Another Farewell

I've lost count of the number of times I've used the word, 'Goodbye' or its synonyms. I say it everyday, when I've to leave college for the day or if I've visited someone or even if I've been chatting with somebody online. I've used it so many times that somewhere along the way I lost its meaning, the true implications of the word. And until now, I didn't realize the folly of it.

Today was the Farewell party of BA English, Batch of 2008-2011. I guess until morning, most of us simply took it as another opportunity to dress to kill. And even after reaching college, we were busy with seeing what everyone else was wearing, what the teachers wanted to say to us, if lunch would be good and after a while, when we would get home so that we would pursue that inexhaustible art- sleep. And it wasn't until I dragged myself to upload the photographs on facebook that I realized that today might've well been the last time I'd ever see all these faces. These faces coloured three years of my life, and I'm ashamed to admit I still can't attach names to quite a few of them. There are classmates I've never spoken to more than twice or thrice in these three years. There're those with whom my relationship has been volcanic. There are those whom I first hated but ended up liking and vice versa. But all of them have added something to me, something I might not be able to point out but which is definitely there.

So today, I bid farewell to these faces, my teachers, my friends. Not a simple goodbye like usual. I want to apologize to any I might have hurt, thank everyone who has been there for me, whether I knew it or not. Specially since you were the people who once let me answer my viva question on my life so far as- "I've lived a life with no regrets."

Thank you for making that possible.

A Stupid Bird's Adventure

You know that thing people keep talking about- the most 'happening' days are the ones where you wake up feeling its going to be a dull, nondescript one? That's true!

So here I was, waking up today morning to find out that the unusually hard pillow was actually Nick Drake's 'Tutankhamun'. It was a really good book, but by the time I'd finished it, I was too lazy to even pull out my favourite blanket. It had been decided unanimously, that my friends and I were going to bunk the seminar that was on at the college. And 9.30am found me surfing TV channels aimlessly, post-breakfast. Around 10, I hit upon Bhansali's "Khamoshi" and decided to watch it despite mom's dire warnings.

But an hour later I was roused by mom's shouts from near the gate. I ran out to find she had a tiny bird in her hand and was cursing crows in general. There started our grand rescue mission. Timmy was all over the place, getting under our feet and acting the siren. I ran, got an old shoe box with a hole, tore up an old saree to line it with and put it under a light. Mom dripped some water into its mouth, checked for breakages or bleeding(nil) and put it in the box. We kept checking every ten minutes if the poor thing was still breathing. And every time we found the little guy fast asleep in the box.

Around 3, the bird suddenly stood up and started flying around the room, perching on the TV, the charger and so on. When mom and I tried to feed it, it nibbled us rather affectionately. Poor chap didn't know his little beak's sharpness; mom sustains a small puncture in her left palm! As soon as it found a way out, it flew outside, back into the dangerous skies from where we'd rescued it. Mom, Timmy and I were beside ourselves with worry that the crows might chase it or that it might still be weak from its ordeals. But the silly bird didn't seem to think that way.

Which brings me to my point. Remember the 'happening' I mentioned at the start? I didn't mean a day of adventure, I didn't even mean a bird rescue. I was referring to the kind of unexpected revelations that might occur. I am intrigued by the carelessly adventurous spirit of the bird. Less than a day since it was thrown out of the skies by attacking crows, it flew back into that very danger again.

I wonder why we never do that. Throw fear to the winds and fly out of the window. Of course there are worse things than crows out there- bigger birds, thunderclouds and lightnings. But does this frail little bird care? No. All it does is fly, no matter the predators or air currents or random flying bolts of electricity. I wish we could fly so fearlessly too, no matter what others might think of us, no matter if we are not understood or appreciated. I wish we were stupid birds who fly from safety to brave dangers.

I Feel like an Onion

Yes.. I know it isn't rather flattering, but it's absolutely true!! Let me start at the beginning of this story, if there is such a thing as 'real' beginnings or endings!

It's really amazing the kind of things a midnight chat with a friend can reveal... And I'd like to begin this article by thanking that particular friend, who, albeit for nonsense's sake, goaded me into this conclusion!

It was a simple question, really- describe yourself. But it put me into a lot of thought. How would I reply? I could go on for eons, describing myself and it might not be enough. But I couldn't think of anything then. We did chat about other things until this particular reference popped into my head.

Let me explain- I'm 5'7", slightly thin, long hair, occasionally bespectacled, etc. I'm also a student of literature, a resident of Trivandrum, proud owner of Timothy the wagging vagabond et all. I love a lot many things, and I don't like an even more number of things. I guess you could say that about yourself too...
Which brings me to my relevant, if rather obscure point. Isn't it amazing how complex each and every one of us are? I mean look at us, we're always acting on atleast three people's whims at the same time, not including our own. We have a different face for everyone- a smile for mom, a hug for the friend, a cuddle for the sister. We also have a text for the acquaintance, a second look for the cute guy on the road, a dream, a hope, a secret, a fad.... The list is endless. And life revolves around the attempt to bring all these things into perfect balance.
Which means we are always living on more than one level of existence, though we hardly realize it. Its like Hamlet says, "Seems, madam? I know not seems." But it seems we are all actors. So many layers, so many roles.... only we never realize it.
Like I said, we're always playing more than one role; living more than a double life, we're living a multi-life.

And so, shorty, here's your answer. I feel like an onion. And a thumping good one at that!

Dear Mrs.Rowling

Dear Mrs. Rowling,

Allow me, before anything else, to introduce myself. I am, one might say, one of your prized creations- Ms. G. Only yesterday I was re-reading your excellent biography of our lives- my whole world, so to say. And I was struck by a rather should-be-obvious fact; the gigantic disparity in the two worlds. I have been made to belong to both- the Muggle(non-magic, everyday) and the Wizarding(magical, hidden).

You see madam, meaning no offense, but what exactly was on your mind when you decided to place the whole lot of us in two time-zones? The everyday Muggle world is everything that the end-of-the-20th-beginning-of-21st-century ought to be.It has subways and televisions, phones and for Merlin's sake- electricity! But the wizarding world is woefully medieval. We still wear dress robes, making some of my best friends look awkwardly sissy(especially a tall, freckled and rather good-looking redhead). And then we move absurdly to Dark days- candles! When the whole wide possibility of magically producing electric-bright light was available, you still chose to put us into the half-darkness of candles and torches. And in the age of luxury hostels, a medieval castle complete with ghosts!(not denying the excitement of the latter)

And the most absurd absence of technology? No pens, we still drip ink from quills! I believe the only 'technology' you have allowed the wizarding world is a train, Mr.W's collection of plugs, a few cameras, a flying car and a flying motor bike. Sheer injustice, don't you think, for the redheaded friend of mine to be able to handle a werewolf, but to be utterly bewildered and horrified of using, as he calls it, a felly-tone!

I do agree that some of the things that is 'normal' for the wizarding world is something the technology of Muggle world could possibly never achieve. However, have you never felt that it would have been a if you had permitted us wizards a few more cars, some electricity and other such necessities? It would probably not have scared some if a certain professor weren't swooping down an electrically lit dungeon; for some others to an opportunity to add more suitable invisibility boosters; to not scare Muggles by ringing them up and then shouting at them.

Why did you choose to make us step onto a magical platform at King's Cross, only to thrust us from the 21st century to medieval times, from cars to broomsticks, comfortable jeans to classical robes; from a plush, comfortable and normal world to one of spectacular duels, fantastic animals, grotesque plants, sparks, booms and bangs?

Yours sincerely.
G.

A Choice

Have you ever noticed the beauty of a tall, green tree against a dark, storm sky? The bright green over the deep grey has a peculiar beauty- terrible yet enthralling, ethereal and strange. It is the kind of beauty that nature creates by forcing two extremes of itself; the misfit providing the essence.

Of late, life has taken on such an aspect. A constant sense of melancholy from no particular source, obscured by sunny college life, friends' jokes and warm evenings at home. But the smiles are loaned, the happiness fake and shallow.

I don't know why or how, but I believe everyone reaches a point in life where things start to feel more mechanical than spontaneous. As if your life were borrowed from someone else's; as if you were intruding into someone's personal affairs, talking to her family and making merry with her friends. Its a sort of surrealistic feeling, perpetually living in two people's lives- one happy and the other, well, not-so-happy. And it puts you into a lot of stress.

You don't know which part of your heart to listen to. Do you, like you want for yourself, retreat into the haloed shelter of solitude? Or do you continue pretending to see the brightness just so the people around you can keep smiling? Its as if your view of the world, which was colourful, has suddenly been reprogrammed to grey-scale, but the vibrant colours overlap and mix with this perception. like a scarlet thread running through a brocade of sombre blues and greys.

What would you choose if you had to- the fickle, brilliantly green foliage or the seemingly solid melancholy clods?

Or do you blame the person who gave you this choice between life and life?

eyes are birds and eyes are cheats!!!

For everyone who's wondering what the title is- they're titles of two of my favourite hindi film songs; 'Nain Parindey' from Lafangey Parindey and 'Naina Thag Lenge' from Omkara. Soulful tracks, both describing eyes as the ultimate vehicle of emotions.... As to why i'm saying all this, well i was listening to them on my phone just a little while back and was struck by their contrast! (odd thing to do, i know!!)

Nevertheless, let me get on with my story. You see, the first track is a rather paradoxical one; Deepika Padukone, tragically blinded in the film, is singing (as in the manner of hindi films) of the beauty, light and hope that eyes give you; where eyes are more like birds, flapping away into a sky of hope, dreams and beauty. In the next track, however, Rahat Fateh Ali Khan very knowledgeably and with a great deal of pain tells us to beware of your very eyes because they would cheat you while you are wide awake.

Funnily enough it got me thinking of how like life these songs were. On one hand you have your dreams. Your mind goes wandering into fantasies it creates every time it can, almost making you deal a double life of sorts; one rooted in reality and the other fluttering in dreams. and while you merrily play along this double life, fate cheats you big time - your hopes are dashed, your wishes made unheard, your dreams unfulfilled.

I've not yet figured out why we're chosen to play a drama where we know only less than half the script. Who writes it? Who's the damned director? Can the character choose, apart from in his haziest thoughts, to alter the story? And what, in essence, is the more important thing in life- the birds or the beguiling charm?

a sun behind the clouds

so often in life, you're "down".... in proper words- depressed, and maybe a little depraved while at it! and then something unexpected comes up.... and voila! things seem brighter all of a sudden!!!

like today. a most extraordinary thing happened... i'd been in some sort of depression for weeks now. god knows why, just in the mood for it, i suppose. and i hate myself when i'm like that; i fight with people, shut myself in my room, listen to sad songs, etc., etc. but today my mom changed it for me.... and how!

i was in college, trying to concentrate on the eastern dance competition when i felt my bag vibrating. discreetly i took my phone out to see mom had texted me!!! wonder of wonders!!!! she'd messaged to say that her favourite novelist was in town for a talk. once home, she literally hijacked me to the venue: we reached just on time. the talk was good in totality, but for a person more interested in the english script, certain references were incomprehensible! and then mom and i tried, nervously, to talk to the writer concerned, simply to see if he remembered any of those autographed books... second miracle of the day- he did!! once he saw his signature and a date, 34 years back, he remembered exactly whom he was talking to.

i don't know why i smiled from that moment onwards, i don't know what it was about a well-heard-of, but little-read writer that pulled me up from a state of perpetual frowns, but i want to thank that little bespectacled sun, who took his chance and shined out over my overcast days.

this piece of randomness is for m.mukundan, unaware though he might be of his effect, made me smile truly, in a long long while.:)