Meanderings…

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!

—-

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…

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?

–Cooling off in the middle of a darn good temper tantrum!

Come on, we all love a good temper tantrum once in a way. Ok, why the blank look and raised eyebrow? You don’t?! Well, I do! And let me tell you, there is nothing worse that working yourself up to a good sulk or outright tantrum and then realizing you’ve stopped being angry with whatever or whoever it is that gifted you with just that mood. You just feel so… betrayed and let down by yourself, but not enough to inspire another sulk. It’s like being offered a whole bar of chocolate all to yourself and then, when you’re halfway through it, being told that’s all you can have. Oh, the cruelty of it!

Sulk Rating: 8 FF*

– Morning People!

Ye gods! These creatures actually believe in such concepts as “Early to bed and early to rise”, “Humans are not nocturnal creatures”, “Breakfast at 7 am” and even “11 o’clock is nearly afternoon”, for crying out loud! I mean, come on! I go to bed early and rise early too–in the morning and evening respectively! Breakfast at 7? Brunch all the way. And 11 a.m. is the time you crack one eye open and decide to set an alarm to wake you in an hour! And humans, NOT nocturnal? Then how exactly would you explain the reason for the stars and the moon to exist other than to light up our nights?! Hello? Go read up your science. Sheesh.

Ok, having to put up with these creatures’ quaint ideas is bad enough. But to endure their cheerfulness when you’re forced to rise before noon and rummaging about the room (if you share one with them) when you can sleep in, it’s just tooooo much I say!

Sulk Rating: 8.5 FF

–The bus starting just before you get off!

This happens more and more to me these days. I, of course, am always the LAST person to get down at any given stop and the drivers take perverse pleasure in starting the bus when I’m one foot on and one foot off. As a result of which, I step down and have to do an ungainly little dance to the amusement of everyone (including the people in the bus, people on the streets, the snoozing street dog and the lamp-posts.) Foooh! (The sound of steam coming out of my ears)

Sulk Rating: 6.5 FF

–Finding that thing you were looking for for so long! [For for? ]

Ok, you might be puzzled by that. But what your forgetting is that, according to the Holy Murphy’s Laws (which sometimes seem more verifiable and relevant than Newton’s), this can only mean that you’d given up looking for that thing only a few days/minutes ago and bought (or married!) something else… Ah, the look on one’s face then in priceless.

Rating: 8 FF

–ZITS!

Driving on Chennai roads is an interesting… experience, to say the very least. Forget the roads (which your back never really forgets) and the pollution (which your lungs never forget) or even the congestion (which your vehicle never forgets). There is a whole different aspect of driving in Singara Chennai (named so by someone with a healthy sense of irony, methinks) that is more fascinating… I am, of course, talking about the fellow travellers… Who else but humans could leave such a mark?!

Driving in Chennai, you will meet certain standard “stock” drivers whom I have neatly classified. Unless otherwise specified, these “types” extend to both genders and across all age-groups. I have used the masculine pronoun for convenience:

1. The Overtaker: We’ve all heard of the Undertaker, of course. This type of driver, the Overtaker, is equally lethal. And would probably fit right into the profession of the undertaker, so eager does he seem to send people on their way to the hereafter. The Overtaker’s M.O. involves sneaking up on people unawares, (he has perfected this art to such… perfection that he doesn’t even appear in the rear-view mirror of the Overtakee) then out of nowhere, zip past the overtakee as close as possible, preferably with a (very loud) horn honking in the ear of the poor unsuspecting victim who will promptly jump, swerve, swear or lose balance–or do all of these simultaneously. The Overtaker takes pleasure in these very actions and his helmet probably muffles a chilling, Psycho-like laugh as he zooms away.

2. The Tortoise: The name Tortoise, I believe, sufficiently describes the nature of this driver. As may be expected, the Tortoise is the anti-thesis of the Overtaker. The Tortoise typically drives/rides a large and ungainly vehicle, and seems to believe that it is best driven at 10 kmph and in the middle of the road. While the Undertaker hones his skill into an art, the Tortoise decides to make his skill a science. Thus, through Tortoisology, this type of driver drives in a careful, precise way that ensures that the road is blocked in just such a way that no other driver can overtake him, reducing the traffic to a speed that is similar to the Tortoise’s. The Tortoise is truly brilliant for he frustrates not just fellow drivers, but pedestrian’\s too, who cannot cross the road because the Tortoise has reached that level of acceleration that is completely un-judgeable. And without a means to predict when the Tortoise will pass, the pedestrian is left stranded on one side of the road–forever!

3. The Hunk:
3. The Hunk: This, I’m afraid, in a gender-specific and age-specific type of driver. The Hunk is most often young, male and rather desperate when it comes to members of the opposite sex. The Hunk thinks himself to be more than averagely endowed in the looks and attraction department. (It is also to be noted that the Hunk is typically delusional) The motives of the Hunk are simple: Impress the Babe (more on that later) or any other female driver and show off superior driving skills of self. Due to the extremely eclectic driving style of the Hunk, it is difficult to pin down one Modus Operandi. There are, however, various styles or moves. There is, first of all, the standard Swerve-and-Swoop. To execute this, the Hunk generally speeds up, takes several complicated looking (also lame-looking, but he doesn’t know it) swerves and zigzags around other vehicles, swoops down on the object of his hunkiness and calls out some witty (read: equally lame) remark and zooms off. The Hunk believes that the effect of this maneuver is dual: scare the chick, impress the chick. Unfortunately for the Hunk, this just pisses off the “chick”. Another move I will discuss is the classic Fast ‘n’ Slow. When the Hunk spots an eligible female driver (who is driving confidently and faster than him), he speeds up and zoom pasts her. Then he slows down till she catches up and overtakes him and then zooms past again. This can go on for quite a while. Poor dumb Hunk. I myself have been at the receiving end of the ole Fast ‘n’ Slow and had the indescribable pleasure of seeing the Hunk being stopped in the middle of a Fast Cycle by a cop and screwed over.

4. The Babe: Another gender- and age- specific one. The Babe is the female counter-part to the Hunk. Her driving sense and skills just about equal to that of the Hunk. She has her own theories about what the various parts of the vehicle are and what the road rules mean. The rear view mirror becomes, simply, a mirror in the hands of the Babe. The stop signal is a time to touch up the make up, readjust the clothes and paint the nails (if the signal is, say, Nandanam, she’ll have enough time for said nails to dry and begin chipping). The Babe, however, is mostly harmless in comparison to the Hunk. Her most lethal weapon is the long-winded preparation to driving which goes something like: Open boot of the scooter, take out bottle of sunblock. Spread generous dollops on every inch of exposed skin, take out gloves, jacket, dupatta and begin to cover the self as if a blizzard’s been predicted (“Oh, I don’t want to get all tan!”). The Dupatta ritual is one of the most mystical aspects of the Babe’s routine–a twist, a turn, a flip, a tuck and suddenly only the eyes stare out of the face hidden by the dupatta. Then comes the last, much lamented step: Wear helmet (“Dammit, do I have to?! It ruins my freshly washed, coloured, straightened hair!”) and drive away.

5. The Stickler: The Stickler, aka the Nitpicker, is a truly wondrous and indecipherable species of drivers. The Stickler actually believes in and follows the road rules. The Stickler can read various road signs. The Stickler actually passed the driving test fair and square without bribing various officials. The Stickler carries all his papers with him all the time. The Stickler makes sure his vandi is spic-and-span though it might be 20 years old. The Stickler puts up his hand when he’s at the head of the signal to show that he’s stopped. The Stickler stops at the stop line. The Stickler wore a helmet before it was made compulsory. The Stickler never allows his petrol indicator to touch the red line. The Stickler is often middle-aged. The Stickler is an endangered species. Save the Stickler!

Well, there you go. These are some of the chief races of drivers. There are other categories like The Spitter, Dopey, The Nervous Fumbler, The Honker, Foul Mouth etc. Certain groups like The Autodriver can have whole posts, if not books, written on them. But you would be considered a seasoned Chennai-ite and driver if you have encountered and survived these five basic groups.

Happy Bumping Along!

(DISCLAIMER: This is a serious one, so just skip if you’re not comfortable with serious things… I’m not going to try to be flippant and humourous. This is important to me.)

Why do most human beings feel this need to impose their will on others? They feel everyone must toe the line of their expectations and opinions. It’s such bullshit. What do these people want? Imagine if everyone did conform… Their perfect world of “acceptable” behaviour would be… mind-numbingly boring, with absolutely no variety whatsoever! Imagine if no one thought differently… There would still be oppression based on caste in India and based on race in some other countries… We would still all be forced to conform to a religion, whether we like it or not, or pay for non-conformity. Indians would still be subjugated. There would be no freedom of speech. No freedom of expression. No freedom of thought.

So why are we still trying to get people to do what is acceptable to a certain majority?

I have seen this very often. The minute someone does something different, there’s such a huge opposition to it. Ok, off the top of my head… Homosexuality! I can’t count the number of people whose reactions to homosexuals range from mild discomfort to wild opposition. I have no bone to pick with the mild discomfort camp. Sure, we’ve all been trained to think in a certain way from childhood and the idea of homosexuality may make them uncomfortable. Fair enough. Now how about shutting up and keeping your opinion to yourself? What absolutely pisses me off is people who go around saying “It’s unnatural!” blah blah blah. Well, it exists doesn’t it? That means nature created it so it’s NATURAL! And then there are those people saying it shouldn’t exist, it’s wrong. Oh, wait a minute. I think I missed something… Who died and made you judge of what is right and wrong?

I just don’t understand this need to tell everyone how to live. I mean, how does it matter how two consenting adults do their business? Is anyone forcing you to do it? Are they hurting anyone, physically? (I’m not talking about people ‘hurting’ puritanical sensibilities!) Then, HOW DOES IT MATTER? If you’re gonna talk about rape and stuff, tough news, it happens regardless of sexual orientation. So I think it’s best to set aside these silly notions that infringe on other people’s freedom to be who and what they are… We are all free human beings… But we can’t choose our sexuality, it’s inborn. And even if we could, why should we choose something just so that society will feel COMFORTABLE?

Oh, I’m not done yet. Another case of stepping outside the norms: Feminism. I have witnessed how people react to feminists, both in real life and otherwise. They are faced with great antagonism in general and in movies they are portrayed as stereotypical male-haters with short hair, either unmarried or divorced. The minute a feminist opens her mouth there’s this change in the atmosphere… It gets all charged with self-righteous anger from other people, like she’s a freak who’s disturbing the peace. Why is it wrong to stand up for rights? I mean, what modern feminism is about is basically individual rights, the freedom to be what you want to be, regardless of your sex. So if I, a woman, want to not have children, am I a freak? Don’t I get a say in what I want to do with my own body? If I don’t want to cook, clean AND work AND take care of my family… if I would prefer to be the ‘conventional’ housewife who stays home and doesn’t work, can’t I be that and still hold on to my individuality? If I am a man who prefers to wear pink and loves flowers, can’t I make that personal choice without being judged? Or if I feel I’m not happy with my gender, can’t I just change who I am? Or should I slog through life, working to keep society happy (like it can ever be happy!) only to end up being a miserable person?

Why do we all have to toe that invisible line? Why do we have to follow these unwritten rules even when they make no sense?

How many of you are wondering if I’m homosexual or a feminist right now? How many of you are judging me?

…But you know what? I don’t care!

The other in a drama-writing workshop, we were asked to look back and think of a “crisis” or a turning point in our childhood that changed who we are today.

I thought… I scratched the A4 sheet with my pen… I turned those little lines into meaningless doodles. And all I discovered was a penchant for cartoon faces, leaves, lips and black-and-white alternating patterns!

I couldn’t think of a SINGLE incident that stands out as changing who I am, making me what I am today. This is something that really disturbed me because everyone seems to have one incident–happy or sad–that changed their life. What does my not having one mean? Am I… shallow? Too complacent? Or worst of all–BORING?!

Not that I wish a childhood trauma upon myself, just so I have something to write about. But c’mon, how am I going to become a famous–and more importantly–RICH writer if I don’t have that “something” that’ll haunt me all my life, drive me first to writing, then to drinking, smoking, drugs, indiscriminate sex and finally to death! How will I face the literary world? How will I support myself (consults a previously mentioned list)–LEGALLY!

Sob… oh woe!

Ah, forget it. I’ll just… traumatise myself now. Better late than never, eh?

—————-
Now playing: KT Tunstall – Throw Me A Rope
via FoxyTunes

What is the ugliest, most obscene sight I have seen in recent times? You perverts out there may put away your mental images. I just meant the sight of beautiful, strong trees in their prime having their roots exposed to the sun.

This is in protest of the government-sanctioned tree killings that have been going on recently on G N Chetty Road. This used to be a beautiful tree-lined avenue and just entering it on a hot day, you could feel the temperatures drop at least a degree.  But recently in the name of PROGRESS (don’t make me laugh!) at least 10 trees have been slashed down. For what? To build a frickin’ FLYOVER. What it all boils down to is this:

The bloody traffic police don’t care about controlling traffic, making sure rules are followed. Oh but wait, they do! But only when their finances are low and they need so ready cash. Then they’ll stop people for all reasons, take their money and send them on their way. If you’re wondering where this is leading, let me attempt an explanation. So, basically, these idiots can’t maintain discipline and so traffic jams up like crazy. And what do they do? No, they don’t make sure people don’t do idiotic things like jumping signals, respectiong “stop” lines. No, they decide to build a flyover which will only encourage more rule breaking and traffic and create horrible bottlenecks and snares in traffic (Gemini flyover being a prime example). Oh, but that’s ok… All that’s going to be wasted is the tax money of fool citizens who cough up. And oh, as a sidenote, a bunch of green-and-brown props on the side of the road. Trees.

Murder. That’s what this is. Am I being melodramatic? Good! I don’t give a damn. People just need to get melodramatic about things like this. Forget the fact that these trees, tall, lush and majestic have taken DECADES to grow (eyewitness accounts, thanks to my family that’s lived in T Nagar since forever), fighting against impossible Chennai summers, putting up with graffiti and disfigurement, etc. Forget the fact that trees actually have life and as much rights to live as a human beings. Forget the fact that trees are fricking scarce in chennai! Let’s forget all that and be the usual materialistic, self-centred human beings and come down to practicalities. These trees give SHADE. Now that’s essential in blisterin’ ole Chennai. And hello?! Are we forgetting things like oxygen cycles, ecology and global warming? What happened to all the environmental awareness? This is EXACTLY why the human race is doomed and is also sending the rest of the planet to its doom.

In college, the dear central government has added to our already heavy workload with a core paper called Environmental Studies. As I said before, don’t make me laugh. Cos I might just get hysterical (as if i’m not now!). Talk about irony!