Wintry Nostalgia

The season is changing again and, like always, that makes me nostalgic. And sick, of course. My nose and throat tingle in an irritating way, like my body can't decide whether to catch a cold or not. And my head hurts from the early morning chill. My lips are all dry and flaky suddenly and so is my skin. But I don't really mind. Finally, some relief from the sweltering, merciless heat that relentlessly beats down throughout most of the year.
Winter is my favorite season, even though I've lived most of my life so far in a place which doesn't have any clearly defined seasons. I like the cold because it means no harsh sun to hide from, no whirring ceiling fans creating a not-so-pleasant background noise all through the day and all through the night, no skin rashes, no soaking through your clothes with stinky sweat, no fuss about getting heat stroke and staying indoors in the afternoons and no a lot of other annoying things which I can't think of right now.
Winter also means nice warm showers, wrapping up in oh so soft n comfy woolens, feeling the wonderful cool breeze tickle my skin, yummy-smelling skin moisturizers and lipbalms, and the chance to finally make use of my extensive collection of pretty scarves.
Plus, winter brings along my birthday. Oh yes, I'm a total winter baby. :)
So, like I said, when two seasons merge into one another and the world gradually seem to be reborn, I lapse into thinking of the past and mulling about how everything changes. This time, not surprisingly, I find myself thinking back to college days. It's been a bit over eight months since my last day at college. A bit unbelievable but a bit believable too. I miss it, though not as much as I'd first thought I would. (Perhaps I was kind of ready for it after experiencing the end of school four years ago.)
As I'd predicted, I miss seeing friends everyday. There's something so comforting about knowing that no matter how bad a mood you're in or how down in the dumps you're feeling, you'll be around the people who'll undoubtedly manage to return that smile to your face. Not that I'm not in touch with friends - we talk routinely on the phone or meet online - but it's just not the same as spending four to five hours together, six days a week.
I miss the lectures we would grudgingly attend, taking notes and 'paying attention' yet simultaneously keeping up whispered conversations and an unending stream of lame yet hilarious private jokes.
I miss sharing food during recess and after lectures, treating each other to cheap cups of chai and packets of chips and mini chocolate bars and - my personal favorite - plates of hot, oily samosas!
I miss the excitement of the occasional bunk and the even more rare, mass bunk. When I first started college, the word 'bunk' didn't exist in my dictionary, both literally and figuratively speaking. That is, I called it 'cutting class' or 'skiving' and I never quite indulged in it. But soon, I was the one cajoling others into skipping Psychology I(First year) and Economics IV and Psychology III (Second year) and Psychology IX and XI (Third year).
I miss zipping off with my gang to some vada pav place or coffee shop or the famous Rambhai's kitli at IIM-A.
I miss our collective insanity and good natured battles of the wit, as well as our deep, philosophical conversations and heart-to-heart talks. I miss the sharing and caring and the stupid fights and pointless arguments and the easy way that things would always fall back in place. I miss how we'd always look out for one another, staying late to keep each other company and making sure that no one was ever alone when they didn't want to be.
I miss discussing future plans - or lack of them, and posing for photos anywhere, everywhere. I miss the buzz and bustle of of the canteen and the classmates who'd strum away on their guitars during free lectures. I miss the continuous stream of conversation, flowing from movies to music to politics to cricket to current affairs to any random thing. I miss the comfort and the camaraderie and the familiar faces all around.
Most of all, I miss being told by the teachers how I'd one day surely miss that place. College. I still can't quite believe it's actually OVER. For good. Though, I'm visiting it tomorrow with friends just to hang out! :D

Song of the day: Hum...rahen ya na rahen yaad aayenge ye pal... (It's the song two of my friends, A and S, sang at our farewell function all those months ago. And it always, always, makes my eyes well up.)

Happy Winter everyone. Keep warm and cozy. :)

Love...song

Several people tell me I write about love too much. And it's true. I do. Because I like to and I'm a die-hard romantic at heart. So here comes another post on love:

Something recently got me thinking about what exactly is love. What is the perfect definition of it? I know it's this ultra-special feeling that can't really be put into words by even the greatest of writers but a new song I've heard kind of summarizes it all perfectly. It's the title track of the upcoming movie, Tum Mile, and I agree with every line of it.



Here are the hindi lyrics, followed by a really patchy translation of the Hindi parts by yours truly. :)

By the way, personally, I've interpreted the words 'Tum Mile' to mean 'When I met you', rather than 'When I acquired you.' Because you can still love someone without actually 'being' with them, if you get what I mean.

Anyhoo, here goes:

Come around… it’s time to baby
Come around..
Come on now… come around…
It’s time to baby… come around
Come around… come around

Khwaabon bina, nigahen meri jee rahi thi
Koi nahin tha yeh akeli meri thi zindagi
Ohhh yehhh…
Khamosh tha honthon pe baatein nahin thi
Koi nahin tha yeh akeli meri thi zindagi

Tum mile toh mil gaya yeh jahaan
Tum mile toh har pal hai naya
Tum mile toh sabse hai… faasla
Tum mile toh jaadu chaa gaya
Tum mile toh jeena aa gaya
Tum mile toh maine paaya… hai khuda

Come around… it’s time to baby
Come around..
Come on now… come around…
It’s time to baby… come around
Come around… come around

Palken moondein chaahat meri so rahi thi
Khushboo hawaaon mein thi
Maine nahin mehsoos ki
Mmm mm.mm
Jaane kahaan bahaaren meri khil rahi thi
Khushboo hawaaon mein thi
Maine nahin mehsoos ki

Tum mile toh mehki baarishen
Tum mile toh jaagi khwaahishen
Tum mile toh rangon ka hai silsila
Tum mile toh jaadu chaa gaya
Tum mile toh jeena aa gaya
Tum mile toh maine paaya hai khuda

Tune duaaein suni
Dil ki sadaiyen suni
Tujhse main maangu aur kya
Tujh bin adhura hun main
Tere sang poora hun main
Karta hun tera shukriya

Kaise kahoon, kaise kahoon…
Kaise kahoon…kaise kahoon…
Kaise kahoon lamhe mujhe choo rahe hain
Aisa laga hain inmein tera hi toh ehsaas hai
Ohh hooo
Kaise kahoon dil mein nayi aahaten hain
Aisa laga hain inmein tera hi toh ehsaas hai

Tum mile toh mera dil gaya
Tum mile toh sab kuch mil gaya
Tum mile toh logon se kya vaasta
Tum mile toh jaadu chaa gaya
Tum mile toh jeena aa gaya
Tum mile toh maine paaya hai khuda

Come around… it’s time to baby
Come around..
Come on now… come around…
It’s time to baby… come around
Come around… come around
Come around

A little cheesy, I know. And it sounds cheesier still when I translate the main parts to English, but yet, I love it, I love it:


I met you, and I got the world.
I met you, and every moment feels new.
I met you, and I’m distanced from everything else
I met you and a magical spell has spread
I met you and I learned how to live
I met you and I found God.

I met you and the rains are fragrant
I met you and my desires arose
I met you and everything is so colorful.
I met you and a magical spell has spread
I met you and I learned how to live
I met you and I found God.

I met you and my heart’s gone
I met you and I got everything I wanted
I met you and I don’t care about anyone else
I met you and a magical spell has spread
I met you and I learned how to live
I met you and I found God.


Check out the video here.



The other songs are pretty good too!

Newbie Twilighter

I watched Wake Up Sid again today, making it the first movie EVER that I've watched twice at the cinema! I enjoyed it again almost as much as the first time.
I finally got my hands on a copy of the much-acclaimed, much-heard-about Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer.(Hence the title Newbie Twilighter) I borrowed it from my thirteen-year-old cousin who bought it weeks back but is having trouble understanding the story. I guess she'll find it more interesting once she's a bit older.
I've reached Chapter 10, and I think it's very well written and all, but I also think comparisons with the Harry Potter series are completely baseless. They're two completely different stories and I don't understand why anyone would try weigh one against the other.
The strange thing though, is that I seem to be almost scarily alike the protagonist, Bella. Right from the first page, I've felt like I'm reading about myself. I mean, I'm pale, I'm clumsy, I absolutely suck at sports, I get embarassed easily, I don't talk much and like people who don't ask too many questions, I'm uncomfortable about expressing emotions and don't think every silence needs to be filled up with mindless chatter. EXACTLY like Bella. And, the weirdest part of all, she, just like me, falls 'unconditionally and irrevocably' in love with someone who has a way of 'dazzling' her. Be it with his magical eyes or alluring voice or irresistable scent. I absolutely LOVE the way her feelings are described in the book. It's just like me, every single bit, honestly!
Though of course, in my case, he doesn't happen to be a vampire. Or feel the same way about me either. That kind of stuff happens only in books. It's part of the reason why I love novels: they have a way of taking bits and pieces of real life and adding on things to complete the incomplete parts. Perfectly.
Now, I can't wait to watch the movie once I'm done with the book. I'll probably download it or something. Hmmm...Robert Pattinson...sighhh!! :)

School trips!

I haven't been on an overnight trip - even a short one - in really, really long. Ever since I started college, in fact. And now, college is over and I work, which doesn't leave room for a getaway for quite some time more.
I've always loved travelling - whether it be by road, rail or air - and it doesn't really matter where I go; all I care about is getting away from routine life for a while and enjoying the change of scene.
I've had the good fortune to visit quite a few places (though not half as many as I still hope to!) but the ones I'd say were the 'best' of all are definitely those low-key, two-nights-three-days sojourns we would go on from school.
The first such trip I went on was way back when I was a ten/eleven-year-old fifth grader. It was a class trip to the national park in the little Kenyan town of Nakuru. We stayed at a lodge, 3 people per room, and although I don't have any photos of that trip and my memory is quite hazy, I do remember that it had been great!
The next year, I went on my maiden camping trip to the renowned Maasai Mara game reserve, followed by Tsavo National Park. Later, in year 12, I went on the last school trip of my life to the town of Nanyuki. It was a Biology field trip and we had quite a bit of work to do there (which wasn't particularly interesting at that - it involved counting creepy crawlies or something, if I remember correctly) but still, it's one of my fondest memories of the good ol' school days.
The trips I loved (and now miss) most were the ones to national parks. The excitment would began right from the day I'd get Dad to sign the little permission slip and would steadily build up as the day of departure drew closer. When it would finally dawn, my eyes would magicaly flit open even before the alarm clock went off and I'd be ready way before it was time to leave home.
It would usually be afternoon by the time we reached, after a long bus ride that would pass in a blur of noisy chatter and raucous laughter and delicious junk food and endless rounds of games like 'I spy..' and Antakshari.
We'd just look around the campsite (or lodge) and hang out until it was time for the evening game drive.
The sky would turn a wondrous pink-orange as the sun dipped away and the smells and sounds of nature made the night come alive. The cool breeze would carry the heady bouquet of grass and wild flowers and the myriad click-clack of the diverse insect life and eerie howling of hyenas in the distance. Dinner would be served under the stars amid more conversation and laughter, followed by a bonfire gathering, where we'd exchange ghost stories and try to spook each other out. (Which never really happened, but was awesome fun nonetheless.) We'd then retreat in our little groups to our tents and spend a couple hours exchanging gossip or playing cards by torchlight, before finally dropping off, only to excitedly awake a while later for the crack-of-dawn game drive.
The sprawling acres of green-brown wild grass would turn into a stage under the golden light of the first glorious rays of sunshine. A stage that would host nature's grand contest of the survival of the fittest, turning the phenomenon of life - and death - in the wild into an awesome spectacle for the many prying eyes of visitors like us to witness. We would take it all in in silent amazement, binoculars glued to our eyes, cameras clicking away: the ferocious might and swift agility of felines on the prowl, the quick reflexes of their cautious prey, the bloody kills and the voracious feasting that would follow. If not a hunt, we would at the very least, spot a lion or two and - most definitely - herds and herds of zebra or gazelles or blackbuck and majestic elephants and rhinos. The images would be captured forever on the everlasting film of our minds, with a background score consisting of our own comments, conversations, exchanges.
They have blurred into each other, all these school trip memories, lost some of their colour and texture and detail, but what remains - and will always remain - vivid, is how special they were. Even if they feature people I've long lost touch with, people I will probably never even see again, they are prized souvenirs from my childhood and teenage.
It's amazing how our memories connect us to certain people for life. Even when they become mere names and faces we used to know once, a long time ago, somehow, they always remain with. Just the way we knew them to be.

Woken Up!

Kuch Kuch Hota hai, Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham, Kal Ho Na Ho, Kabhi Alvida Na Kehna, Dostana, and now Wake Up Sid. I love movies by Dharma Productions! When their signature tune comes on in the just-darkened cinema hall, I relax into my seat and look forward to the quality entertainment that I know I'm about to experience.
Their latest offering is what I would call a 'cool', urban, youth-oriented movie that both inspires and touches, enlightens and warms.
If you intend to watch the movie (which I would say you should) don't read further because I may give away important plot points and ruin the experience for you.
Wake Up Sid is a story in which you'll find yourself - or at least some part of yourself. Whether it be in the laid back, fun-loving protagonist, Sidharth, or the driven, reaching-for-her-dreams girl Aisha, or even in the overweight Laxmi (Sid's friend) who is insecure about her appearance, or Rishi (his other friend) who impulsively proposes marriage to his girlfriend only to be heartlessly dumped. And parents will most definitely find themselves in Ram (Anupam Kher) and Sarita (Supriya Pathak) Mehra, Sid's doting, yet striving to be disciplinarian, dad and mum.
Sidharth Mehra (Ranbir Kapur) is the archetypical spoilt brat of wealthy parents, save for the fact that he isn't snobbish or arrogant as is the common reputation of rich kids. He's sweet and charming, the kind of guy who easily befriends anyone. Which is just what happens when he runs into new-girl-in-the-city, Aisha (Konkona Sen Sharma) at his boring college farwell party. They get talking and soon become best buddies, sharing experiences, emotions, and dreams. Or lack there of as is the case with Sid. He has no 'future plan', no burning ambition, no drive to do anything at all with his time except play video games or party or shop or just plain chill out. He agrees to work for his family business only when his Dad lures him with the promise of a swanky new car, but he barely lasts a week before disappearing to hang out with Aisha and help her settle into her new life.
Aisha is the character I found myself in. The girl who wants to be a writer and is ready to put in all the hard work and struggle it will take. Driven by the desire to be independent - to make her own money and live life on her own terms - she leaves behind her sheltered life in hometown Kolkata and arrives in Bombay full of hope and a good amount of trepidation, ready to give her life a new direction. She is alone and unemployed in an unfamiliar city but is determined to make things work. Slowly but surely they do. She lands the job she wanted at a popular magazine, moves into a place of her own (with a terrace that gives the most splendid view of Bombay), turns her house into a 'home' and settles into adult life just like she wanted. With her first Mumbaikar friend Sid by her side throughout. It's expected that the two of them would fall in love - in fact, the mutual affection is pretty apparent - but the serious, all grown-up Aisha doesn't think she could love an immature 'child' like Sid who only ever wants to have fun. She prefers her boss, the supposedly 'sexy', hot shot editor-in-chief, Kabir.
The high point comes when Sid fails to graduate. Frustrated and angry, he falls out with his best mate Rishi, and then with his parents, eventually storming out the house in a fit of rage and ending up at Aisha's door. But naturally, she lends him a shoulder to cry on and lets him stay with her. I like how the movie has shown that a guy and girl can live together quite amicably - even sleep in the same room - yet not end up having sex. Talk about a refreshing viewpoint.
At first, Sid simply hangs out and makes a mess of Aisha's neat little flat. But after she finally loses her temper on him, and his Dad cancels his credit card, Sid begins to 'wake up' and come out of his insouciance. He learns how to cook, (even if it's only a fried egg) and how to launder clothes and keep things tidy. And eventually, he taps into his inner potential and finds a job he likes too. Along the way, Aisha learns a thing or two as well. Like the fact that she isn't all that mature and wise after all.
Ranbir Kapur is, for lack of a better word, excellent. When I couldn't tolerate beyond ten minutes of his debut film, I'd never thought I'd one day be his fan. Seriously, what a transformation. His portrayal of Sid is bang on and I don't think any other actor could have pulled it off so well.
Konkona Sen is just as brilliant as she always is. I loved how she brought out the subtle nuances of traits inherent to every writer: that inexplicable inability to express things vocally but the knack to put them perfectly in writing; the tendency to let emotion build up for too long until finally snapping and sayings things far worse than originally intended; the almost child-like disposition to feel blinding joy when someone reads - and appreciates - your work, especially someone whose opinion matters a lot to you.
The music is okay, except for iktara, which is exceptional, truly soul-stirring. Overall, Wake Up Sid's a movie every recent graduate (or even college kid) will relate to, every parent will relate to, every confused person out there will relate to. I loved it and - maybe this has something to do with whose company I had while watching it - I haven't enjoyed a movie this much in pretty long. (Not even Kaminey, which was the last really good flick I saw.) It's found a place right at the top of my list of Favorite movies, just next to sweet old Kuch Kuch Hota Hai. Really, you rock, Sid!

Just a little dabbling in fiction...

She sat staring at the neverending stretch of steely grey below her, its surface rippling gently in the icy breeze, reflecting up at her the glum overcast sky. It matched her mood, the weather. Those darkening, swelling clouds could have been inside her, preparing to let loose at any moment the well of agony and rage and defeating, hopeless despair that had built up inside her. The stone beneath her felt cold and wet, just like the wind that seemed to be cutting through her, chilling the very marrow of her bones.
The silence was complete, save for the low rumble of distant thunder. She could almost hear her heart beat, a slow unsteady rhythm, like it wasn't sure whether it wanted to go on anymore.
His face swam in her mind. The face she had lived for, but would never see again. The face she would have to force herself to forget.
Goodbye. It had been her idea. She had been unable to take it any longer, the love she had felt for him, the longing that had driven her insane. She could not keep it up anymore, the whole 'friendship' charade. She wanted out, and she had gotten it. All too easily.
And yet, she was still miserable. More miserable than she'd ever been.
She thought of his eyes, the liquid blackness of them, swirling and shimmering with every word he spoke, every nuance of emotion he felt. She would never look into them again, those eyes that had held her world. That still held her world, considering how lonely and despondent she felt right then. Why hadn't he stopped her? Not even once? If only he had said something...anything...or gotten mad, told her she was crazy...said he didn't want her to leave. If only he had given the smallest hint that he wanted her in his life, she would have ditched the idea instantly. But he hadn't. He had told her to do what she wanted. He had said he was fed up of trying to understand her and her insecurity and her irritating moodswings. Those eyes she loved had been slits of cold indifference that had forced her to look away. The voice that usually made her melt had been hard and distant...cruel, almost.
She had cried. And cried some more. Fat tears had streamed out her eyes like water from a tap, but it had made no difference. He had been unmoved. The way he saw it, there was nothing to sob about. She was the one who had brought this upon herself. He had done nothing. Except not love her back. And that was his choice. She could not force him to love her. And he had thought all this while that she had contented herself with what she got - his friendship. She had thought so too. She had tried, really really tried to be happy that he was her friend. But somehow, she couldn't help but want more. She knew that love was supposed to be unselfish and unconditional. That it did not mean posessing someone. She had tried to believe all those powerful words and to live by them, but it had been impossible. Every time she looked at him, or even thought of him, her heart skipped a beat and flooded with desire.
But now, it was all over. She would never see him again. And slowly, she would perhaps stop thinking of him too. But her love...the pure, gushing affection she held for him would remain. Always. He would always be the one...whose eyes held her world. That's all she knew, as a deafening clap of thunder ripped the sky apart above her and the tears from the clouds splashed out at last, pounding into the lake like pebbles, destroying it's quiet. Just like the quiet in her had been destroyed.

Still so much room (and need) for change.

Yesterday, my cousin and his wife were blessed with their first child - a beautiful little girl. (I haven't seen her yet but all babies are beautiful so I'm allowed to describe her that way.) She is the first little girl who will grow up to call me Mehak phoopi (aunt) and, as much as the thought both delights and amazes me, I can't help wonder about what my little niece's future will unfold to be like.
This is the 21st century, an age of supposed freedom and knowledge and equality for all. But is it, really? Can we really call ourselves 'free' when the lives of women everywhere (and especially here in India) continue to be dictated by outdated social norms and pressures? How can we pride ourselves in our knowledge and education when women continue to be oppressed and suppressed and victimised for heinous crimes, and we are left unable to nab and and penalize the people responsible for all these wrongs? Why do we naively brag about equal rights when the fairer sex continues to be subjected to widespread discrimination in almost every aspect of life, from the domestic to the professional to the scientific?
Why are we women expected to feel privileged to live in this 'advanced age' when our gender is facing more problems today than ever before? Female foeticide, rape, molestation, sexual harassment, physical, verbal and sexual abuse, incest. They are all words we read and hear about in the news every single day, yet we find it in ourselves to continue to live under the delusion that women have finally arrived. Ironic, isn't it?
By the time my niece reaches what is my age right now (almost twenty two), I'll have become middle-aged (oh god!!!) and, for her sake, I hope this world has changed by then. I hope she won't have to worry about being safe every time she steps out of the house alone. I hope she won't have to constantly explain where she's going, why she's going, who she'll be with, etc. just so that her parents know she's not doing anything 'wrong' or 'risky'. I hope she'll have the freedom to be able to stay out as late as she wants without worrying about what 'people' will think or say about her or about getting back home unharmed. I hope she'll have the privilege of being trusted to make the right decisions for herself in every aspect of her life, right from what she wears and eats to what work she does and how she spends her money. I hope she'll have the liberty to openly declare her love for someone without being subjected to derogatory labels and unoffical 'punishments', even if the person in question does not belong to her community or religion. I hope she will have the confidence to say 'no' to things she has no interest in learning or getting involved in, and the courage to say 'yes' to everything that makes her happy, regardless of what anyone else opines. I hope she won't have to live in constant fear or worry or under pressure to make other people happy. I hope she'll never be exposed to harrowing tales of unspeakable cruelty to other women and that she'll never feel as helpless and defeated as I feel when it comes to fighting for her rights. I hope, for her sake, that this world will have changed by then. For the better.