I don’t know why I am writing this post

Well. I know thats so darned stupid to be starting off a post but I would like to stress upon the fact that I really din’t miss the blogosphere oflate.

I know I haven’t written much  and by now  I am sure you are sure that I am going to bring here no great thought about anything and everything of earth shattering insignificance.

I also know I haven’t visited ANY blog  and I have stopped giving inputs in here as well. But, amusing as it may I ain’t feeling guilty about it. No regret pangs.Good thing, no?

I also am wondering now why I have stopped being evil. Yes. I digress here, but I don’t care.

I so want to write my cliched randoms, I am trying to key down something and I am sure I am not liking the flow of it. But then again, i don’t care.

I don’t know what I am writing now except for the plethora of ‘I knows’ which does not translate to the obsoleted self-realization.

True it is that I do have things to write about -like how crappy it is to ’study’ Principles Of Management and why I think I like Digital Signal Processing but then -no points for guessing-I don’t care.

I am Happy. Happy as in- H-A-P-P-Y.Have you even known inherent self-sufficiency? I Know and I am only too proud to be not pontificating of why I feel self sufficient. My Life Rocks, yes. At its  best if you ask me and you are not to feel envious about it because every dog has its day and no, I am not reasoning why I equate human-beings with dogs. That would lead to a blasphemous evolutionary error and we don’t to prove Darwin wrong, do we?Ah. I am glad I am back to square one. Rediscovery must be a good thing.

If you ask me, I so am desperate to watch Avatar . I ate heck helluva lot of Milk Chocos today and I  want to ask my sister to plaster her mouth this moment cos she has been talking non-stop now which kind of interrupts the flow in my exceedingly quirky post if I may call thus.

Which also reminds me of my erstwhile post about Dad. I haven’t written much things about my sister in here and thats probably because she is not to be written off easily. And did I say  she is the Best? She is irritating and stupid but she is like this seriously unique-est little wonder .Hush now I should because I am cognizant that the little brat checks on my blog quite more than often.

Thats about it. I have written more than I thought I would. So good weekend folks and stay grounded. I try to . Don’t ask me why.

I am so feeling surreal. I Like It. I am so envious of me.

Stay kicked but stop being jealous . Don’t drink and drive. See , I am a little bit of a lot of things but I don’t want to populate my blog with all that I am because that will perhaps lay bare all the inglourious mystery that is me. Yes, I am influenced by Quentin Tarentino with due relevance to syntax. And I call Physicists ‘Phycists’ . Thats how I work.

So yeah, Ta and double reminder: Don’t drink and drive. Social responsibility, I like.

Blahs

Exams. That will be the trending topic in my life for a fortnight plus few days next.

The weather in Chennai is ABSOLUTELY delightful .

As for my personal life, I am not complaining much. Albeit, I am in this truly truly inexplicable rigmarole .  I am not particularly sure of what I am doing with my life now and times like these, burdened all the more by the semesters have made me comprehend that I can still be upto my wits despite the shallow phase. Sometimes I am proud of myself. And when I feel good about myself, I feel special. When I feel special, I understand why at times people tend to nurture their ego. I am not a very egotistic person. I let things just be. I let ,rather  I look at people with their ‘just bes’. Because expectation hurts. And I don’t want to hurt myself inordinately, do I? Well. Guys! I am philosophizing.

I am not in a mood to write more. Maybe you will miss me. And I shalt be back. Because I hope and I know why I am special: I am ordinary.

Good week folks. And Konnichiwa:D

I Belong:

I slant

In gauped  memory ;

I wonder

If you remember

At all the moons of green

And  one monsoon winter.

I triumph

to crumble

and resurrect

to crumble ;

( All In blindness, beseeched)

And you

In feigned naiveté

(What my eye beholds,

With all of  twinged rheumatism)

Asunder-

My castles of devotion;

Counterfeit-

My sensitivity

(That is naught, but juvenile)

Imprison-

My record of chutzpah,

For nothing

At all cures me

And do I

But shamelessly entertain

My air of specter

That will die young

And virgin.

For….

……..I  am redeemed

Twice, but now.

Like Business

Tagged by V.

I am not very sure if I Love tags but then I don’t oft  succumb  to love-hate rules. And I would not want to hurt my brain cells a tad this early afternoon. Before I move on to put the tag up, I just felt like writing it down since  I am quite relaxed after long. I have been having a lot of time at hand  and it is only now that I realise the Quixotic schedule I had adhered to. Yes, Thanks to some sympathy, Anna univ has decided to let us a off for a month before the examinations.

I have been training my voice a lot , learning  new Krithis and absolutely fell in love with Reethigowlai and Darbari Kanada. Infact I had some guts to be less sincere , bunked my Japanese/yoga/IMS classes last week . Howbeit,  the spate of weekend classes beacon and I am not in wanting to skip them because the aftereffects are highly *ahem* cumbersome.

Aside, I just finished reading Albert Einsteins’ ‘Ideas and Opinions’ and Bhagat’s ‘Two states’. Okay, the latter was absolute crap with some ‘okay’ moments and I think Five Point Someone was his only decent book. No, I am into any criticism mode today. Its just that we all have individual likes/disalikes and I am entitled to my own , may I add as a disclaimer.Agreed. I am screwing up my sentences here. And thats why I forewarned you of how I din’t want to hurt my brain cells much.Off to the tag:

1.What is your current obsession?

Music. Bharathanatyam. It always has been.

2. What are you wearing today?

Like it matters.

3. What’s the last thing you bought?

Vim Dishwash bar:D

4. What are you listening to right now?

Kandu Kandu by MS Amma.

5. Which language do you want to learn?

Malayalam and Slovanese.

6.  Favourite quotes?

“I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I’m in a world of shit, yes.But I am alive and I am not afraid”- Full Metal Jacket, 1987.

” It’s our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.” – Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter.

7. What do you consider a fashion faux pas?

Fashion is an abstract term. Not being oneself -> fashion faux pas.

8. What are you going to do after this?

I don’t know

9. What inspires you?

Life that knows death.

10. What do you do when you are feeling low or terribly depressed?

Music therapy. I would also highly recommend Bhathiyar and Vijayakanth albeit putting them in the same league is a shame.

11. What is the meaning of your name?

Archana- Offering to the Divine.

12. What do you love most about yourself?

No matter what, I hope. And I forgive myself, time to time.

13.Why did you do this tag?

For starters, I am bored . Someone asked me to do it and I thought I could honor the request.

Done with Tag-1.

There is also this other tag that asks me to dig down my archives and list posts on five keywords. Again Courtesy, V.

1)  I have been very pontificating about the self in my blog. Pooh, this, this and this are some random things about me. Like it has not been enough, oh yeah.

2)Family: I loved writing this for Appa, my postcard for being cranky should be this , A tribute to Thatha and the one I think is my best post , again for appa.

3) Friends: There has not been much exhibition on my exploits with friends , my crazy activities as such just because this blog is sometimes read by people from my family and close circle of friends. We don’t want to invite trouble, no?Maybe this and this should help.Light reads could be from here and here .

4) I seem to be very fond of  opining. With a smattering of self introspection included. Here , this one and also this one could well be proof enough.

5) My fiction: My fav and this one titled Love . Also, the very recent take on relationships.

Take this tag up.

Its nice because you can revisit your writings.Also, I am * tempted*  to make  this compulsory for :  Winnie,  OG and Sri Ram

Happy weekend . Stay fit and sizzle:P

P.S: The title does not bear  a smidgen of relevance to the post. Any problem?!

Festive words

There came and went a Diwali. Like they say, a lot of things come and go. Bygones, alright? Bygones stand bygones forever because we owe much to the imposing change. I exalt permanence since I know why bygones cannot be today. Change does a coercing coup and it is for me to see the rest. The earliest memory of my Diwali eventuates and ceases with Grandpa. I remember how I used to prod the family for extra 1000 wallas. Diwali meant smog. Boom-Boom of crackers , zoing-zoing  of rockets and the heavy elephantine pat of  atom bombs. Atom bombs were a craze then. Alighting the wick of this poorly made hydrogen bomb meant guts. And irrevocable leadership among the street’s naughty ten year olds.

“ava atom bomb-ae vechaa da! That girl da”

(She alighted the atom bomb’s wick!”)  Michael, my then neighbor would chuckle with legitimate, sincere astonishment . I enjoyed being in the spotlight. That meant some girl-power . I went on to uncover in my later years that those were the days that forked out fodder for the feminist in me-Sensitive, sovereign and peculiar.The whole day would pass by with boom-boom-booms of signature decibel from here, there and everywhere. I remember seeing my lane covered with white ghastly smoke all of midnoon. Heavy fogged image telecasts gleefully in my memory as I key this down. Nights meant sangu-chakram, sparklers and snake tablets. Ah, Flower pots of different vagaries and multiple chromaticity. Standard made. Standard was ‘the’ brand. I seldom saw any commercial selling ‘brand’ standard. All I remember is Vijay Adhiraj’s appearence for ayyan pattasu and the ensuing dialogue. Commercials apart, Brand standard also somehow translated well to ’standing safe’. The only diwali that went without standard in my household was also the only diwali where a ‘seval-mark’ made flowerpot went kaput in the air and fell thud on my Aunt’s shoulder leading to serious injury. That only proliferated my devotion to standard. It continues to this day so.

Of all Diwalis , this one closed in a note of introspection. It made me understand change, in true terms. It made me understand how there wouldn be another one ten year old Michael with the genuine appreciation for bursting the famous ‘bombs’ cos all ten year old Michaels casually launched color rockets up today. There was not much smog this Diwali . The persistent boom-booms are a passe. Television ruled the roost but I am not sure if the special shows accounted for huge TRPs. Appa used to tell me of the weekends he would long for, just to watch that one evening slot movie in Doordarshan. Now everything comes easy. When things come easy, the platitudinous urge , the thrill, the pwnage, the excitement gets lost. Somewhere along the line, the magic  is lost.But say what may, there is not one civilization that hails life like Diwali. Also I may add, there is not a city like Chennai that styles up Diwali. To walk in that narrow mini lanes smelling burning sulphur…..Ethereal is a lesser expression!

Belated Diwali greetings everyone!

Let the light in:)

Bad Day

Music can be healing.

Sorry but am not able to write anything more from here. Not that I am having the fancied writer’s block or something. One of those days you know, when you actually want to throw the keypad out from sight and brood over the ‘whys’ and ‘whatifs’ all with an exam to go in the morrow. But then again, quoting me ‘ Music can be healing’. I am putting up the ‘only best song’ -like someone I know of mentioned-in here. I resort to this trusted mode of feeling implicitly better when I am down disoriented. Instant enlightenment. Immediate personal recall value . Try, No?

Daniel Powter-Bad Day.

Inspiration

A wilted stem. Bygone, now.

I forgot I had a nursery . I din’t bother of  the people who visited home just to see those exotic hydrangeas and multitude of monsoon roses flaunt their glamor.

It was then I saw you, my most favorite white butterfly pea …that I suffered the instant quintessential guilt trip. It was like seeing my own progeny orphaned out, malnourished and bowed down to abandonment.Though the legion of jasmine flowers invited others’ attention,I always thought you were meant for the ultimate crowning glory for it was your simplicity that lured me in. It was your preposterous fixation to bloom again and again despite the monsoon roses sealing enchantment on people. You always fought , stood a rebel and I liked this about you because I always felt like seeing my own mirage in your little pedicel.

Did I leave otiosity prioritize favoritism? I was negligent to sling the handful of gravel into the poles . Worse, I abandoned you, failed to drag out the hose pipe around and splurge some water.

This morning , I saw you again. I was away from home for a few days and I was meanly, yet practically pessimistic about your living. But what I did see when I saw you? I saw the old magic recreated..I saw the bloom of ten flowers  and I knew not how to say what I wanted to scream. I knew why appa said rains have been gracing the city, on and off. I should have instantly picked up his cue.

You live now. I know you would have looked through  every available loophole to cling on to dear life. And that one stingy drop of drizzle would have sufficed for you to make your own moves  and evince once and for all that you will remain a fighter by choice. And by fighting, you will survive the odds. Somehow,  all that I have learnt at school and college thus far seem so strangely Lilliputian in contrast to the magnitude of the lessons I learn by just watching you grow, wilt and resurrect.

The Scientologist in me says its the chemistry in Botany. The theist in me says its God’s way of illuminating and conditioning my mind through you. The agnostic in me says thats how you are meant to be. I know not where I belong to. But thanks to you, I know I can be what I want to be.I can be the fighter.  Because the results do not matter.Because what people say what I am/what I am not  do not matter.

I would know I tried. In the process, I  know that you will be proud of me.

Happy Saturday.

Update 1: Been listening to A.R.Rahman for about five hours now:) One of the best of the lot, thumping and full of josh:) Relish!

Update 2: This video is a Rip-off from a concert in Paris. Features my Guru Mr.Mahesh Vinayakram and his brothers. OUT-OF-THE-WORLD I tell you. Spare a few minutes of your time and you know why I am raving abt this one:

For tomorrow

I walk .

Amidst those effete strands

and redolent skins,

With all the tales I know,

Of you , in me and denuded.

I walk:

Espying beside ,is you,

Impelling a smile

Sagacious and annealed,

Charming yet punctured.

I walk:

Thus, yet another day Amidst us,

heirloom, it becomes..

For we , in unhinged momentum,

scurry to rewrite-

Space, dimension and the lil book of blue

Of an eternity ,

That will culminate in short

Of a Relapsed memory,

That will possess and long.

Until thence,

Time Shall just live to believe,

The you, the me, in, the Us.

P.S:Poorly written, I admit. But spur-on, hence the post.

A little of the lot

I think more than what you call a ‘writer’s block’ , one needs programmed ‘mindset’ to write something..Atleast that’s how it works for me. A lot of times it is very specific to apprehend what doesn work for the self more than what does. I so believe, only then a lot of discombobulation gets a tad less hectic. With that quick little note that mildly borders verbose (ahem!) , here I go , with what I ve always liked writing the most..#randoms:

1) With the advent of twitter, I really must admit that blogging has taken the backseat. Not that I tweet every five minutes over my ‘oh-so-shuweet-puppy’ or the  ‘I -am-bugged-hence-I tweet’ statements but Twitter peers to micro blogging for me and I manage to stick up some updates sans being extremely unwrapping over personals everyday and I end up not being inspired to blog in this space so much so that I have some six incomplete drafts which btw, I am sure will eventually make it to the trash. The only disfavor that twitter poses to humanity is the word limit that draws a line to  being too effusive with sentences,something that is hard for me to adhere to.

2) Winning is always so special for me. But the let down is that winning always pressurizes me from the inside to make a new extra effort, walk a sunny extra mile everyday. I won two quizzes back-to-back : One based on Physics and the other -politics. I also happened to ace through a Robotics event and I am having the time of my life with due relevance to academics. Afterall, winning pumps in some liquidity to my existence. I need not bug my dad for moolah, for awhile atleast!

3)It is unfair to not mention my Rakhi bro S if  and when I pontificate over the Quiz Wins. We both have been a team from school and to still think that we share the same cracker of a rapport , the similar penchant to exchange theories and to see the  basic inquisitiveness we share still alive..it is something of a feeling!

4) I would like to support an organization purely devoted to Child welfare in the futurity.  I do not have the resources now . Neither am I armed with a proper back-up . I hope this dream dissolves to ‘being’. ‘To be’ is a fantastic inspiration.

5) A.R.Rahman’s BLUE is a let down as an album. There are a few songs that are worth listening to all over again, but as an album…let’s just say I am disappointed .And my one-liner is not a fixated opinion ..Just that after living it out with some absolutely mindblowing numbers from Rang De, Jaane Tu  and Jodha Akbar(leave alone the double Oscar) it seemed mandatory that the BLUE musical should overpass these albums in the rating quotient.BLUE , unfortunately has not. But I always stand by the fact that Rahman is his own competition .

6) I have enrolled myself with the IMS for my weekend classes and I should say it is completely worth it. IMS has a faculty of the cutest Premier-insti-MBA-corporates and we girls are having a ball every week pretending to be geeks slogging their time off with Quants at class when we are actually trying to make a faculty comparison chart. The best part is that, we do not have a standard faculty and every week there is a new Mr.Cute. That suffices to keep us away from boredom, don’t you think? Twenties are super-wonly times!

7)Talk about my Japanese now…More than the class itself what fascinates me the most are two lil imps who actually believe they bug me out for  my ‘childlikeness’ when I only like it too much when someelse does my work for once.Hmm..These teens, I say!

8)I have always loved riding/driving. It makes me feel free, independent and self-governed. I like being free…Free to do things I like and opine my thoughts when I feel them just. To put on those ear-phones and zoom past the automobiles with Aerosmith’s Dream on blasting over my tympanums…I just have to say i am more prone to fortune. Do not envy my lifestyle, it is okay.

9)I sometimes look back and laugh at my own self. As a teenager I wrote more of insanity that I actually thought would make great philosophy. That’s why I think I understand my sister. And someday, I hope I will understand my children like my mother. She is the bestest for me.

10)I have begun to actually ‘hate’ orkut and FB. These sites get on to my nerves too much though the ‘fraandship’ requests are a total comic relief!

Ten done and the lesser, the better:)

Stay alive and kicking. Thats my wish for you  and for me, too!

Behind many faces

It was in 1992 that I set out to earn my masters in Metallurgy. It was also then I discovered booze, casual sex and takeaway restaurant jobs.

My scholarly life had never bothered my parents.It was impressive and irrelevant-all at the same time. They let me live my own life, gave me choices and were understanding over my complicated decisions that other families would have deliberately branded paranoid. So when I called to make an announcement from my Jamshedpur campus over my  admission in a foreign land, they were only too pleased to react. And thus, I was on a plane to an unknown land, spirited enough to experiment, free willed to make a living and fixated might over a two letter suffix.

PROLOGUE 1:

Cans of food lined the table.

Shiny dark hairs dangled glamorously to the loud music.My stomach twitched making me feel like an outcast in a crowd of blastema.  I saw my gal pals ,with frosted eyelids and palled out lipsticks , exhausted  but ready to twist their hips and groove in sync.

What was this life? I had thought.

I was the national  topper in my high school level.All I knew was fun. The fun in endless hours of reference books and extra fun with calculus. I relocated to Jamshedpur for my under graduation. The template of endless reference hours continued except for my monthly movie outings  and everyday snack of Aalu Parathas , roasted nuts at the near end of the campus road. But here I was, in a weekend sleepover party at one of my firang classmates’ place trying to figure out Johnnie Walker  and what people meant when they mentioned cassoulets.

And they she came . Jessica ,with her liquid.

‘wanna this?’ she asked .

‘Why not?” I said and without any effort, I  drank.

I felt strangely excited and convoluted.

Alcohol had arrived in my life.

Prologue 2:

By the time my coursework started inflating , I had got acclimatized with this new lifestyle, working in a Tandoori Restaurant late night and studying by the side. I made road trips on the weekends, discovering plentiful vegetation sipping my miller lite and taking pictures , which btw would have made dad proud. I thought of  the endless walks I made with dad to the studios to get our developed prints. I thought of the day when dad finally discovered internet and how he chuckled . Sometimes, only sometimes, I missed them.

I mostly  spent time clandestinely thinking about Paul.

Paul was the kind of boyfriend every girl liked to have. Cliche, but  Paul was my sunshine at class. Infact, he was every girl’s sunshine. For his green eyes. For his intellect. For the way he smiled . For the way he sashayed down the corridor . And importantly, for the way he spread his charm.

One winter morning when I was out loose for sandwiches, I saw Paul in a shockingly close distance.

Paul and I got talking. What started with a breakfast brief extended to a luncheon. We missed our classes. Duh, It din’t matter. Not now.

That same evening I drove to my apartment, hyperventilating and shocked as hell.

“I like you”, he had said. I was floating.“So would he be“, I thought. I was always the narcissist.In nothing less than two days, I found myself guiding Paul’s hands down under. That night, we made love.

America had gotten inside me, I realised.

Prologue 3:

I was all set for graduation.

I looked at Jessica, in the southern end , posing gleefully for pictures that probably would  be treasured long. I looked at Paul , who threw us a fit by getting married two months back to Sudha.

“He has a thing for Indian girls”, I heard Denizer blabber around.

I vivdly remembered how Paul broke my heart years back. I was messed up but had strength enough to walk along. I later switched boyfriends, got my heart broken a lot of times before I finally met Prakash in the wobbly room where a cult of Indians met up for dinner now and then.

I found my fingers entwined to his and it was only when they called out my name that I released myself from Prakash’s  side. I heard the applause and the hoots. I felt nice.

The night of my graduation, I sat sipping the infamous Cappuchino. Prakash was there too, discussing soccer animatedly with a friend. I thought how America had inflicted new perspectives in me. What was criminal there, wasn’t bad here. I saw how land to land, ocean to ocean , perspectives diverged , living differed though essentials remained the same.

I suddenly put down my mug, clambered up the stairs to reach my phone. I dialed my land’s code while my  heart was silent , sincere and devoid of perspiration. I heard a delightful feminine voice burst from the other end.

“Amma?” , I called.

I was home.And I knew why.