I'm currently reading the highly acclaimed Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts, and honestly, I have never come across a book that can compare with this. If I was a hot-shot critic asked to review it, I'd say: 'Superb. A book that both thrills and pacifies; a thought-provoking, extraordinary account of the life of a man on-the-run'
The story sucks you right in, yes, but more than that, it's the style of the author's writing that appeals to me. He has said some great things, full of a subtle wisdom, and here, I'm going to post a few of my favourite lines:
"Optimism is the first cousin of love - both are pushy, have no real sense of humour and turn up where you least expect them to"
"Loves are like that. You heart starts to feel like an overcrowded lifeboat. You throw your pride out to keep it afloat, and your self-respect and independence. After a while, you started throwing people out – your friends and everyone you used to know. And it’s still not enough. The lifeboat is still sinking, and you know it’s going to take down with it. I’ve seen that happen to a lot of girls. That’s why I’m sick of Love.”
“The world and I are not on the speaking terms. The world tries to win me back, but it doesn’t work. I guess I’m just not the forgiving type.”
“Men reveal what they think when they look away, and what they feel when they hesitate. With women, it’s the other way round.”
“I don’t know what frightens me more, the power that crushes us or our endless ability to endure it.”
“Mistakes are like bad loves, the more you learn from them, the more you wish they’d never happened.”
“The truth is a bully we all pretend to like.”
“Sometimes you have to surrender before you win.”
“Wisdom is just cleverness, with all the guts kicked out of it.”
"I’d only give you advice if I didn’t care what happens to you.”
“If fate doesn’t make you laugh, then you just don’t get the joke.”
“I take everything personally- that’s what being a person is all about.”
“It isn’t a secret, unless keeping it hurts.”
“Depression only happens to people who don’t know how to be sad.”
“Luck is what happens to you when fate gets tired of waiting”
“Fate gives all of us three teachers, three friends, three enemies, and three great loves in our lives. But these twelve are always disguised, and we can never know which one is which until we’ve loved them, left them, or fought them.”
“Sometimes we love with nothing more than hope. Sometimes we cry with everything except tears. In the end that’s all there is: love and its duty, sorrow and its truth. In the end that’s all we have – to hold on tight until the dawn”
“Some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. Some things are so sad that only your soul can do the crying for them.”
“A dream is a place where a wish and a fear meet. When the wish and fear are exactly the same, we call the dream a nightmare.”
“Fear dries a man’s mouth, and hate strangles him. That’s why hate has no great literature: real fear and real hate have no words.”
"We carry oceans inside of us, in our blood and our sweat. And we are crying the oceans, in our tears.”
"Without forgiveness, our species would've annihilated itself in endless retributions. Without forgiveness, there would be no history. Without that hope, there would be no art, for every work of art is in some way an act of forgiveness. Without that dream, there would be no love, for every act of love is in some way a promise to forgive. We live on because we can love, and we love because we can forgive."
"Happiness is a myth. It was invented to make us buy new things."
"Every virtuous act has some dark secret in its heart; every risk we take contains a mystery that can’t be solved."
"Nothing grieves more deeply or pathetically than one half of a great love that isn’t meant to be."
"Nothing fits the hand so perfectly , or feels so right , or inspires so much protective instinct , as the hand of a child."
"Love cannot be tested....honesty can, and loyalty....but not love...love goes on forever, once it starts, even if we come to hate the person, we love....love goes on forever because love is born in the part of us which does not die..."
"At first, when we truly love someone, our greatest fear is that the loved one will stop loving us...what we should fear and dread, is that we wont stop loving them, even after they're dead and gone..."
"We know who we are and we define what we are by references to the people we love and our reasons for loving them."
"Sooner or later,fate puts us together with all the people,one by one,who show us what we could and should not let ourselves become. Sooner or later we meet the drunkard,the waster,the betrayer,the ruthless mind and the hate-filled heart. But fate loads the dice,of course,because we usually find ourselves loving or pitying almost all of those people.And its impossible to despise someone you honestly pity and to shun someone you truly love..."
"There is nothing as depressing as good advice."
"It's such a huge arrogance, to love someone, and there's too much of it around. There's to much love in the world. Sometimes I think that's what heaven is - a place where everybody's happy because nobody loves anybody else, ever."
I'm sure there are lots more which I'm leaving out, but for starters these are enough. Enough to make Shantaram one of my most favorite novels, and - when I buy myself a copy - one of my most prized.
Added Later:
Thanks to Renita, for adding the following to the list:
"When the heart has its moments of truth and sorrow, the soul can't be stilled."
"One of the reasons why we crave love and seek it so desperately is that love is the only cure for loneliness and shame and sorrow."
"Theres a kind of luck thats not much more than being in the right place at the right time, a kind of inspiration that not much more than doing the right thing in the right way and both only really happen to you when you empty your heart of ambition , purpose and plan, when you give yourself completely to the golden fate filled moment."
People
On reading the two comments after my last post, (and the many others on previous posts) I felt touched, comforted. It feels nice to know that there are people out there who, despite being complete strangers to me, care about how I feel, care enough to take a moment to say something that would make me feel better. Thank you so much, all you people (both known and unknown) who read what I write and comment on it. :)
When i first started blogging, I had no idea that my writing would connect me with so many people. In fact, when I recieved the first ever comment on a post, I was utterly shocked. And pleased of course. I had never thought someone would find this little spot of mine in the vast virtual world and appreciate it, and today, there are so many people who have done just that.
I think that anyone who reads what I write here gets to know me better, even better than my closest friends. This seems a little strange given that most of the people who do wouldn't recognize me if we crossed each other on the street. Contemplating this strange fact led me to think about people at a deeper level.
They are all around us, other people, but there are often only a handful who mean anything to us. They come into our lives uninhibited, often because of a common goal, (such as schooling) and they leave just as easily. Often, they leave traces of themselves with us, perhaps something they said, or something they did that we never quite forget. Sometimes they leave too much of themselves behind and we can never quite stop missing them every now and then, thinking of how they are and whether they miss us too. Other people come and don't leave. They stick with us, despite changing goals, despite distances. We usually label these kind of people as 'true friends'. The others are just friends. Or aquaintances. But nonetheless, they are all intricately entwined into the paths that our destiny has laid out for us.
People hurt us, people annoy us, but they also complete us. We are who we are because of the people we have been close to, have fallen-out and patched-up with, have shared good and bad experiences with. There are people we like - or love - for reasons beyond us. There are people we can't stand, again, for reasons beyond us.
There are kind people and mean people, there are quiet people and chatter-boxes, there are deep people and shallow people, there are boring people and exciting people, there are weird people and unremarkable people. But mostly there are people with all these (and more) traits combined into a complex mosaic of moods and feelings and mannerisms.
There are just so many people, moving around here and there, planning this and plotting that, as if the world is a giant chess board and we are all the little minute pieces, playing different parts at different times. Sometimes we are mere pawns, sometimes we are powerful queens, sometimes crafty knights. Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose. At the end, we die.
'All the world's a stage', said Shakespeare.
'All the world's a chess-board,' said Mehak. :P
When i first started blogging, I had no idea that my writing would connect me with so many people. In fact, when I recieved the first ever comment on a post, I was utterly shocked. And pleased of course. I had never thought someone would find this little spot of mine in the vast virtual world and appreciate it, and today, there are so many people who have done just that.
I think that anyone who reads what I write here gets to know me better, even better than my closest friends. This seems a little strange given that most of the people who do wouldn't recognize me if we crossed each other on the street. Contemplating this strange fact led me to think about people at a deeper level.
They are all around us, other people, but there are often only a handful who mean anything to us. They come into our lives uninhibited, often because of a common goal, (such as schooling) and they leave just as easily. Often, they leave traces of themselves with us, perhaps something they said, or something they did that we never quite forget. Sometimes they leave too much of themselves behind and we can never quite stop missing them every now and then, thinking of how they are and whether they miss us too. Other people come and don't leave. They stick with us, despite changing goals, despite distances. We usually label these kind of people as 'true friends'. The others are just friends. Or aquaintances. But nonetheless, they are all intricately entwined into the paths that our destiny has laid out for us.
People hurt us, people annoy us, but they also complete us. We are who we are because of the people we have been close to, have fallen-out and patched-up with, have shared good and bad experiences with. There are people we like - or love - for reasons beyond us. There are people we can't stand, again, for reasons beyond us.
There are kind people and mean people, there are quiet people and chatter-boxes, there are deep people and shallow people, there are boring people and exciting people, there are weird people and unremarkable people. But mostly there are people with all these (and more) traits combined into a complex mosaic of moods and feelings and mannerisms.
There are just so many people, moving around here and there, planning this and plotting that, as if the world is a giant chess board and we are all the little minute pieces, playing different parts at different times. Sometimes we are mere pawns, sometimes we are powerful queens, sometimes crafty knights. Sometimes we win, sometimes we lose. At the end, we die.
'All the world's a stage', said Shakespeare.
'All the world's a chess-board,' said Mehak. :P
When I don't feel like writing something, I write anything.
I am feeling too lazy/under-motivated/frustrated to write anything proper, so I'll just write whatever comes to mind.
I watched Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince today and loved it - it's better than all the previous movies put together. Of course, it differs from the book here and there but it's still great. Despite being so dark and serious, it has beautiful light moments, romantic moments. And everyone's performances are exceptional, distinct from the ones in the previous movies.
Considering that I enjoyed the movie so much, I should be in a much better mood. But yet, I feel lazy/under-motivated/frustrated. It's a feeling that had been gone so long I was beginning to celebrate its permanant absence. But it turns out the feeling is like the rain - it strikes unexpectedly. It makes me want to explode because I can't stand the hot anger quietly simmering within me. It's a familiar kind of anger that usually tranforms into sadness and eventually disappears back into my heart/mind (whichever it came from). Who exactly is it directed at? I'm not sure. Myself, perhaps. Because I find that chastising myself is easier than chastising whoever actually deserves it.
Please God, I don't want to feel this way anymore. I've had enough. Please. Make me what I used to be. I hate the stranger that I've become.
p.s. Feelings aside, I quite like that line: 'stranger that I've become'. Wow, smetimes, I even impress myself. :p
I watched Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince today and loved it - it's better than all the previous movies put together. Of course, it differs from the book here and there but it's still great. Despite being so dark and serious, it has beautiful light moments, romantic moments. And everyone's performances are exceptional, distinct from the ones in the previous movies.
Considering that I enjoyed the movie so much, I should be in a much better mood. But yet, I feel lazy/under-motivated/frustrated. It's a feeling that had been gone so long I was beginning to celebrate its permanant absence. But it turns out the feeling is like the rain - it strikes unexpectedly. It makes me want to explode because I can't stand the hot anger quietly simmering within me. It's a familiar kind of anger that usually tranforms into sadness and eventually disappears back into my heart/mind (whichever it came from). Who exactly is it directed at? I'm not sure. Myself, perhaps. Because I find that chastising myself is easier than chastising whoever actually deserves it.
Please God, I don't want to feel this way anymore. I've had enough. Please. Make me what I used to be. I hate the stranger that I've become.
p.s. Feelings aside, I quite like that line: 'stranger that I've become'. Wow, smetimes, I even impress myself. :p
Ironical, but true.
Sometimes:
-while trying to protect yourself from getting hurt, you end up hurting a lot of others.
-while trying to stop yourself from feeling things you don't want to, you end up not feeling things you ought to
-while trying to forget the past, you forget to remember the present
-while trying to be happy, you end up being sad.
-while trying to protect yourself from getting hurt, you end up hurting a lot of others.
-while trying to stop yourself from feeling things you don't want to, you end up not feeling things you ought to
-while trying to forget the past, you forget to remember the present
-while trying to be happy, you end up being sad.
I Don't Know
This is just random...I wrote whatever came to mind. Haven't paid much attention to the structure or punctuation or anything else:
I don’t know what’s worse:
Loving you and not having you love me back,
Or being your friend, but only just
I don’t know what I feel:
Hurt that you are mean to me on purpose to try to make me not love you,
Or touched that you care enough to push me to move on
I don’t know what I hate more:
Fighting with you like a child over the stupidest little things
Or that sinking feeling of despair when you’re never first to try patch up
I don’t know what’s scarier:
The prospect of drifting apart from you over time,
Or staying in touch and watching you be someone else’s.
I don’t know how to stop:
Hating God that he didn’t make me pretty enough for you,
Or being jealous of every girl who draws your attention.
I don’t know what’s more confusing:
Wanting to hear your voice all the time but not being able to pick up the phone and call you everyday (because I am not your girlfriend, nor a ‘close enough’ friend to do that)
Or wanting YOU to call me at least SOME times (because I AM a close enough friend for THAT!)
I don’t know what’s more tormenting:
The thought of you moving on in life and one day forgetting me completely
Or the fact that I may never forget you enough to be able to find happiness with someone else.
I don’t know what’s more childish:
The way I search for little excuses to talk to you
Or the way I anticipate that you’ll message first.
I don’t know what is more defeating:
Knowing that you will never be mine
Or hoping that someday, just maybe, you might.
I don’t know what’s worse:
Loving you and not having you love me back,
Or being your friend, but only just
I don’t know what I feel:
Hurt that you are mean to me on purpose to try to make me not love you,
Or touched that you care enough to push me to move on
I don’t know what I hate more:
Fighting with you like a child over the stupidest little things
Or that sinking feeling of despair when you’re never first to try patch up
I don’t know what’s scarier:
The prospect of drifting apart from you over time,
Or staying in touch and watching you be someone else’s.
I don’t know how to stop:
Hating God that he didn’t make me pretty enough for you,
Or being jealous of every girl who draws your attention.
I don’t know what’s more confusing:
Wanting to hear your voice all the time but not being able to pick up the phone and call you everyday (because I am not your girlfriend, nor a ‘close enough’ friend to do that)
Or wanting YOU to call me at least SOME times (because I AM a close enough friend for THAT!)
I don’t know what’s more tormenting:
The thought of you moving on in life and one day forgetting me completely
Or the fact that I may never forget you enough to be able to find happiness with someone else.
I don’t know what’s more childish:
The way I search for little excuses to talk to you
Or the way I anticipate that you’ll message first.
I don’t know what is more defeating:
Knowing that you will never be mine
Or hoping that someday, just maybe, you might.
Relatives that make me go wtf!
Dear God, why are there so many stupid people out here? And why oh why must I be related to so many of them?!
I am a complete recluse when it comes to social interractions with my eccentric extended family. But you can't blame me, honestly. Not when most of the members are just so unfailingly pissing off! Everytime I have an argument with mum about not wanting to visit them or calling them over to our place, she tells me I'm antisocial and have no 'feelings' for people who love me. 'You're like a stone..no warmth at all..' are her exact words. I think that is the biggest insult for a writer - to be told they don't 'feel' things. God, at times I feel so much that I wish I could just stop and go all numb.
But I don't tell mum that. She wouldn't understand anyways. So I'll let her live with the delusion that I don't like my relatives because I was born unfriendly. When in fact, the actual reason is that I have a ton of better things to do than waste my time with a bunch of people who evoke only one reaction in me: wtf. (Followed by a long sentence dotted with some more of the choicest expletives - all in my mind of course!)
Top 5 reasons why I can't believe and thoroughly hate that I'm related to certain people:
1. They don't have a clue what I mean when I say I want to be a writer. MA kyun nahi karlete, beta? MBA kar lo - scope bohot he...Aage padhna nahi hai, kya?
Ugh, @#$%^!!! Honestly, people, it's my life...don't you think I would have thought about my OWN 'future' a hell lot more than you ever will?? I know what i'm doing when I say I'm studying creative writing. I don't need your effing advice. If you're so smart, I'd expect you to know that creative writing DOES NOT mean calligraphy! lmao..this is hillarious..they think I'm going to do calligraphy for a living! :P
2. They have a solution to all the problems in the world, except their own. Really, they have issues that would put Ekta Kapoor's TV serials to shame, but rather than deal with them, they want to spend all their time poking their noses into other people's business offering free, unwanted, good-for-nothing, totally effed-up 'advice'. Gawd, people, get a life!
3. They are hypocrites, preacing and practicing 'religion' on one hand, and violating the most basic norms of any religion on the other. Religion advocates kindness, tolerance, constructive use of time. But all that these...these...people can do is bitch and backbite and fault-find. Gossip in itself is not that bad, but gossip that amounts to HOURS of just sitting and badmouthing others over petty things is definitely unhealthy. They all need psychological counselling. Honestly. I'm not even joking. Put all that energy into planting trees and you might just stop the world from ending in 2012 like everyone is saying these days!
4. They undermine my gender, which I absolutely CANNOT STAND. *angry smilies*
Despite being women themselves, they actually believe in crappy things like women shouldn't go to work and women should be good cooks and sons are preferable than daughters and women should marry young to the first guy who comes her way as long as he earns well. Go jump off a cliff, all of you! You're the reason women continue to be oppressed even in the effing 21st century. The world could so do without you.
5. They want me to be like them. Yeah right! I would rather be a slug.
Just because I try to stay as far away from their influences as I can (because they are just so pissing off, like i said) they think there is something wrong with me. They want me to join in, gossip a bit, pass a smart comment here and there, chatter away about senseless things, but I will not. Mum can force me to visit them as much as she wants, but I am never going to be like these people. I am as different from them as different can be. And I intend to keep it that way. I just hope some day soon I can fly off somewhere and just be away from them, like I used to be a few years back. I could do without all their negativity.
I am a complete recluse when it comes to social interractions with my eccentric extended family. But you can't blame me, honestly. Not when most of the members are just so unfailingly pissing off! Everytime I have an argument with mum about not wanting to visit them or calling them over to our place, she tells me I'm antisocial and have no 'feelings' for people who love me. 'You're like a stone..no warmth at all..' are her exact words. I think that is the biggest insult for a writer - to be told they don't 'feel' things. God, at times I feel so much that I wish I could just stop and go all numb.
But I don't tell mum that. She wouldn't understand anyways. So I'll let her live with the delusion that I don't like my relatives because I was born unfriendly. When in fact, the actual reason is that I have a ton of better things to do than waste my time with a bunch of people who evoke only one reaction in me: wtf. (Followed by a long sentence dotted with some more of the choicest expletives - all in my mind of course!)
Top 5 reasons why I can't believe and thoroughly hate that I'm related to certain people:
1. They don't have a clue what I mean when I say I want to be a writer. MA kyun nahi karlete, beta? MBA kar lo - scope bohot he...Aage padhna nahi hai, kya?
Ugh, @#$%^!!! Honestly, people, it's my life...don't you think I would have thought about my OWN 'future' a hell lot more than you ever will?? I know what i'm doing when I say I'm studying creative writing. I don't need your effing advice. If you're so smart, I'd expect you to know that creative writing DOES NOT mean calligraphy! lmao..this is hillarious..they think I'm going to do calligraphy for a living! :P
2. They have a solution to all the problems in the world, except their own. Really, they have issues that would put Ekta Kapoor's TV serials to shame, but rather than deal with them, they want to spend all their time poking their noses into other people's business offering free, unwanted, good-for-nothing, totally effed-up 'advice'. Gawd, people, get a life!
3. They are hypocrites, preacing and practicing 'religion' on one hand, and violating the most basic norms of any religion on the other. Religion advocates kindness, tolerance, constructive use of time. But all that these...these...people can do is bitch and backbite and fault-find. Gossip in itself is not that bad, but gossip that amounts to HOURS of just sitting and badmouthing others over petty things is definitely unhealthy. They all need psychological counselling. Honestly. I'm not even joking. Put all that energy into planting trees and you might just stop the world from ending in 2012 like everyone is saying these days!
4. They undermine my gender, which I absolutely CANNOT STAND. *angry smilies*
Despite being women themselves, they actually believe in crappy things like women shouldn't go to work and women should be good cooks and sons are preferable than daughters and women should marry young to the first guy who comes her way as long as he earns well. Go jump off a cliff, all of you! You're the reason women continue to be oppressed even in the effing 21st century. The world could so do without you.
5. They want me to be like them. Yeah right! I would rather be a slug.
Just because I try to stay as far away from their influences as I can (because they are just so pissing off, like i said) they think there is something wrong with me. They want me to join in, gossip a bit, pass a smart comment here and there, chatter away about senseless things, but I will not. Mum can force me to visit them as much as she wants, but I am never going to be like these people. I am as different from them as different can be. And I intend to keep it that way. I just hope some day soon I can fly off somewhere and just be away from them, like I used to be a few years back. I could do without all their negativity.
A Splash! into memory lane
The rains are here. Subhaan'Allah. Thanks be to God. :) The bit of skepticism in yesterday's post seems to have worked magic upon the skies.
Like the beginning of every other season, the onset of the monsoon brings back a flood of memories. Perhaps because it symbolizes change and change always makes me nostalgic.
Back when I lived in Nairobi, I wasn’t familiar with the word ‘monsoon’. There were no fixed seasons there: Kenya has an equatorial climate, the rain would come and go much more often than it does here in India. Nevertheless, it left special memories. When I was little, I remember two popular songs we used to sing at school:
“It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring. He went to bed and hurt his head and woke up in the morning.”
(Go figure!)
And:
“Rain, rain, go away, come again another day. Little children want to play. Rain, rain, go away.”
I was never one to wish the rain away. I hated playing outdoors. I’d much rather sit inside all warm and cozy, playing board games like Ludo or Monopoly or, best of all, reading, with the pitter-patter at the window serving as some soothing background music.
One of the first poems I remember writing was about the rain. I don’t remember a word of it now, but I do remember my teacher had liked it. :)
Last night, as the first proper rainfall of the year showered down onto the parched earth and that overpowering musty smell of wetness rose with the wind, I couldn’t help thinking back to all the million of things the heavenly showers have meant to me in the past.
I thought of overcast Nairobi mornings and those few extra moments of snuggling under the covers for just a few more minutes of precious sleep. I thought of those stolen glances out the window during class, willing the clouds to rain, while the teacher droned on, stopping now and then to tell off whoever she caught with their eyes straying from the blackboard. I thought of the P.E lessons which would sometimes get cancelled if it rained, and how the entire three divisions totaling about 70 of us would gather in the school hall and have a ball playing badminton or table-tennis dodge ball, or else sit by the courts and chat as we watched others play.
I thought of the break (recess) times and lunch times where M, J, S and I would gather in the canteen or in the verandah outside it and gossip over hot plates of delectable, salty French fries with ample lashings of ketchup and vinegar. Yum!
I thought of the freshly grilled chili-lemon corn we’d buy from the man outside the school gate, devouring it as we took our customary walks around the campus, sidestepping the puddles of water that would form on some parts of the grass field and concrete blocks.
I thought of coming home at 4p.m to steaming mugs of tea and the delicious aroma of buttery popcorn or just-fried cassava chips, prepared with lots of love by mummy dearest.
I thought of traffic snarls that would last forever thanks to the warped driving sense of the matatu (public mini-bus) drivers, and how I’d enjoy the latest Hindi songs that East FM or Sound Asia (the two Indian music radio stations we had) belted out on the car stereo, occasionally munching on a ten-shillings-worth paper-cone full of roasted peanuts purchased from one of the many street kids who used to vend them.
I thought of the end-of-term rainy days and card games that the entire class would join into, with A and R being the pros at cheating. Honestly, I’ve never met anyone who can cheat as much and as shamelessly as those two! Sometimes the card games would be replaced with Truth or Dare, and again, A and R would be the ones asking the most embarrassing questions or giving the unlikeliest of dares. I barely talk to A and R now. They are lost, like so many others. They have forgotten, but I remember them, think of them every now and then.
I thought of one day in year eight (or was it nine?) and a private joke centering around M, started by J. We still laugh about that joke sometimes when we talk, M and I or J and I.
I thought of wet Sunday mornings, when I was allowed to sleep in as late as I liked, and would wake up to a lavish breakfast. Again, prepared with lots of love by mummy dearest.
I thought of one particular holiday in Mombasa, and sitting at a balcony breakfast table at Travelers Beach Hotel, tucking into hot croissants and tea as a light drizzle fell outside. In that moment was a feeling of contentment like I’ve never felt elsewhere.
I thought of the El Nino and the havoc it wrecked in little Nairobi a couple years back. I thought of how this year too is an El Nino year but in India it signifies less rain rather than more, like it did in Kenya.
I then thought of my brief sojourn in Canada, and the strange phenomenon of ‘freezing rain’ that’s so common there. The temperatures are so low that as soon as the water hits the ground, it turns into ice, forming dangerous slippery patches all over the place which cause thousands of injuries every year.
I thought of how my new umbrella mysteriously disappeared (got stolen?) from the cafeteria entrance one day where everyone used to leave their bags and coats. The lady who manned the counter there assured me that it was unheard of, possessions disappearing from there just like that, but I never got my umbrella back. I had to go buy another one, this time picking one that was compact– so that it would fit into my backpack and nobody would take it – and cheap – so that even if someone did, it wouldn’t matter as much. However, it proved quite useless when those autumn winds got into their element, blowing at speeds I’d never imagined. My feeble umbrella would fold upwards, sway this way and that and prove impossible to hold onto. So eventually, I dumped it back into my bag and braved my way against the wind and freezing rain with the hood of my water-proof jacket pulled tight over my head. But that didn’t stop the water getting onto my glasses and blurring my already impaired vision. It was irritating, yes, but fun too. It’s a bit of an adventure, venturing out in Toronto while it’s raining. One day, I’d just gotten out of my ten o clock lecture when it began pouring, so heavily that a lot of us were forced to take shelter in the nearest building. We all stood around, squinting up at the sky and wondering how to get to our next classes. I didn’t have a next class; I was headed to the library so I decided to just wait until it slowed down a bit. But then, there was a short little woman who announced she was on her way to Robarts – the library – and would be glad to walk anyone that way under her umbrella. I waited for someone to step forward but no one did – they were all headed the opposite way – so I agreed, and together we walked, me and this stranger, treading carefully on the slippery pavement, the rain beating down hard upon us. She asked me to hold the umbrella because it kept bobbing onto my head when she held it since I was so much taller than her. I thanked her when we reached the library, and we separated, strangers once again, but she left her trace in my memory. I hadn’t known till then that there are people kind enough to volunteer walking you under their umbrellas when they could walk much more comfortably on their own.
I thought of the warmth of Tim Horton’s and Starbucks cafes and the wonderful joy of devouring a large cappuccino or hot chocolate with a warm chocolate-glazed doughnut after a cold, wet day of classes.
Then, I thought of India, the motherland I returned to after fifteen years of calling another country home, and the memories came more speedily now since they’ve not had time to fade as much. I thought of first year in college and the slight shock I got at the lack of proper paving in some parts of the campus, and water actually entering all the ground-floor corridors. I’d never before had to hitch my pants up and wade across disgusting muddy pools or step on floating bricks to avoid sludgy puddles. But I got used to it soon enough, as well as that unpleasant damp smell that gets into everything made of cloth during this season.
I also got used to the floods that routinely plague Mumbai, and the water-logged roads problem of Ahmedabad. (Nairobi had water-logged roads too)
I thought of hanging out at college after lectures, enjoying the drizzle over a plate of oily samosas and a cup of chai at the canteen. I thought of midterm exams and how they always coincided with the rain. How last year we were kiddingly wishing that the college would flood so the exams would get postponed. I thought of S and V and how the rain meant that they would be even later than usual to arrive at college, how Ma’am would refuse to mark them present, only to give in to their relentless pleading by the end of the lecture.
I thought of A and N and S and V and B and A and how we would zip off to a chai ki kitli or a dalwada place or a nearby café during a free lecture. (That happened a lot, no matter what the season!) I thought of how people couldn’t make it to college because their societies would be too water-logged, how we’d amount to just a handful of people in class yet not get a free lecture.
I thought of how ironic it is that the rain washes off the dust from the trees and plants, leaving them lush and clean, yet manages to create such a dirty mess all over the place.
Lying in my bed listening to the water pounding and the claps of thunder, seeing the lightning flash, I thought of how rain seems to represent an emotion, perhaps an emotion that God feels towards us. He roars in anger with the thunder, He glowers with rage through the lightening, but mostly, He weeps. For all the suffering we’ve inflicted upon His creations: the world and ourselves. I imagine He weeps on seeing what we have come to, how we’ve messed things up big time. And of course, how a lot of us have forgotten Him and the power he holds over us. I think the rain is his way of reminding us He’s around somewhere, watching out for us, sending us unconditional love, and hope and change. Giving us a chance to rejuvenate, just like the world seems fresher after a good bout of heavenly tears.
Wading out of memory lane, I realize a discussion on rain would be incomplete without a mention of rain music. Needless to say, I love listening to romantic songs when the weather is so lovely, but if you asked me to pick a favorite, it would have to be that track from Dil to Pagal Hai: Chuk dum dum chuk dum dum chuck dum dum chuck...Ghode jaisi chaal haanthi jaisi dum...O saawan raja kahan se aaye tum
Enjoy the weather! :) Don’t let the rain flies or the floods or the delays get to you!
Another one of those random posts
I hear Mumbai is flooded. Again. I'm not sure whether it's true, but even if it is, what's new?
Ahmedabad is the opposite. It's parched. There are grey clouds outside my window, but I've given up getting excited on looking at them. Because the rain's been playing hide and seek too long now, and it's not amusing anymore. Just pissing off, like when someone says the same joke over and over again.
Do I sound a bit 'off'? Well, that's just the skeptic inside me. Today I'm actually quite happy. Like dance around, wear-a-silly-smile-all-day happy. That's because of a certain phone call I got yesterday. :) The dizzying joy will last at least a week, perhaps more. When did a simple phone call get such immense power over my emotions?
Sometimes I think God really does compensate a long phase of sadness with a small thing to smile about that quickly multiplies into a huge happiness! Yesterday I was convinced that it's best to give into your heart from time to time when it's waging war against your head. The keywords here being: 'FROM TIME TO TIME'. Not always.
Moving on, I can't resist but comment about a show I can't resist but tune into whenever i can: Rakhi Sawant ka Swayamwar. Yes, she is a drama-queen. Nah, slash that, she's a drama-empress rather. And yes, she is amusing, but like they say, love her or hate her, you can't ignore her. If you have nothing to do and enjoy deciphering people's psychological make-up, watch the show. Watch Rakhi in an avatar I'm sure you've never seen/imagined her in before. Watch her choose a man to marry. And, best of all, watch the men vying for her. Or pining for her. Watch them confess their undying love, and convince her that they're not there for fame or money. It's entertaining, but more than that, it's interesting. For people-watchers like me at least.
It's the 9th of July. Seven days to Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince. Why is the trailer STILL not being aired on tv? I read in the papers recently that this part is all about 'sex, drugs and rock and roll'. I was like 'what the ___?!?!'. There are going to be KIDS watching the movie for god's sake! Sex, drugs and rock and roll? Give me a break! Puppy love, magic potions, and action-adventure is more like it!
Ahmedabad is the opposite. It's parched. There are grey clouds outside my window, but I've given up getting excited on looking at them. Because the rain's been playing hide and seek too long now, and it's not amusing anymore. Just pissing off, like when someone says the same joke over and over again.
Do I sound a bit 'off'? Well, that's just the skeptic inside me. Today I'm actually quite happy. Like dance around, wear-a-silly-smile-all-day happy. That's because of a certain phone call I got yesterday. :) The dizzying joy will last at least a week, perhaps more. When did a simple phone call get such immense power over my emotions?
Sometimes I think God really does compensate a long phase of sadness with a small thing to smile about that quickly multiplies into a huge happiness! Yesterday I was convinced that it's best to give into your heart from time to time when it's waging war against your head. The keywords here being: 'FROM TIME TO TIME'. Not always.
Moving on, I can't resist but comment about a show I can't resist but tune into whenever i can: Rakhi Sawant ka Swayamwar. Yes, she is a drama-queen. Nah, slash that, she's a drama-empress rather. And yes, she is amusing, but like they say, love her or hate her, you can't ignore her. If you have nothing to do and enjoy deciphering people's psychological make-up, watch the show. Watch Rakhi in an avatar I'm sure you've never seen/imagined her in before. Watch her choose a man to marry. And, best of all, watch the men vying for her. Or pining for her. Watch them confess their undying love, and convince her that they're not there for fame or money. It's entertaining, but more than that, it's interesting. For people-watchers like me at least.
It's the 9th of July. Seven days to Harry Potter and the Half-blood Prince. Why is the trailer STILL not being aired on tv? I read in the papers recently that this part is all about 'sex, drugs and rock and roll'. I was like 'what the ___?!?!'. There are going to be KIDS watching the movie for god's sake! Sex, drugs and rock and roll? Give me a break! Puppy love, magic potions, and action-adventure is more like it!
A thought, a dream, a fantasy
I got my hair cut today. It's now short enough for me to clip on the top of my head and keep it off my neck. I should have probably got it cut at the beginning of summer so the heat would have been a tad bit more bearable, but oh well, this is me. I've never been particularly good at timing things right. Anyways, I don't intend to dedicate the rest of this post to chit-chat about my hair. Rather, I'll chit-chat about a thought/dream/fantasy that I have for the future. (I can't decide which one of the three it is so use the 3 words interchangeable.)
It's ironic how that thing we call 'the future' just creeps up on us all the while we're so engrossed in planning for it. When I was in school, 'the future' stood for medical school and a career as a doctor. I would imagine myself poring over thick books, gettting excelllent grades, cutting people up, prescribing medicines, earning lots of money as well as respect and along the way (writing this makes me cringe) falling madly in love with an irresistably sexy fellow doctor and marrying him. We would live in a big house somewhere in a beautiful city and have two wonderful children, a boy and a girl, who would of course grow up to become doctors too. Eek, I can't believe I'm the same person who had all those ideas once!
Just for the record, when I finally got old enough to attend medical school, I'd realised I just wasn't made for the field of medicine. The slightest sign of blood and gore, though it doesn't make me 'sick' like some people claim, definitely makes me squeamish. So I ended up attending an Arts college to study what is technically a science (Psychology) but is included under Arts because I live in Gujarat, where a lot of things are - well, the way they shouldn't be. (I could write a whole different post about that!) I got good grades mostly, but definitely did not pore over any books other than the many dog-eared notebooks I wrote my dictated notes in. The only part of my medical-school dream that I came close to achieving was the bit I'm embarassed about - I did fall madly in love, but I am definitely NOT going to marry him and live in my dream house in a dream city with dream children. Instead, I am going to (by the looks of it) take an insanely long time to get him out of my head and heal all the wounds that falling in love has caused.
I seem to have totally disgressed from the topic I intended to write about - the thought/dream/fantasy I have at the moment for 'the future' (if I have one).
Well, here it is: I dream that I will live in a big, modern city, preferrably New York or Toronto. I will own a cozy little apartment, which I will buy with my own money and decorate all by myself. I will have a nice cushy sofa on which to unwind at the end of the day, with a steaming cup of coffee or hot chocolate. I will be a full-time writer, busy with writing my articles and books, attending book launches and literary meets, working on my sleek black laptop, attending calls on a flashy Nokia N-series-like cellphone. (Of course, I will have bought all these things with my own hard-earned money.) When I get home everyday, I will plop onto the welcoming sofa, put on some music or the television, sit back and relax for as long as I wish. I will make simple meals for myself or just order in whatever I feel like eating. I will also have someone nice to love me, who will visit often. When he does, I will cook for him, even if I am tired, because it would make me feel special, cooking for him. I will have friends to visit the mall with, to chat with for hours on the phone about nothing in particular, watch movies with, and occasionally invite over for dinner or a party. I will have enough money to visit old friends wherever they are, as well as go on holidays wherever I wish. I will be 'content' with life.
The someone who loves me will ask me to marry him. I will think about it, because the idea scares me. (The self that had once wanted to have two children, a boy and a girl, is long lost somewhere within me.) I will consult my parents. They will encourage me, provided that the 'someone' belongs to my faith. Otherwise, they will be aghast, and disturbed.
Eventually, I will agree. I will want to 'settle down' as everyone says. But then. . .
HE will return. And turn my world upside down. Again. HE, the someone who I once loved. Loved? Can love have a past tense too? I do not know. Which is why the thought/dream/fantasy is intimidating. Even though it is only an idea (and ideas come easy to a writer's mind) and will never actually take form.
It's ironic how that thing we call 'the future' just creeps up on us all the while we're so engrossed in planning for it. When I was in school, 'the future' stood for medical school and a career as a doctor. I would imagine myself poring over thick books, gettting excelllent grades, cutting people up, prescribing medicines, earning lots of money as well as respect and along the way (writing this makes me cringe) falling madly in love with an irresistably sexy fellow doctor and marrying him. We would live in a big house somewhere in a beautiful city and have two wonderful children, a boy and a girl, who would of course grow up to become doctors too. Eek, I can't believe I'm the same person who had all those ideas once!
Just for the record, when I finally got old enough to attend medical school, I'd realised I just wasn't made for the field of medicine. The slightest sign of blood and gore, though it doesn't make me 'sick' like some people claim, definitely makes me squeamish. So I ended up attending an Arts college to study what is technically a science (Psychology) but is included under Arts because I live in Gujarat, where a lot of things are - well, the way they shouldn't be. (I could write a whole different post about that!) I got good grades mostly, but definitely did not pore over any books other than the many dog-eared notebooks I wrote my dictated notes in. The only part of my medical-school dream that I came close to achieving was the bit I'm embarassed about - I did fall madly in love, but I am definitely NOT going to marry him and live in my dream house in a dream city with dream children. Instead, I am going to (by the looks of it) take an insanely long time to get him out of my head and heal all the wounds that falling in love has caused.
I seem to have totally disgressed from the topic I intended to write about - the thought/dream/fantasy I have at the moment for 'the future' (if I have one).
Well, here it is: I dream that I will live in a big, modern city, preferrably New York or Toronto. I will own a cozy little apartment, which I will buy with my own money and decorate all by myself. I will have a nice cushy sofa on which to unwind at the end of the day, with a steaming cup of coffee or hot chocolate. I will be a full-time writer, busy with writing my articles and books, attending book launches and literary meets, working on my sleek black laptop, attending calls on a flashy Nokia N-series-like cellphone. (Of course, I will have bought all these things with my own hard-earned money.) When I get home everyday, I will plop onto the welcoming sofa, put on some music or the television, sit back and relax for as long as I wish. I will make simple meals for myself or just order in whatever I feel like eating. I will also have someone nice to love me, who will visit often. When he does, I will cook for him, even if I am tired, because it would make me feel special, cooking for him. I will have friends to visit the mall with, to chat with for hours on the phone about nothing in particular, watch movies with, and occasionally invite over for dinner or a party. I will have enough money to visit old friends wherever they are, as well as go on holidays wherever I wish. I will be 'content' with life.
The someone who loves me will ask me to marry him. I will think about it, because the idea scares me. (The self that had once wanted to have two children, a boy and a girl, is long lost somewhere within me.) I will consult my parents. They will encourage me, provided that the 'someone' belongs to my faith. Otherwise, they will be aghast, and disturbed.
Eventually, I will agree. I will want to 'settle down' as everyone says. But then. . .
HE will return. And turn my world upside down. Again. HE, the someone who I once loved. Loved? Can love have a past tense too? I do not know. Which is why the thought/dream/fantasy is intimidating. Even though it is only an idea (and ideas come easy to a writer's mind) and will never actually take form.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
