Some more stream of conscious nonsense

Is it truly courage if you do something difficult when you’re forced to? If you have no choice in the matter, how is it courageous? I mean, what’s the other alternative that you could choose that would be not courageous? I’m not being (very) judgemental of anyone here. In fact, I’ve been congratulated myself for my “courage” in such situations and I’ve always found it odd. The situation is thrust upon you and it’s either do what you have to or… well, die, I guess. And that’s not really an option, is it?

On the subject of courage, why is it that some people always, always prefer to run away from problems rather than face them while some others just can’t leave problems alone?

What’s really fascinating (and scary) about meeting new people is that you realize how much you don’t know. A huge number of facts, to start with, and let’s not even get started on life experiences–the other person might just take these for granted but you’ve probably never even dreamt of them. It’s at times like these that you’re left wondering how you could ever have believed there’s one single, shiny white Truth that you can possibly reach out and grasp.

I seriously can’t decide if subjectivity is a good thing or bad. I’m not denying that it’s an inescapable fact of life. Even the most seemingly objective things ultimately do have a subjective basis. And subjectivity is wonderful when it comes to any kind of art or sometimes, even the sciences. But when it comes to personal choices, it’s a whole different question. Most of our heads have been filled with certain ideals, I think, which depend on being “objective”. And when you’re forced to make difficult personal choices, do you let go of these and say “Screw objectivity: My life, my views!”? Or do you stick to “objectivity” and feel miserable? Often, it’s an uneasy compromise.

The worst part about growing up is that it makes you realize how foolish innocence was… And the worst thing about the past is that you just can’t change it, no matter how hard you wish.

After a *short* break…

Ok, I haven’t updated in nearly nine months but I just came across this blogpost I had written and not published a long, looong time ago… No idea why. So while I continue to neglect paw prints for a while longer, here it is:

I have not updated in more than a month. This does not bother me however, because certain changes in my living arrangements have driven me to distraction. I now live:

1. in a hostel that has a strangely yet appropriately misspelled “Dinning Hall”.
2. in a hostel where not only spellings, but punctuations also suffer and I wince every time I enter the “Girl’s wing” where no “male’s are allowed”. Some noble soul has noticed the misplaced apostrophe in the word ‘males’ and made attempts to remove it but I still itch to have at the “girl’s” bit of it. Argh.
3. with two roommates, only one of whom is human. I have not observed this wonderful human being washing a single item of clothing in all the time I have occupied Room No. 229. And I can’t say I’m particularly surprised by this as I had to do a LOT of cleaning of my side of the room when I moved in, including scraping away for what felt like two years at a piece of chewing gum that was stuck to the floor. And then found two more such spots. Thankfully, these were on the other side of what I think of as “LOC”–her side of the room, HA!
4. with my other roommate, too, Karma Chameleon, aka Cameo aka Unwaba aka Sojakutty, who is, you guessed it, a chameleon. “Sojakutty” was, of course, the suggestion of a mallu friend, after reading a certain mail about the ancient secrets of Mallu Christian naming practices. The names of the two human occupants of the room were shortened and mixed in order to come up with “Soja”. “Sojamon” and “Sojamol” were rejected due to our inability to determine the gender of said chameleon (although s/he DOES seem to enjoy climbing onto my bed. Hmm. Which really doesn’t prove anything.) Anyway, this name also has the added advantage of capturing the somnolent atmosphere of the room (“So ja, munna, so jaaa…”) But I’m still open to suggestions from the gentle reader.
5. in the farthest point from the academic building, with the closest dhaba also a good distance away. This means I have to a LOT of huffing and puffing all over campus to get anywhere. And with most of my friends living in much more pleasantly placed areas, I end up walking at LEAST four kilometers a day. I console myself by thinking about the fact that my jeans are becoming looser and looser

I would like to conclude, at the end of all this, with absolutely NO sarcasm,

I LOVE HOSTEL LIFE!

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Interesting to read this old post… I’ve since moved into a new room with really the perfect roommate I do miss Cameo, though! Ah, such is life…

restive

A maddening, sleep-depriving restlessness. Can’t concentrate on reading, music, lose count of sheep counting at 4912 (backwards from 5000). Everyone is asleep or busy or drunk or depressed. Tonight I feel the loneliness. The loneliness of having only yourself. Irutinilae nee nadakaiyile, un nizhalum unnai vittu vilagividum. Nee mattum dhaan indha ulaginilae unakku thunai endru purindhuvidum. (When you walk in the dark, even your shadow abandons you. You realise you are your only companion in the world.) The lyrics that seemed so cynical now begin to make sense. The loneliness of being trapped in yourself–it’s so overwhelming. Maybe that’s why we manage to forget it most of the time, to stay sane. Maybe that’s why we’re so desperate for love, from whoever, in order to forget that loneliness that can gulp you whole.

What do I want? Where is this headed? Why wasn’t I consulted before having life thrusted upon me? There’s a confusion, a sense of utter senselessness in EVERYTHING. I’m a little child throwing terrific temper tantrums, a moody teenager, an angry young woman, an overworked middle-ager, a tired old woman all at once. I suddenly feel over-dramatic and stiflingly repressed. Where do these emotions come from? Do you feel it too? Does anybody?

Where are we headed?

WHO are we?

Zzzz…?

Laziness is truly underrated. As a society we have become slaves to this thing called hard work (more picturesquely and reduplicatedly [is that even a word? Hmm, well now it is.] termed “surusuruppu” in Tamil). Apparently it’s so misunderstood that certain people even group it under a list called the “Seven Deadly Sins” where laziness in the name of Sloth parties with other cool doods like Lust and Pride. Well, forgive me, for I have sinned! In fact, I’ve been  sinning all my life!

See, this is part of the whole “banning the good things in life” conspiracy that people indulge in. Like the whole hullabaloo over Valentine’s Day in Karnataka (which, hellooo…?, goes on in a smaller, quieter way all the time in Singara Sennai anyway!) Because laziness is fun. It’s cool. Everyone wants to do it, but few can perfect it to an art form (as I have) (modest smile).

Ok, I can hear a few disbelieving snorts. See, this is what I mean by laziness being misunderstood. You disbelieving-snorters must be wondering what could be so challenging about sleeping in, lying about all day and postponing/not even thinking about all that work you have to do. Now, I’ll give you that a person who does these things is undoubtedly lazy. But she’s not Lazy. She has not committed the sin of Sloth. She will not hang out in hell with the Lustful Ones and the Proud Ones. No indeed. What she will do is put on a couple of kgs, develop bed sores or die when no one was looking (depending on how lazy she is.)

So, you ask, your disbelieving snorts turning into expressions of puzzlement, WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU RAMBLING ABOUT, YOU PRAT?! Ah, well, *stalls while furiously flipping through notes for the point* I mean… Ah yes! those of the capital-L ilk of the Slothful have certain qualities which the average beach bum does not. (No offence to beach, or any other kind, of bums.) See, these creatures have a certain air about them that doesn’t just come from living in close prximity to unmade beds or overflowing workspaces or cobwebby ceilings. No, that air of indolence, of otiosity, of sheer fainéance (yes, yes, I do have thesaurus.com open in a parrallel tab. So, you learned some new words, don’t grumble! ) that surrounds the Idler has a deeper, more profound reason. You see, “Laziness if not a state of being, it is a Way of Life”*. To achieve that transcendental state of Languour, you must free yourself from those troublesome bonds that plague human beings on earth–the curse of the Mind. Yes, the mind is a great deterrent to Laziness. It clouds your judgement and obscures the world of Matter, which is where one must dwell. The mind, it does the one fell, evil thing that condemns you to the base land of the Small-L: It makes you think!

Ah, yes, now you see it–we reach the heart of the matter! So, one may sit around doing nothing, but at one point, the Mind worms its dark tentacles to wrap you in a death grip. You begin to worry or think or (gasp!) get BORED! And so, one more falls.

And this is where the Lazy ones differ from ordinary mortals. By a set of methods that are so complicated that they became so easy that only the truly lazy can perceive them, it is possible achieve the divine Way of the Niryawna. Here, the mind is shut off, as definitely as a laptop with no battery or a government office during lunchtime. Such a Non-Mind will not allow the smallest twig of worry or the softest whisper of a thought to disturb it. Not only does it not allow anything to distub it, but is like the still, sluggish surface of a swamp on a hot day: stewing in its own juices and swallowing anything that comes its way so no trace of the disturbance is left!

Once this state of inertia is achieved, the Lazy one may go for hours and hours with absolutely no thoughts, no worries, nothing even remotely resembling an action. The Non-Mind is blessedly blank, snoozing away. And this is not as boring as it sounds (besides, the fact is that the Blessed are beyond boredom, remember?) One may stare at a screen/page for hours while nothing is going on behind the eyes. One may appear to be listening intently to a conversation/lecture while secretly sleeping in one’s head. Of course, one may decide to descend upon Earth once in a while, out of pity for the unfortunate mortals, but this is entirely optional.

Ah. Bliss.

And that is why We the Languourous are envied. Jealous-ed, even. And, inevitably, persecuted. Sigh. I hope you realize the dangers I have put my own Rest to by trying to enlighten you! But never mind, my child. The Snooze forgives.

Now go read the Ode to Indolence

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*The Holy Snore-Yawn, Chapter 1, verse 24: And so the ‘N’lightened One said unto them, “Go forth and slumber, ye  bustling hordes, for Laziness is not a state of being but a Way of Life.”

Time, Truth and Common Colds: More Ramblings.

Well, it’s been a month since my last post. Questions of whether my blog has been abandoned have begun to be asked by the privileged (ha. ha. ha.) few who read it. So here I go…

There’s been so much to write about, ranging from the light-hearted, to the giddy, to the sickeningly depressing. And sometimes, when you have too much to write about, you end up not writing at all. Oh, plus I’m so lazy Anyway, moving on…

Looking back at my last post, I realize how silly we human beings are. We live in a world that is so much our own creation and then have all these huge arguments about who created it, how it should be, who has more power, etc. Now, I’m not talking about anything so profound as whether there is a god or not. I’m talking about the simple fact that our ideas of time and space and all that crap are just that–our ideas, not some universal truth. Ok, take ‘time’ for example.

So, we celebrated the new year, hoped it was a new beginning and life would become wonderful again/more wonderful. But the fact is, time is a human invention, isn’t it? If we didn’t mark it with new years and deadlines and almanacs, it would  just be a huge blob that passes by without our even noticing it. And we know all this! Even if we’re not aware of that knowledge, we know it. Yet, we get caught in that very trap. We hope for “new beginnings” even though nothing is really new. The irony is that, things are just getting older with every “new” year. The same things continue to happen, life still doesn’t really have any meaning other than what we give it, and yes, people still catch colds. Still no cure for the common cold.

And yet we continue to do it, continue to fool ourselves. Continue to believe that the little imaginary marks we make on the huge puzzle that is time mean something real in the world. But then, we human beings are and have always been good at self-deception. I think that’s our greatest strengh. We can believe that we as a species are essentially, “naturally” good even though good/evil is our own invention. We can shut our eyes to truth and reality while claiming to be engaged in an investigation of that very truth and reality. Yes, self-deception is our greatest strength.

It’s why we, the weaklings of Nature, still survive.

Ah. Cheerful.

‘appy nooo earrr!

No, I’m not drunk. But have a nice one anyway.

2008, compared to the average year, may be described as humongously crappy. From Jan to December, June to… well, December. A few nice things happened of course. I became a graduate. I got into… well… a pretty cool institute for my M.A. (big grin). I’ve met some VERY nice people who I hope will remain in my life till–oh, ok, I won’t be greedy, just till I’m 120 or so. But despite all this, I’m saying goodbye to the year with great relief and hoping I don’t have to live through one like it for–again, being very restrained, 100-odd years.

I’m really tempted to write something philosophical about how life goes in unexpected ways but enough already!

Have a ball!

(Or a bat… Or even a hockey puck for that matter.)

At the end of the day

Everything goes. It’s not depressing, nor cynical, nor greatly philosophical. It’s like the wind, the ocean, the million stars.

It just is.

Homecoming…

Home coming is sweet, with bittersweet tinges to add to the interesting experience that it is. When home is a whole city, your joys multiply till you are overwhelmed. You can breathe in and wallow in all that is familiar, those things that were so easy to take for granted but are now so precious. The curl of your mother’s hair, your sister’s silent creeping-out-of-bed early in the morning so as not to wake you. The silence of the night, comfortable and unchanged since when you were thirteen. The feel of the floor, hard and reassuring, beneath your back. The sofas that echo with the assurance of a hundred memories. The tiny bathroom that remembers the yowls that you called singing, your conversations with the taps, your tears that the shower couldn’t drown, your secret phone calls.

Of course, the little bittersweet tinges are there to make sure the sweetness doesn’t become nauseating. Those people you miss, whom some part of your illogically expects to find, just aren’t there. The little changes that you hardly notice in the beginning make you realise that home is not the static place in your head but is changing, has move on beyond the day you left. That roll-top desk has moved into your room. Your childhood dolls smile down at you from the shelf where they’re newly on display. That particular road has a few extra ruts and a whole flyover looms in that familiar horizon.  And you must relearn home, rediscover it so that it’s exactly what it was to you: completely familiar.

And then you must leave again.

a slice of time

Riding on the bus on a cold winter evening… The sun has set and it is dark outside. You surprisingly have a seat all to yourself. A jacket keeps you warm and toasty while soft, guitary music plays on your headphones. You slide to the closed window and look out… The world is rushing by in a series of silhouettes lit up in flashes by lights from warm homes and warm windows. You feel a moment of peace and satisfaction as you sit there in the dimly lit bus. With your fellow passengers all around you, the sense of simultaneous comfort and aloneness is heightened, like you’re in your own cozy bubble among a million bubbles.

The song ends as your ride ends and you walk smiling towards something like home.

Emptying My Brain

The next time someone tells me that Tamil is a difficult language to learn, I’ll thank them and feel flattered. After all, I must be pretty smart seeing that I learned most of this “difficult” language by the time I was four!

How do some people talk literally for hours on the phone?! My roommate holds a Master’s Degree in this and just listening to her yak at all times of the day and night exhausts me. Imagine holding a phone to your ear ALL the time. Or talking for hours to someone whose facial expressions you cannot see. Creepy.

It’s strange to think that no matter what opinion I express, someone somewhere at some time disagrees with/disapproves of/violently opposes every word. So why this obsession with political correctness and being agreeable?

I feel all weird and eerie if I think about the world getting wiped out suddenly tomorrow. No one would know. There wouldn’t even be a question of caring. Even the most self-centred people would not (be able to) give a damn. And even if we whip up a frenzy about the world ending today, when it does, well, all in vain, eh?

I’m sometimes freakishly possessive. I feel like people, books, movies, even SMELLS belong enclusively to me. Hmm. Weird. And creepy again.

We, as a species, are all morbidly (if unconsciously) obsessed with death and yet seem experts at ignoring this fact. Born astride the grave indeed. Existentialists rock!

Vina nooru kanaavum nooru, vidai solladi…

What is aliens are all around us but we have no clue cos we don’t have the right kind of senses to… sense them? It might explain a lot of unexplained phenomena. An alien could be reading this right now and pointing at me and laughing. And now reading <— that and frowning. And reading <— that and… ok, this can go on forever. I’ll stop.

Brain transplants would be, like, todally coo-uhl!

Would I be a wimp if I wanted to wear gloves already? Freaking frozen fingers!

A dimly lit room seems pitch dark as soon as your enter it and in just half a minute you wonder how you ever thought it was dark. I’m sure there’s a deep and significant metaphor in there but too lazy to look for it now.

Why is it so hard to stop looking for approval, either peer or societal or parental or familial or whatever-al, even when you know in your head it’s stupid and you must be who you are?

Darn mosquitos!

There’s something strangely fair in the fact that life isn’t fair, you know?

Life is absurd. The sheer absurdity of the fact that I’m sitting here and pressing down on these weird protrusions that in turn produce some weirdly shaped marks on a weird-looking flat surface which stand for some chemical impulses in my head is absurd enough. Add to that the fact that you are looking at these weird-shaped marks and they stand for something in your head which may or may not be what it stood for in my head. Uh.

It’s past midnight. No wonder I’m treading the thin line between randomness and sheer nonsense. G’night then.

P.S.: Brain nice and empty now!