Media in a muddle

There are a lot of things the independent media is supposed to do, but throughout this year, we have witnessed enough to get a clear idea as to what they are not supposed to do. While television and the internet have paved way for quicker and wider coverage of just about anything that happens, it seems that the poor people in charge of filtering what goes out to the general public have had their in trays full.  It would appear that things have finally reached a point where they just do not care anymore. The result? Our general public is being exposed to complete nonsense passed off as professional journalism.

Now if we were a nation of level headed individuals who were capable of accepting a broad and understanding view of society, things would have been better but alas, Murphy’s laws do work.  Take for example the kind of nosy penetration into people’s lives carried out these days. Seeing tear stained faces on television pointing fingers and allocating blame seems to have blown away ‘Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi’s TRPs! This is before even mentioning how controversy is sniffed out and even respectable figures like poor Manmohan Singh are ridiculed without remorse.

This is the age where reporters sneak dummy bombs into stadiums to prove that security is lax, and corporate lobbyists play around with media figures people have trusted for years. The argument is that the truth must be exposed and controversy will be created. If that was indeed the case, how did Woodward and Bernstein expose the truth in a manner that hurt only the ones involved and did not enflame an entire nation?

Now, let these matters rest. The most comical scenario seen this year is that of our beloved MP Shashi Tharoor. True, the man may have erred on occasion and ended up with a bit of soot on him after the whole IPL fiasco, but now he seems to be everyone’s favourite whipping boy and tongues wag over the implications of him drinking his morning tea. It’s come to the point where the man cannot pose with an award without drawing flak!  Maybe we should all just take a nice deep breath and give each other a hug and celebrate the New Year instead of looking for more skeletons to dig up and see if people like Mr. Tharoor can be used to get any more attention. Let’s face it, the man sells.

It is most ironic that people I felt like cheering for while watching interviews were movie actors. When asked some question to start a controversy based on a remark of his, John Abraham replied something like this,” Why can’t you think positive for a change? We all know everything I said is in good faith, must you always try to find controversy? Please be a little positive once in a while, just a little!”

So now the fourth estate has sunk to the point of being chided by Bollywood, what next? May 2011 be a better year, and see something sensible for us to mull over, instead of the ethics behind accepting awards!

Eureka! Writer’s Block!!

I’m not really sure if this is the phenomenon known as writer’s block but what follows is proof as to how I’ve tried unsuccessfully to publish a post in the recent past. Since I still have not been able to think up anything to add to them, I decided to compile all my unfinished posts and put them up anyway, for anyone who can make head or tail out of them. Two, or rather three birds with one stone, if you will.  And since the contents are just pointless raving on my part, be warned that what follows will probably make no sense. But then for the most part, neither did ‘Pulp Fiction’.

Unfinished post 1

This is what I like to describe as the ‘weird mood’. It’s when things go out of control in my already thought crowded head. The situation that makes me wonder why I can’t just be talking about rocket science one moment and go “Hey, a bird!” before launching into a lecture about birds. In short, it’s that kind of time when I have no idea what I’m actually thinking about, some idea what I want to think about and a fair understanding that thinking about what I want to think about will not particularly help me. Call it frustration caused by unvented emotions built up over a significant period of time, but for now I think I’ll stick to ‘weird mood’.

Unfinished post 2

The first picture that comes to mind on thinking of the word evolution is probably that sequential diagram that shows the evolution of men from apes. Truth is, that is not a very relevant part of the thing at all. A physical transformation or a change in appearance is not much to consider compared to what has happened to man over the years.

We are the offspring of coincidence. Ever wondered how many things happened in exactly the right sequence at the right time to bring us here today? That in a vast universe of uncharted size we happen to inhabit the only known planet capable of supporting life, and even within the planet, so many things came together to create a favourable environment for whatever form we originated in. Mere coincidence or a higher power? That debate will rage on endlessly..

Unfinished post 3

Sometimes, there are periods when people just seem to fall out of a timeline. As if the world keeps moving and they remain stuck. There is a past, which does not seem too distant and is still fresh in memory. There is also a future, again not too far away and eagerly anticipated. But somehow, there is no real present. There are things that need to be done but there is no real progress, attempts are made but nothing happens. At the same time the world goes on at its own pace, it is like standing on a sidewalk watching traffic pass by, at the same time waiting for an opportunity to cross the road and get a move on..

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And that’s that. Normal posting shall resume shortly. Good day to all!

The murky road ahead

I'm looking for some inspiration. Sitting in the office of The New Indian Express and biding time until I go out and cover yet another inaugural function, glimpses of the future come unbidden to mind. Like the silk weave of the cocoon that protects me from the real world has become thinner, and the cacophony from outside finally reaches my ears. It feels as if my brain has gone into limbo as portrayed by Christopher Nolan in ‘Inception’, fantastic plans and ideas taking shape and almost immediately being washed away by a relentless tide. There is something I must do, something that seems just out of reach, fleeting glimpses seen at the edge of the imagination.

I'm looking for an idea, something to free the mind and carve a path forward, which finally reveals the big picture. It's almost like life plays out in a huge glass case with someone on the outside watching with amusement as people make choices, create, destroy and survive. For once I wish to peek at my own life from outside the case, see where it's going and what to do. But the very thought is terrifying, for trying to plan out and act on something like the future is futile, Darth Vader will vouch for that.

I realize that all I can do right now is continue on this murky winding path with the hope that everything turns out alright, but one always wishes for reassurance. Like a system restore point in case things don't work out. Someday, under a desolate lamp post on this long road engulfed in the darkness of night, I hope to finally meet that inspiration which seems to tease me from the depths of my consciousness. Until then, like Paulo Coelho points out in one of the few good parts of the otherwise rather pointless

'Brida', we only learn to appreciate and live life after going through the Dark Night of faith.

May legends live on

One fine day our Environment Minister made a certain remark which would have felt like a brick in the face to some of our good friends from Germany and also to anyone who enjoys powerful motorized vehicles.  A harmless little remark made in good faith that went something like this, “using SUVs in India is criminal!”  Though he obviously meant it in the interest of future generations and sustainable development and what not, the backlash he received should be proof enough that petrolheads in the country are far from extinct.

It’s come to the point where some sections of society see owning big cars as taboo. Ever since tiny, practical hatchbacks have stormed markets, even good old sedans have taken a beating, and saloons are a far cry. But in such a situation, shouldn’t concerned politicians and people who drive the Toyota Prius spare a thought for those of us who love the roar of a diesel engine, the whine of a turbocharger and the sweet symphony of smoking tires on tarmac? After all, what would he who drives the humble hatchback know about the glory of pushing down the pedal while standing at a red light and watching heads turn in awe, of getting the approving glances  of lesser mortals and feeling the surge of hormones? 

The extremely critical attitude toward vehicles that do not give mileage equal to the age of the person driving it is sad, especially for the youth who one day hope to own BMW’s (yours truly!) and Audis. After all, if people like the respected Minister mentioned above get their wish, they will at least have experienced the satisfaction of having travelled by or perhaps even owning a great vehicle. But for those of us who see legendary four wheelers whizzing around Monza or conquering the Dakar Rally and fantasize about laying hands on such machines, reality may slowly be slipping away.

No one is really to blame here, resources are finite indeed. But then wouldn’t you harp on about Bill Gates’ fortune if you had the chance? Consider SUVs, supercars and luxury saloons to be the Bill Gates equivalents of the automobile world. They need to exist, but they will be criticised. We who love our cars (in the true sense of the word and not those excuses that run on concoctions that can be mixed by the soda vendor on the street) will do whatever it takes to keep the legacy of the Mustangs, Camaros, McLarens and Veyrons from being wiped away.

 Our good friends from Germany are trying their best to make sure that our fantasies on wheels continue to roll off assembly lines while giving hatchbacks a run for their money as far as fuel consumption is concerned.  But there may yet come a day when the Tata Nano is king, and we will be left with no choice.

But that day is not here yet. Today we still have vehicles that raise the hair on the back of the neck, that send chills through the spine and cause goose bumps to erupt. Today we still feel pride as the sleek Mercedes draws up next to the bus we ordinary mortals travel in, and allow ourselves to indulge in a little daydream about one day being more than mortal. Because cars are not just practical machines that take people places. They are an indulgence, an expression of freedom and a statement all rolled into one. So the next time you are driving along in your frugal little Alto and you see an Audi appear in your rear view mirror flashing millions of shiny LEDs, give way humbly and behold royalty as it breezes past. Like the mortal you are.

An ode to another time

Recently, a friend of mine (henceforth to be referred to as ‘the Weatherman’) uploaded an old class group photo on to his Facebook account. Though not an extraordinary action by any means, the response it attracted was something which the Weatherman, despite his uncanny ability to forcast nonexistent showers, probably did not foresee.

It was nothing earth shattering, just a photo that attracted a lot of comments, but it was the memories that accompanied them that made it all worthwhile.

Flashing back to around five years ago, everyone in the photo reflected upon times gone by. Back then our minds were still clouded by formulae and theorems, but gazing upon our younger selves with a clearer head, the little memories resurfaced.  There were so many things that made us happy then, spinning tops that doubled as lame excuses to ‘Beyblades’, badly organized jam sessions where the drummer used a wooden bench and the DJ (also known as ‘The White Man’) turned a notebook on the table. At least that one notebook escaped becoming a dusty souvenir of our academic exploits at the White Man’s house! And then there was the Little Kid, who used to beat the life out of the White Man if he so much as looked at a girl, the avid gamer, who somehow managed (and does to this day) score marks for tests as well. 

Those were the days we dreamt, we dreamt of fantastic fire breathing monsters that fight other monsters, we dreamt of watching these monsters on TV after getting home, we dreamt of emulating the heroes of many a movie and asking a girl out (which usually ended up as a comedy sequence). 

That was us, glazy eyed, staring off into space, or playing hand cricket under the table while the wonders of Pythagoras and Newton went to waste before our unseeing eyes. 

The place where it all unfolded..

Time passed, and we sort of grew up. The once mridangam playing table thumper is today a drummer, spending much time gazing upon the photo contemplating about the sudden growth of hair under his nose. The White Man remains the White Man, and probably always will be, because that’s why everyone loves him. The Little Kid has grown up into the Big Kid, and is now tolerant of the female species, even appreciative, to a certain degree! 

There are so many others too, and a fully fledged ode to those days would require a tome to be written. Though no less important, the tales of Leg Breaker, Smiling Snair and many others remain to be told.

Coming back to the present, there isn’t much to be said. But I’d like to say thank you to all those silly idiots, who were there throughout and still are, for being the best friends ever.  

The wonderful randomness of life, in pictures

I love taking pictures. It’s the reason I always insist on having a really good camera phone I can whip out anytime and start snapping. This tendency of mine has led to quite a large collection of photos that are highly unlikely to make sense to anyone other than me. There are some taken on walks, during drives, at home, on train journeys, inside shops, it just keeps on going. It’s not like no one has ever seen them, but I suppose keeping them all stored on a hard drive doesn’t really do them justice either, so here are a few.

Dove Orchid...don't get the name for nothing!

A rainy night in Trivandrum, my kind of weather!

Munnar... didn't even have to bother with a good angle.

Oil slick, BP should see this!

Found greenery in Chennai! On a road in Adyar.

Note:  This just a taste of what jobless people do when left alone. Believe me it's fun! All the pictures displayed here were taken by me courtesy the Sony Ericsson k550i and c903. Thanks a bunch SE!

An Update

Apologies to all those who have been cursing my more philosophical musings of late. Too much time spent in a room knowing your mates are still fooling around with extended vacations tends to do that to a man. So I thought I’d take a break and go back to posting nonsense.

So what exactly has been going on while the blog has been temporarily frozen in time? Well, the World Cup came and went without me watching a single match proper and somehow finding myself immune to football fever, though even I can’t seem to get ‘Waving flag’ out of my ears.

Also been trying to rediscover reading, however Paulo Coelho’s ‘Brida’ is proving a real roadblock and I just want to get through it and move on to books that will keep me glued to them. (Sorry Bee!!!)

For those who do not know, the Army is still in Kashmir and we possible future journalists are debating issues on topics related to that, along with the BP oil spill and the Bhopal gas tragedy (when we are not playing dumb charades that is). Which reminds me, we also played a rather interesting game called ‘Boomerang’, except that it ended up with me forced to explain hair care techniques and endorse an electronic waste paper basket!

On a (slightly) more serious note, I’m trying to find a window to write more seriously and develop the blog a bit more, though time is short and my access to the internet is horrendously limited. I just like this blog too much to simply let it go. So consider this a transmission against the stagnation of blogs, this is not John Connor but if you are reading this, you are the Resistance. Show your support in overthrowing Stagnet by leaving some comments and coming up with some creative ideas for me to work on. Let’s get moving soldiers!

A Worthy Cause

There are a lot of driven individuals in the world. All spurring themselves on in pursuit of something they believe in. Normally, all others stand by and nod in approval, acknowledging their efforts and showing faith in them.

Then there are some others who walk along an equally difficult path, who motivate themselves equally hard, but also know the fear of disapproval, of failure, and heartache. Few people applaud these actions, but the people who perform them do not aim to earn praise. What they seek is a contentment of heart, what they seek is the happiness of another. The driven individuals in the first category may be willing to sacrifice anything and everything to achieve their ends, while the latter are willing to sacrifice themselves at the risk of disappearing without a trace.

The dilemma however is, success seems a dark temptress. Only those who quest for it ruthlessly seem to attain it. So where does that put those souls who choose that fading path of love and longing? Do they still stand a chance or are they to be abandoned by the wayside?

Indeed, it is a path riddled with self doubt and sadness. A path that at times tests the sanity of those who walk it, trying to turn fantastic stories to reality, trying to put everything in line for feelings other people take for granted. Is this even right or is it a fool’s dream? Perhaps time and faith alone hold the answer.

We strive nevertheless, come what may. Remember, in the end, all we seek is the happiness of another. A million people may frown, but as long as that one person smiles, it remains a worthy cause…

Fire and Water

Burning heat. The land is parched, plants are dry and a look into the distance reveals nothing but shimmery reflections. Sweat pours off bodies and even night provides no respite. Fans circulate hot air and no measure seems a match for the invisible fire consuming everything. Water hitting the body almost releases steam and is replaced by sweat not long after.

Dust is everywhere, plants seem green no more. Industrial whines and smoke seem to suffocate and choke what little shrubbery there is. The lake is slowly turning green and dead fish float on the surface. Even the angel is tired and the world seems stuck in limbo, life not moving. It is a relentless cycle, burning days, burning nights. Leaving shadow to step into light is misery in itself, and a single step on sunlit earth saps strength and makes it hard to go on.

Will anything put an end to the suffering? All seems well across the mountains, as if God intends for certain people to suffer and others to be at peace. Resigned to fate, weary limbs rest and tired eyelids close on a bed that is warm many hours after nightfall.

Flashes come and go, unbidden and unexplained. Machinery or malfunctioning lights are not satisfactory sources. The window is opened, and after many a day the fan circulates cool air. Another flash appears on the horizon. A tired, dusty leaf is suddenly cleansed, and like a curtain from the heavens, water descends. Smiles appear on faces as nature beats the odds after all. Begone foul heat, the rain is here.

Reflection on rails

Trains are fascinating things. There’s just some sort of a charm that seems to attract people to them. How else do you explain booking tickets months in advance just to get a seat on one to carry you home? As a child I used to love long journeys from Delhi to Kerala and spent all my time with my nose stuck to the window gazing at scenery. But a more settled lifestyle in later years cut short time spent this way and the charm started to wear off, until once again opportunity arose, this time in the form of trips to college.

An overnight train journey gives quite a view into our culture and allows for plenty of time to mull over things. While admiring the sun setting and leaving a golden glow on the waters of many a lake and seeing ports and rapidly developing skylines coming up with good music playing, it makes you realize where those travelling sequences and songs in movies take root from. And as night falls, with a twinge of sadness, farewell is bid to the hills and valleys of home and the eye is greeted by the industrial lights of a different land. But the alienation of a new place is quickly forgotten upon seeing the hustle and bustle that seems a trademark of our country, brilliantly set off with a backdrop of dry, rolling hills and flat plains.

For those who possess a penchant for observation, a train ride offers plenty to see and hear, from the coffee vendors to the people nearby chattering away among themselves. Some overheard conversations can even be fun and informative, such as how Ayurveda cures thyroid problems much better than ‘English’ medicine, and how people depending on such silly medicines have been fools not to realize this fact yet! It’s a place where ideas and opinions mingle, the rich and the not so rich rub shoulders and bonds are formed between strangers, all this as the lumbering beast trundles along on its merry way.

But these are the big long distance trains, so what about their smaller counterparts, the locals? These are in some ways even more interesting. A recent ride on one of these around dinner time in an unpleasant mood made me observe happenings around me more than usual. Right down from the idle wait at the station, listening to the same old advertisements on the platform television and actually paying attention to its attempts at improving the common man’s general knowledge (Did you know that 138 pyramids were discovered in Egypt in 2008?).

Finally the train arrives bang on time, spews out and loads more people within a few seconds and sets off from the station, with an electric whine and quick acceleration as people begin to settle down, headphones plug in, and some even play music aloud for the benefit of others. As it screeches its way to a halt at the station closest to the shopping district, a couple with arms laden with shopping bags and their child step in, the toddler chattering away in her father’s arms and him listening to her patiently with a smile on his face. Scenes like this can bring a smile to the face regardless of foul moods. What things had this man seen over the course of years spent in this world, all leading him to this moment? How many stations had his life been through, how many times was the chain pulled or the whistle blown on him? Makes you wonder how everyone leads life in different ways and by different means, overlapping for brief periods thanks to this wonder of public transportation.

Crowds thin, seats are freed, and the tiny local is overtaken many a time by one of the long distance ones, all taking people places, some with plans in mind and others with mere hopes and dreams. As the train comes to its usual screechy stop at my destination, I get off and embark on a solitary journey home, all things forgotten for a while in the company of people unknown, all thanks to a machine that knows and feels none of these emotions human.

Gaming Explained (for dummies!)

There are some things girls do that guys don’t get. Shopping, gossiping, dressing up in a million different ways and styles and on and on and on. Now guys, being simpler creatures, are more easier for the fairer sex to unravel, except for one thing, a passion for the game (I’ll be talking about computer games here, so if you’re looking for another sports article, point your mouse at that back button, and take your virtual surfboard elsewhere before you’re wiped out by disappointment).

Let’s admit, we guys are addicted to action. Given a choice, I would seriously consider going back to the time of kings and warriors, where dying by the sword was a thing of honour and all men were opponents. That’s just how we work, because we’re not satisfied sitting and admiring pretty things and doing the gardening. But fortunately or unfortunately, the world went and decided to get developed, and the days of the good ol’ fights were lost and left behind to become the stuff of legend and epic movies. However, all the technological advancement gave us the other things that women just don’t understand….gadgets!

So when the computer, one of the most preferred gadgets of us lazy, jobless bums, gives us the ability to immerse ourselves in worlds not dreamed of in a long time, isn’t it obvious what happens? Going on quests, slaying dragons, participating in the historic events of the World Wars, racing cars we’ll probably never lay our hands on, and drooling at female characters is all part of the appeal. Another thing is, and parents definitely won’t agree with this fact, games are actually educational. What better way to understand the World War than by fighting in it? Learning about civilizations by watching them develop and conquer and improving a few reflexes along the way. And the good game that comes along every so often is such a spine tingling or heart racing experience that it brightens up our miserable modern lives in ways a million classic movies couldn’t.

It’s pretty obvious that it still won’t make sense to the fairer sex as to why we do the things we do, but just consider it revenge for asking our opinions on curtain designs and embroidery! This is all the explanation you deserve for the dreariest hours of every male child those were wasted away at dress shops around the world. As for us, we say cheers to the ale drinking, pipeweed smoking warriors, the nameless, faceless characters of Medal of Honor and Call of Duty, and the Bugatti Veyron!

Equality or imbalance?

We keep hearing about gender equality, and how women have as much right as men to showcase their skills to the world. These pleas have been largely answered, with women now occupying many important positions and matching men every step of the way in all fields. But has this thirst for equality and independence gone too far?

Before any feminists start hunting me down and baying for my blood, let me make it clear that I have nothing against treating women the same as men. They are not meant to be pretty things to look at that are kept locked inside houses. My only question is what happened to the real female? The care-giver, nurturer and protector of all things?

Now we see working families with both husband and wife contributing to family earnings, looking after the household and kids and what not. But let’s not forget the fact that there are just some things women do better. They multi task better, look after things better and can bring up children way better than the new species of creatures called ‘house husbands’.

At least in the olden days, there was no confusion as to how things were done. Today, the newly empowered woman is still getting used to her newfound freedom, and some egos have grown bigger. Now we have unattended households, spoilt kids who do not receive proper care, work pressures, crumbling relationships and the works. In times like this, credit goes to the woman who manages to wake up in the morning, cook for the family, go to work and still manage to find time for the husband and kids. Not easy, I know, but that’s why God gave you multitasking!

The fact is, lines that held things together in the past have blurred now. Both men and women are confused by their responsibilities. It’s time we all understood what we do best. Sure women can work and earn and all that, but don’t expect us to do as good a job holding a family together. Career is fine, but it’s not the be all and end all of all things. Ambition is good, but responsibilities are equally important. I sincerely hope the modern woman can understand these values, because we can do the working and earning fine, but there are some things men just simply suck at. In a nutshell, enjoy the freedom, but don’t abandon the good old wife, mother and sister in the process. Because we need you!

Life….in a hostel

It’s been nearly six months and I’ve been mentioning, or rather droning on, about what life in college is like. But while having a nice warm meal in the hostel mess a day ago, it hit me that I haven’t said much about hostel itself. So I suppose the time is right to publish a post on the day to day life of a hostelite.

It was on the slightly hot day of 8th August last year that I began my life as a hostel ‘inmate’. My father had come to drop me off at Chennai and had to leave the same day, so goodbyes were rushed and procedures barely completed. It was around twilight when I made my way back to the room I’d been allotted, room 508, though somebody had managed to scratch a ‘1’ at the end and give us a unique four digit room number. That night was the only time I felt the tiniest of twinges of leaving home for the first time and staying somewhere new. With just a mattress, some bags, a Bisleri bottle and a pack of biscuits for company, I slept off quite comfortably alone in my new room.

The next day was my first experience of the mess. After having heard horror stories about hostel food from cousins who attended college around the country, I must say I was apprehensive. But what greeted me was something totally unexpected. Yes, the food was good! I had expected my digestive system to take a week or two to get adjusted to the change but thankfully it settled in without complaint.

The same day I met my first roommate (who is also a classmate) and started getting acquainted with him, a fascinating experience as he hails from Manipur. This gave me an idea of the cultural exposure I was soon to receive here and also an understanding that maybe those horror stories were not a universal truth. Within a week or two, we were joined by another of our classmates, thus completing the trio and settling in to our new lifestyle. Or so we thought, until we realized that one more of our mates was in a different room at the same hostel and invited him over now and then, which has now reached the point where we now have four people in the room at all times(we’re charging rent from next month Bunty!!)

Coming back to the topic at hand, our hostel, like all other ones in our campus, has a weird name. It’s called Sannasi (we think). Because every time we tell someone where we stay, they say its name is something different. It’s been called A block, mess block and even staff quarters! At just five floors, it’s also among the smaller ones. But the advantage is that it’s one of the oldest too, meaning we have a properly working wi-fi connection and even attached bathrooms.

The funny thing is, every day I spend here I see someone new. It’s been a while, but other than recognizing a few faces and returning the occasional smile, it’s almost an alien place. Yet, there’s a sense of belonging among us all. It’s a unique feeling, a group of unconnected strangers, with bleary eyes and tousled hair, eating a late breakfast together on a Sunday morning. We come from different backgrounds and different parts of the country, yet we fit in somehow, almost like family.

Then there’s the sheer madness of hundreds of young people cooped up in a single building. Loud music playing, the sounds of swords clashing and engines revving from the many laptops in each room, hyena like laughter from god knows where, screams and shouts from midnight birthday celebrations, you name it.

As for us, we contribute to all the above mentioned things in proper hostel spirit. Watching cricket matches in the TV room, cheering with everyone who managed to fit in, planning to hit the gym at 6 in the morning and missing first period of class instead, fighting for bathrooms, flicking each other’s deodorant and burning holes in wallets at the food court. That Is not counting midnight walks in campus after tipping the guard and going for coffee. There’s so much more, but you get the idea!
Another thing that I’ve noticed is that hostels don’t sleep. No matter what time it is, a little stroll in the hallways to re-fill the water bottle will find guys walking around talking to girlfriends and relatives (in that order), watching movies, and very rarely, undertaking late night study sessions. And over the past few months, I’ve joined this strange species that’s always awake and doing something or the other.

The thing is, it’s not such a bad place to be. If you have some passion for staying on your own and managing your own stuff, can wash your own clothes and have a spirit for adventure, then life is here. Of course, the food here is great, so that’s a huge factor you should make sure of before deciding to become an ‘inmate’.

So if you’ve heard horror stories too, take them with a pinch of salt. All the stuff I mentioned here is true, since exaggeration really isn’t necessary when it comes to this.

That’ll be it for this post then, any longer and my roommates will throw me out. It’s my turn to re-fill the water you see…

Blah Blah Blah….

This time I really have no idea what I’m going on about. It appears I’ve recently become a lot more talkative than usual. I remember my teachers in kinder garden and during my early years in school saying that I talk too much. In fact, I remember a comment on my report card saying “Has a loud voice and does not hesitate to use it”. But somewhere down the line I guess I just lost all that. Any of my friends today will tell you that I’m a silent kind of person who doesn’t open up too fast. Though that still holds, interaction with certain people over the past few months has slowly made my talkative side resurface (you’ve awoken a monster!!). And now I just can’t seem to stop blabbering half the time. Anyway, that isn’t really relevant, what is relevant is the people who’ve turned me back into the more talkative person.

Whenever I’ve seen those pics on orkut or facebook which have personality tags where you can tag your friends, I’ve always been skeptical that there are actually so many different kinds of people out there. Recent experience has taught me differently. Believe me, it can be a weird feeling when you’re suddenly exposed to people who can start arguments for no reason, who won’t take advice, can stare at themselves in the mirror for hours, eat like hell or answer every sentence with, “You want to die?” But meeting people like this is really something that can’t be compared to any other experience. All of a sudden I’m in the company of people who’ve become like family to me in less than a year. There are those I couldn’t care less about, but then there are those who I would rather trade anything for than see hurt, the kind you think about before you think about yourself. And so I do tend to spend a lot of time socializing than in the pursuit of knowledge, but then I’ll justify that with the same argument I use for watching movies and playing games, that it is informative and helps me grow as a person by exposing me to new ideas!

Even today one of my classmates, who happens to be senior to me by a few years, invited us over to his place and made lunch for us as his birthday treat. Probably some of the most delicious food I’ve ever had. Definitely a more interesting activity than sitting and reading books alone if you ask me.

On an unrelated topic, I miss proper winters all of a sudden. Sure I’m dreading the heat waves that’ll accompany the summer, but we’ve had some wonderful showers and just enough cold in the past month or so to wish for a bit more. Envy all my mates here who went back home to much colder climates. Don’t really know what prompted this sudden wistfulness, but what the hey?

And I’ve gone off on another nonsense blabbering spree, which is what happens when I sit down and try to write something with nothing particular in mind. But since everyone writes about new and interesting things happening to them, writing about nothing in particular is a novel idea if you ask me.
I started off this post saying that I’ve become a lot more talkative than I used to be………see what I mean??

The Concept of Home

It’s funny how, if you Google the word ‘home’ and look for images, it returns thousands of pictures of nice big houses with well manicured lawns and all the stuff that comes up in our mental picture when we think of the word. But then isn’t what you would call a house? Maybe it’s because I attended one class too many on Communication Theory and the way we use words, but this got me thinking.

So after nearly five months of college, I got to spend close to a month back home in Trivandrum. But it was just around the time that I stepped onto the suburban train that was the first step on my journey back, that my overactive brain (which keeps throwing up philosophical ideas of all kinds, though rarely anything of use) started whirring. At the same time I realized that I had strange constricted sensation somewhere in my chest too, but thankfully that went away before I could start suspecting a heart attack.

Over the next twenty plus days in Trivandrum, I visited relatives, met up with my close friends, ate like crazy, slept like a pig and did just about everything college students on a break do. However some part of me always longed to be back in my hostel room. Sure, it isn’t big and I share it with two more people, but there’s something about being there that one starts to miss, and miss it I did. Stuck at home, munching away on Hide N Seek biscuits and watching movies, I started missing the people I’d met less than half a year ago, despite being with the people who’d looked after me my entire life. Then came the visit to my father’s house at Ambalapuzha. Honestly, this was the only time I appreciated being back. Even after all these years, when I took a walk through the neighborhood, I noticed that it was still the same place I used to play in as a kid, even though younger cousins had taken my place.

More people were visited, more views on life were heard, and for the first time I got to analyze a difference in the way people live, work and think depending on the place they live in, the culture they’re exposed to. It was like seeing for the first time all the wondrous things read about in books written by much wiser men and women.
So as my visit draws to a close, I finally realize some things that had always been there in the back of my mind. A better understanding of the way I see the world and the way others see it. How my take on relationships and bonds were different than many others. Though I’m sure many of my family members, and probably my parents would think all this is utter nonsense coming from someone who has a very high opinion of himself, this is the way I see it. And I must say, whoever said ‘Home is where the heart is’, was a very wise person. Because we humans aren’t really just drawn to a building or even just our families. We seek places where we feel at home. Home isn’t something we have to go to; it’s something that comes with us, it’s a place where we feel complete.

So this brings me back to the sudden brain activity and constricted chest that accompanied me onto the train to Trivandrum. And now, upon reflection, I think it’s because, somewhere, deep down, I understood that I wasn’t really going home, I was leaving it.