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.