In Pursuit of Happiness

Caramelly

2012-02-12T10:44:00.000-08:00

Today's been a long day. I'm tired but I can't seem to fall asleep just yet, so I thought I would write to you. I tried for a while but for the life of me, I couldn't think of anything cheerful to say. So instead, I went through my old drafts and dug this out. I wrote the piece below sometime in November last year, I think, but never posted it, I'm not quite sure why. Still, better late than never.

Today, I feel... caramelly. You know, like a pot of boiling caramel. The surface of it is still, with just a lazy bubble here and there, that swells slowly and bursts in slow motion and then you smell butter and sugar. But there's so much going on below, and if a chance spatter catches your arm, it stings godawfully.
I boiled and stirred, poured, chilled and cut, and quickly fell into a rhythm. These little suckers are addictive, especially if like me, you enjoy the feeling of your teeth gummed together, even down to that moment of panic when you wonder if they'll ever get unstuck. Of course, eventually they do, and the caramel is gone, just leaving a faint memory of butter. And then you have to do it all over again, because it can't have been as good as you remember, can it? Can it?

2012-02-11T06:13:00.000-08:00

It's just me and the dog tonight. Salad for dinner. A tangle of greens enlivened with roasted peanuts and bright, pucker-inducing lime juice.
The dog prefers bread and milk. What does he know.

2012-02-10T07:57:00.000-08:00

Goodness, reader. I just re-read that last post and realised, I'm getting awfully dramatic, aren't I? I must check the tendency. I thought up that outrunning my demons line as I ran and it cheered me up to no end.

Another thing that's been cheering me up lately is this pot of pansies, next to the main gate of the colony. I pass them every evening on my walk/run. They're big. The biggest pansies I've ever seen, coloured a brash yellow with deep purple hearts. And there are more of them every day.

2012-02-10T07:40:00.000-08:00

Today, I loaded two albums of Sara Bareilles' onto my iPod, pulled on my running shoes, and called for a very very excited dog. The shadows were lengthening when we set out, and the evening was chilly and lonesome. Because I run with a very distracted dog, I usually run in fits and spurts. We set off in a mad churn of legs and paws and then suddenly grind to a halt when Panda smells something interesting. It works for us.
Today though, I was impatient with his stops and leisurely sniffings. I dragged him along grimly till he finally caught on and matched me, bound for stride.
We ran round and round in mile-long circles, as dusk turned into night and the streetlamps came on. And I learned that if you run fast enough, you can outrun your demons, for a little while.

2012-02-08T00:54:00.000-08:00

I'm thinking of a summer day last year, when my cousin, N, was here on a visit. N is the least talkative of my cousins. Usually, she just smiles while I chatter on, slightly hysterically.
It was a Sunday morning and we were headed to the Adventure Island. The Island is an amusement park way up in the north of Delhi. N loves rollercoasters. I wanted to prove that I was brave. We marched out to the metro station at nine in the morning, draped in cotton scarves, hatted and sunscreened up. We reached the island by ten, and were almost the first ones there. N was excited and it was infectious.
We'd worked out a plan of attack so we could go on as many rides as possible before it was time to return home at five. We picked a ride called the Tornado first, which was a giant spinning roundabout to which chairs were attached with metal chains. You sat in a chain and as the Tornado spun, your chair would shoot outwards and turn, so you were sitting almost parallel to the ground and screaming your head off. I certainly did. N was laughing.
We went on ride after ride, and on each I screwed my eyes tighter shut and squealed louder. I was slightly green when N led me excitedly to the rocking boat. The boat didn't just rock, it also rose about thirty feet high and then spun round and round several times, turning you upside down. I told N to go on without me and stood on the side, trying to control my weirdly churning insides. The boat operator was particularly sadistic, and laughed up at me while he left them hanging upside down, thirty feet in the air. N got off afterwards and told me she wanted to go again.
I joined the line with her. I'd made a promise to myself a few years ago to always try everything once, and to never allow myself to have regrets. I know what it's like to play something over and over in my head, and wish I'd been braver, done something different. I didn't want to regret my cowardice later, over getting on the ride. So I climbed on beside N, held on to my seat's arms tightly and closed my eyes. I forced them open briefly while we were hanging upside down, just so I wouldn't regret not looking later too, and then closed them tightly again.
I stumbled off that ride, insides churning wildly and was later, quietly, miserably sick. I thought about it today, and I realised that I don't remember the sickness or even how it felt to hang upside down, thirty feet above the ground, with the blood rushing to my head. All I remember is my pride.

The most important thing in the world

2012-02-04T00:32:00.000-08:00

Appa and I were talking today, about the telecommunications industry, the 2G spectrum scam, the economics of the whole thing and about culpability. Big, important, very cool sounding stuff. He was doing most of the talking, because I know very little. I was listening intently. And beside us, a little dog was getting very very impatient.

He began by chasing his own tail round and round and round, till he was a black and white blur. I did my best not to watch him and focus on appa instead.

When he tired of that game, he trotted up to us and barked, shrill little barks. Even without a language, he communicates very well. I pushed him away. Optical fibres were being discussed. Then Panda escalated. He jumped up on me and began scraping at my arm. He does not respond well to being ignored. I finally caved and took him out.

We stood outside in a patch of winter sunshine, with sparrows hopping about around us. It was then that I realised why it is that I love this little dog so much. He puts things into perspective, no? His demands are peremptory and insistent, and always make me laugh, so comical is his seriousness. The rest of the world could wait, while Panda chased the sparrows.

Again

2012-02-03T05:29:00.000-08:00

I'm afraid I am become such a cliche, reader. You and I are the opposite of fair-weather friends, no? I come here exactly when I need comfort or simply, unburdening. I write to you in half-sentences and subtext and leave here quite pleased at my own cleverness. I don't know if anyone out there is listening, and it really doesn't matter. I talk anyway.

This blog, I realised today, has become exactly what I intended. A place that makes me happy, and maybe makes some of you happy too? When I read through my older posts, after I'm done cringing at the syntax errors, I remember those sharp stabs of joy I used to feel. They're more muted now, when they're from memory, but they exist. Nostalgia doesn't always make you sad. It can bring joy too.

The past few days have been... hard. So I turn to this white place which is my little corner of the interweb, and I talk to you. I also listen to an awful lot of Leona Lewis, luxuriate in the romance of the sadness I feel, and laugh a little at how silly I'm acting.

Laughter is good. I laughed till my sides ached today, at Panda. He was really excited about our evening walk, and reared up on his hind legs as is his wont, to paw me and urge me to tie my shoelaces faster. Today, his leg slipped and he fell on the floor, hard. He bounced right back up, don't worry, and I'm still chuckling when I think of the expression on his face. He's such a happy dog, and some of that inevitably rubs off on me.

You're probably going to see quite a lot of me in the next few days. I plan on going back to my old format of remembering the things that make me happy each day. And I'll do my best to ensure that not all of them involve Panda.

Until tomorrow then.

2012-01-31T07:03:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this from Coimbatore. I'm here for the best of all reasons. A wedding. This time it was my cousin, J. I've been here four days now, dressed in sarees and high heels, with jasmine buds in my hair. I met relatives I never knew I had, some who I vaguely remember, and an increasing number of familiar faces.

On the evening of the reception, when I sat down for a little while to give my sadly abused toes some rest, a little girl sat opposite me. She picked the petals off a daisy and blew them in my face.

I've gossiped with my grandmother and aunt, acted as wingman for J till his best friend showed up, sung till my throat turned hoarse. I've smiled at people whose names I no longer remember and promised to visit them, someday. Promises we both know I won't keep. I've soothed hurt feelings, cleaned and packed, carried messages and baggage, talked and listened. Listened more than talked. I've also not slept very much.

The wedding vows they took were basically a dignified pinky-swearing, to be best friends for the rest of their lives. I liked that. I stood and watched J get married in a shower of rice grains and rose petals. The music got very loud for a second, everyone was standing in a tremendous crush, and then it was over.

I'm alone now for a little while, after being surrounded by people for three days. I'm not smiling because it hurts my face. People keep coming in every once in awhile to talk. We've formed tenuous bonds, working together for a common cause. I've done this before, more times than I can count. Each time, a few more bonds last. Here, after all, we are already bound by blood. I feel very rich to have so many people who care about me.

I leave here tomorrow, back to my old life, but slightly changed. Change is good. It is sameness that is frightening. I think we need occasions like these, so we give pause and reconsider our own lives, but also so we realise it isn't always about us. For a little while, we celebrate the lives of the people we care about.

I stop typing every once in awhile to look at my henna-stained fingers. I'm very tired, but I think, at peace. Tomorrow is another day.

2011-11-23T20:02:00.000-08:00

I'm not doing so good, Reader. I'm afraid, and I'm not quite sure of what. I've done this before. Sat around and waited to be rescued. No one ever comes. There's a reason why we write white knights into stories. They're mythical creatures. The mistake we make is believing that they can be real.
It's hard to realise that you are your own white knight. Rescuing is a tough business. It's never as simple as jumping up on a horse and galloping away. No. There are dragons to slay first. And not fire-breathing, scaly ones, but long, tedious ones, the sort that you can't fight with logic or fire. They don't make for very good stories. And they're all inside me.
No one is coming.

2011-09-15T02:59:00.000-07:00

It's raining in Delhi today. I'm lying very still in my bed. I've sprained my neck, the result of a fall a couple of days ago, and any movement is painful. Panda is keeping me company. He nibbled on my sleeve for a while, but now he's curled up under the bed. I reach down to pat him every time the thunder gets particularly loud.
I can hear the rain and smell it. The lightning flashes illuminate my room, eerily. Otherwise, it is as dark as night. I tried turning on the light earlier, but turned it off quickly. It felt harsh and blue and intrusive. This darkness is better, if a little frightening. How quickly the clouds change day to night.

I tried listening to music, but even Zila Khan sounded strained, singing as she did, over the rain. I didn't bother queuing up another song after she lapsed into silence.

I made a sandwich for us earlier. Honey and cheese, toasted and melty. I cut it in squares, and we ate it piece by piece. Afterward, we had coffee, strong and black. I drank that all by myself, because Panda didn't seem to appreciate it.

It's nice, staying at home on a rainy day, even if it hurts to nod.

Images

2011-07-18T00:16:00.000-07:00

I’m confused, reader. I feel a little like a hamster running on a wheel, just because it’s there. There are so many things I wish I could do, so many things I want to do… Picking one and sticking with it seems so scary. I settle for creative inertia instead, but now even that is grating on my nerves.

I took a long walk with Panda on Sunday morning, and tried to think. It didn’t help that Panda kept enacting different versions of this scenario.

(I'll credit this as soon as Ken tells me where he got it from. It was too good not to share.)

It had rained the previous night, and I was constantly distracted by scenes such as this.

Panda ran in mad circles about the lawn while I photographed mushrooms.

And I went back inside after my walk, as confused as I’d been before, but curiously comforted.

2011-06-08T00:13:00.000-07:00

I've come here with no plan of what to say, just that I need to talk. The past couple of weeks have been... intense. I've been working unusually hard, sleeping less, thinking rather more than is my wont, and the strain is telling. I don't want a break, no. I'm enjoying what I'm doing and really, just want more of the same. I'm young and energetic and am finally, somewhat, coming in to my own. As I discussed with R, (who I've shamefully neglected for so long, I doubt I can even ask for forgiveness any more) I have a list of things I've always dreamt of doing. Now, I finally have the chance to pick up that list, dust off the cobwebs that've collected on its surface, and begin ticking things off.
I've begun the process, Reader, and it is both scary and exhilarating. But, as I'm also slowly discovering, I really can do all the things on that list. I need to break them down into component steps and evolve a plan of action, but really, five years of solving numericals make that part a piece of cake. As for the rest, I've taken a deep breath and plunged in. This is just me surfacing for air.

Fairy dust

2011-06-06T13:23:00.001-07:00

Life is very interesting, isn't it, Reader? There's so much to see and do, that some days, sleep seems like a waste of time. I've done only the most mundane of things today. Walked the dog, gone to work, laughed with friends, read, cooked... But somehow, of late, it's like a handful of pixie dust has been flung into the mix, giving each activity a particular charm.

Foolish me. I didn't believe in fairies.

It doesn't take much

2011-06-01T19:26:00.000-07:00

Ah Reader, it's June and it is summer. The Amalta tree in our garden is blooming in an explosion of colour. Each day, the tree sheds a blanket of yellow flowers on the grass below, as if it knows that the green of the lawn sets off the flowers to perfection.

This morning, the wind lifted the flowers in the air and churned them in a mad dance, while one excited little dog chased after them. I watched and laughed till my sides ached. Each morning, after our walk, Panda and I play a game of catch in the lawn. I toss his yellow ring for him (A super-thoughtful present from G. It's still going strong now, months later) and he chases after it. Then, once he has it in his possession, he dodges nimbly around me, while I lunge and pant, trying to catch him. When I finally do, I retrieve the ring and throw it again.

At one point, he tires of it and collapses on the lawn, panting.

Today, I sat down next to him and watched the wind dance flowers across the lawn.

2011-05-30T12:05:00.000-07:00

It's another of those nights, Reader. I have a to-do list before me, and long, uninterrupted night ahead. The dog kept me company for a while. Inspired by some rather questionable music, I picked him up and danced him around the room. As soon as I put him down, he retreated in disgust.
The LED marked "internet" on my modem is blinking frantically at me. It is the only movement around. The night is still and windless. I've already read all my favourite blogs, caught up on the news, abandoned a very soppy romance novel in disgust, and yes, danced with the dog. It's time to get to work, and yet, I find myself reluctant to begin.
I'm in a curious mood. I know what I need to do, but the doing is so hard. I wish I could throw prudence and caution and good sense to the winds, and march on, singing a song about following my dreams. I wish I could be spontaneous and passionate and unthinking of consequences. I'm tired of this, Reader... Of falling and getting up and dusting my knees and starting again. I want to sit in the mud for a while and have a good cry.
Then, I'll come back here, and sit down again, and work till dawn.

Snapshots of Chennai

2011-05-28T05:17:00.000-07:00

I've been back from Chennai for almost two months now, and flipping through the images in my camera, I find plenty that I planned to share with you, but never did. So, quickly now, here goes:

I used to walk to Elliot's beach every weekend morning and run along the water. The stray dogs would be out at the time, sniffing through the leftovers of the previous night's revelry. When the tide comes in, all the footprints are washed away.

After my run, I would fortify myself with filter coffee at Murugan Idli, before the long walk back.

One weekend, I woke up at 4 am and went on a 48 km cycle ride with fifty other people, from Chennai to Mamallapuram. We watched the sun rise along the way.

It was about 7 am at this point and the day promised to be a scorcher.

At around kilometer number 39, I saw this lotus point on the opposite side of the road. After I parked my cycle on the left, it took me about five minutes to limp across the 15 foot road, to take this picture. I really ought to cycle more.

She was very nice about letting me take her picture. I, on the other hand, felt awfully touristy.

Kolams to decorate the house before the Savitri pooja. It's a festival when unmarried women and girls pray for the well-being of their future husbands... Or something like that... I was too busy giggling with my cousins to pay attention.

Ah, T Nagar. I could've spent a lot more time there. The shopping was lovely, the food good, and the sights, occasionally outrageous.

The evening before I left, we went to Elliot's beach again, ate chaat, south Indian style, and left our own footprints for the tide to wash away.

Oh and, I also had my fortune told. According to this lady, my future's pretty grim.

Tired already?

2011-05-05T23:09:00.000-07:00

Oh Reader, I'm really not doing too well. After yet another late night, my little dog decided to be just as aggravating as he could. It got so bad that I found myself sitting on the floor at 4 am in tears, holding his face in my hands and begging, "Please, please stop barking. Let me sleep." It didn't work.
So it transpired that I was up at 6 am with red eyes, tying my shoelaces, while an infuriatingly cheerful dog capered around and did his best to pull them undone.
The morning was pleasant; it had drizzled in the night and though the day promised to be sunny, we still had another hour before the sun really decided to shine. Panda bounded in front of me; he has a certain dance-walk that never fails to make me smile. He hops around on his hind legs, only dropping his forepaws to the ground often enough to thrust himself up again. Mouth open and ears perky, it just might be the happiest I've ever seen any living creature. It never ceases to amaze me how little makes him happy. An early morning walk, a hearty lizard chase (don't ask) and these days, even an ice cube.
The walk was enlivened by the usual stray dogs who gave us chase for a couple of blocks and the gaggle of Generals out on their morning constitutional, who always address a remark to me, to which I always reply,"I beg your pardon?" while pulling out my headphones. They've already walked past by then, so I assume they don't require a reply.
There was the old german shepherd Panda's developed a tenuous friendship with. They pant at each other from opposite sides of the road.
We got home and Panda, out of sheer exuberance ran around in mad circles, between intervals of digging up the lawn while I puffed through my morning stretches. It was then time for his morning massage, something that's essential now, since it's moulting season. I rubbed him down in a cloud of dog hair, while he blissfully chewed on my shoelaces. Finally, it was time to go indoors, something he did disdainfully, leaving a trail of muddy paw prints for Amma to scold over and me to wipe down.
And then indoors, he collapsed below the sofa with a satisfied grunt, while I rushed about to get ready for work.

Panic

2011-05-04T13:49:00.000-07:00

As I sat in a seminar today, the enormity of all I need to get done in the next three months finally dawned upon me. I live in a constant state of uncertainty, it is natural to me. But sometimes, there are too many variables and all my vague little equations refuse to balance, and I'm thrown off kilter. Half-asleep in the seminar, I subconsciously began a to-do list, becoming wider and wider awake as my list grew.

I've been sick for the past couple of days, Reader. I spent them at home, doing nothing, believing it was okay to take a break from the life and the denial I was living in. Denial was still keeping me pretty busy. There were papers to write, a dog to walk, food to cook and a lot of tasks to ignore.

Now, there's so much to do that I'm panicking. I cope in the only way I know, by working through the night. The night gives me some measure of control. Anything seems possible, if I just stay up long enough. Sleep deprivation is my penance, if I do enough of it, I will be rewarded with a tasks ticked off the to-do list. There's a snag here, of course. I need to actually do the things I'm going to check off, through the night, instead of read the news and listen to songs and write in my blog, in an effort to dull the panic.

I'd better get to it.

Hyderabad

2011-03-09T23:07:00.000-08:00

I went to Hyderabad for the weekend: in one day, out the next. I went alone by train, sitting by the window with the wind in my hair. I carefully avoided meeting the eyes of the other passengers in my compartment; I didn't want to have to speak. For one night, I wanted silence.

I read my book till it was too dark to read. Then, as the tubelights above began casting blue shadows on everything, I leaned my forehead against the grill and thought. I noticed that I felt annoyed each time the train slowed down. I wanted, even if I was slowing down, for the train to go fast, to give me a sense of purpose, of moving forward. Even a false one. I forced my annoyance down and told myself that for one night, it was all right just to be. Not to think, but to dream.

R is getting married. My best friend from college, my roommate, the one enamoured of purple coloured walls, who loves chubby babies and dusty teddy bears, is getting married. It seems like such a grown up thing to do. I tried to say it to myself, fast and slow, weightily and airily, to see if it would make any difference. It didn't. It seems like a fact too large to wrap my mind around, and yet, like something that had to happen, that I've accepted a long time ago.

The Saturday morning was already warming up when my train pulled into Secunderabad station. It was the same blistering heat that dyed me three shades darker and gave my feet the most interesting tan lines, all those years ago. It was vaguely endearing.

The station was as busy and noisy and colourful as ever. J was there to receive me and we drove home. Secunderabad perhaps has more right than any other place to be called my home. I lived there for eight years; we built our house there. We buried one dog and adopted another one there. It is the place where I made my decision to become a physicist, and the place where I changed my mind and decided to become a writer. J drove me to our house, his house now. It is the house with the little yellow corner room that I called my own. I would wake there at five in the morning and play the veena till my fingers stung. I would curl up in bed each night, and dream, big dreams. I used to have a mirror in there, a tiny crooked one next to the window, that I would stare into for hours and wonder who it was I saw.

I didn't have much time for introspection though. I was meeting A and R, after what felt like an age. Phone conversations, chats, all aren't really as satisfying as an honest-to-goodness coze, are they?

After a giant breakfast, J drove me to A's house and left me there to wake her up and then catch up. Our tongues worked tirelessly for the next few hours, there was so much to say! But then, there always is. R was busy with engagement preparations, but we were determined not to wait till the evening to meet her, and so joined her at the parlour where she's been camping all afternoon. We interrupted her facial and got glared at by her attendant, but it didn't matter. We ended up getting pedicures together, and on a reckless impulse, I chose to have my toenails painted vermillion.

Then we went out to dinner, the three of us, and R's fiance, and we talked some more. After R and her fiance dropped us off at A's place, we of course analyzed him to bits and concluded he seemed a very good sort and pretty perfect for R. Having settled that, we slept contentedly.

The next day was spent at the engagement. R looked very pretty and suddenly very grown up in her saree, her hair in a long golden plait. A and I giggled together and took a lot of photographs. I strained my pitiful Telugu vocabulary as far as it would go and then, having exhausted it, fell silent. Too soon, it was over. Garlands were exchanges, blessings were offered and it was time to leave.

A and I went to a restaurant and sat there quietly for about an hour, trying to digest what had happened. It seemed terribly important to understand and I couldn't quite explain away the vague sadness I felt. Perhaps it's because R is moving on and away, to a new life that I can't be a part of. The nights we spent in our room, her on her bed, I on mine, talking with the lights out, they seemed inexpressibly dear now. The times she comforted me when I cried, our KFC binges, the hours we spent shopping, all seemed suddenly significant. Too soon, it was time to leave.

I bid goodbye to A at the station. We shall meet again very soon at R's wedding, so the parting didn't seem too hard. Then I boarded the train and as it began to move, I propped my feet up on the berth before me, stared at my vermilion toenails and thought about it all.

PS: Reader, if just R's engagement has me getting this, um, deep, I wonder what her wedding's going to do to me. I'm dreadfully certain I'm going to cry.

After the rain

2011-02-23T17:29:00.000-08:00

It rained in Chennai last night. It had to. It has been almost unbearably hot here for a week. By yesterday evening, it felt like the very sky had had enough, what with its bad tempered rumbling and occasional flashes. I philosophically had a second shower, turned on the air conditioning and went to bed. When I woke in the morning, it was to the scent of wet soil and sights of that particular clarity that only a good dousing of rain can give.

The streets were filled with that crisp gray light that is the particular product of a good night's rain. Colours seem brighter, the air feels cleaner. I want to drive a yellow jeep some day, Reader, its rear full of tail-wagging dogs.

They're constructing yet another multistory eyesore nearby. I have nothing against apartment complexes in general, they're only eyesores because these Chennai people often paint their buildings the weirdest colours. I've seen neon green, copper sulphate blue and a pink to rival this:-

I always wonder how petals as delicate as those of the bougainvillea hold up to the battering of the rain. They are translucent and shrivel up at the slightest beam from the sun, but they sit up proudly, wetly, in the rain, dripping raindrops from their tips.

One in every three houses here has a tiny temple built into its outer wall. You never have to go too far here, to pray.

The entrance to the park was blocked by a giant puddle. I executed a rather ungainly hop-skip maneuver to get in, but once I did, it was worth it. The park was almost deserted and I could jog bumblingly along the red paths, trying to count shades of green.

This leaf might have bent submissively under the rain but it was up and cheeky by the time I got there. It waved its long pointy fingers derisively at me, when I climbed up on a park bench to take its picture.

So yes, Reader, I got a new camera for my birthday and I'm going to turn into one of those bloggers for a bit, it looks like. I'm assuming it's a phase. Like all the others, this too shall pass.

Two of me

2011-02-01T13:03:00.000-08:00

I'm up late tonight, Reader. The house is silent and I can see the darkness beyond this cone of light I sit in. I have work to do, a great deal of work. My eyes are burning and to shut them, just for a moment, is a great relief.

I wonder why I never thought about this before: how doing anything at all worthwhile is the product of so much effort, how I need to have voluble conversations with myself, motivating myself, each time forcing myself back to work when I drift away. I've drifted a great deal already, checked email, checked facebook, read the news, read my favourite blogs, and pushed myself back to work relentlessly, after each distraction. But I'm like a child with ADD. I only need a whiff of an idea to be away again, to pursue it, to do anything but what I ought. I ought to work intensely for two hours and then go calmly to bed. I wonder when I'll grow that mature.I just thought of you and here I am, typing away on this blog, when I ought to be working.

I can hear myself scolding.

Night and day

2011-01-26T02:54:00.000-08:00

Hello Reader! I've missed you! It is warm in Chennai; a sweaty, sticky warmth like a very close hug, where if you take a deep breath, you can smell the unique smell of the city. I stepped into that embrace just about a month ago, and it was comforting after the icicle that was Delhi. It smells of the sea here, and in the evenings, when the jasmine buds open, they add their own heady perfume. It smells of the ghee frying dosas on a thousand stoves each morning, mixed with the incense burning in the temple down the street.

I watched the Republic Day parade this morning, and felt proud. It was very nice to watch it on telly, on a balmy Chennai morning, sunk deep into a sofa. It was very easy to feel patriotic. I had planned to attend the parade, but well, I had to move to Chennai. I remember the night I walked down Rajpath alone. It was lit here and there by gaunt, gloomy looking streetlights and the papads a seller was waving at me looked ghostly. There was only one man selling soap solution; he would blow through a tiny loop, surrounding me with bubbles that burst as they touched me. There were many people there, wearing devil's horn hairbands that glowed redly in the dark. I stood at the Amar Jawan Jyoti and wondered what it felt like to actually give your life for your country, not just talk about it.

That road was busy today, ringing with the sound of a thousand marching boots. And I watched and sank deeper into the comfort of my sofa.

Bonfire

2011-01-12T21:43:00.001-08:00

It is Lohri today. In the hostel, the girls will dress up this evening, in a flurry of borrowing and bright colours. They will light a bonfire, more smoke than fire, and dance around it, clapping their hands. The one amplifier we bought, during my third year there, will blare out popular Hindi songs, some of which will no longer be familiar to me. There will be boys, standing apart, awkwardly. The seniors will watch from the first floor corridors and sometimes shout out encouragement. Everyone will munch on damp popcorn and sugar. They will dance till the fire burns down and their eyes are red and watering, from the smoke.

Panda

2010-10-31T20:49:00.000-07:00

Reader, looking back on my posts, I find that mentions of a certain black and white pup have become very regular, and indeed for those who don't know him, perhaps quite tiresome. The thing is, Reader, a few months ago, I went through a pretty dark phase. It was the sort of thing we all go through, at one point or another in our lives, but for me it was of obsessive importance, because you see, it was my life. I turned into the sort of person I never wanted to become: self pitying. So when Panda came along, and wriggled his way into my heart, I finally had someone other than myself to think about and it was providential. However, I don't think I managed to get rid of my demons, I simply succeeded in transferring them, to him.
In him, they take a far more vicious form. Indeed, quite often, he seems almost possessed. Why just last night, I pleasantly anticipated spending the evening reading a book, lingering over dinner, chatting up a few friends. Instead, I rescued a cushion and yelled at Panda, mourned my chewed up headphones and yelled at Panda, chased him around the house and stubbed my toe, wiped up muddy paw prints and yelled at him some more, nearly turned deaf by his barking at imaginary noises and when I finally collapsed, exhausted on the bed, watched him chew a giant hole in the bedspread, too defeated to protest.
He can be absolutely angelic for hours on end. Right now for example, he's curled up beside me looking impossibly virtuous, but I know that in another couple of hours the whole cycle will start again. People, the internet, trainers, all tell me this is a phase, that it will soon pass. But I'm having a deepening conviction that I'm grown too old for this.

My happy place

2010-10-09T04:14:00.000-07:00

Reader, I've only been working two weeks, yet my days somehow seem to have acquired a sameness. Don't get me wrong, my routine is pleasant and I am content, at least for now. But I can only tell you so often about how big Panda is growing, how he leaps up, tongue out, his whole body vibrating with the eagerness to greet me, after a long day at work. I can't tell you about sunrises too often, even though each one I've seen has been different and memorable. But wait, I don't think I've told you yet about our dear, misshapen kitchen.
It has far more counter space than anyone needs and too little width for two people to stand and work beside each other with the slightest bit of comfort. But it has lots of fully stocked cupboards and my own dear old pots and pans, which I didn't realize I had missed until I caught myself caressing a bowl. The kitchen is shaped like an L, with the counters running down both sides. Since Amma and I are the only ones who cook and we both don't like spreading ourselves out too much, most of the counter remains black and gleaming, just the way I like it. Our familiar old four burner stove is on one corner, and Amma and I are constantly constantly claiming the space before it,. it is prime real estate. Since we've come here I've cooked puddings and sauces, made chutneys and chappatis and once, a sambhar that Appa said was better than Amma's.
All the while, Panda spreads himself out as wide as possible at the door, making me trip over him several times a day. He always lies there when he sees me cooking, he knows he will be fed illicit scraps.
I'll be telling you more about my culinary adventures soon, on my other blog, but for now I just wanted to tell you about my kitchen. Gleaming counters, the smells of spice, and dog. I think I've found my happy place.

Preserving joy

2010-10-04T05:24:00.000-07:00

I'm not big on photographs, Reader. But as you might have noticed, what I am big on, is words.
I've done this once before and I'm going to do it again. My days have been full of moments, when I feel a sharp stab of joy, for an instant, and then it fades and I'm left empty. But very soon after, I can't even remember what I felt joyful about, and I feel a sort of sadness, for what I can't remember.
Not today, Reader.

My day began early, at 5 am, actually when I woke up a very sleepy pup. He didn't want to get up and instead lazily licked my hand and rolled over onto his back.

Then we went out in that eerie glow that is the light of the morning and the air was crisp and cool. We were alone on the road, everyone else asleep.

I remember the precise moment of dawn, when suddenly the dim light turned into a glorious radiance, that I would've missed if I had as much as blinked.

There was Panda stalking through foot-high grass, it must've seemed elephantine to him. With a tread like an explorer, he set a panicky field of moths aflight, as he walked.

There was the smell of the sambar I made for breakfast, a heady mix of spice, boiling merrily on the stove.

There were more, Reader, but I can't tell you just now, I need to be going, as the impatient pup tugging on my arm tells me. But I'm glad I could tell you of my moments, at least of a few. If there was a way of bottling happiness and preserving it for the future, this would be it.

Weekends

2010-10-02T06:33:00.000-07:00

Ah Reader, I think I'm rediscovering the joys of an honest week's work. And now that my weekend is finally here (Yes, I get only Sunday off) I don't feel guilty anymore for looking forward to it. No matter how much I gripe and laze, work does make me happy... eventually...
Now I'm going to go drown all my newfound convictions in a sea of dissipation. See you Monday!

This and that

2010-10-01T06:11:00.000-07:00

I went to Delhi's Chandni Chowk today, Reader. The whole street is one glorious oxymoron. It's a study in contradictions, where the old and the new jostle each other daily and everything is swathed in an all-enveloping sea of humanity. I saw sweet stores that had been in the same place since the seventeen hundreds and fast food joints. I saw temples and mosques and a town hall. I asked a rickshaw puller for directions and nearly collided with a BMW while crossing the road.
It was a very very interesting afternoon.

Silent company

2010-09-28T05:26:00.000-07:00

I have a new favourite time of day, Reader. Every morning, Panda wakes me up at around 5 am by the simple expedient of jumping up on the bed and sitting on my face. I take him out, bleary eyed and shuffling while he prances about, offensively cheerful. After we come back in, I collapse back on my bed, which he takes as a signal for commencing round two. He proceeds to chew on my hair till I cover my head with a blanket. He then chews the blanket. When he tires of it, he sniffs around the room, looking for other things to chew. He has little or no discretion when making his selection, one day it's my handbag, the next it's my cellphone and every so often, it's my computer's power cord. Semi-comatose though I am, my subconscious wakes me as soon as it realises he's being too silent. Yes Reader, I'm awakened by silence.

By 6 am I'm wide awake and it's light out. We run out of the house together, scaring squirrels and mynahs. I draw my energy from him; when he's so impossibly cheerful about being outside at dawn, some of it rubs off. After we've expended out initial energy, we meander. Panda sniffs delicately at flowers, which sight amuses me endlessly. I address my remarks on the morning and any minor epiphanies I have to him. He makes for a very good listener. We meet other people walking dogs whom Panda proceeds to jump at them, his whole body quivering with friendliness. After exchanging pleasantries we walk on, and Panda keeps looking back till he gets his leash tangled with my legs.

Our walk lasts for an hour, Reader, and it puts me in a good mood all day long. I think of all the silly things he did every once in awhile during my day, and smile.

Delhi

2010-09-22T00:07:00.000-07:00

Oh Reader, I do love it so here. I'm in Delhi and there's grass here! And there are trees, lots of them, in our very backyard! And the other day, I was laughing as I watched a half grown black and white dog chase clumsily after butterflies when I heard a thump on the roof above me. I ran out and looked up to see a peacock there, Reader! It had the loveliest cobalt blue neck and it wasn't the least bit shy. It made my day.

For the past couple of weeks, I've been happy almost without trying. We finally have our own kitchen where I can cook with my own familiar old pots and pans.I have the dearest little room with a corner especially for my veena and giant windows that keep it alight with sunlight all day. There's a perfect corner next to my bed where Panda curls up and sleeps, whenever he's not eating or playing. Panda is thriving here, he's made friends with all the local strays and escapes whenever we leave a door open, to go out and play. And I've been writing, Reader. I've actually felt like it, after ever so long.

The only snag is that I don't have an internet connection there yet, so I can't talk to you as often as I would like. But that will soon be remedied.

The Sun

2010-09-02T23:53:00.000-07:00

Reader, I've been silent a long time, I know. The thing is, I come here time and again, begin to type and then stop, because I don't quite know what to say. It's a constant conflict I have: where to draw the line? I'm here to share my life with you, but how much is too much?
So today, finally I decided, no explanations. Our relationship is such that we don't need them. We share happiness, not sadness. So today, I'll tell you what made me happy. It's been raining cats and dogs in Mumbai, a dreary, grey sheet of rain that seems almost diabolical in it's timing. It waits Reader, till I think it's safe to sneak out for a few minutes, and then catches me unprepared and drenches me gleefully. But today, the sun won the battle it's been fighting for the last three months, with the clouds. It shone out, triumphantly and I went out on the terrace, to bask. There's light again around me, coulors are brighter the geese in the pond outside are loudly and untunefully happy. I am happy too, because I am leaving here soon. Very soon.

Hello

2010-07-13T04:41:00.000-07:00

Reader, I'm here because I want someone to talk to. It's ironic isn't it, how doomed this conversation is, to being one sided. I have dozens of friends, several close ones, yet I turn to this blog, this white and blue somewhat impersonal space, whenever I feel the need to be real, to confess, even if it be in half truths and metaphors.
Whenever I enter into a conversation, Reader, I feel a need to define its scope in advance. Even if it is with my closest friends, I memorize topics we might converse on in advance, so that we may never be at a loss. Silence is frightening. The same isn't quite true for me and you, I think, though I'm often scared of what all I reveal here. I came here, not knowing what to say, so I type to fill the emptiness. I've been having a tough few days of it and I'm tired of telling myself that my problems are trivial compared to those others face. My problems are my own and of paramount importance to me, if to no one else. If that makes me selfish then so be it, I'll get over it soon enough. I'm tired of talking of my problems now though, fascinating as the topic is.

Let's talk of the weather instead then, shall we? That's a safe topic. It's rainy here in Mumbai, wet and humid and green. I wonder if it's just as rainy in Hyderabad. I wonder if Panda is cold, if his fur is silvery with raindrops. I love the smell of wet dog. I would rub him vigorously with his towel at the faintest sign of dampness and he would do his best to chew the towel to bits in the meantime. It was a little game we played. I hope he's dry right now, I don't want him catching cold. I miss him, Reader. I miss him terribly.

Lying Down in Reality

2010-07-04T12:53:00.000-07:00

Today, for the first time in a very long time, I felt happy. I felt like the man in the poem. I was sitting on the stone steps at the back of our house. It was dark outside and moths were dancing about the one dim yellow bulb over my head. In my lap was, trustingly asleep, one very fat, silky puppy. His name is Panda.

Reader, I haven't been happy. Not for a long time. For ever so long I took happiness for granted, as something that just existed in my life and didn't require much attention. I didn't notice for a long time, when it was gone. When I finally noticed, I still doubted myself. I was well fed, well clothed, reasonably successful, and popular. I've lived a charmed life and have people who love me and whom I love very dearly. It seemed almost selfish of me to feel discontented. But it didn't pass. So, I began this blog, to try to remember that feeling, of "lying down in reality". I couldn't keep it up. My days blended into each other, all sluggish and blurry. I lacked the energy to go out and seek that feeling, the one I couldn't even remember anymore. I wondered if it even existed.

Finally, when I couldn't take the wondering anymore, Reader, I took a break. From my life in Mumbai, from the people I knew there, from Physics, and from you. I spent two months, dancing, singing, teaching, and reading. I found Panda at the Blue Cross shelter. He was a tiny bundle of fluff, shyly waiting for his turn to receive a pat from me. When I picked him up, he sighed and nestled into the crook of my arm, warm and trusting. I couldn't let go.

Now, I feel like someone waking from a long and disturbed sleep. I feel tired and lethargic, but the sun's rising. My two months are up and I'm living on borrowed time. I have to go back and face the responsibilities I abandoned. I don't know if I can do it, Reader. I'm scared. But I go back with the memory of tonight, of how it felt to have Panda on my lap, warm and alive, of how I watched him admiringly, stroked his velvety ears and tickled his whiskers and he never once woke. I love him, Reader, because he trusts me to take care of him, because he comes running when I call and flings himself against my legs, because he chews my slippers when no one's watching, but has the grace to look guilty when he's caught, and because whenever I sit on the verandah steps he climbs onto me, curls up in my lap, and promptly falls asleep.

That feeling exists, Reader and it's worth fighting for.

The perfect number

2010-02-18T19:57:00.000-08:00

When it comes to exams, one might just be the perfect number. It is midsem week and I had one paper today: Quantum Computing. I did have a Humanities paper as well, last week, but that doesn't count, does it?
I remember frantically mugging for papers with A and G, at the last possible minute, memorizing formulae using mnemonics and no common sense, sitting cross legged on a mess table and explaining Thermodynamics, and gigglingly trying to decipher sleepily scribbled notes. There was none of that this year, I was alone. All the juniors were mugging and the hostel was unusually quiet. I procrastinated till the very last minute, but managed about three hours of cramming and went alone to the department I wrote the paper and submitted it with a flourish, ten minutes before time.
Now, at the end of my college career I discover that I quite like giving papers. Or perhaps, I like giving one paper, in the middle of a long week of inactivity. It's comforting to know that not all my brain cells have died, given the idleness they've been subjected to. It's gentle fun to me mucking about with equations, this is after all, what I once thought I'd be doing for a career.

Last things

2010-02-18T09:47:00.000-08:00

Reader, I'm sorry for the absence of posts, I've been having net problems. I have however been faithfully recording my happy things for all the days I've been gone and you'll soon find them all below, if you're interested.

Today, I had my last mid semester exam: Quantum Computing. I studied in earnest for it, for about three hours, desperately missing A and G. The three of us used to have such fun, studying for papers together. We'd bestir ourselves to collect notes nearabout midnight, passionately debate the relative merits of plain salted potato chips and mad angles, try on jewellery, gossip, and do pretty much everything besides study. It didn't seem right somehow, to write my last midsem without them. Still, it's done now and I'm heartily glad.

Twenty Two

2010-02-17T20:18:00.000-08:00

I'm twenty two, Reader. It had to happen. A whole year older and not a whit the wiser. Still, I did manage to do quite a few of the things on my list. As for the rest of them, serves me right for not giving myself enough time, but I do have the whole of twenty three to do them in.
I seem to be invested with an almost unrufflable placidity. K calls it cow-like, but then brothers will be unflattering. I prefer to call myself chill (I wonder how much longer I can get away with slang, before I become too old and lame to use it.) I do wish though that I could rile myself up on my failings and bring myself to do something about them. So far all I've managed is gentle chastisement; I can't bring myself to be harsh to myself...
It was a lovely birthday. A, S, R, G and I had dinner last night and excellent conversation. Then I came to the wing and proceeded to get smeared with cake. I fell asleep smelling like chocolate frosting.
The morning was spent quite.. um... placidly. In the evening Amma and Appa came over expressly to wish me, and I felt very loved.

Poetry

2010-02-14T20:51:00.000-08:00

Oh Reader, I was so determined not to be a cliche this Valentine's day, and yet, I ended up writing poetry all morning. I'd been selected to participate in the Poetry Slam of the Kala Ghoda festival and I admit to you freely, Reader, poet I am not. So I cussed my way through some muddled verse in the morning and went there anyway, because the experience would count, wouldn't it? Besides, it'd give me something to tell you about when I returned.
The festival was lovely, albeit extremely crowded. Serves me right, I suppose for putting off going there till the very last day, along with what seemed like most of Mumbai's population. By 6 in the evening, I found myself in the lawns behind the David Sassoon library, nervously correcting my scribbled verse. We were on stage soon and some of the other contestans were really quite incredible. I quaked to go up after them, but my last year's experience did give me some assurance. I ended up placing second and meeting some very wonderful and talented people.
S was there cheering me on and doing lots of his own networking. We ended up dining at Leopold's cafe, before I sleepily boarded a train home. Single Valentine's Days can be pretty awesome too.

Convo

2010-02-13T20:45:00.000-08:00

I had my second-last midsem today, and my last one in the Convo hall. That hall is the first place I went to when I came to IIT. Amma and I sat in a back row and I was distracted by the pigeons that fluttered above us, narrowly missing the lazily turning fans. Since then, I've written countless examinations there, sung on that stage, watched some incredible shows and danced in the pit.
I'm only beginning to be struck by the countless "last things" I'm going to do these next couple of months. College is almost over and it's time to grow up.
I'll be there one last time in August though, when I go up on stage and receive my degree.

Up and down

2010-02-12T20:39:00.000-08:00

A, N and I decided to go for a run today. We took the lakeside route, it's a road that hugs the curve of the lake, offering perspectives at every angle. I find it calming to see such an expanse of emptiness, it's a rare sight in Mumbai. Sunset is the best time to go, it's really quite glorious then, what with the sun leaving a bright orange trail, as if marking the spot where it is to return tomorrow.
There are a set of steps leading down to the lakeside and it was when we saw them that it occurred to us, that it would be good exercise to run up and down them. So we did twenty sets, giggling and panting all the way, and we quite missed the sunset.

Ice cream at midnight

2010-02-11T11:30:00.000-08:00

Today we had a PAF meeting. I've said this before, PAF time is my favourite time of the year. And I can feel it all over again, the same excitement from years before. The meeting was all the way across the campus, in H13, but it didn't seem to matter. I had excellent company and was almost sorry when we reached our destination. After the meeting, K and I snuck out, leaving the juniors to negotiate who was giving whom a treat. We stopped at the ice cream parlour on our way back though, for a little treat. It was fun licking our cones, in the chilly night air.

Another Day

2010-02-11T11:23:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was good to me Reader, one of those days when you go to bed tired. I have very few of those in fifth year, come to think of it and it's not a good thing. It was a normal sort of day, I didn't do anything very much out of the ordinary and no particular moment stood out. It was one out of hundreds of other days, passed by and soon forgotten. But I must've done something right, because I went to bed not guilty or uneasy, but contentedly and I slept dreamlessly.

Windy day

2010-02-09T20:16:00.000-08:00

The weather's been quite glorious today, Reader. I do love a windy day. I love watching as the wind churns up fallen leaves and sets them dancing madly, I love standing up to the wind, testing my strength against it and I love it when it whips away my words as soon as they're spoken, carrying them off. It's only on windy days that I wish my walk from the hostel to my department was longer, it seems almost a crime to go indoors and not emerge till it is dark and the wind has blown itself away.

February

2010-02-08T06:16:00.000-08:00

I'm back, Reader. I think what I need is a routine. Every evening, 7 pm, post on blog. Something I can stick to. Otherwise I wander away from here and don't return for weeks on end.
It's February now and I don't quite know where the winter went. It seems like just yesterday that I was curling up in bed, pleasantly shivery, but now I already have my rickety fan on as fast as it can go. This is also the month I turn twenty two. Twenty two isn't a particularly significant age, I suppose. I firmly hold that all birthdays after twenty one are simply depressing. I look back on my year and wonder what on earth I've achieved. (I know I should've already done this on New Year's, Reader, but I was too busy partying then) I made a list over the weekend of things to do in the nine days left before I officially turn a year older. It's a rather scandalous list though, so I don't think I'll tell you about it here.
I do love though that my birthday comes in the spring. There's such an air of possibility around. I don't think anyone can be depressed for long in the spring. Why, just today, an adventurous squirrel clambered onto my windowsill and snatched away a hunk of bread almost from my fingers.
I'll spare you the long introspection today Reader, I still have nine days left to complete it. Wish me luck on my list!

Card games

2009-12-30T18:35:00.000-08:00

Today, we sat around in a circle and played cards, A, S, G and I, and for a little while it was like old times, like they hadn't all moved away, like nothing had ever changed or could. Reader, I have a confession. I don't really like playing cards. As my companions will readily tell you, I really suck at card games anyway. But I still play, because I love spending time with them and they love cards. We played one game, then one more, then another, easily losing track of time as we slipped back into old modes of talking, old jokes blent with new stories. They've been halfway around the world, I've been here.
I messed up game after game and we laughed at my clumsiness. I lost G (unluckily doomed to be my partner in several rounds) several points and she grew quite exasperated, albeit affectionately so. There was no time for nostalgia, during our busy, funny game. It was only when I said goodbye to them and shut the door on the chilly night air that it hurt, a little. Ah well, I shall see them again tomorrow.
It's New Year's Eve. What plans, Reader?

Housekeeping

2009-12-21T00:34:00.001-08:00

Has it already been two days since I last posted here? I'm so sorry, Reader. First I was busy being coddled for the mildest of colds, then I got to baking in earnest, to the exception of all else. The result, a caramel cake that oozed salted butter caramel on being squeezed, iced over with a poured chocolate ganache and dusted with sugar sparkles. The cake was in honour of S's birthday and was greatly appreciated. I could barely taste a bite though, I seem to have developed a temporary revulsion to all things butter. That tends to happen to me on days when I've spent the previous day baking batch after batch of brownies, three apple pies, several batches of caramel, and stirring an unnaturally orange moong dal halwa that dripped ghee.
I seem to have precious little left to show for my labours though. It is all gone now, just a few depressed looking brownie crumbs left. And that makes me happy.

Sick at home

2009-12-17T19:30:00.000-08:00

At home, even falling sick is awesome. A combination of several late nights and early mornings left me with with a raspy throat and a rather watery nose this morning. All I had to do was cough once in front of Amma, I was immediately coddled, besieged with offers of besan halwa and sour plums, wrapped up warmly and propped up before the TV and my word on what we would watch was law.
I feel almost regretful that my mild little throat infection departed by evening. It should have lingered around longer.

Memories and pie

2009-12-16T20:16:00.001-08:00

A came over today. We sat on the swings hung under our Banyan tree and tried to see how high we could go. We baked apple pie and ruined a sponge cake. We talked and reminisced and laughed and it was lovely. Apple pie and memories make a glorious combination. It's not a culinary revolution, but it's warm and comforting, like the company of an old friend. There's something so comforting about apples slowly simmered in caramel dusted over with cinnamon. The raisins we shook in grew soft and plump in the oven.
It wasn't perfect, the crust was a little tough, but we didn't care. We ate it with strawberry ice cream and scraped our plates clean.

Cloud

2009-12-15T11:24:00.000-08:00

Today, I stood in a cloud of cinnamon.
Reader, I dare you to find a better smelling cloud. I was powdering the cinnamon to spice the apple milkshake I was making for K. When I opened the food processor this fine brown dust flew all around me and I just stood there and breathed.

Hot chocolate

2009-12-14T11:31:00.000-08:00

I'm back home Reader. It all happened very suddenly. One moment I was pondering what happy moment I would tell you about today and the next, I was packing my bags and my heart was singing.
I reached home by around 11 in the night and surprised Amma and Appa. It's humbling how happy I could make them. Then K threw a tantrum, so I stood in the kitchen at midnight and boiled milk for hot chocolate. It was when I watched the chocolate make brown swirls in the white milk that it all sank in.

Trek

2009-12-13T19:51:00.000-08:00

I went on a trek with R today. We woke up for it at 5:30 am, I stepped on a snake, got a giant blister and cussed a great deal. But it was all worth it, because we got to see this:

More photos on R's blog.
Edit: All photographs were taken by Ravali. She's totally awesome. I myself am sorely lacking in the artistic department.

The movies

2009-12-12T10:31:00.000-08:00

I was feeling a little lonely today, so R and A took me to watch a movie. We watched a movie called Rocket Singh, and Ranbir Kapoor makes for a totally adorable young Sikh boy.

I don't know about you, Reader, but I watch movies very rarely. And the ones I do watch are the fantasy type, the sort that are impossible in normal life, that require a suspension of reality, What are movies but a means of escape: to lose yourself in a fantasy land for a brief period of time When the credits finally roll, I take a deep breath and walk out the door marked with the green Exit sign. And when I'm walking out, sometimes it's gleefully, when the movie has inspired me to try something new, to apply something gleaned from it to my own life. And sometimes it's reluctantly, like I need more suspension time, like three hours weren't enough. But those realistic movies, the ones that try to imitate real life, I tend to avoid them like the plague. I get quite enough reality, thank you very much.

I don't know if I'm making much sense right now, Reader, I'm rather tired and confused. I realised this movie-watching fact about myself only today, as I sat in that darkened theater, reclining on my 180 degree seat. Oh but, whatever the movie: surreally fantastical or viscerally real, one really can't reflect too hard on it when reclining on a plush velvet sofa that at the press of a button rocks you to and fro at an almost reclining angle.

The absence of pain

2009-12-11T13:45:00.000-08:00

"Joy is not the absence of pain," says Ayn Rand. I say, pshaw. I'd been having a splitting headache all day, Reader. The kind that makes even smiling feel uncomfortable, the kind where you want to lie curled up in bed, your head wrapped in pillows, desperate for sleep or oblivion. Well, I finally fell asleep at eight, which is why I'm up now, at 3 am and annoyingly perky. My headache's gone, I have lots to do and I'm happy.

Fountains

2009-12-10T01:52:00.000-08:00

I was walking on the pavement along IIT’s main road today, playing this game ‘Crazy’ on my cellphone. It’s one of those battleship style games, where you have to eliminate blue moles with your cannon. I find myself curiously addicted to it. So when I felt a spattering of water droplets, the first place I looked was up. I hadn’t expected rain. Turns out, it wasn’t rain. It was an impromptu fountain from the very holey rubber pipe that had been left to water the grass beside the pavement. I stood there in that gentle fountain for a minute, eliciting curious glances from passersby. It felt good.

I remembered how K and I used to make fountains with the water hose while watering our vegetable patch in YOL. Race, our dog, would run wildly about, trying to dodge our fountain, digging up all Amma’s carefully planted peas in his frenzy. I remembered Holi celebrations past where R and G and A would hose me down till I lay on the ground covered with grass and mud, begging for mercy. I remembered giggling madly as we dropped water balloons on the heads of people walking below, on our street in Delhi.

Then I glanced down at my phone and found that the blue moles had killed me.

Cherry Red

2009-12-09T09:43:00.000-08:00

Who says happiness can't be packaged. In this case, it came in the form of a small golden tube in shiny pink casing, that smells like raspberry jelly and is filled with Shade# 352, Cherry Red. I've wanted to try red lipstick for nigh on two years now and yesterday, finally I took the plunge. Reader, did you know how many shades of reds there are out there? I most certainly didn't. There are reds with blue undertones and orange highlights, glossy reds, sparkly reds, matte reds, liquid reds. A red for every skin tone. Cherry happens to be mine.
I wonder if I'll ever have the courage to wear my red lips in public. Still, I'm wearing them now, while typing out my report to you, sneaking occasional glances in the mirror. Perfectly happy.

No Reason

2009-12-08T03:41:00.000-08:00

Must one always have a reason to be happy? Because today, I'm happy. I've been smiling a lot and not just because of that hilarious episode of The Big Bang Theory that R and I watched in the morning. I've tried analyzing it, but I'm not sure yet why I'm happy. So, I think I'll just go with the flow today.

It's a lovely day, the sun is just setting and the banyan tree outside is alive with roosting birds. R and I are about to embark upon an expedition in quest of eye makeup and water chestnuts. I have several essays to write when I return and perhaps a day long expedition to Pune to plan. I'll be up half the night, staring at this white screen. It's a nice life.

Thanksgiving and Chennai

2009-12-06T22:32:00.000-08:00

Dear Reader, I don't know if you've given up on visiting this space lately. You had every right to, I've been terribly neglectful. I've been busy and the last few days have been a little hard so I turn back to you again. I realize how selfish I sound and I'm going to try to make it up to you by finally telling you all about Chennai. It's a post I began writing up a while ago, but only today finished. But first, there are several wonderful people I wish I could thank over and over again. I don't know if all of them will even read this blog, but I need to do this anyway, so I never forget how lucky I am to have them in my life. Call it my own little Thanksgiving if you will, which true to form, comes several days late.

So thank you to A, who left everything to be with me and to P for sharing her so unselfishly. To R who called and texted and always said the right thing and to V for being so nice, just like he always is. To G who scolded sense into me time and time again (she never gives up on me) and N who I must state, looks absolutely adorable in a formal skirt and R who always has far more fascinating things than placements to talk about. To A for the promise of black and white cookies and K, whose phone call meant more than I can say. To Amma, Appa and Ken, you folks are my rocks, and since this is creeping into dangerously sentimental territory now, to all of you, too many to name, who are far too good to me. I don't deserve you.
On to Chennai then.

Reality is a question of perspective; the further you get from the past, the more concrete and plausible it seems - but as you approach the present, it inevitably seems more and more incredible.

-Salman Rushdie, Midnight's Children

Oh Reader, I have so much to tell you! Let me begin at the beginning. I must admit, this time I entered Chennai with a good deal of trepidation, my memories of last time seemed almost too good to be true and I was misanthropically suspicious of them. But it was lovely, lovelier than I remembered. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The beginning.

My flight took off from Mumbai airport, which I reached after a particularly harrowing auto ride. By the time I reached the airport, I was more than glad to leave Mumbai- with its polluted air and choked roads- behind. I watched from the airplane window as the thousands of twinkling yellow lights of Mumbai bled into the night, turning it curiously red. Then as we rose higher and higher, the red faded into black and we were away.

I went home first- Amma and Appa were away at a dinner party when I reached. I was all alone in the big white house. It felt strange. Then Amma came in and hugged me and I felt home again.

The next morning, I went to the Mahaveer Institute of Technology, a name the students abbreviate to 'MIT', which lay in a village 40 kilometres and a dirt road away. I gave the TOEFL at MIT, feeling curiously self conscious when I had to air my views on Mumbai to a dusty looking microphone. On the bumpy ride back, I had a great deal of time for thought and I felt my worries for the future leaving me one by one, bump after bump. The rest of the weekend at least, was mine.

So we took the night train to Chennai. It's been a while since I was on a train and it was fun, the clatter of the rails forms a rhythmic accompaniment to thoughts, investing them with the sort of circularity that makes the airiest of thoughts profound. From the window, I watched glimpses of peoples' lives: children playing, a ceiling fan turning, a woman laying the table, like a movie reel with the rails for background score.

I turned in soon in the middle berth and thought about that ancient Chinese form of torture, where they imprison a person in a room neither wide nor high enough for him to ever stretch out completely. We reached Chennai by eight in the morning and the platform was bustling. I heard loud expletives in Tamil and smelled coffee and sweat and jasmine. Prabhu Anna was there to receive us and he was as entertaining as ever. He's the liveliest of my cousins, guaranteed to have anyone in splits within moments of meeting them.

(Reader, I'm going to change tack slightly now. I just realized that if I give you a blow by blow account of everything I did, this post will take forever, and you, who don't know my cousins, will be bored quite silly. So instead, I'll just give you the highlights, shall I?)

So there was Patti, who seemed happier than ever before, to see me. It came as rather a shock to me that my very presence could make someone so happy. She held my hand and wouldn't let go till I was called away. Then there were my cousins, Krithika Akka (the bride whose engagement I was there to attend), Ambika, Kripa and Aru, who did their best to teach me four Tamil songs in less than an hour and never smiled when I stumbled. There was curd rice and sevai, to be eaten with my fingers, off a banana leaf and godumai halwa and therati pal, childhood treats I've sorely missed in Mumbai. There were glimpses of Chennai, mostly gathered from the window of a car as we drove past: billboards selling kanjeevaram sarees stiff with gold lace, men in veshtis, their foreheads smeared with ash, a bullock cart holding up the traffic on a highway and everywhere, familiarity. Try as I might to deny it (and I have tried, several times) this place is familiar. There's a place for me here, even though I've never really lived here, even though I speak the language stumblingly, at best. I understand now, what Appa told me of the ties of blood. They've withstood all the ill treatment I've given them. So I wore a purple saree and a bindi without being asked, wore jasmine strands in my hair and I was a Tamil girl for a day. No amount of rebellion can stand up to love.

The next day, I scrambled desperately, for more images, more memories, to get my fill and keep me going when I returned to another, far more alien metropolis. I memorised the feel of the sun, burning down in December, and the golden ceiling in Ananda Bhavan, I read the newspaper listings of music concerts longingly and wore the golden earrings that Patti gave me, proudly.

Too soon, it was time to leave and I promised to return soon, very soon. As my flight rose over the city, I pressed my nose to the window and caught my last glimpses of the city: buildings and bullock cards, colonies and parks, then hundreds of toy-like houses with crisscrossing roads. We rose higher and higher and flew through a cloud and Chennai disappeared beneath me in a puff of white smoke. We kept rising, above the clouds that were whipped into fantastical formations like the airiest of egg whites whisked by the wind.

Then, two hours later, we descended and the night turned from black to red as it bled back into thousands of twinkling lights.

Just to say hello

2009-11-21T03:39:00.000-08:00

Reader, I've been travelling, I still am. Heading to Chennai in another hour and internet connections are hard to come by. So I thought I'd better pop in to say hello and to tell you I haven't forgotten you(as if I ever could). I'm writing it all down though and when I get back, I'll tell you all about it. There's so much to tell!

Fireworks

2009-11-17T12:44:00.000-08:00

Reader, I was promised a meteor shower. It is to peak at 3:12 am, but I should have been able to see signs of it from 10 in the night. It's 2 am right now and my eyes are half closed already. I went up to the terrace in the hope of seeing perhaps a few streaking meteors (and I chuckled a little just now when I typed 'streaking'), but all I saw were a few peacefully twinkling stars. There was a pleasantly chilly wind though and the coconut trees nodded at me in a friendly manner.

I used to lie flat on my back on the roof of our house, look up at the night sky and try to think of nothing. I remember being frightened. The sky was so big, I felt so small. Night sounds seem so eerie, even the chirping of a cricket or the rustle of a tree. And of course you think of all this when you're trying to think of nothing. But I felt awe too, at the majesty of the night, at how endless it seemed and at how lucky we were the live in the certainty that tomorrow, day would come again.

Tonight, I remembered how I used to feel lying alone for hours on the roof. It took so little to make me happy then. I never had to question anything, never make any choices or decisions. For a few minutes, on that terrace, I felt that way again.

An apology

2009-11-17T08:07:00.000-08:00

Dear Reader, I'm so sorry that you've been coming here these past three days and not finding anything. I have been silent, I don't quite know why. It was, I suppose a combination of ennui and an absence of a keyboard at the right place and the right time.
I've had periods like there quite often lately, where I'm outwardly quite normal, but I feel an almost crushing ennui, an absence of any sort of creativity, and it really pulls me down. This time though, you brought me back up again, very soon. Your messages and comments and calls, asking why I didn't post, they touched me more than I can say. So thank you Reader, you are very wonderful.
I can't promise that I won't be gone again, I don't quite know what I'm fighting with yet. But you, you have the power to bring me back.

PS: I did take some time to remember the happy stuff from the past three days and I've organized those posts in chronological order, beneath this one. Soon, this silence will just be a memory.

Writing

2009-11-16T07:54:00.000-08:00

I love to write, Reader. I'm not very good at it yet, but I will be some day. So today, after a long time, I really wrote. I sat at the coffee shop (it's become a favourite spot for me now) in my little corner, sipped at a ridiculously pink drink and typed, haltingly at first, but soon, in flow.

I'll tell you about what I wrote, soon. It came out very stilted and imperfect, but it was a start. I wrote for two hours till my battery gave up. Then I walked all the way back to the insti because I couldn't find an auto driver obliging enough to take me. I waked past garbage dumps and tall buildings with the laptop strap bruising my shoulder, and I was happy.

The perfect ride

2009-11-15T07:53:00.000-08:00

I travel by auto maybe ten times a week. It’s almost always fun. But this morning, I had the best auto ride of my life. I was alone and it was ten in the morning. Mumbai was just waking up. A lovely breeze was blowing and the sky was still overcast. I saw a father teaching his daughter to ride a cycle and remembered my first time, when Appa held on to my carrier and promised never to let go. The road was very bumpy and the auto careened dangerously. It had rained the previous night, not enough to make puddles, but just enough to make all the roads black and shiny. I passed a bakery that smelled of baking bread and for the first time, noticed the pretty blue flowers blooming on all the hedges of Hiranandani. All too soon, it was over.

Out of the Blue

2009-11-15T06:00:00.000-08:00

Reader, I’m sorry I didn’t get back in time yesterday to tell you about my evening. We went out to dinner, a farewell dinner of sorts because G is returning to IIM for another couple of grueling months. We went to ‘Out of the Blue’ and talked for hours in the candlelight. More than anything the place has nostalgia value for us, G had written about it just that morning and we all wanted to go back there and feel that way again. I had the sun dried tomato risotto and nicked fries off everyone else’s sizzlers. We talked for hours, only pausing to eye well dressed women and make snarky comments about them.

Supermarket

2009-11-13T11:30:00.000-08:00

Reader, sometimes I feel very old. I remember a time when there were no supermarkets. When you went to the local kirana store when you needed supplies and chatted with the Uncle behind the counter as he took down your goods. They had their own charm. But now, you're confronted by rows and rows of gleaming shelves lined with product after bewildering product in a vast maze of choices. I remember entering my first supermarket, Ratnadeep in Secunderabad. Reader, I was terrified that I'd get lost in there and held on tightly to Amma's hand throughout.
Eventually though, supermarkets went from terrifying to fascinating in my mind. Isn't it wonderful how inventive people can be? That there can be a hundred different sorts of chocolates on a shelf, each distinct from the other, that people come up with newer and cleverer marketing gimmicks all the time, which I invariably fall for, that you can stand in a vast, tiled room for hours and hours and make so many choices!
I've exhausted my supply of superlatives right now, but you must've figured out that I went to a supermarket today, by now, Reader. And it was as much fun as I remember.

Defying Gravity

2009-11-12T11:14:00.001-08:00

I heard this song early this morning and I've been listening to it over and over again ever since.

The Truth

2009-11-11T21:25:00.000-08:00

Reader, I apologize for yesterday. I was sitting in front of a computer all evening. I could have posted. I should have. But I was ashamed. I had nothing to tell you of. No quiet little moment of joy squirreled away to tell you about later. It was wet outside, so I stayed in. I lay tangled in my sheets for hours, trying to think of nothing and succeeding. I bestirred myself in the evening, pretty much to go out hunting for sustenance and a moment of joy. I spoke to friends, listened to music, ate, drank and searched. I smiled several times yesterday, laughed out loud too; washed my freshly trimmed hair and flipped it about from side to side before the mirror. But I went to bed at 2 am, dissatisfied with the way the day had turned out and too ashamed to face you.
Today will be better. It has to be.

Winter

2009-11-10T09:02:00.000-08:00

Oh Reader, today, the morning was so lovely. And to think I almost missed it. I had only one class today and seriously contemplated bunking it. A, R and I had stayed up late talking for hours and hours.( I ought to mention here, how lucky I am to have friends like them. The sort with whom conversations are effortless and silences comfortable.)
Still, I woke up in time and went and was immediately glad. The class itself was very interesting, but the walk there was my happy thing for today. The last of the sticky, October heat passed last night and the skies were preparing for one final deluge before winter. The wind was swirling about the leaves the trees had shed, and clouds gently shaded the sun. It was exciting weather, the weather of change, if you will.
Tonight, I will pull out my thick blanket, snuggle in it and fall asleep, listening to the rain. Tomorrow, I will wake up to winter.

Shrine

2009-11-09T10:10:00.000-08:00

Oh Reader, I strongly suspect that I am extremely shallow. Today, we went to Bandra and went to boutique after boutique and looked at shoes of all shapes and colours. Finally in Sole to Soul, we were permitted to enter a tiny, secret little chamber, in a corner of the first floor. And Reader, that must be the place shoes get to go when they've been very very good. It was covered in black marble, and lit very flatteringly, with a luxurious red sofa right at the center. It smelled of incense and leather, that shrine to footwear. And heels, toweringly, frighteningly high heels surrounded us on all four sides, beribboned and belaced, in all shades of the rainbow.
I didn't buy any of those shoes. You don't buy the idols at a temple. You just look and worship and are happy.

Splitting from sweetness

2009-11-08T19:41:00.000-08:00

Reader, I messed up. I'm sorry. I couldn't get to an internet connection in time to tell you about yesterday, so I'm posting now, nine hours late. Here goes...

Today I travelled back to Mumbai, back to old uncertainties, old worries, and familiar territory, after two glorious days of blessed respite. Home was especially lovely, with a November drizzle, sightings of smart young gentleman cadets, cauliflower patches and smiling, much loved faces. I didn't want to leave. "What am I going back to?" I kept asking myself. I had no answer, Reader.
I returned to the insti after that too brief respite, and made a resolution that, this time, things would be different. It's the same resolution I've made on ever ride back home for two years now. I'm cynical of my own promises now.
What has changed this time? I have a new haircut... My hair is shoulder length now and doesn't need combing anymore. The first stage of my project is done, I have a great deal of free time on my hands now. Life and career decisions are looming up with almost frightening speed and now I have to confront them. But most importantly, this time around, I have you. You're like my daily confessional, I feel purged when I leave this space; this cool white space that is my little corner in the world.

This morning, I ate a custard apple from the tree in our garden. It was sun-warmed and had split through the centre, unable to hold in all its sweetness anymore. The parrot who I'd beat to it stared at me with very reproachful, beady eyes as I smelled it, sighed and dug in.
I hope I never forget how lucky I am.

Citrusy

2009-11-07T09:12:00.000-08:00

Today's been busy, Reader. I've been trying to bake all day, but just when I got my butter softened, Amma made me go shopping, and then just when I had my dry ingredients sifted, it was time for lunch and I had to clear down. Then Appa came home and he, Amma and I had a long cose. Then I had to attend a function in the evening and then it was time for dinner. Remembering all the tall promises I made back in Mumbai, I finally settled down to bake in earnest at 10 in the night. The house was silent, everyone else asleep. I sifted and stirred, whisked and tasted to my heart's content. Finally, I popped the last batch of cupcakes into the oven and looked around. The whole house smelled of spice and chocolate. I was dusted over with flour, had a chocolate smear on one arm and two slightly burnt fingertips.
I wasn't sleepy yet, indeed was rather peckish, but nothing in the fridge tempted me. After messing about with butter and cocoa and cream and chocolate for hours, I really didn't want anything the slightest bit rich. Finally my gaze alighted upon the oranges Amma bought me today, that I had callously stuffed into a bottom shelf to make room for my glossy confections. They looked promising, they weren't chocolate.
I juiced a couple of oranges into a bowl, impatiently, with my hands, and squeezed a lime in for good measure. Then I poured the juice into a glass goblet (I like doing things in style), straining it through my fingers. Finally I took a glorious, puckery sip collapsed into a chair and started to tell you all about it.

Caramelized

2009-11-06T09:46:00.000-08:00

I spent two hours today, watching onion rings melt into a bubbling cauldron of butter till they became sticky and brown and quite unlike themselves. My first attempt at making caramelized onions was undeniably successful. At the end of two hours of watchful stirring, I had a pot full of brown, translucent onion strands to pull out while still burning hot, admire against the kitchen light and eat with my fingers like spaghetti. Hopefully, some of them will last the night and through to tomorrow morning, to accompany the pastry crust I have chilling in the freezer right now. But I have my doubts.

Home!

2009-11-05T11:49:00.000-08:00

Some days, you have to sift desperately through, to find moments of happiness, some days you get such an abundance, you're left almost breathless. Today, I could have sung and danced, Reader, all evening. I was coming home. It didn't matter that my flight was two hours late, or that I finally reached home exhausted and half starved at nearly eleven in the night. I was coming home, leaving everything else behind.
My times at home lately, have been times of suspended animation, when I abandon all conscious decision making to my parents and surrender myself to brief moments of almost helpless childhood. I refuse to make the simplest of decisions, what to wear, what to eat, when to wake up, and instead am simply content to be. It works for a while, but really, it simply isn't making the most of the whole home experience, is it?
So this time, I'm resolved to do things a little differently. I'll be foodblogging again over at Colours, meeting old and very beloved friends, and trying to make every minute count, before I have to go back.

Conversation

2009-11-04T08:27:00.000-08:00

Reader, I must admit, I was going to come to you empty handed today. I spent all of today in a funk, trying to do work but miserably failing. I even went to the coffee shop in the evening, hoping a change of scene would inspire me, but contemplating all the cheerful humanity about me only made me more gloomy.
So I returned and unwilling to be alone, drifted into a friend's room. So it began reader, a conversation on a series of fascinating topics including Edward Cullen and Jennifer Garner. Wingmates came in one by one and our talk expanded to include them all. Then we ate paranthas, warm in their foil wrapping, torn off hastily and dipped into buttery dal, still talking, frivolously, delightfully.
I finally said good night and came here to tell you all about it. Just like that, I bounced back.

Where I reveal my macabre side

2009-11-03T07:59:00.000-08:00

Reader, I have a confession to make. You aren’t going to like it. I am finding myself surprisingly amused by incredibly offensive dead baby jokes. True, I don’t really like children, but I certainly don’t want their gruesome deaths. I simply like them to leave me alone. I find the Yo Mama jokes extremely offensive, I defy you to find one that will elicit anything other than a frown from me. Why then, did I chortle when I read this? I blame A, who put me on to them in the first place. Still, I haven’t completely sold my soul to the devil yet. Number 10 shut me right up.

You will be relieved to know, dead baby jokes aren’t the thing that made me happy today; they left me too disturbed at my own macabre sense of humour for that. It was this review that I read afterward, which come to think of it, is pretty ruthless in its own way. Still, I hope to write that effortlessly some day.

Coffee Shop

2009-11-02T08:40:00.000-08:00

Today, I sat in a coffee shop, drank a strawberry shake and worked on my laptop. I felt very JK Rowling, even though I was only making a presentation, not writing a bestselling children’s novel. People came and went around me, talking, laughing, drinking coffee and eating cake. It smelled like fresh yeast and coffee and Bryan Adams sang of the Summer of ’69 from the speakers.

It was nice to leave my room, see people I don’t know and will probably never see again and hear snatches of their conversations. They talked and smiled, most of them busy in their own lives. I wonder if they’re happy. That’s a question I often ask nowadays. Life is too short to not seek happiness in it every moment. Then again, isn’t a quest for happiness by its very definition contradictory?

I don’t know. All I know is that today, sitting at that corner table, sipping an unnaturally pink milkshake and typing away on my tiny laptop, I was happy.

Jane Eyre

2009-11-01T08:37:00.000-08:00

Today, I didn’t do anything in particular. It was what I’d call an unremarkable day, the sort of day I’ve had thousands of, which I forget as soon as I go to sleep in the night. The sort of day that isn’t particularly worth living. I can’t remember a moment today when I was really happy, though nor was I particularly sad. It was a day when I existed, I didn’t live. I don’t want to spend any more days like today. I woke up, I ate, I studied, I talked to people, I sent out a few emails and eventually went to bed. I could’ve conjured up a moment of happiness from somewhere in there, I suppose, for the benefit of you, dear reader. But the whole point of this blog is full disclosure, the ups as well as the downs, so I’m not going to pretend a happiness I couldn’t feel.

PS: I’ve decided to adopt the style of Charlotte Bronte in Jane Eyre in this blog, where I address you, reader, personally. My favorite line in that entire book is the last one, “And so, dear reader, I married him.” Such a simple sentence, but one I’ll always remember. Like I, by simply reading the book, became a valuable part of Jane’s life, a friend and confidant. That’s how I feel about you, dear reader. I can’t do this alone.

Cozy

2009-10-31T08:35:00.000-07:00

I had a great deal of work to do today. In my optimism, I set an alarm for 4 am this morning and went cosily to sleep, intending to get an early start on the day. When the alarm rang, I woke, but in that half-conscious state between sleep and wakefulness. A chilly breeze blew in along with the night sounds, from my open window. All was dark and silent and my bed was very very cozy. I turned off the alarm and slowly, oh so slowly, drifted off to sleep again.

I think I shall make a practice of waking myself halfway through the night, simply for the pleasure of drifting back to sleep all over again. I slept for two hours more, blissfully, guiltlessly. I had to scramble the rest of the day, to catch up. But it was worth it.

A Return to Reality

2009-10-30T08:34:00.000-07:00

Today, I went for dinner to a very swank place. I wore expensive clothes and R, bless her, weathered a cold and fever to come over and iron my hair and give me the perfect handbag to match my swank looking outfit. I felt good, driving up in a car and clattering down a marble hallway in my high heeled shoes, to a swank dinner with some amazing people. I did my best to converse intelligently while trying not to drop my fork or let my heels sink too far into the manicured lawn. I played with my ironed hair all evening; I’m not used to it being so straight.

Finally, around midnight, my hair had begun curling again and it was time to leave. I came back to witness my room in utter disarray, with jewelry, clothes and makeup strewn all around. I changed back into t-shirt and sweats, grabbed a broom and proceeded to set it back into order. I couldn’t bring myself to tie up my hair though. As it curled back to its natural state in the humidity and I sorted earrings while the clock showed 1 am, I was happy.

Pleasure and Pain

2009-10-29T08:32:00.000-07:00

Today, I went to the beauty parlour and had my eyebrows shaped. I must confess, I didn’t even know people’s eyebrows could be shaped till I came to IIT. Only in 2^nd year, and then on R’s insistence, did I first visit a beauty parlour and pay for the privilege of having someone pull out my eyebrows, hair by hair. A visit to the parlour leaves me unfit for public display for at least three hours afterwards, as my skin turns bright and very noticeably pink after even the mildest threading.

Still, I do it month after month, because as I discovered in 2^nd year, hairy eyebrows are gross. It’s amazing the amount of things you can have done to yourself at a beauty parlour. Torture aside, I really love my visits there. It is such an entirely female place. The one place when you actually talk about your defects and insecurities with your appearance and people, kind people, help you correct them or cover them up.

So today, I went there, read a fashion magazine and had Pinky, my favourite beautician, shape my eyebrows while I winced. It helped that Pinky winced in sympathy with me, each time. Then she rubbed cream into my forehead and told me how delicate my skin was. Flattered and sore, I was happy.

Where I get my geek on

2009-10-28T08:29:00.000-07:00

Today, I sat on a stool in the electronics lab and sorted out resistors with a multimeter. I remember feeling disappointed when I first saw a resistor. It looked so different from the zigzag lines we drew in circuits, its brown, cylindrical body looked so commonplace. I forgot my disappointment soon though; things in real life are rarely what we imagine them to be. (And now, I can’t believe I made a philosophical statement based on the appearance of a resistor. How geeky am I?) But really, even though things are not what you picture them to be, it’s unfair to be disappointed in what they are. Very often, they are even better. (I defy you to extend the resistor analogy to this point.)

I love working in the Electronics lab. It has been the one place, these past few months, when I could smile and pretend I was fine and I actually was for a little while. When I did work and felt useful. So I sorted resistors and chattered, happy to be there.

Judgement

2009-10-27T22:53:00.000-07:00

There’s an impudent black crow who picks through my dustbin each morning. He caws at me reproachfully whenever he finds I haven’t thrown out anything edible. He then proceeds to overturn my dustbin before moving on to the next one, and no amount of arm flapping or shouting discourages him for long.

This morning, I woke up before him to finish a report and caught him in the act of daintily picking out all my trash and flinging it on the floor. Feeling my stare upon him, he looked up and for a moment, I was subjected to a very disapproving, beady, black stare. Finally, he seemed to reach a decision about me, shook his head and proceeded to ignore me and fling out yesterday’s apple core.

Today, I was judged by a crow.

Vanity

2009-10-26T22:50:00.000-07:00

Technically, my happy thing for today happened on Sunday itself. After watching Julie & Julia, R and I browsed about Shoppers Stop and I bought myself a gorgeous choker. It has a startlingly blue pendant, with silvery veins radiating from a heart of pearl.

After coming back though, distracted by work, I put it away. I took it out only just now, wore it and preened before the mirror. Who says you can't be shallow and still be happy.

The Pleasure of Anticipation

2009-10-25T06:56:00.000-07:00

I've been wanting to watch Julie & Julia ever since I first heard of the movie in May. Through my internship, I read Julie Powell's blog which in turns amused and inspired me all summer. I especially remember her proclamations, "I am Julie, hear me roar!" which would always make me smile.

So when the movie finally came to India, on October 23rd, I had to go watch it. Friday wasn't good, we had a wing thing planned. So after staying up till 6 in an intense cack session with the wingmates where we sampled sparkling wine and sang along to Aerosmith, I was up at 9 again, to take on the movie.

I had my popcorn, R for company and Meryl Streep with the rounded shoulders and fluty voice of Julia Child. There is so much pleasure in anticipation. Watching Ms. Streep proclain, "Bon Apetit!" I was happy.

Sunshine

2009-10-24T14:10:00.000-07:00

This morning, I walked back from the department at my usual pace, pondering the idea I'd just had for my new blog. I wondered what my first post would be. This is a blog about happiness, born from the realization that it is something to be sought and won, not something that will simply fall into my lap. That being said, it is very easy to achieve.

So I slowed my steps and looked up to see the trees meet over my head. Thick branches diverged from the main trunks, each splitting into countless little twigs that looked black in the morning sunshine as it filtered through the leaves. The two trees from either side of the road formed an arch over me, so that I couldn't see which branches belonged to which tree anymore, rather like I was inside a giant emerald heart, with the branches like a system of arteries reaching for sunlight.

Then I thought, how lucky are trees? They live on sunshine.

Lying Down In Reality

2009-10-23T01:00:00.000-07:00

I’m a keeper of sheep.

The sheep are my thoughts

And each thought a sensation.

I think with my eyes and my ears

And with my hands and feet

And with my nose and mouth.

To think a flower is to see and smell it,

And to eat a fruit is to know its meaning.

That is why on a hot day

When I enjoy it so much I feel sad,

And I lie down in the grass

And close my warm eyes,

Then I feel my whole body lying down in reality,

I know the truth, and I’m happy.

-Alberto Caeiro

I read this poem yesterday and it's been in my head ever since. It made me realise, I haven't felt this way in a while. I haven't felt happy. For a while now, I've simply been existing, not living. This poem reminded me of how I used to feel when I stopped for a moment and looked at the sky, or when I spoke to a friend for hours about life and ambition, or when I went to sleep, warm and contented. I want to feel that way again.

So this blog, where at least once a day, I write about something that made me happy, even if for a moment. The only rule is, that it can never be the same thing twice. I'm beginning today, let's see how it goes!