed to make my day as well. I guess sometimes when you see someone you really care about feeling such happiness, it infects you too, and it keeps you going for the rest of the day. I seem to have noticed this a little, here and there - there are moments where Savina's joy just drifts into me, and I can't help but smile for the rest of the day. I think its people like her that really make life worth living. I just hope that I have people like that in my life forever!!
Friday, January 27, 2006
I love the fire service!!!
Thursday, January 19, 2006
OK, since I got back on campus, things ahve been all opver the place. It's been less than 2 weeks, and a cycle just got over, than I have had huge highs, and a lot of horse-latitude days, as well as these dark spots indicating my lows. The Latter, posted by out pricipal to most of us - some believe at random - to our parents had caused some serious upheaval at home. Man, the last day or two there was so much tension in the iar, to use a cliche, that you could cut it with a knife. I was pretty sure that the longer I stayed at home, the higher my chances of getting into some serious horse poo-poo. Luckily, I was leaving the day after The Letter. Which is a very, very good thing, in my mindm and in the minds of the other relatively non-extremist eople involved.
Then, when I got back on campus, things were really good. I met my friends, we went to Paud, and we were generally in high spirits (no pun intended). Then, over the course of a couple of days, things were fairly in the doldrums, and then, alluva sudden, our high flying hearts (and at times, bodies) momentum came to an abrupt standstill. And then I crashed. There were 2 days of utter agony, emotional upheaval, chaos, paranoia, and the fear that comes with a sense of being totally lost in a place very familiar to you. I still do not know how I passed time during those 2 days, except for a vague notion of twisting and turning around in my bed, fighting all the imaginary demons of my nightmares. All of a sudden, they froze, and suddenly melted into the soft yellow light falling through my window. I was non-pulsed. Then, a sudden wave of heart-warming joy filled my senses. I could see again. In an instant I had been transformed from a bedraggled slave to a sailor cruising the high seas.
Everyone suddenly appeared so cheerful and bright. Things were back to their usual euphoric high, and life was settling down. Then came the confrontation. I had had a quarrel with a friends of mine sometime back, and we had a bad breakup. However, she helped me sort it out, and we were back to being friends again over the course of Christmas. We left each other on a high note, and I called her for her birthday at home, and I couldn't wait to meet her when she got back. As the dayn arrived, I decorated her room with red and white balloons, and left her a present also in white, with a red card. Not that I know why I've written that detail. It seems most unnecessary. When she came back, however, things just seemed to ahve changed within a fraction of a millisecond. I met her, and she didn't look all that pleased to see me, acting quite stiff. This, unfortunately for me, was a sad state of occourance. I gave up on her after a minute, and she just walked away. Throughout the course of the week, however, I realiseed that it was only me going to make an effort to talk to her, be with her, do things for her, and it got to me. Physically as well as mentally, I got annoyed that I was the one putting in all my effort into what was turning out to be a seemingly pointless endeavour. So I decided to just not talk to her - after all, if she really wanted to be friends, she'd have to make some kind of effort as well. The miserable part about that, was the fact that I had no desire to NOT talk to her. After all, i9t was and (I hope) always will be a pleasure to talk to her. So I deflatedly gave up on that plan, and talked to her about it, getting a not so convincing answer. However, I also decided that I let my emotions take way too much control of me, and that I am not going to let them get in my way ever again.
After that, things got a lot better. Not just event wise,. but her and I have also been on good terms with each other, and its become almost entirely like the good times! Again, my social life is going all guns blazin', my academic life is commendable - not perfect, but commendable - and I seem to be taking care of my health, amongst all the other things that make up a happy lifestyle. I seem satisfied, with a huge parcel containing an impressive stash of munchies, pasta, chips, and other assorted foodstuffs, arriving a couple of days ago. I have given up bad habits that I had got into over here, and I am pleased with the pace of my life. Things are, good, and I thank my imaginary God for that. After all, what else is God for, other than to thank for every little thing that aids your survival?
We (NOTE: with no accurate references to anyone that can be identified) got some nice wine, and we're going to have a toast. "To ourselves. For the good life!!"