I, like a lot of other people, am waiting for some time to make a great gesture proving my commitment to some principle or another, but I am annoyed at this stagy business. Why don't I just live properly?

Duty, commitment, faith, love and brotherhood; where are these in my life. I shirk my work, look for excuses to place my flaws on others, I live luxuriously and talk of equality. I talk of environmentalism but thats it, I just talk.

Ipshita, you're not a kid any more.

It's lovely to be yourself and sometimes not take oneself so seriously. I had such a hoot reading the last two posts. I could have been Sandhya. Oof, a harsh self reproach that is (evil grin)

I spent a marvelous time day before yesterday night, reading some stuff I had written before and writing some new pieces. It comes to me again that I really enjoy writing. I hope one day I'll be old enough to write properly. I'm too childlike in experiences, it shows.

Ah, its nice to be me.

Edit: Just rereading the earlier posts again. I cringe and laugh alternatingly

Depression has blossomed on my heart like a fungus
It's a stinking bloom, large and red like a Rafflesia in November and flies come in thick clouds till it folds and breaks in swads of decay
It's a truffle in the oak roots waiting for a hound to find and lay it at her master's feet
But everytime I am just the forest floor, mother to my thoughts.

I tried to be coleridge.
I'm not.
Here are my efforts

People poplars on the street
Run them over like they're meat.
I will shriek with holy glee
And spur you on your killing spree.
Leaps and thrills from every count
New lease on life from every pain
You bow before my cold command
Again, again, again, AGAIN!
The lift, the spin, the go rush in
The thud the crack of living bone
I lift my head as tears roll down
With numinous joy I moan.

I am an opiated poet. Happiness would be at the core of myself only replaced by baser emotions. Blame my doctor and blame dinner. the experience is interesting but not all that fun. I'd prefer a good book/

Growl

I am sick of having nothing new to say about me. There is no good news where I am concerned. Any update is always a slide from the previous position. Today I'm more than a little sick. There you go. Bad news of the day.

I forgot

Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with alzheimers. He says he's not dead yet but I was in such a funk when I heard. Even now I am most disturbed as I type this. I am not ready to let him go.

This is the month of the stars

They call to me.

In today's news, radiation from a blackhole impact nearby galaxy, read all about it.

Elusive, large, beautiful and real. A simple happiness pervades me in the vindication that I really am nothing and all my mistakes and failures are such a blip on the magnificence of the universe.

Predictably all this brings me back fondly to star trek. I don't think ever we'll ever be able to travel as the monarchs of the stars. The three year old iside me is lying face down in the carpet, kicking and sobbing and screaming why not. It was such a beautiful utopic series. Will we ever get there? A place where we will look back sadly at the ravages of the past? Or are we doomed to go on as we always have? The realist in me says the latter, but we must always act like we are free of fates, genetic predisposition, forces of nature. How else will we live full lives, be real people and not puppets of someone else's making?

I lovvvve Captain Picard. He always had something to say in every episode which sent chills down my spine. There was always something. It was the best. One day I am spending the mney and getting all the seasons. Vagabond I am, wanderer I am, but I must be able to draw on what I love.

My mood is up, stupidly enough. It does me no good because I also know the dire reality. Visibly, it marks me out as a happy person but they dont see the sinking feeling in my stomach. Damn right, you don't.

Application submissions after I go mad

Q. If you could have dinner with one individual in the past, present, or future, who would it be and why? (250 word maximum)
A. Torn between Darth Vader and Jean Luc Picard.

Q. Tell us about your most significant accomplishment. (250 word maximum)
A. Confessing my love to Shaan

Q. We value innovation and creativity. Describe an innovative solution you have created to address a specific challenge.
A. When I got locked out of the KL guesthouse and I picked the lock to get in. Damned innovative, if you ask me.

Q. What steps have you taken to learn about the MBA program, and what factors have influenced your decision to apply?
A. Read through the website. Factors include: desperation, parental pressure and throwing the kitchen sink.

Now getting back to the real thing...

Went for a movie yesterday "the golden compass". The characterisations were great, the action was good, I thought it held together well, but they left out the ending. I was in shock.

Today it feels like a bad dream.

Always I've thought that good books make bad movies. I relented of late with Lord of the rings. If they could take something so dear to me and make it almost dearer, I was wrong with my assumptions. But today I am justified with the negative view. And that in turn makes me turn with added amazement to the people behind LOTR-the movie. They did so many things right. I hope they know it, because the credit is huuuge. I offer my praise and prayers once more.

In other news. the sister has received the present. She tells me she loved it. I hope she did. I put all my heart into it.

and I'm singing...

The prezzie's in traaaaaansit.
The prezzie's in traaaaaaansit
My prezzie's in transit
to my sister at home

04/12/2007 08:50 In Transit to Destination

(anticipation)

Oh, the potential

Below is an email I got in my spam box. I adore spammers, they give me a whiff of strange far off countries, Nigeria, Guyana, Benin Republic and now Cote D'Ivoire. This one was special. It made me laugh (see words in bold typeface) and want to write a story. Read on.

From Miss Ellen Williams
Abidjan- Cote D' Iviore
Email- (ellenwilliams112@yahoo.fr)

Dearest,
Good a thing to write you. I have a proposal for you-this however is not mandatory nor Will I in any manner compel you to honour against your Will your profile pushed me to send you this mail,I am Ellen Williams.19 years young and the only daughter of my late parents Mr.and Mrs.Williams. My father was a highly reputable business Magnet-(a cocoa and oil merchant)who operated in the capital of Ivory coast during his days.It is sad to say that he passed away mysteriously in France during one of his business trips abroad.Though his sudden death was linked or rather suspected to have been masterminded by an uncle of his who travelled with him at that time But God knows the truth!

My mother died when I was just 7 years young since then my father took me so special. Before his death he called the secretary who accompanied him to the hospital and told him that he has the sum of Ten Millon,five hundred thousand United State Dollars.(USD$10.5m) left in one of the leading bank hear Abidjan CoteD'Iviore and the money was placed in a fixed deposit account.
He further told me that he deposited the money in my name,I am just 19 years young and a university undergraduate and really don't know what to do.This is because i have suffered a lot of set backs as a result of incessant political crisis here in Ivory Coast.The death of my father actually brought sorrow to my life. Dear,I am in a sincere desire of your humble assistance in this regards.Your suggestions and ideas will be highly regarded. Now permit me to ask these few questions
1. Can you honestly help me as your Sister?
2. Can I completely trust you?
3. What percentage of the total amount in question will be good for you after the money is in your account?

Please,Consider this and get back to me as soon as possible.Through my private address box. (ellenwilliams112@yahoo.fr)
Thank you so much and may God bless us.
Yours Sincerely One,
Miss Ellen Williams.

Massage chairs should be more private.

S has a wedding to attend , so I went with her to this manicurist. They play movies and you sit in a massage chair the whole while. I didn't switch mine on till the end. It's so good, I can't tell, but I'm almost ashamed. I looked away from the others in the room. It should be more private and I don't want my face seen. Before you get misconceptions, this was just my upper back. Still, the machines, kneads, pulls, vibrates, I don't want to be seen and I don't want to see anyone else in the state of massage-relaxation. There were others there. I just didn't look.

Prude.

Desertion

Once more I turn to you, bloggy, to help me heal. It's enough to say that I am a little unhappy and lost and I need some strength. Sure, I'm strong. Sure, I'll get through but I'm also a bit hurt, my bloggy. Love me, love me, please. I feel a bit battered and I *feel* clingy, I feel desperate for love, warmth and friendship. I'm not entirely sure what the matter is, but I think I'm a little depressed. That's half the battle won, I guess.
I can't bear kindnesses. I'll cry if you're kind to me. Don't explain or simplify things, I'm feeling sad, not stupid. I know very well what the real truth is. How do you treat someone like me? What do you do to make the bleakness better?

Perspective? That all will not be lost. That there will be much to rejoice even if the worst should happen. But the lines have been drawn clearly bloggy. On this side lies success, on the other failure. This side elation, the other misery. This side, I show my face, the other I hide in shame. Shame, shame. For shame, to dare to look so high. For shame, to join them when my head is so murky with thoughts.

This is not helping. But then, nothing has. I dread calls from home. I have nothing from some from whom I thought I would have. Nothing. Chastisement when I dwell in my worry, that's fair enough. But help me, please. I am in this gloom and there are such hard ways out that my vision blurs with fear and weakness at the thought of them. I am so weak and contemptible in this real trial of life. Self loathing wars with fear.

help me, bloggy, help me... please, please, please. It's darker, colder at night when there is no one to keep up appearances for.

Stupid calorie counter sites

I had an immense sweet craving yesterday and bought a small box of marzipan chocolates. After devouring the box, I felt guilty and thought I'd see how much it would account to. 170 grams of marzipan chocolates is roughly 726 calories.

My eyes fell to the writing under the nutritional information table.

"Try 170 grams of grapefruit instead?"

Saturday Night

Accompanied R to his boss' thanksgiving dinner. I don't know why, but I was so nervous. I knew I'd have so little in common with everyone there. Plus, I was feeling skippy, which is the worst mood to go to an older people's gathering.
It wasn't a total disaster but at least I had fun. I kept worrying I was embarassing Rajesh though. I didn't stick to his side at least. Someone told me I was very poised and confident for my age. Still, you think, you take me, 24 by age, 12 at heart, put me in a room where the median age might be 40 and people have children my age, one has no choice but to seem poised and confident. R knows me though. He can tell when I am feeling like a deer in the headlights, that smile is switched on and frozen.
But afterwards, I felt so silly, so childish. I need to grow up, I think, be able to talk about real things.

A few weeks ago I was chatting to this girl getting my nails fixed (a part of the nail biting cure, if it looks alright, perhaps I'll think twice before chewing it off, ugh). She was heavily made up with a sullen mouth, eyes lidded with what looked like lamp black, pierced nose. Not very attractive to me. She seemed a bit off. She asked me to guess her age. She looked above 20 at least, but it could be the makeup. I hazarded 18, she was 16. She told me she was rebelling from her parents. School wasn't for her. She wanted to become a beautician. Her boyfriend worked as a welder or something. She was making a hash of my nails.

What can I say? What did she want? I wanted to listen and I wanted to like her. I felt that what she was doing wasn't the wisest course of action, but you never know do you? I don't want to be officious, meddlesome, I'm hardly qualified to advise anyone.

Lunched on a whole mango. Even if it was just a Thai mango, it felt good. Fruit cravings. A fruit vampire must have bitten me in my sleep last night. I can't help smiling broadly at the thought of a fruit vampire.

I met H-man today morning, he's nicer than I think he is, sometimes. I grudge him none of his interviews. I honestly felt glad for him. Especially because none of them were my schools. Ah, my soul is twisted, what can I do? I have almost resigned myself to not hearing from them now. Pity. It would have been good for me.

I was killing time last evening, I walked into a beautician and they obligingly gave me a free consultation. Five years ago, they would have consulted me into a self conscious wreck. Yesterday I just listened solemnly. Hyper pigmentation, yes, yes, PH imbalance, yes, yes, tell me more, Stubborn pores, yes, those pores never listened to a word I said. She prescribed a package of a thousand dollars for me. I played the "but chemicals will kill my skin" card and promised to come back later.

Silly people. Making money off other people's insecurities. Especially since I wasn't convinced it made any long term improvement. In the end, you are reduced to regularly pouring this kind of money out. Of course I don't know what I am talking about. These are but my impressions.

Sudoku time has been bettered. The time is at 5.02 minutes now at the Evil level. Who's your daddy!

A Stance

http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601080&sid=aHKiTH1ny.7Q&refer=asia

I am very very proud of them. It isn't easy to do such a thing in Singapore. Their peaceful stance and moral courage is an example to me. Wish that I too could stand quietly on a corner in Singapore protesting the outrage in Myanmar. But my presentation is due in a few hours. How does one juggle work and something like this?

More view

View from my house

Asperger's

As a part of my fanboy existence (I won't say fangirl because that has connotations of shrieking, crushes on characters) I frequent some forums (I won't say which). I came across this poster (someone who posts in the forum) who seemed bent upon having a certain development take place in the future (not a part of the actual material of course, but speculation). Now many fans are like that. they get vehement, noisy, rude, brash and take any arguments against their pet theories personally. Fanatics, I see the origin of the word quite clearly in their behaviour. This poster, he seemed very controlled in his vehemence. Following his posts with curiosity, I found his arguments sane, his sentences structured well, his grammar flawless and spelling correct, his behaviour polite. The only faults were a) I didn't agree with him (a minor fault since its a difference of opinion) b) his rather single-mindedness which was intense., yet coupled with an odd kind of detachment. It was very puzzling, very alien.

I then came across a post where he mentioned he suffered from asperger's syndrome, a form of autism. It explained everything. My casual following of his posting life took on something of an unnatural interest on my part. I do not know anyone with autism personally and like I've said, I'm curious.

I found out his condition a few months back from older posts and I looked at his behaviour chronologically. You know, he was getting better. And oddly enough, I felt proud of him. When other people berated him for his behaviour he apologised and took the criticism well. I kind of felt prouder then. So I dropped him an email telling him that. I immediately regretted it. What business had I, a non member, a non friend, a mere observer to break the fourth wall? Then he replied.


"Thanks, I really appreciate your support. It means a lot. (material related to his pet theory removed here)

If nothing else, I just get bothered by what some fans say. But then, it wouldn't surprise me if I found out that any of them have Asperger's or some other condition either.

Just curious. Do you have Asperger's or know someone who has it? I'm doing my best to make other people aware of it. It makes dealing with it much easier. I'm actually doing a course specifically catered for those who have the condition, and it made me realize that I am not alone, and DEFINITELY not the worse case.

Thanks for the message. Send another one if you wish. I'll be looking forward to it."


I am going to take that as a vindication of my having sent the first message in the first place. I won't be sending another one of course, but I'm glad I sent the first one.

One does not realise how important the anonymous lives that people live on the net and forums are. Many are strong and respected members of larger online communities and come from such different groups. You can see how maturity is not a function of age or background and how responsibility is shouldered by some very different people. In one case a traffic analyst, a 17 year old college kid, a 30 year old school teacher, a 12 year old school kid, a 25 year old artist were the forum moderators for the biggest lemony snicket site. I sometimes am ashamed of looking in from the outside, but other people's lives, societies are fascinating and this is a such a wonderful way to study them. A microcosm of a larger world.

Put This Paper Bag Over Your Mouth And Nose, Breathe In, Breathe Out

Paralysed with fear and stress.

I don't want to turn into something I don't like so I won't whine.
(Praying for patience)
(knotted up)
(worried)
(Unsure)

I want to go from here to
(calm)
(steady)
(accepting)
(brave)
(strong)

It is trying for others to repeatedly see the same weakness. I too get irritated by whiners. So I won't be one. I have enough sense. I know what anyone will tell me to calm me down. I ought to tell it to myself. I am rational and sensible. I know what should be done, what I need to be. And bloggy dearest, dearest, you give me strength. I feel calmer when writing in you, my troubles smaller when put down in print. And the panic is less fluttery in my chest.
I am so worried, my dearest bloggy. But now you know that and I feel better.

Should I be disturbed that I turned to you for help? Who are you? You're not a figment of my imagination and more than just a repository of my thought. You're a clear vessel of perspective, a diagnostic, a lodestone. You help me judge myself. I don't know quite whom I address when I say bloggy, but in some respects you are of more help than any person; and that makes you worthy of a name.

Thanks.

Reshtless

I am restless. I just sat down and wrote an entire blog entry but I read it over. I haven't said anything new. Let me think instead.
Too much writing is awfully like protesting. I protest too much. There are things undone here and my restlessness is just a glamour for me to be away without fixing the problems.
a) Call everyone you ought to have. Spend time with them. Do not treat your old friends as things of the past. You need to stay in touch
b) Make amends to those you've hurt
c) Finish the tasks you've begun.

If I have to be restless, let me be so after I do the a,b,c.

Ira Levin is dead.
A moment of silence please.

Snuggles

At last, at last I'm home. With relief I burrow into my blanket as I type this. Noone to wake in the morning, no applications to submit, no guesthouse but my own sweet smelling bed. My hair is fanned out on my pillow and I stare for a moment at the familiar ceiling away from typing this.

I admit, I am tired of Y. The incessant questioning got to me. I'm afraid my temper is not as cool as it should be nor is my demeanor sweet (snort.. sweet indeed). But it gets to me. Why? Why? Why? Y the why bleater. I'm cruel and mean and will be throughly ashamed of myself in the morning. I went through my submitted applications right now. They dont seem materially affected by the hurry and the tight deadlines. Gah, I hate them all.

I want my ruby mine back.

I was just teaching Siddesh. The outlook is bleak but not hopeless. I hope he makes it through. I did give as much time as I could. I did. I came back from KL and gave time to him, tired as I am. Most honestly I've tried to equip him with the basics to help him pass. Still I am more qualified to give the exam than he is, but maybe I did some good too.

Love is a cruel thing. It captures and enslaves. And I'm lonely. What kind of crap is this lonely love? I want calls, smses. Why am I the one pining? At this rate, if I get accepted into any program, the long distance wont seem like anything new. I mean, we're doing fine with this long distance relationship in Singapore. I am dissatisfied, lonely, lonely, lonely! This is a plea for help. DO something.

:(
This lovely blog post was supposed to be about me in bed, snuggled away, peppered with stream of consciousness sentences. I didn't want it to end in heart-tugs. boo

Realy late or really early

Its one of those times. I'm so short on sleep, a few minutes to document this time wont make a difference. I'm so tired.

I feel suddenly silly, suddenly critical of me. I feel I've been giving way to vanity and not really thinking of anything significant the last few days. One does get carried away. There's a reason why these things are not important. So, the guilty pleasure of an undeserved compliment, the secret bubble of girlishness are disappointments to me when its late at night, when its dark and there's noone to look at and nothing to see but me. And I have nothing worthwhile to tell myself, to feel. I am being too harsh on myself, I did many worthwhile things. I spent time with friends, got to know them a little better, felt less restrained and more socially inclined, these things are worthwhile, company is the wine of life and wine is.. well.. you know what wine is.

It's just that I'm a little amused, a little surprised at how self centered I'm growing. I should do more musing at 4:30. Anything seems profound at this hour.

A KL trip

Age creeps upon me. I slept at 1 yesterday and was up at 5:50, walked around a bit due to the event and now I'm wilting with sleep. I plan on sleeping for a bit and then sitting down in earnest to finish off my application. This kind of silly tiredness comes with age. So its good to know I look like I am nineteen or twenty (cheeky grin).
I had a great time yesterday. There were two pretty bar girls and Subbu was wilting from lack of attention, and whatever little he did say made me squirm on the inside. Poor guy, so naive. I chatted with them to put them at ease and explained the cause (Subbu, liquor, etc). With signal support from Shyam and yandan we got everything going okay. The girls were quite sweet and good fun. Everyone was in good spirits (ahem). And what photos. Such crazy photographs. Not of mine (dignified) .

Event today was okay as well. The getting up early and being kept on my feet was not so great but good in a wearing oneself out kind of way. Endorphins I guess. I wasn't too shy today and did talk to several people without feeling as if I should go and hide as I sometimes have felt in the past. And Amit was being nice too. I'm getting quite glib if I can talk with Amit for long periods of time.

I feel good. Tadadadadada.. so on and so forth. Lots of reasons. I feel less fat, less gauche, less messed up. Man, I must be delusional from tiredness huh :p

I want to cry. Frodo never found peace. Why Why Why?

And don't tell me it's just a book. That doesn't explain my mental anguish any.

A troubled mind

I seem to see a crisis ahead. I am going to be in KL with colleagues of widely varying taste. A wants to drink, B wants to eat, C wants to work, I don't know what D wants, but you can bet it wont be a lot out of line of C's needs. I? I want to have a good time too, but I foresee we'll be busy, plus applications have to be sent out. Maybe I should leave the others to their own devices and I'll just party it up with apps. Boohoo.

I have to pack tonight. 3 formal shirts, 3 skirts, shoes. I was considering something for the evenings too, but I dont get the modes in KL and it would be safer to stay in a shirt than risk something that might not be conservative enough. Thank god, formals are formal the world over and you dont have to survey the streets to know what goes. I need to read up on the event itself. That's an hour's homework at least. Plus I have to teach Siddesh some more, thats two hours. Annnd on top of that, I'm experiencing involuntary LOTR renewal syndrome. I dreamt of Eowyn and Maglor is running in my head.

I am so screwed.

What do I want, Bloggy?

I want "adventure in the great wide somewhere". But sometimes I ask if I'm just a thrill seeker. A silly tourist who's trying to forget the monotony with money and travel. In lieu of inner peace and all that blah. But I think I shall always wend away. A wanderer.

But that's a whole load of hooey. Thats what happens when you over-analyse

And in the meanwhile, you who read this, careful when you meet a lonely traveler half faded from memory.

The Diwali Updates

Dinner went fine, thank you. The food was more than edible and more than enough. The wine flowed freely and since I never eat when I cook, I was most happy and congenial (not too happy, I hasten to assure you). I lit 18 sparklers in one go. Even sparklers couldn't damp the evening. But then I think of the stress I went through. The kofta gravy V1.0 I could have cried over, the nasty yellow looking gloopy liquid. The halwa didn't solidify till half an hour before serving time. The rangoli looked like a holi ground. But serious thanks to S. and M. We got it all wrapped up and I had time to shower before the guests arrived. We lit 89 candles in the living room. Today morning it looked like the house of wax. I shuddered and moved on to work.

Venkat called, he's moving to Germany. I am very very happy for him. I've been bothered about his job, the lack of it and general aimlessness that I thought was the case. I'm glad, very glad to be wrong and I told him that though I'd miss him, I was so incredibly happy at the news and I am.

More serious topics now. I was speaking to someone at work, she's quite successful, around 12 years older than me and she has a daughter of 10 years old. I asked her how did she manage to juggle a career, a life and be a mother. She took her 2 months maternity leave, had a maid to take care of the baby and at 18 months got her in a day care center. Now she makes time to have dinner with her daughter twice a week plus weekends. And that's how it got to be, I guess.
Here I could rant and rave about how its not fair for the child, but I won't. It wont be too fair for the child to have a depressed, unfulfilled mother. And company of other children might even be good. Especially if the mother only wants one kid, leaving the kid lonely. The only unambiguous feeling I have after this conversation is that motherhood is a serious challenge. And that I had figured out.

The well laid plans of Ipshita

A hundred candles
+5 main course items
+3 dessert offerings
+8-14 guests
+A large rangoli
= 1 delighted, sweaty, floury Ipshita

Yeah, that adds up pretty well. I am going to ring in my Diwali. There is kayaking in the morning, food in the afternoon, rangoli in the evening. I feel happy. True, I have nothing traditional to wear, but these are minor quibbles.

I would have liked more guests actually, but there is another party (slightly older age range) on and I wouldn't know how well university ppl and the other lot would mix. Oh well. The house isn't that big. The 8 confirmed people would be bad enough and there threaten to be up to 14. And I'm just one person. How much more can I plan at this stage.

And my camera is coming back. My fuzzy wuzzy silver well loved camera is coming hoooome. I shall never part with you again. The bedside table shelf has been cleared for you where you shall sit squat in your camera cased glory. After you record some of tomorrow's festivities, of course.

Prey

Pteradons fly the air above Singapore. Skim feeders and harmless, they are a protected species. The Singapore government is trying methods to keep them out of the city area as Pteradon guano is messy. They are lucky that the sounds of the city keep them out at sea most of the times. Sitting by my cubicle I watch two circle on a current, their wings outstretched. And I think that I'd like to be prey. It would be religious to be an object of desire of hunger to something as beautiful as that. That is why we marvel at the great cats, the larger sharks. So I'd like to imagine a more carnivorous pteradon.

Imagine the tall buildings crawling with people like mites. The pteradon perches on the ledge, drills a hole and pulls out the squirming crawling grubby executive and takes him home to her brood of naked scaly pteradon hatchlings high up and far away up on Swissotel. The expensive buildings have learned to fight back with shock grills and the visitors at Swisshotel with a view of the nest are charged double. And I imagine, I'm alone working on a Sunday, feeling safe as my office building is empty when a shadow falls and a great eye stares at me through the window.

Music

Sometimes, I like electronica-ish, Daft Punk, 4Hero
Sometimes mainstream Timbaland, Kanye
Sometimes Show-tunes and soundtracks
Sometimes symphonic metal like Nightwish and Within temptation
Sometimes 80s stuff
Sometimes classic rock stuff (though not much, there's no need for me to listen to it much, I have to listen to a lot already)
Sometimes classic like Ravel, Vivaldi and Gounod
Sometimes new age or ethnic like Karl Jenkins, Anuna
Sometimes krunk like arctic monkeys and f. Ferdinand
Anything really.

And I can't listen to any of it more than one week in a specific genre. No wonder I listen to music secretly when no one else can fault me for it.

Don't you love mood swings. My mood is swinging high now. I have no reason to be happy (the opposite actually) but I feel a spring in my blood. I am afraid reality will come purring at my feet soon. You poor dear cat, you're my real pet, but let me sit here awhile with the lemmings of my mind.
Its making me sit here with a puzzled frown on my face as I twiddle my fingers. This happiness feels like inspiration, but inspiration for what? Where does thwarted inspiration go? And I'm thinking, thinking. The glass is foggy outside, its raining and on the inside, I think. And I think that I am fey. A happiness that comes with a touch of ugly, a streak of dirt. And now I think that, I want to wrap this mood away and put it aside.

I sit crossly, trying my best not to feel happy. Odd, that

I'm feeling wrung out, my modesty and my passive-aggressive vanity is washed away with all the reticence and I'm exposed to me as I am. And I'm like hmm... I need to trade up. Where is incarnation when you need it.
The symptoms are many- overwhelming urge to dress better (to hide the soul-blight), raging for admiration (to make up for all the self-doubt), long blank staring (because the secret is out, I was never thinking)

Still, the structure is there. Its not all bad, only it was worse than I expected. All that quasi-pride hid my insecurities, but insecurities are like fungus, they need sun to die and dry out.

What am I going on about. Its what them calls em MBA applications. I can only hope. A year later, I'm going to come back to this page and read it. I am now imagining that. Only I can't. What will a year bring? Stay tuned.

Back from hols. People tell me I look radiant. Radiant? Well, I am mopey, not feeling well and sniffly. I guess post holiday depression is not very visible,

An interesting hols. I didn't fight with anyone as is my custom. No random flareups. What does that say about me, I don't care. They know I love them endlessly. I tell them that often. I love my parents, my sister and my most beloved dog. It frightens me how much they all mean to me.

Pyari, the dog who lives downstairs, she gave birth to puppies. One of them fell ill. She died in my hands... It was very frightening. To see the life pass like that. I had bad dreams for a few days. There was nothing awe inspiring. The puppy threw up, peed and died. Undignified. Return to Chaos. Life is the miracle. Death is just simple. Return to what we came from. One day I shall go. My heart will stop, and everything I think and the person I am learning to know will just stop. End program. Stop the wheels. Full brakes.

Having said that, on the flight back I was not afraid. I was just bored. Someone once told me they're not afraid of flying because they wanted something to happen. An experience, even if it did lead to death. I secretly thought to myself, that their life must be quite empty and tired that they would not want to return to it. This flight, I almost found myself wishing for the same thing. Has my life become empty and tired? So soon?

Well, I am back. Dearest Bloggy, I've missed writing in you.

Philosophy

Met a guy on the plane yesterday. A 60 year old pump engineer. An agnostic who was born a muslim. A very interesting conversation.

Drawback: I dont like discussing death whilst on an airplane and I was very sleepy, which made my concentration weaken and my mind wandered at times.

But very interesting on the whole. I adore meeting people on the plane. I meet so many interesting ones.

Feeding the Dog

"Give the dog 3 slices of bread when we're gone."
"Yes, Ma" and I shut the door.
Brutus, who is by the door frame looking like his family has abandoned him, turns his attention to me. They say dogs cant understand speech.
I go to the breadbox, fish out three slices of bread and regard them unconcernedly. The dog who is shadowing me, looks up at me anxiously. I sit down on the floor, bread in hand and seem to forget about him. He sit down by me, but pride dictates that he look a little unconcerned too. It might almost work but for the drool.
As I continue to ignore him, he sighs deeply. A heartfelt, rending sigh.
I still ponder the mysteries of the universe. He sighs again, glancing at me, moving a little closer. His eyes soon are fixed on the bread. I casually switch hands, and his eyes are riveted to them.
He sighs agains, a yelping sound underlying it and casually paws me.
Poor puppy. I give in and demand a kiss. Big mistake. Slobbery dogs are not good when they bump their noses against you, but I love him so much, I'm swayed completely and give him all three slices in one go.

A performance piece.

Dat is me

The restaurant at the end of the world

Atop Penang, atop the hill, there's a little hotel with a restaurant sitting by the cliff side, overlooking everything. The grass is green there and the trellis grows thick over the tables. And you are the king of creation on your cafe chair throne, sipping your drink. The waiter plucks flowers for the ladies and makes butterfly shapes. And then he asks you, do you want to see the snakes?

Yes, we cry.

He points up at the trellis. Two adult pit vipers and 5 baby pit vipers, all in their full potency of venom but quiet as the leaves themselves. Minding their own business. After a few photographs, we mind our own too.

And then the rain rolls upon us and beats thickly on the canvas sheet. The four of us and seven snakes under a canvas sheet protected trellis, looking out at the white world, sitting where the earth ends.

The Gods on Mount Olympus. They must have felt a bit like this.

Penang

Just back from penang. My body feels dull. My mind feels dull.

We did a lot, saw a lot, ate very little. Or at least, I ate very little. That would explain the dull feeling. I'm going to have to recharge over the next few days with sleep and food. Thing is, though we had fun, not all of it engaged my mind. Every time I was disposed to admire something, A would switch into documentary mode and say something inane like "Look at those hill, beautiful, just beautiful. Look at the verdant greenery and the salubrious climes." And soon I was stubborn and refused to look at any scenery. Near the end I was blatantly asking A to please be quiet. And B was an animal. All we got from B were requests for food. I mean, I get hungry too. But the animal hunger in her, the chomping, the dull bored look in the eyes unless food was mentioned, sometimes it gave me a chill. C, was perhaps most suited to my frame of mind. I wanted to banter, to joke and laugh. As it was, I had to pull A's leg unmercifully to keep my mind alive. I wanted to look at the crabs on the battered rocks, the moss on the stones, chat with the waiters, bob in the sea. It was no one's fault really. And the thing is, bloggy, to get everything, really everything you want is a luxury. And the end you have to pick and choose the most important. And to me, that is to preserve some amount of peace in the group, make sure no one is disconsolate (B about food), make sure no one is riding roughshod over everyone else (A), or doesn't drown or is embarrassed about it (Sorry C, but that's you, not that I could have saved you if I tried and you had no need to be embarassed, coz it looked scary.) Coz when a group goes out of harmony, its very disturbing. And I've been on the wrong end of all of this (i.e. in the shoes of A,B and C) at times and its not nice.
Enough psychobabble.
On to the trip itself. I was in the sky (para sailing), in the water (and choppy it was, aye) and on a restaurant which might have for all we could see, at the end of the world. And because that place deserves a post of its own, I'll say no more here
There were spiders spinning their webs across a waterfall, hairy crabs doing their territorial thing on the rocks, one brahminy kite, several dogses, a few puppies, snakeses and snakeses.
The water sports were muy fun. We let rip on the jet ski. Lucky yandan was my pillion, she weighed me down, or we would have flown off. A bumpy, choppy, jump the waves experience. The para sailing was effortless, too effortless, I didn't get any real depth of feeling. A tame ride: I lifted off well and went up high, too high. But we went around dutifully and I landed easily. I was so high, because I'm light (?), the beach boys told me. I shall post a picture and show you how high.
The banana boat was a bit of an anxiety. Those who fell off, had a real hard time getting on. When I eventually fell off, I realised it was quite difficult. But I'm generally calm in the water. I can imagine it must have been worse for others.

My favourite moments: The restaurant on the top of the hill and the 15 minutes of sheer fun on that jet ski.

Seething in Private

Please. Please spare me the hyperbole, the poetry and the heart rending constructions you've put on your situations. You were always a bitch and every fibre of yours is turned inwards. Sometimes, maybe you glimpsed reflections of the world outside, but you only saw them on the mirror of your soul. And I used to know you, I know there's a lot of scum floating on that soul.
Hatred is a simple thing. I hate you. Simple, right?

Edit: And I don't mean me.

A good trip, an excellent trip.

Only I'm so tired after it.
So much climbing, walking, hiking..tea, strawberries, excellent people, the different weather zone, ticket tensions,
We went strawberry plucking, clambered all over tea estates, climbed to the moss forests, visited the Orang Aslis, went moonlight mountain climbing to 1500 metres, Munki's b'day celebrations, shutterbugging....

How much shutterbugging at that. I'd say I've got 140-150 pictures. The only thing I don't have pics of is the moonlight climb. It was to 1500 metres up a mountain (hill?) albeit only from 1200 metres, but it was jungle terrain; all roots, mudslides and sheer drops. Lucky it was night, I'd never have dared in the day. I remember near the top, there was a part where we had sidle along an edge and there was a drop of 50 feet. I nearly had the panics but not to disgrace myself, I kept my eyes on my footholds and handholds. The guide was most amused at us. He was only a little older than us, but he's much fitter. During the steepest ascents, we had to beg him to stop and give us a breather, several times. But it was quite steep really and he was so fast. The whole distance from the first climb to the top and back to where we could walk again, was about 7 kilometres. God only knows how long it was including the parts where we could walk. It took us 3 and half hours from start to end.
Was it only a weekend? It felt like we crammed a week into these 2 days.
I've got bruises from where I slipped down the hill onto an obliging tree root.
And I can feel the train rocking. Sleepy.
I'll post some pics here later, Bloggy.

Non-monks

I was chatting with a colleague. He's much older than me and he's been telling me of his life. His diet is strict and his excercise regiment is regular, he wants to become a monk at 40 and he sounds like he means it. he's telling me of all this thoughts, his wish to shut out desire, how his investments have paid off so he can. And he says it to me a fervency which surprises me. He's mild mannered usually.

Why is he telling me this. I am young and my life is before me. I'm full of desires and plans. No monkishness from me. I have a lot to do and I'm brimming with energy. Do and see. Plan and make.

Chains

oh my god. I'm free, I'm free, I'm free.
I knew it was nagging me the conversation I had with Jas and B at work, who both want their first child to be male because he'll keep the family name and look after everything. My god. Haven't we thrown off these patriarchal notions already? What is there in a family name? Why can't a woman look after the family. How on earth will there be equality if women deny it to themselves and to their own children. Chauvinism from men is bad enough, but to meet this from a woman. What kind of opinion do you have of yourself?
And then I was reading of a recreation of early 19th century house life and was reading the chafing of the women. These were successful 21st century women who couldn't take it. In a recreation of 4 weeks. Depression, boredom, irritation result.
Thank God I'm free. Free from having to be one of those women and free from chains that women are willing to deck their own children with.

Fear of flying and other things

I dreamt yesterday that I was with a group of people, all of whom were going to watch a movie and that we were going to watch it on a plane. We came up to the plane, it was a small plane, with wide wings, seating maybe only 10. The pilot came up to us. We strapped in and he took off at an impossible angle. I was suddenly scared. The plane rolled, dipped, dived, turned. I was so frightened, I felt sure we would soon die.The pilot seemed to be in control but he looked faintly puzzled, like a car driver who can't find the right road. He then landed before the movie could start.

I rushed off the plane saying, "I'm not used to small planes". They took off again but I went and watched the movie in a huuuuuge safe movie theatre which was all spread out on one level. After the movie, the plane people (who landed safely) met me and jeered at my fear. The experience, they said, was unbelievable.

Now, I dislike dreams recounted in too much detail but I woke up for once knowing what my dream meant.

It was all about my fear of applying to an MBA and leaving Singapore. Every one of those people who were on the plane with me were either applying or giving their gmat or had given it. They were the ones brave enough to go ahead with it and in my dream I gave in to all the fears and snuggled in my comfort zone and suffered for it.

Man, the mind is a tube of toothpaste. Squeeze it in your sleep and the thoughts come smooshing out in the oddest manner.

I am to me, all that I am

To what extent does someone really have anyone?
Ultimately we're all alone. No matter how much you love or how many people you are fond of, it seems to me that in all essential matters we're alone.

There seems to be no option. I am alien. I am needy and private, lost and assured, underconfident and proud, stupid and intelligent, I am loving and cold. I disgust, provoke, outrage and bore. I drift away wrapped in my own uncertainty.

hi Ipshita, this is Ipshita speaking. I hope you'll like me. It looks like we've got a long journey before us.

Surprisingly Relevant

I found the essay below very interesting
http://library.marist.edu/faculty-web-pages/morreale/sillynovelists.htm

To dispell the notion of my seeming to be a misogynist, I want to clarify that I find men write a whole host of silly novels too. Theirs is a sillyness quite their own.

The best novelists are the ones where you don't think of the first name, just the surname. Austen, Bronte, Gaskell, Tolstoy, Tolkien.

Pain is my master
I feel alive after pain.
But I can't help wishing I need not feel it at all.

also.. arrrrrrgh, the indignity

The highs and lows of verse (and I love 'em both)

Gosh it disturbs me to see you, Gaston
Looking so down in the dumps

I was thinking about these lines when I looked at myself in the mirror this morning thereby establishing that I did look morose and that I quote Disney now instead of poetry. I quickly rethought that. And what is wrong, pray, in quoting Beauty and the beast. It was written by Howard Ashman who is a good lyricist. And lyrics are functional bits and pieces, overshadowed by their more glamorous cousins, poetry. Yet when you're walking by yourself, its not often poetry which comes to us, but more some fitting piece of 'lyricry'. It must be another chalked up to the triumph of teamwork, for where would lyrics be without the music. So, Howard Ashman and Alan Menkel, you Disney lie-abouts you, stand up and take a bow. I think you guys did a great job. I'll be humming your stuff for a while.

And now, to lift me out of them dumps, here's Walt Whitman with "leaves of grass"
I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars,
And the pismire is equally perfect, and a grain of sand, and the egg
of the wren,
And the tree-toad is a chef-d'oeuvre for the highest,
And the running blackberry would adorn the parlors of heaven,
And the narrowest hinge in my hand puts to scorn all machinery,
And the cow crunching with depress'd head surpasses any statue,
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels

The first line gets me going, it really does. Do you feel how large and enormous its meaning is? It's staggering and dizzyingly numbing. What fabulous splendour could repay the richness of the words strung together so?

More Brutus

I found this picture of my doggiest doggy on my sister's orkut profile.How is it possible not to love you more everyday?

The darned reception today

It's the reception today.
a)I'm not yet sure if this is one of the universities I'm applying for
b)Long term career goals, not yet clear.
c)What on earth will I have to say? And to whom?

Oh this application business is excruciating.

Someone advised me to get there quite early. I think I shall. I'm going to prepare like a sensible human being which I'm doing now by reading up as much as I can from the brochures, website and other sources. Then, before I leave I'll prepare like a girl and make sure I look okay. A neat and well groomed appearance is the best shield as well as an amulet of confidence a girl can have. I don't know if that profound statement is true, but increasingly I fight nervousness by attention to myself.
What a psychologist would make of that I don't know, but honestly, it makes one less thing to worry about. I'm not relying on it, it's just how a musician polishes his instrument. It doesn't make the tone better, it's presentation.

Everyone loves bananas

I got the zoo really early yesterday. Made it in time for the morning feed. There were no visitors about. I asked the keeper if I could help out. He said sure and passed me a bunch of bananas. Immediately, three lories came and perched on my shoulders calling and asking for pulp. A lemur (Flossie, i think) tugged on my arm, its tiny hand, warm and alive. I held out a banana to it. It took it nimbly and stuffed its mouth. I was balancing (Or trying to) my attention and the bananas between the three birds and the lemur when I felt a tugging on my shirt. I was standing by the balustrade on the viewing platform and the sloth and come on to the railing and was tugging at my shirt to get my attention for bananas. Oh, that sloth. He had a huge silky wet nose with this he cautiously smelt my hand and took in the mushed banana I held out. He had tiny sharp teeth but such a soft wet tongue. His little eyes peered out at me as he slowly took food from my hand. He chewed and swallowed slowly and examined my hand for remains and gave it a final lick before asking for more. Now sloths have got a bad rep as slow moving. It's true that they are, but its a survival tactic. Predators scan by movement. A slow moving animal is likely to be missed. And when they are surprised or feel the need to defend themselves, they can be quick and vicious with their huuge claws. I wasn't worried on that count though. This guy was eager by sloth standards and there was no tension between us. In fact I had to hold in my urge to stroke and baby him. The lemur was impatient with the attention I was giving the sloth. What's the big deal she seemed to say and pawed me a few times, to remind me of my obligations to her. She was adorable. She greedily ate all the bits I gave her, smelling my hand for left overs. So yeah, there I was, hands full with peeled bananas, a sloth at my right, a lemur at the railing at my left and 3 parrots squawking noisily perched on any part of me which offered a grip.


Bliss.

Presents for family

Baba got his book yesterday. He says he likes it, but he hasn't finished it yet. I hope he will still like it then. I feel happy. So what if he got it a little early.

It's so easy to pick out presents for my family. We're all fanatics one way or another. Baba pretty much appreciates any good book. Ma loves beautiful things- crystals, porcelain, gemstones, art. And Tia? Well, once I'd say she was the easiest to pick out a present for. A fellow LOTR fan, a brilliant pianist, artist and with a taste in humour similar to mine. These days she's a little caught up with her studies, so one is not so sure if she'll really appreciate anything that will distract her from them. Her storage space is limited these days with her move to hostel. I want to shower her with LOTR collectibles, terry Pratchetts, Garfield& far side comics, new music, art materials. But to be honest, she doesn't have the time or space for them. I'm going to have to think hard when her birthday comes around.

And Brutus? What does this most handsome member of the Bhattacharya family like? What does this photogenic dashing clan member desire? That's the easiest answer. A doggy-bone, that's what. Food in any form will do too. Brutus, I do love you so. You're my most favourite person in the world. My very dearest darling dog.

Brutus amongst the roses I sent Ma& Baba for their silver anniversary

JP leitmotifs

Music is sometime a tag to memories.
Sometimes I have a play list going when I read a certain book. Then some of those songs will be irretrievably linked with that book. I've heard them playing in my head when I reread.
Sometimes movie themes stick. These days when I read LOTR, the themes play. I hum them along. Tonelessly, I'm sure, to an external audience, but in my head Howard Shore's themes are ringing. Jurassic park, the song plays in my head.

Why am I bringing this up now? Well, I've been learning to play the Jurassic Park theme. And I discovered it works the other way too. As the music starts out soft and hopeful, I see the embryos, the wonder of the paleontologists, when the music is triumphant and proud, you can see the might of man and the fulfillment of the park's creation, the slow sinister notes, bring back the glitches and the eerie promises of doom, the crashing in the minor scales spiralling, those are the horrible bits. And some bits have some scenes attached.(Sigh. I want it to be true. I want to see a tree trunk and realise the brachiosaur. And to see the forests of the Costa Rica; that's at least possible)

Anyway, I think I play this song better because I have such a full feeling for the song. I know what the tune is saying, what it needs to be. It's astonishing how much better it sounds compared to my more complicated and critically better played pieces. I recorded myself playing it and when I play it back I can hear myself thinking.

Bloggy. You're very limiting. What I want to do, is play music to you, download my memories into you. There is only so much one can do with words.

The Endeavour sails back

The Endeavour has landed safely!

Little leaps of my heart.

My Dad, he's a space nut. He tells me where he was when they landed on the moon. He followed all the space missions avidly. He keeps grumbling that Mars hasn't been attempted yet.

Me, I'm from post-space-race era. It doesn't make sense to me to land on Mars just yet. Yet, some of Baba's enthusiasm has rubbed off on me. I keep track of the shuttles and when they launch, what they do, when they return. I love reading about the space walks the astronauts do. And I read the whole of the Columbia report. I don't mind admitting I have bad dreams of my being on a shuttle and it burns up on reentry.

Anyway, this post celebrates the Endeavour's safe return despite an underbelly gash. Hooray! My heroes.

Who are Gauri and Shiv?

I plead guilty to googling my name. But sin reaps its wages. Look what I found.

http://forum.indya.com/showthread.php?s=837f6df7317fbae01e2654e681d42cf1&t=39106

The rollercoaster of angst

It has started up again. I'm hoping S's pride in himself will sustain him through the cowardice, insincerity, instability and shallowness displayed by V.

And whats the point in telling him that all will be okay, when we all doubt it. I am glad we didn't mouth any platitudes. Sympathy, he's got that. He doesn't need us to say things we don't believe.

That's the problem in believing the worst of anyone. So often you're justified in it.

I don't need improving.

Yesterday I spent a godawful amount of time trying to make my nails presentable. I filed, buffed, polished, cleaned, base-coated painted, top coated, cuticle oiled. It was not worth the trouble, but today is the awards and I really thought I'd take the trouble to look presentable.
A colleague at work saw them and said "ah nice nails. Not bad Ipshita, you're finally improving"

Improving?
Because my nails were polished? I keep them clean at all times and trimmed, but I never bother polishing them for a reason. Its irritating and hard to get a perfect sheen. Any one of the coats could go wrong and then you have clean and start all over.

And how on earth does glitzy nail colour improve me, pray?

Spot the tortuous idioms

After years and years of protesting unconvincingly that my mind was innocent and that I thought good of everyone I'm coming clean now. As all of you suspected, my mind is always in the gutter. I unfailingly think of the worst thing imaginable and the worst of everyone.

Now to redeem myself

You see, though my mind is in the gutter, I do give that people are capable of that entire spectrum of betterness. And I am honestly happy when what I fear does not come to pass. I am an optimistic pessimist. I like it very much when I'm proved wrong.

That's all fine, bloggy, but I mean to come to this. I was mournfully predicting break ups and all that. The confused woman has come through the haze as she ever was and happiness is back. But the horn of caution has been blown and S is not taking anything for granted. He is jealously hoarding his precious precious relationship and shall fly down on Saturday.

I am very happy. Or as happy as one can be in another person's happiness. I'm happy that S is not looking like death and I don't have to muffle my laughter at Jay Leno lest my joy runs heavily over someones sorrow. Selfish b to the end, eh Ippi?

Walking papers

It is the age old story of the confused woman.

Segue to introspection here, we'll return to the crux of the problem later. Why is it that women get confused like this? I am generalising, but when men are rat finks, they're quick and decisively rat-finky. Women get confused (author not excluded).

Confusion between:
here and there, the rush and the steady, the now and the later, the ant and the grasshopper. And often, often the instinct is towards the wrong thing.

Reasons (blame allocation):
a)new feelings i.e. something the girl has not experienced before. Blame youth and inexperience.
b)Inability to reason i.e. too much importance on all that crap about what the heart feels, what you "know" inside, one true love and all kinds of romantic nonsense. Blame Hindi movies.
c)A genuine dilemma. the bird in hand is unsatisfactory. Risk analysis between this bird and those two in the bush is inconclusive leading to confusion. Yep, we women can be cold calculating 'n' manipulative.

Segue back to the case in point.
V in considering giving S his walking papers. S is really broken up about it. I was shocked to see him like that. S is being really decent about it. He's spoken sensibly to her. Very sensibly. Too sensibly? At 12:30 I had to speak to him. I implored him not to be sensible. Attack the heart, I told him. He told me he tells her he loves her every 2 minutes. I would have felt better if he hadn't told me about the 2 minutes. It added to the calculated feeling. He needs to go romantic hero on her.

verdict: He has to go down to meet her. No way will the outcome favour him. And when he meets her, he'll have to do a Rhett Butler.

Sneaking in my judgemental side: V, very stupid reasons indeed. S, how on earth are you not angry?

I wonder what I'd have done. I think I might have drawn up in pride and told the person to go their own way. With reasons like this, the crawling back is inevitable. And then you wonder, do you want the person back. S is really nice, I respect him immeasurably for not reacting like I might have. I really stink, you know.

I stink more than you think: I was thinking of Wodehousian schemes to get them back together. Seriously.

I am selfish in the face of others' troubles. After listening to S., I thought about myself and R.. At some time we'll be long distance. Insert obvious worry here.

What worried me most:
S. saying that if this goes belly up he's going to become someone he wont like. He's losing faith in relationships. He says this has happened to him twice before (I don't know about them due to my policy of never asking). He says he looks like a fool for trusting.
That's terrible. No one should lose faith in happiness two people can have. There are breakups and tough times, but one needs to remember the good with the bad. That's why we put ourselves through it, because we have faith that something good could be waiting for us. That something good can happen. And it can. It always can.
The pessimists will tell me, it may not ever happen. And I would tell them then, if I don't try, I wont know. Even if its hopeless, I want to be able to be like a deep space array, waiting in the desert, all my senses open to all the probabilities, waiting. Its easy for me to say perhaps. I don't know, I'm in a good place etc etc. Maybe if and when I'm in a bad place I can drag some of this hope to then.

Okay, enough tralala hope light sweetness and joy. Ugh.

Point is, I don't like seeing him think this way.

Happiness

You tell me what happiness is.
Is it the quiet acquiescence of two people?We were out with a bunch of friends. I was moved when we were discussing politics. Things are so complicated. People forget why we're working towards these political goals. You've got to sit down and realise who your target audience is. I had to speak up.

Do you know when I was happy? When Rajesh looked at me in the middle of his political "harangue" when I had interrupted to remind him of whom he was "haranguing" for. Those who are doing without, though the without is defined loosely. He stopped and acknowledged my pain. I loved him forever.

My pain was real, his logic was real. We acknowledged each others' realness, our individual thoughts without compromising our feelings. We both existed independent and infinite in that moment. That is who we are. And because we did, we're made. For each other that is.

Who's a kid now

Last week or so, I've been struggling in different ways with issues of maturity and authority (and not necessarily mine). I have a colleague my age but she's a weather vane. The slightest thing puts her into a panic and I've reassured her often enough to feel like a mother. She comes to me with all the office gossip and then asks me unanswerable questions like "why did he say that?" How should I know. I rebuked her for it. I rebuked her also in her incessant quest to find out how much I'm paid. She's honestly old enough to be a little less inquisitive. She's also old enough to be able to hold an opinion in her head longer than a conversation with anyone else. She's too easily influenced, too easily swayed, does not think enough for herself. Sigh. On the plus side, she's hard working and sincere. I'm only mentioning that to assuage my guilt in bitching.
There's another girl, five years older than me. She's recently discovered the joys of being female, doing her hair, buying pretty clothes, watching her figure. Only its a little cloying watching her artless joy at all this. She measures the shrinking of her waist with audible glee, exercises in the empty meeting rooms, crows about the latest grooming she's discovered. I don't think I was like this even when I was in the difficult ages between 12-16. If and when I decided to add to my upkeep, it was a quiet affair, not blared out for all to hear. Sure when one's having a girly talk at midnight in kaftans and pajamas, we might laugh and discuss it or ask questions discreetly. I draw the line at office, if not well before. Sure you may think its so sweet and sincere and honest of her but face it, office is not a place to display your lack of worldly knowledge.

And then there is me. I got flouted by my colleague who disbelieved me. Rajesh and I quarrelled later about how I handled it. I told him to go check it with an independent authority. Rajesh said I should have just put my foot down. I don't know who was right. The next morning I sent out an email stating the plan of action. When aforesaid minion-colleague debated it, I told him there was no room for discussion at the moment and that Satish agreed with me. The flouting has stopped there at the moment. Have I lost authority from this? I've decided to keep my chatting with minion-colleague to a minimal level. Being too friendly will only encourage him and to keep a distinction will make remember there is a distinction. I am all for discussion but blatant insubordination is just wrong.

Ah the pitfalls of age. Sometimes I feel sad for the passing years. At other times I welcome the wealth of experiences they bring.

Not a talk show

A friend of a friend is not well. And someone I know works with him. She doesn't know he's not well. She just mentioned that his excessive lifestyle is catching up with him. In her words-his hand shakes when he's holding something, he doesn't remember anything he's told. She didn't realise the significance of what she said and I felt a lump come into my throat. I don't know him well but I don't need to, to feel something akin to sorrow.

Scribblita

Up late last night, doing some necessary writing. It felt good to scribble after so long. Problem is that necessary writing should be different from scribbling, more focused, more purposeful. Ah, who cares. The first page dragged a bit but then I got kicked into a good flow.
I enjoy writing. It comes so easily. It may be no good but it could be worse.
After the scribbles, I spoke to Rajesh on the phone for nearly an hour. It was 2:30 finally by the time I slept. And considering how much I like to sleep that's late for me.

Ronery

I am so ronery.

It's all a by product of sitting in my eyrie and watching the wind and rain blither about me all weekend, I'm sure. But it doesn't take it away from me, that I'm feeling ronery. Sar and I stayed up talking till late yesterday night. Then when I lay down to sleep, I couldn't sleep. A thousand things were on my mind, simple questions had such complicated answers that I wouldn't let them go half way, as much as I tried.

Example of things on me mind
1) Saranya's friend is being pressurised to marry. Her boyfriend isn't ready to commit yet. He's 25. He's being touted as scum for not consenting to even agree to marry in the future. But my sympathies were with him. And what is this undue importance on marriage. It does not complete one. The sooner our parents and elders realise this, the better (my parents excepted because they've been darling on the issue, bless them). But others. I can't help but take up the war cry. All those women and the stupid biological clock issue. As if there aren't enough children in this world.

2) I'm supposed to write on what is most important to me and why. This little thing has precipitated such a crisis in my life, you wouldn't believe. At every moment, I'm second guessing myself, watching myself slyly through half averted eyes, hoping to catch me give myself away as to what really is important. So I was really putting myself through the wringer, trying to combine brutal honesty with being succint

3)follow that flute. I have a longing to play on my flute. My hand has been sprained slightly for the last week, so I haven't been able to try. But last night, what with the weather, I just wanted to play odd warbling tunes on my silver sweetheart. I do love my flute. It deserves a lot better than me.

4)Timmy came to mind yesterday. These dogs of my life will leave me insane if I keep remembering and missing them. They were worth it during my times with them.

I was so tired and alone thinking away, I was afraid the sun would rise before I could sleep. As it so often happens, I was asleep and I don't know when it happened.

Agatha Christie

Finished reading her autobiography. It was a really good read. It starts off a little insipid, but it grew better as the chapters progressed. The things she did, the people she met, her relationships are all detailed, but the best part was hearing her voice through it all. Its one thing to read her books, quite another to listen to her tell you things. She emerged as a charming, shrewd woman who enjoyed herself. There is surprisingly little conceit or arrogance in her words and she never seems to take herself seriously.
It was good really. However, some things are not addressed, her disappearance in 1926 is glossed over, her second husband's infidelities are not mentioned. She's entitled to her privacy, I guess. I can imagine it all anyway, these are small gaps that one can fill in. Her disappearance is easy to fill in and I imagine she tolerated Max Mallowan's infidelities, she was really so much older than him, she must have been wiser and more mature. They seemed to have a good understanding and seemed to have stayed friends at least to her death.
She says she was ready for death, in her epilogue, written in her final illness. I almost understand that. Hers was a full life.

Everyone knows it's windy

Woke up this morning to really stormy winds. The curtains were horizontal with the force of the wind, things were flying everywhere. When I got up to look outside, the wind hit me. It was such a shock feeling the slap and shove of the force. I got the window closed with some effort, arranged the room. The high whistle of the wind was replaced by a howling as it whipped around the house. I went outside to take a look. It was splendid. A storm was brewing, clouds dark as sin and up here on the 20th floors, the wind was really ripping.
Really, I felt like Dorothy in Kansas. Pity, its raining now, so the wind has fallen. I do love my house.

Indignities

Arrrrrgh.
And you know what I mean.
(writhing)

A Life

I read Maupassant's 'A Life' yesterday. It was supposed to be a part of the reading balance, must keep to high-brow a while after all that SW trash. The thing is, I expected to do it as a duty. Instead, it was wonderful.

It follows the life of a girl, Jeanne and her expectations from it. Her illusions fade and she becomes more and more cynical of life. Her eventual marriage is a farce and everyone she loves seems to become tarred. Through it all she still seeks to bestow her love on something. The book ends with her looking down upon her granddaughter and another character says "Happy things come in their own time."

How did he do it? How did he put himself so well under the skin of a woman like her? It was real. His characters are changeful, diversion-seeking and layered. I disliked almost every one of them as people, but that's me, I don't like people. And in spite of my disliking everyone and shaking my head over all of them, I loved the book. I'm thinking of it all the time.
It makes me think. Relationships are sacred and fragile. Good ones are rare. And life just is. Illusions are one's own fault. Sometimes one has to take the shit.

There's a point to all this moralising, Bloggy. I tend to think that happiness happens. I think you have to make happiness happen and take every little bit of it you can find because it is not the usual fare.

Anyway, the blah ends there. Great book. A little disturbing, but full points for realism and naturalistic portrayal of men and women. Guy, you had me from the go..

Cambodia

Now that I vented angst in my earlier post, here are some nice little piclets of my Cambodia trip. These aren't my photos, hence I am in them . These are just the touristy photographs. As soon as I can, shall upload some of the school pictures I took. Zem are good.

Clueless

Sexism, I can't escape it. Being female I have to speak about it sometime.

Yet what I want to speak out about is not about sexism inflicted on us by men but by other women. It is easy, almost comfortable to start viewing oneself as a woman deserving of privileges and comforts because of the notions of the kind of company one keeps. It becomes right, suddenly, to accept luxury. But as I've believed and always will believe, if I accept this, I am giving up some part of my freedom. I will then owe some part of this to someone else. Whereas what someone else owes me will be an intangible, difficult to argue and to secure in times of need.

I am not going to retire early and live off any possible husband's earning. I am going to split my bills fairly. I am not going to whine about presents. I am not going to expect anything. In return I will have my freedom. At a whim I will leave to see and do all that I need to before I eventually die. As afraid as I am of dying, I am more afraid of not doing everything I ought while I live. How could I do that with the trapping of luxury which are not rightfully mine? I'll be fine so long as I don't suddenly start expecting anything from anyone.

I often imagine a really equal society. An equal society is one where a daughter of mine will not have to hear people dismiss her moods as PMS, her ideas as fanciful, her tastes as girlish. She will have to do a bit to earn it, sure. But rationality and sensibility are not unfairly denied one sex or the other. She can do it.

Sometimes people say women are not ambitious. Hm. Some men want to earn more as a proof of superiority. They want to achieve great things on their respective ladders. My ladder isn't a corporate one. My ladder wasn't decided by my hormones. You could say my ladder was decided when I was one and was forever bringing stray puppies and toads home. I'm ambitious in my own way. I want to think I will eventually change other peoples lives.

What bothers me most is the mathematics and the common perception women are not good at it. I am not bad at mathematics. I am even good at it. But I know I'm not brilliant at it. No flashy insights, no blinding realisations, no look-and-I-already-know-the-answer. I got really good marks in school and in university. But because of not being in the top percentile I feel like a failure to women. I was cribbing to Shivani who said "Ha, I'm really good at maths." Abashed, and not really feeling up to matching up grades and stuff (infantile, that would be) I admitted defeat. But how I'd love to be brilliant in maths. I fall short of Rajesh by a bit. I say it's due to impatience and sloppiness. He'll just smile smugly at you.

Why am I so competitive.? What do I have to prove? I was so smug myself with my stupid sudoku time (of 10:38 minutes at the Evil level of difficulty; , ugh ), I have to hold on to some dignity here. I am not stupid, I don't have to prove anything to anyone. Why am I so insecure in my own abilities? Its there in everything except my actual work. I am over-competitive in games, crosswords, scrabble, writing, art. Every tiny thing I do, I hate to be judged inferior. I won't let myself be a slur on anything I represent.

I haven't a clue. It's like I am fighting what I imagine are other people's perceptions of me. I haven't a clue what I'm trying to do.

a-HA-ha-ha

I seem to have developed an extremely irritating polite laugh. It happened like this

When I was sane and more anti-social I used to smile politely at social inanities. Then I realised that it gave me a severe reserved air. You can see it, can't you? Some one cracks a joke and Ipshita smiles politely. So I thought it would be better if I laughed politely. It was. It seemed and was more appropriate. Only now I can't stand the sound of it. no one else seems to mind (yet) but it drives me mad when I hear myself.

Silly person makes silly comment. Ipshita flashes teeth and "a-HA-ha-ha"

I'm not got going to be a Pavlovian dog. Ring the "social joke" bell and watch Ipshita "a-HA-ha-ha".

It's probably code

"Korto is probably too old to be Krayt if what Krayt himself says in his holocron is taken literally. Also Krayt being Korto would mean that Quinlan would have failed to keep the promise he made to his son and that would be sad."

Don't you just love fanboys? I got lost on a SW site (I was trying to find out more about EU HS) and found this. I don't know what it means either

loud laughter

a prophecy from one of the SW books..

He will remake/rename himself
He will know brotherhood
He will fabricate a pet

That's the funniest prophecy I've ever heard.

Worst books ever

My god, I'm such a kook.
I read the crap new jedi order books. Oh, they are so much crap. I can't emphasise it enough. I like star wars but its always been a girly thing rather than a legitimate Science fiction interest. Its not legitimate science fiction because it's too childish, barely any science and contradicts itself wildly. And my interest is girly because, I mean, I liked Han solo, never quite bought in with all the crap force philosophising. Now these books are 40 years down the line. More Han Solo, yayyy. And more random handsome pilots, yayyyy.

Sometimes people think I have good taste in books. This just sank the Lusitania, people.

In my defense, I read both crap and good books. Only I need both. Handsome, witty, debonair pilots shooting down evil scum written by two-bit writers as well as deep multi layered rounded characters facing difficult and unusual times penned by skillful observers of human nature.

Though the star wars books are really so bad. I was literally flipping through them to get to the bits I wanted to read. the entire SW universe lacks imagination. Crap names scatter the pages, caedus, sidious, Shawnkyr, jagged (though he's one of the pilots)... Crap terminology: potentium heresy, younglings.. yadda, yadda
Sooooooooooo bad. Give me my time back! I demand a refund. (Erm.. I'll keep the pilots bit, though, thanks.)

Family

Bad dreams yesterday night. Woke up in the middle of the night, telling myself they weren't true. Couldn't sleep for a long while afterwards. In my dreams I was crying profusely. Oddly enough, when I woke up, my face and pillow were wet with tears.

I love my family more than anything or anyone else in this world. Without them I'd be nothing, with any other people in any of their places, I'd be a lot different and a lot worse. I can never never do without them.
And you know when I say family, I mean Ma, Baba, Tia and our darling Brutus. I love you all.

Revenge

In the 1970s-1980s you watch them kill your mother, your grandmother as your cries are ignored. You are left alone to grow up with teenagers who do their best to bring you up. And there is hatred in your heart. When you grow up, you will kill those who killed your family.

It sounds like a movie, it sounds hackneyed and overused, but here's the clincher. I'm talking of elephants. There is an entire generation of "teenage delinquent" elephants in Uganda who've grown up without the support structure of a herd due to excessive poaching in the 70s and 80s. Now there have been higher rates of attacks in these areas from elephants and this is the prevailing view:
The elephants are suffering from post traumatic stress and are wreaking vengeance upon human settlements. "They are certainly intelligent enough and have good enough memories to take revenge", I quote Joyce Poole, the research director at the Amboseli Elephant Research Project in Kenya.

It is chilling. These intelligent animals suffer and react just as we do. If we ever learn to understand and communicate in the future, if we ever come to the consciousness that being human is not being superior, how will we ever beg their forgiveness?