Music to my Ears

As part of the program I am studying, I have a course on Radio Production, in which we learn all about sound. The classes so far have been fascinating, and moved me to think about sounds in ways I never have before. Hence, this post on the sounds that make me tick and those that make me sick:

I love the sound of voices, as long as they are not high-pitched or screaming. I like the different tones and nuances of them, the way they roll and halt and change, and how none is quite like another, ever, though they may be similar. I really listen to people, face-to-face or on the phone, I love noticing all the subtleties that make their voice truly theirs, the rise and fall, the pauses, the cadences, the rhythms and undulations, the connotations, the intonations. Oh yes, I love voices, especially husky male ones, naturally. :P

The only voices I can't stand are loud ones, or malicious, gossipy ones. I like voices with texture.

Next, I like the sound of water, whether it is the quiet drip-drop of a faulty tap or the gush and rush of a mighty river. I like the sound of the sea, calm or stormy, but mostly the exact sound you get when you hold a seashell to your ear. I don’t like the sound of flushing toilets though.

I like the sound of music. Who doesn’t? As long as it’s not noise, I like it, no matter what the language, what the meaning. I like the sound of many devotional songs of many religions. They are strangely uplifting and soothing all at once. I don’t like processions though, religious or marital ones. I cannot stand the crass beats of Munni Badnam Hui or Sheela ki Jawani or any such rubbish.

I like the sound of bangles clinking, metal ones and glass ones. i like the sound of anklets as long as it is not in some creepy horror film. I don’t like the sound of wind chimes, it irritates me somehow. So does the sound of wind, passing or being passed. :P

I don’t like squeaky plasticky or squeeshy rubbery sounds. I plug my ears when someone lets the air out of a balloon. I hate firecrackers especially those earsplitting bombs or Christmas crackers being pulled. They ruin festivities. I do like the gentle sizzling crackle of taramandal if that's what its called) though.

I don’t like vrooming automobiles or blaring horns, I do like the rhythmic chug chug chug of trains and the headache-inducing drone of airplanes though. I like the faint sound of pencil or pen against paper but can’t stand chalk on blackboard. Worst is nails on blackboard of course. I love the tap dance of fingers on a keyboard, be it a computer keyboard or a musical one.

I like scissors cutting through crisp paper or straight thrugh fine cloth. I don’t like industrial sounds, obviously.

I like the sound of concrete grinding under my feet, and of course, the crunch of dried leaves and twigs. I don’t like noisy or shuffling footsteps. I hate it when people drag their feet while walking.

I love the distinct calls of birds but feel scared of most animal cries. I like how sounds have such variety, and I love how my ears can pick it all up.

How about you? Ever thought about what sounds you like?

The Girl who Ate Alone

*-Inspired a little bit from various sources.

She took the plate of noodles and settled at an empty seat on an almost full table. The din of conversation around her was both comforting and depressing. It alienated her, leaving her free to withdraw into her cocoon and not have to make useless small talk with anyone, and yet the thoughts she had within the cocoon were not exactly good for her spirits.

If life was a movie, this would be the ideal moment for The Hero to emerge. He would appear in all perfection, out of nowhere, swagger to her table and ask whether he could sit opposite her. She would oblige, uninterested, and focus on her food, while he would observe her and then start the mandatory 'introductions' conversation that often leads nowhere. Only that this time, magically, it would. One thing would lead to another and they would exchange numbers before parting. And the rest, of course, 'would be history'.

But she had been through this routine of eating alone enough times to know that no hero was about to swoop into HER life and play the knight in shining armor to the damsel in eternal distress. No, all she had was her less-than-protective cocoon of thoughts and memories and feelings and ideas.

She thought of HIM again, and found herself once more longing for his company. He, the one whom she had moved mountains to be with, or at least, moved country. Only to realize he was least interested in being with her. He hadn't met her even once in the month since she had arrived in this unfamiliar land, and she had grown tired of calling him and hearing the never-ending stream of useless excuses he put forth.

How could she have been so stupid to up and leave everything that was familiar to her - to ditch her very life - for the sake of a lingering hope of finding love at last. She had been so sure that he was the one for her - that if only she was close to him, things would magically fall in place - that she had completely overlooked the other possibility - the more real possibility of him breaking her heart.

She mouthed the food, not tasting anything, just chewing and swallowing for necessity's sake. It amazed her how, no matter what happened, there were always day-to-day things one just had to keep doing: eat and sleep and wake up and brush teeth and hair and use the bathroom and bathe and clothe and go to work.

And as long as one could do all these, they could automatically say 'fine' when someone asked the simple yet complex question: 'How are you?'.

Because as long as one is going about life, it doesn't matter how dead they feel inside. Or how alone or cold or sad. The girl who ate alone had realized this a long time ago. Which is how she convinced herself that no matter how much she hated the new country that had beckoned her with love, she was still 'fine'. And always would be.

Kaanch pe chalna aanch mein jalna

Jitne bhi dard hai maaye seh na sake yeh jindari

Teriyan judaaiyan aggey dukh saare chhote

Teriyan judaaiyan aggey gham saare khote

Pal pal hote mere dil de hai totey

Mainda toh hai, rab kho gaya

Campus Lights

Campus lights are bright, but few. At certain points, they glare blindingly into my eyes, while at others, I am left struggling in the dark, treading carefully to avoid stepping in a puddle or stumbling on a rough patch on the road.

Often, the campus lights, or at least the hostel lights, are out. There are frequent power cuts, "load shedding" they call it. And the mosquitoes are notorious, especially during these 'dark' hours. I sometimes feel like I'm living in a forest; the campus is so akin to one. No external noise of traffic, vendors, anything, just a silence that gets heavier at night, punctuated only by the sounds of dogs and insects and people living their lives: strands of music here and there, often in some Southern language that means nothing to me; the sound of clothes being washed, or someone chattering on the phone at the top of their voice, again in some unfamiliar language.

Throughout the day, there is no need for lights. There is the sun, which gets almost as hot as it did in Ahmedabad. Whoever told me Hyderabad is not hot at this time of the year was lying or delusional. :P

But at night, it's lovely and cool. And light is needed. More so to lift my spirits which seem to sink as the day comes to an end. As darkness takes over the world, there is an internal darkness that takes over me. Sad thoughts, negative feelings, homesickness, nostalgia, regrets, desperate prayers, they all come together to make me feel like a lone warrior fighting against insurmountable enemies. I long for old friends and open conversations, for television and oft read books, for home-cooked food and familiar voices.

I try to read class notes or do something constructive but don't get very far before Facebook draws me in. And slowly, the hours slip by before I eventually fall asleep.

When I wake up the next morning, spirits are revived once again, because the sun is out and I have interesting classes to attend and people to talk to. Yet it's just a matter of time before the campus lights come on once again, lighting up the external world but extinguishing my internal joy.

Campus lights are bright. But few.

Aye kaash, kaash yun hota....har shaam, saath tu hota....

Chup chaap, dil na yun rota...har shaam, saath tu hota....

Do I Really Not Like the Rain Anymore?

Something is wrong.
It's raining.
And I hate it.
I hate how everything is cold and wet and smelly.
I hate how my washed clothes refuse to dry.
I do not want to write poetry about the rain. Or stories. Or anything.
Something has changed within me. I was scrolling through my blog and I noticed how I haven't written proper stories in ages. I used to write nice ones, I think. Now, I am just uninspired.
But at the same time, I am thrilled to have more followers. That means what I've written is not completely trashy. 111 seems like an auspicious number. So thank you all, dear readers, for appreciating me so much, sometimes, even when I don't deserve it.
These days, I feel like I'm living a dream. Because I'm where I've wanted to be for a long time, yet something is amiss. I am not as enthusiastic as would be expected. I procrastinate. A lot.
I watch movies on YouTube. I watch random videos. I download songs. I lie in bed and listen to the songs over and over again with my mind going blank. I look at random people's Facebook profiles and photos. I explore Google +, the latest social network which I had planned to never join but then had to for academic reasons. I read the newspaper online. I update my Facebook status a bit too often. I even open the Chats folder on Gmail and read old conversations which make me feel nostalgic and teary. I do everything but write, even though all I want to do is write. Does that make any sense?
Perhaps.
At the moment, my mind is clouded with one major problem. If only that gets resolved, I will be more relaxed. Or perhaps I won't. I will find something else to worry about, like my mother's health. I have a knack for worrying about things I have no control over. Perhaps that's why I don't like the rain anymore. It just makes me worry about walking on wet roads, catching a cold, clothes not drying, etc, etc. Stupid, pointless worries.
I worry I am turning into a worrywart. Or perhaps I always have been one. I need to calm down, to stop fretting over niggling little things. I need to watch a nice movie and spend time with a good friend. I need to live a bit.

And in time, I am sure I will grow to love the rain once more.

The Bend in the Road

It can appear all of a sudden, catching you unaware and jolting you into a sense of frantic panic as you quickly figure out how to survive the unfamiliar path it veers you onto.

Or, it can approach gradually, giving you plenty of time to anticipate what it will bring and plan accordingly.

But whichever way it occurs, the bend in the road is always exciting and terrifying all at once. It adds that crucial element of adventure to life.

The most recent bend in the road for me has been the decision to study in another city, another state, and in a country that is my own yet intimidates me quite a lot. If anyone had told me five years back that I would one day live in a hostel in a Southern Indian city, I would have laughed out loud at the preposterous idea. It is just not something I ever imagined myself wanting or having to do. Yet here I am, quite enjoying the experience and learning new things everyday. Well, at least almost every day. (Does washing clothes count as learning something new? It's an art, really. Or a science. Or whatever. It sure takes some skill though, I can tell you. :P )

Last night, I experienced something weird. I couldn't sleep till 3.30 a.m. (that was the last time I remember seeing on my cell phone.) Although I have suffered a bit of insomnia for quite some time now, it has never been so severe before. I was tired, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and direly wanted to drop off to peaceful slumber but just could not. So I got out of bed and went on a bit of a night time stroll through the hostel. The halls were somewhat eerily silent, with all room doors closed, either from inside or outside, and I felt a bit like I was haunting the place or something. A cool breeze was blowing in from the open-air quadrangle the building is built around, so I perched onto the low boundary wall and thought of many things.

I thought of home, where my family members would be deep in slumber, after having had a delicious dinner and watching prime time television. My stomach grumbled as I remembered the awful rice I had had hours ago.

I thought of someone I love, or think I do, and wondered why he hadn't answered my phone call hours ago. I had really needed to speak to him; I wouldn't ring him otherwise, but he hadn't gotten back. He would be asleep too, right then, dreaming of pretty girls and hot dates perhaps, far away from the world in which thoughts of him keep me awake till ungodly hours.

I thought of relationships and how very complicated they are at times, and at other times, meaningless. I pondered over how so many people are casual about 'love' and don't find it difficult to move on from one person to another. It makes me uncomfortable, this transient nature of love in today's world. Call me old fashioned but somehow, I don't understand casual dating. Or flirting. It seems superficial to me. Superficiality is equal to lies in some ways, and there is nothing I hate as much as I hate lies.

I thought of the friend who had lied to me, albeit about a small thing, and whom I had confronted just before trying to fall asleep. We had fixed things so smoothly, with him explaining and me accepting the explanation without any bitterness. Why can't all friendships be that way? You have a problem, you say it out loud, and it gets solved almost right away because the other person cares to respect your point of view and your feelings. Why don't some friendships have the capacity to withstand problems? Why do they deteriorate and eventually snap?

What do we gain from falling out with people who initially mean so much to us?
Just experiences, I guess. And lessons. Lessons of what it takes to be a 'social' being, as we all are.
At a seminar I attended yesterday, a Ghanaian professor shared an interesting proverb:

"If you want to go fast, go alone. But if you want to go far, go with others."

And even though at times, the bend in the road is bound to separate you from them, I am sure it never really isolates you.

(Don't worry, even I don't know what this post is trying to say.)

What Happens When a Heart Breaks?

What happens when sunshine turns into rain?
When a source of joy turns into sorrow?
When you run from unbearable pain towards what seems like respite, only to collide head-on with the same kind of pain again?
What happens then, what do you do?
It's like you've jumped from the proverbial frying pan into the blazing fire that will burn you to death.
Only that it won't. Death won't come. The fire will not grant you that luxury, it will torture you in every worst way possible. It will sap the life out of you, and destroy that special quality you once had in abundance - the ability to love. It will make you cynical and skeptical and breed a hatred for the opposite sex who always seem to end up behaving just the same. They all ALWAYS break your heart.
And yet you are told to be patient, to wait, to not blame all men for the faults of the few who have wronged you. You are told to continue believing in that elusive word full of promise: "someday". -"Someday, someone will walk into your life and make you realize why it never worked out with anyone else."

Yeah Right!
By the time that "someday' comes, I'm afraid I may not have a heart left. 'Coz every time it breaks, I don't know what happens to the pieces.
Do you?
Do you know when a heart breaks, where do the pieces go?
Perhaps they die. Gracelessly, without even having the honor of a proper burial.

It's unrequited love that should die. Not bits of hearts. :(

Hyderabad Diaries - 2

It's happened.

I have 'adjusted'.

To hostel life, to the campus, to Hyderabad.

I very near love this place now. It took less than two weeks. :)

I have learned SO MUCH since coming here. All little things which we don't usually think about much but which are nonetheless important.

I have learned how to use bathrooms that are not spotlessly clean. :P

I have learned to fall asleep with lights on, people talking, music playing, anything.

I have learned to wash my own clothes, and to plan what I wear so I can wash in batches without problems like colors running into each other.

I have learned to cross the road on my own. Granted, the road was not that busy so it doesn't matter as much but still, I had never crossed a four lane road on my own before. :)

I have learned to take care of myself. When I miss breakfast, I make sure I eat something, even if it is only biscuits. When the food at the hostel mess is decent, I tuck in without complaint. I'm making my taste buds slowly adapt to spices and chilies.

I have learned to not expect things from people. I don't need anyone to accompany me to eat or go to class or go anywhere at all. I am learning to manage on my own, no matter how apprehensive or lonely I feel at first.

I have learned to open up. I strike conversations with random strangers who I find are alone like me. It has been quite helpful in finding out lesser known facts about the campus and city.

I have learned to ask for help without hesitation. I went to open a bank account and could not have done it without asking three different people how exactly to go about it.

I have learned to be candid. I talk openly about the fact that I can't see very well so that people can help me when required.

I have learned to be independent yet friendly, free yet cautious, unrestrained yet responsible.

I have grown. :)

For those interested, here is a public link to my Facebook album comprising a few pictures of the campus. I will update it periodically as I click more photos:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150337223335490.394766.513405489&l=2914b43b93&type=1

I never win any prizes...

Yet, I don't give up trying.

So here goes: I'm sure you've all heard of the Samsung Galaxy Tab which is of course the 'coolest' (for lack of a better word) gadget around at the moment. So why not check out the live webcast of the Galaxy Tab launch? Here is the link:

And then await my blog post about the Tab.

Oh, and pray that I win. :P

'Coz I could do with some cheering up right now, you know. And what better way to make me smile than helping me win something as awesome as this.

That's all. Thank you.

Hyderabad Diaries - 1

Ever since I came here last Tuesday, I have felt terribly lonely and homesick.

Everything, from the in-campus roads to the languages being spoken around me are unfamiliar.

I don't have classes yet so there is not much to do the whole day. The city is far away so it is not feasible to go 'exploring'. I am anyways tired of exploring this campus itself, it is so BIG.

But today, things got a leeetle better. I skipped messy 'mess' food and went to the canteen for some 'proper' dinner, that is, roti and chicken.

I ran into two second year students there, who're quite nice. We chatted as I ate and one of them bought tea for us all.

Then, as I walked back to the hostel, I ran into a few classmates so talked with them.

For the first time since I've arrived, I felt like I belong.

For the first night since being here, I don't feel like going back home.

For the first time, I feel like maybe HCU isn't that bad after all.

HCU is Hyderabad Central University, by the way, where I'm studying. Or will be studying, at least, as soon as classes start sometime soon!

Hostel

That’s the name of a horror movie.
But that’s not the hostel I’m talking about.
I’m talking of The Hostel I am living in.
Which seemed close to a horror movie at first but then turned out to be ‘all right’, I guess.

What made it so horrific?

Well, the thing is, this room I’m in is meant for two people. There are two bed, two closets, and two desks. But ‘due to shortage of accomadation’, the (stupid) university admin decided to house three students per room.

Which is kind of a disaster. At least that’s what I thought at first. The evening that I moved in, I was so shocked, upset, confused, angry, and depressed, that my immediate thought was to re-pack whatever little I had unpacked and head straight back home with my dad who came to drop me. but fortunately, good sense prevailed and instead of speed-dialing my parents like a little kid, I called one of my best friends, the one I knew would provide just the support I needed right then.

Now this friend likes to call me a cry baby and i usually tell him off for it but at that moment I just proved it right by bursting into tears at the sound of his familiar voice and lapsing into my sob story.

He managed to calm me down, which I knew he would. And I decided to do the only thing one can do when stuck in an unavoidable crisis: to think from a different perspective. To try and appreciate something about the horror movie.

To start with, I’m sure we’ve all heard of roommates from hell. Well, thankfully, mine are the complete opposite, They seem like angels from heaven: they’re friendly, nice, mature, and extremely cooperative. Touch wood. We’ve managed to work out a way to share closet space and although I sleep on a mattress on the floor, I have decided not to mind.

What I do mind is how my feet hurt from all the walking I have been doing. The campus is big, really big, spread over 2000 acres of land, so there's a lot of walking involved to get from one spot to another. Most people have a bicycle but I don't even know how to ride one. :(

And the worst part is the food. I am already beginning to be sick of rice due to the sheer surplus of it that we are offered. The dal and subzi are just too spicy for me.

About the most interesting experience I've had so far is meeting two German girls who've chosen to stay at the hostel meant for Indian students rather than the special international students' hostel. They told me they like it, which I just can't comprehend because I sort of hate it, to be honest, and have been missing home a lot.

It's funny, sometimes you want something so badly and you get it, but then you don't want it anymore.

As said George Bernard Shaw: "There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart's desire. The other is to get it."

Sigh.