Can't remember London except as a vague dream. The smell of sweat and roasting jeera and the sound of horns blaring are the package called Delhi. London will never know the adrenalin rush of speeding through a yellow light at a busy intersection. And Delhi will never know why in God's name the yellow signal actually exists.
Changing cities is changing lives. And, in Delhi, crossing the road without looking just because there's a zebra crossing is changing life for death.
March 28, 2006
March 22, 2006
Kya Bataoon Maa Kahaan Hoon Main...
...yahan udne ko mere liye
Khula aasmaan hai
Tere kisson jaisa bhola
Salona jahaan hai yahan sapnon waala
Me flying home to Mummy for the vacations tomorrow. Too sleep deprived to post these days, with Lent term essays and Cambridge et al. Will be back to blogging soon.
Khula aasmaan hai
Tere kisson jaisa bhola
Salona jahaan hai yahan sapnon waala
Me flying home to Mummy for the vacations tomorrow. Too sleep deprived to post these days, with Lent term essays and Cambridge et al. Will be back to blogging soon.
March 19, 2006
:-)
...Love, we are in God’s hand.
How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead;
So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
I feel he laid the fetter: let it lie!
Robert Browning in Andrea Del Sarto
How strange now, looks the life he makes us lead;
So free we seem, so fettered fast we are!
I feel he laid the fetter: let it lie!
Robert Browning in Andrea Del Sarto
March 16, 2006
As You Like It
And the following draw to a close:
- The Royal Shakespeare Company's London Season (Super!)
- The best part of my entertainment budget (12 plays! woohoo!)
- Six months of my stay in the UK (I want my Mummy!)
- The final taught term of my course (Whatever)
- My patience with the winters (Brrrrrruddy Hell!)
- The Royal Shakespeare Company's London Season (Super!)
- The best part of my entertainment budget (12 plays! woohoo!)
- Six months of my stay in the UK (I want my Mummy!)
- The final taught term of my course (Whatever)
- My patience with the winters (Brrrrrruddy Hell!)
March 14, 2006
Dyer Consequences
The school newspaper comes out every Tuesday, and prides itself on its tabloid-itude. Student union elections were held last week, and the paper carried a sarcastic report today. Many candidates had, as part of their election promises, vowed to have more drinking water facilities on campus (I know of one water fountain and I've been here six months.) So a scathing snippet in the paper said that with so many people wanting drinking water facilities, the school had decided to dig some wells and let students harvest their own drinking water from them. The text was accompanied by the picture of an Indian girl who had contested the elections.
The girl was shown standing in a well.
Now the paper routinely pisses me off with its sexism and occasional racism. But this time, it hit a very raw nerve. Any Indian looking at the picture of a woman in a well is carrying far too much historical baggage to be able to smile and turn the page. The Jalianwalah Bagh incident, for me, repeatedly evokes not just anger at the cold blooded murder that happened on one day in history, but provokes the rage at centuries of culture that consider the forceful ravishment of a woman as fate deserving of her death. Having seen Khamosh Pani at a Pakistan Society screening recently, the anger was much closer to the surface.
The woman in the well is an icon of a world engulfed in conflict where neither party values women's lives. If I write all this in a letter to the editor, it might just get read, and get published in a parody form next week. I don't expect people who refer to "sheesha bars with Arabian girls and shit" to understand my problem. I'm most welcome to carry my chipped shoulder back home where I belong, where I could be expected to jump in the well to avoid being raped tomorrow.
Well, if it's threatening to rip your soul apart, blog it. And then just hope you've got it out of your system.
The girl was shown standing in a well.
Now the paper routinely pisses me off with its sexism and occasional racism. But this time, it hit a very raw nerve. Any Indian looking at the picture of a woman in a well is carrying far too much historical baggage to be able to smile and turn the page. The Jalianwalah Bagh incident, for me, repeatedly evokes not just anger at the cold blooded murder that happened on one day in history, but provokes the rage at centuries of culture that consider the forceful ravishment of a woman as fate deserving of her death. Having seen Khamosh Pani at a Pakistan Society screening recently, the anger was much closer to the surface.
The woman in the well is an icon of a world engulfed in conflict where neither party values women's lives. If I write all this in a letter to the editor, it might just get read, and get published in a parody form next week. I don't expect people who refer to "sheesha bars with Arabian girls and shit" to understand my problem. I'm most welcome to carry my chipped shoulder back home where I belong, where I could be expected to jump in the well to avoid being raped tomorrow.
Well, if it's threatening to rip your soul apart, blog it. And then just hope you've got it out of your system.
March 13, 2006
Bad Day
I could not concentrate on my book on the tube today, because the teenaged boy and girl in the seat opposite were all but tearing each other's clothes off, and I wanted to throw my book down, walk across to them, and tell them to be very careful, because one day she will have a job, and one day (before she gets the job, if I don't intervene) he will get her pregnant, and then her boss will say that women with children are not good enough to work.
Sheesh man! I would spit today out of my life if I could.
P.S.: Completely forgot it is Aamir Khan's birthday today! Fust time in 16 years, I forgot! Hurray! Harnaam Singh will be happy to know this!
Sheesh man! I would spit today out of my life if I could.
P.S.: Completely forgot it is Aamir Khan's birthday today! Fust time in 16 years, I forgot! Hurray! Harnaam Singh will be happy to know this!
March 10, 2006
A common greyness silvers everything
Death is invisible in Central London. Death happens in a dignified, behind-the-curtain way somewhere else. There is no sound of weeping or dying. Death is not to be seen while walking on the roads. I thought I saw a dead something on the road today, but it turned out to be soil.
There are pigeons everywhere, but nobody knows where they go to die. Nobody knows where they nest either, just as nobody knows where the black and grey camouflage coats who walk the road bring up their young.
Maybe I need to get out of Central London, or maybe the sun just needs to break through the clouds from time to time.
There are pigeons everywhere, but nobody knows where they go to die. Nobody knows where they nest either, just as nobody knows where the black and grey camouflage coats who walk the road bring up their young.
Maybe I need to get out of Central London, or maybe the sun just needs to break through the clouds from time to time.
March 09, 2006
Just Another Day
As the IT man (always a man) fixed the computer in a classroom, a pair of red plastic handcuffs (with hearts printed on them, and the message “Prisoner of Love” emblazoned in white) fell of the desk. He saw them and said to the lecturer “Ma’am, you dropped your handcuffs. I’m not asking what they’re doing here.” Thirty female students, who were examining a sticky-jelly-boy-bits souvenir, burst out in laughter. As the computer phut-phutted to life, a headless bikini model lit up the projector screen.
We are the Gender Institute. We exist to amuse mankind. Or so it must seem to the IT department.
P.S.: If you’re getting all excited about what goes on in our classroom, you’re not allowed to even think about it till you have read Foucault. Then, if you’re alive, we’ll tell you how we use handcuffs and jelly genitalia to deconstruct homosocially-negotiated-heterosexuality. By then, you’ll surely be dead.
We are the Gender Institute. We exist to amuse mankind. Or so it must seem to the IT department.
P.S.: If you’re getting all excited about what goes on in our classroom, you’re not allowed to even think about it till you have read Foucault. Then, if you’re alive, we’ll tell you how we use handcuffs and jelly genitalia to deconstruct homosocially-negotiated-heterosexuality. By then, you’ll surely be dead.
March 07, 2006
Some More Please!
Just paid 1.55 pounds for half a slice of pizza at the hostel cafeteria. I suspect the person in the kitchen slicing the pizza is the lovable chap who serves breakfast on most days, and counts the number of potato wedges he puts on our plates. Whenever he’s around, we either avoid taking anything that’s not of a pre-determined size, or clear our throats and shamefacedly ask for more, not always successfully. We steal little pats of butter sometimes, but that just makes the situation even more pathetic. Being the powerless little creatures we are, we take heart in abusing him:
Bedardi hai who nigoda
Khaana deta thoda thoda
Lekar ghar jaayega saara
Bhooka marta pet hamaara
Usko toh chaain kabhi na
Kar de mushkil jeena
Roz woh kameena
March 06, 2006
March 05, 2006
March 03, 2006
Seasoning
We’re sticking daffodils into flowerpots
And painting smiles on our gloomy faces
We’re thinking lots of summery thoughts
And looking at photos of summery places
We’re selling gloves for less than they cost
And proffering venues for summer bashes
And sticking our tongues at ole Jack Frost
With snowflakes on our noses and eyelashes
And painting smiles on our gloomy faces
We’re thinking lots of summery thoughts
And looking at photos of summery places
We’re selling gloves for less than they cost
And proffering venues for summer bashes
And sticking our tongues at ole Jack Frost
With snowflakes on our noses and eyelashes
March 02, 2006
Finally!
Ages ago (Five years ago) I worked (I pretended to work) at an office (in a rathole) editing news (stealing news) for a news service (for a shady news service). I created (I copy-pasted) the UK section (the UK section).
So I regularly consulted (enough with the brackets already!) The Guardian website, which often had an advertising banner emblazoned above the masthead. The advert urged me to “buy Les Miserables tickets now!” Having recently read the novel and being completely smitten by it, and being semi-conscious because of the heat during a summer power cut in the office, I clicked on the banner. When the website opened, I realized that the performance was in LONDON: that faraway place which might as well have been on the moon (the moon.) (Ok sorry.) I felt so stupid getting so excited about something that was so beyond my world. I shook my head and got back to my work.
Tonight I saw the musical. It’s celebrating 25 years of making people gape and smile and cry. I gaped and smiled and cried an awful lot.
If you have a crazy idea, shake your head and go back to your work. Who knows what might happen in five years!
So I regularly consulted (enough with the brackets already!) The Guardian website, which often had an advertising banner emblazoned above the masthead. The advert urged me to “buy Les Miserables tickets now!” Having recently read the novel and being completely smitten by it, and being semi-conscious because of the heat during a summer power cut in the office, I clicked on the banner. When the website opened, I realized that the performance was in LONDON: that faraway place which might as well have been on the moon (the moon.) (Ok sorry.) I felt so stupid getting so excited about something that was so beyond my world. I shook my head and got back to my work.
Tonight I saw the musical. It’s celebrating 25 years of making people gape and smile and cry. I gaped and smiled and cried an awful lot.
If you have a crazy idea, shake your head and go back to your work. Who knows what might happen in five years!
March 01, 2006
Superwoman Steps On To The Balcony For A Smoke
Article in The Times Of India
Superwoman: Time to take a break
"…Since the time women have had the freedom to work and build a career for themselves, they have aspired to be the superwoman. The complete woman who could handle the demands of home and workplace with ease and make sure that both ran smoothly without any hiccups. And one can proudly say that many have achieved this seemingly impossible task.
But then, the cultural set up in which she acquired the freedom to be independent, required her to work doubly hard to prove herself and show the other sex that he need not whine as she was quite capable of doing it all. She is anyway programmed to be a multi-tasker and one more addition to her list of jobs was only going to make her smarter and more efficient. While men may have snickered at her ambitious plans, she was confident and proved herself well…."
“…A recent survey conducted on 10,000 people in Europe says that marriage and sex is actually harmful for women. It shortens their life-span by over a year. And why is that? Because the stress of leading the dual roles of a working woman and homemaker takes a toll on their health. It further states that the effect of regular sex can shorten their lives due to hormonal changes. Interestingly, the effect on men for both is beneficial and it in fact extends their life span.
That is not to say that women need to abandon all plans to marry or have sex or for that matter even multi-tasking. It is in their blood, that's how they are trained to function. But it is definitely a warning for all those who are taking too much upon themselves. Slow down, take a breather and then charge ahead with full force….”
For the full article, click here.
Superwoman: Time to take a break
"…Since the time women have had the freedom to work and build a career for themselves, they have aspired to be the superwoman. The complete woman who could handle the demands of home and workplace with ease and make sure that both ran smoothly without any hiccups. And one can proudly say that many have achieved this seemingly impossible task.
But then, the cultural set up in which she acquired the freedom to be independent, required her to work doubly hard to prove herself and show the other sex that he need not whine as she was quite capable of doing it all. She is anyway programmed to be a multi-tasker and one more addition to her list of jobs was only going to make her smarter and more efficient. While men may have snickered at her ambitious plans, she was confident and proved herself well…."
“…A recent survey conducted on 10,000 people in Europe says that marriage and sex is actually harmful for women. It shortens their life-span by over a year. And why is that? Because the stress of leading the dual roles of a working woman and homemaker takes a toll on their health. It further states that the effect of regular sex can shorten their lives due to hormonal changes. Interestingly, the effect on men for both is beneficial and it in fact extends their life span.
That is not to say that women need to abandon all plans to marry or have sex or for that matter even multi-tasking. It is in their blood, that's how they are trained to function. But it is definitely a warning for all those who are taking too much upon themselves. Slow down, take a breather and then charge ahead with full force….”
For the full article, click here.
February 26, 2006
Going....going...
Won this at the fine and dandy institution called the London School of Alcoholics. Don’t ask me what I did to win it; my maalik log back home read this blog and do not approve of “spirituality”. No Ma! I did not touch a drop! I remember my Gandhian promises! No meat, no alcohol, no women!
Sadly, it’s not whiskey that’s in there, but a square glass with the Jack Daniel’s logo on it. Not the coolest thing I’ve won in my life (according to most websites, I’ve won iPods, though I haven’t got them because I haven’t clicked to choose the colour) but this is something that would be of more value to someone other than me. So I’m doing what any self respecting self conscious and self funded student should do: I’m auctioning it.
Bids start at three pounds only. Delivery in India possible next month. Please leave a quote in the comments section.
All funds go into the non-profit charity FINE: Funding Inky’s Neverending EducationFebruary 25, 2006
Magic in the Basement
An evil and distant cousin of the Tooth Fairy lives in my residence hall. There’s this bedraggled sweatpants-wearing groggy-looking messy-haired hairy-armed thing that prowls the corridors (no wait! that’s me! begin again.) There’s this invisible wing-fluttering shimmery frock-wearing black-eyed and pointy-eared little thing that flutters around the sun-lit basement (Yes!!!! The basement is sun lit and there’s not a ray of sunshine in my room! They call themselves architects! Line em up and shoot em!) Ok. Too many digressions. The evil fairy lives in the laundry room and steals my socks. She probably makes puppets out of them, or lines the nests of pigeons with them, or makes duvets and sleeping bags for fairyfolk, and she obviously sells them as unique designer items because she never takes both socks of a pair, she only takes one.
I keep a sharp eye out for socks going missing due to my neglect. I examine the insides of the washing machine to see if a sock is stuck somewhere (once I found five pence, but no sock). I do all that I can, but what use is it battling against sprites?
The Sock Fairy has ruined four pairs so far. You never can catch a glimpse of her, but she is there. Maybe it’s an American chain and they have outlets in every Laundromat? Nothing to be done except speculate. And sell the four single socks I have with me as fairy duvets. All washed of course!
P.S.: No. I have NOT eaten them by mistake. British food tastes like socks but isn’t as soft and chewy!
I keep a sharp eye out for socks going missing due to my neglect. I examine the insides of the washing machine to see if a sock is stuck somewhere (once I found five pence, but no sock). I do all that I can, but what use is it battling against sprites?
The Sock Fairy has ruined four pairs so far. You never can catch a glimpse of her, but she is there. Maybe it’s an American chain and they have outlets in every Laundromat? Nothing to be done except speculate. And sell the four single socks I have with me as fairy duvets. All washed of course!
P.S.: No. I have NOT eaten them by mistake. British food tastes like socks but isn’t as soft and chewy!
February 24, 2006
Rang Ditta Basanti
In case you don’t skip the first track when you listen to Rang De Basanti.
Ik Onkar
Sat Naam Kartapurakh Nirbhau Nirvair
Akaal Moorat Ajooni Saibhang Gur Parsaad
(There is) one God, eternal- true his name, creative his personage, fearless, with malice towards none, form beyond time and death, unborn, self-emanated; (can be realized by) Guru's grace.
Aad Sach Jugaad Sach. Hai Bhi Sach Nanak Hosi Bhi Sach
Before time (started ticking), He was ‘The Truth’ (Everlasting); When (cycle of) Ages started, He was ‘The Truth’. Even now He is ‘The Truth’; True, O,Nanak, He Will Ever Be.
Sochai soch na hovai je sochi lakh var.
Chupai chup na hovai je lai raha livtaar.
(One) cannot achieve purity (and hence piety of mind, by simply) washing (body) clean, even hundred thousand times. By remaining mute (ever roving mind) stills not, (even if body seemingly) poses deep concentration.
Bukhia bhukh na utri je banna puria bhar.
Sahas sian,pa lakh hohe ta ik na chalai naal.
Hunger (lust and greed) of the hungry, ceases not even if loads of world's (choicest gifts) are tied up and piled (around him. Infact, with meeting demands of mind, its craving goes on increasing. One) may have a thousand, nay a hundred thousand worldly wisdoms, not even one will be of any avail (to him in the Divine Court).
Kiv sachiara hoiai, kiv kurai tutai paal.
Hukam rajai chalna Nanak likhia naal.
How then to become ‘Truthful’ and how veil of falsehood torn?(The answer is), by submitting O, Nanak, to the Pre-ordained Written Command Of The Lord Of Will- God.
Translation from here.
Ik Onkar
Sat Naam Kartapurakh Nirbhau Nirvair
Akaal Moorat Ajooni Saibhang Gur Parsaad
(There is) one God, eternal- true his name, creative his personage, fearless, with malice towards none, form beyond time and death, unborn, self-emanated; (can be realized by) Guru's grace.
Aad Sach Jugaad Sach. Hai Bhi Sach Nanak Hosi Bhi Sach
Before time (started ticking), He was ‘The Truth’ (Everlasting); When (cycle of) Ages started, He was ‘The Truth’. Even now He is ‘The Truth’; True, O,Nanak, He Will Ever Be.
Sochai soch na hovai je sochi lakh var.
Chupai chup na hovai je lai raha livtaar.
(One) cannot achieve purity (and hence piety of mind, by simply) washing (body) clean, even hundred thousand times. By remaining mute (ever roving mind) stills not, (even if body seemingly) poses deep concentration.
Bukhia bhukh na utri je banna puria bhar.
Sahas sian,pa lakh hohe ta ik na chalai naal.
Hunger (lust and greed) of the hungry, ceases not even if loads of world's (choicest gifts) are tied up and piled (around him. Infact, with meeting demands of mind, its craving goes on increasing. One) may have a thousand, nay a hundred thousand worldly wisdoms, not even one will be of any avail (to him in the Divine Court).
Kiv sachiara hoiai, kiv kurai tutai paal.
Hukam rajai chalna Nanak likhia naal.
How then to become ‘Truthful’ and how veil of falsehood torn?(The answer is), by submitting O, Nanak, to the Pre-ordained Written Command Of The Lord Of Will- God.
Translation from here.
February 22, 2006
Begging Skills 101
This is about the beggar whom I encounter daily on my way to and from school. Five months of more than two passings by a day, in a relatively less frequented part of London, and the chap still does not recognize me. More importantly, he does not recognize my determination not to part with a single penny.
I mean, if you get into the beggary business, you should have some core competencies, right? You should not waste your breath asking for “spaire chainge” off heartless things like me. And come on, how much talent does it take to distinguish between a person who’s looking at you with melting eyes that say “there, but for the grace of God, sit I” and a person whose peepers are scrunched up thinking “if I take up the spot directly opposite him every evening, will I collect enough for dinner every night?”
I mean, if you get into the beggary business, you should have some core competencies, right? You should not waste your breath asking for “spaire chainge” off heartless things like me. And come on, how much talent does it take to distinguish between a person who’s looking at you with melting eyes that say “there, but for the grace of God, sit I” and a person whose peepers are scrunched up thinking “if I take up the spot directly opposite him every evening, will I collect enough for dinner every night?”
February 21, 2006
Sahaare
Dhundley kaanch par do naam
Aur aadey tedhey se do chehrey
Ginti ke woh paanch baadaam
Aur do khilauney andhe behrey
Bachpaney pe sharmindaa hoon
Par yeh sab hain to zindaa hoon
Aur aadey tedhey se do chehrey
Ginti ke woh paanch baadaam
Aur do khilauney andhe behrey
Bachpaney pe sharmindaa hoon
Par yeh sab hain to zindaa hoon
February 20, 2006
>:-)
Hamlette cleared her throat and began
“Oh! What a piss off work is man!”
Dedicated to … never mind. You know who you are.
************************************************
Din ka jo bhi paher guzarta hai
Koi ehsaan sa utarta hai
-Gulzar in Lekin
Din kuch aise guzaarta hai koi
Jaise ehsaan utaarta hai koi
-Gulzar in Marasim
“Oh! What a piss off work is man!”
Dedicated to … never mind. You know who you are.
************************************************
Din ka jo bhi paher guzarta hai
Koi ehsaan sa utarta hai
-Gulzar in Lekin
Din kuch aise guzaarta hai koi
Jaise ehsaan utaarta hai koi
-Gulzar in Marasim
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