heat and hormones.
where do i begin this......
im sad. miserable.depressed. and down wid a killer heat stoke.
for the past week... ive been working like a maniac. not something new.... happens often. tests... submissions... the jazz.....
and now i crash.
a sleep deprived.... sex starved soul ,me.

today... monday. the worst ever.....
a day full of screw ups.. realizations.... bad beginnings......

im supposed to leave this place in three days.... meet my family all together after a year.... meet my oldest friends... 5 days...
i should be happy i guess...
the truth... i dont want to go.

ive started a project here..... teething problems and teehing minds of people... i dont want to leave mu baby and leave.....or rather .. i feel like id be running away maybe.....

after yelling at ppl .. and being yelled at... after being responsible for all that got cocked up..... i feel bad aboput myself.
i realized that i have trouble accepting authority.
that i cant delegate duties to ppl ... dont trust them enough....
am too committed to this new thing... i have a feeling i am over doing this thing... its no longer zealous... its fanaticism.
and i am scared by the person i mite appear to be these days.... i dont want to be like that.....

the heat fianlly triumphed. i couldnt keep fighting.a splitting headache.... a temp that makes you uncomfy,sweaty...
puking ... and at the same time dehydrated.
it didnt help that these girls and their friends/boyfriends went and watched da vinci code.and had a good time post that. dinner and jazz.... and i couldnt go bcoz i was ill and had work....
i felt good though when they came back..... THEY SAW IT IN HINDI..... teee hee hee...
yes i am sadisitic too....

the light hurts... working at the comp in the dark is supposed to be bad for the eyes......
my dog family here have come to say hi.... ahh yes... these gawar rajastani girls have called the dog pound to take them away.. im too tired to cry.... to drained to fight....i just listened....

slept most of the night....punctuated by bad dreams,or bad news abt demented ppl here.... woke up sweating each time....
i used to feel guilty about zonking off... that was a long time ago.....
i did my test.... i dont know if the last test was good or bad.... only marks can tell i guess....

im sick.im a pathetic case.
im vulnerable.. fallen apart.
i want someone to put me back into place.
radhika.. used to thwack me over the head in my fits of madness when we were 13... will you do it again.....
i miss my boyfriend.....yes all you who have raised an eyebroe... i have been reduced to being just another girl.....i want some one to soothe me, hug me, scold me and hold me.
i need help.

"Professional" Assassination.
When the ICSE and the ISC results were declared about a week back,I wondered if the kids are being pushed as relentlessly and inexorably as they were some years back,towards getting admission in a certain college... or have parents and teachers finally woken up to the fact that advertising ,or even white water rafting could be a career option.

When I was at that stage some three or four years back,I had noticed a lot of children my age being subjected to that parental/educational/social pressure to clear half a dozen entrance exams to be able to study a professional( read law,medicine,engineering,sciences,architecture etc) \ncourse.Those studying something like Mass Communications,Sociology,International Relations,English,or even Physics,Chemistry or Math as a three year course, were considered to be academically challenged. unless of course,he or she would be graduating from St.Stephens,St,Xavier's ,Presidency or someplace synonymous,in which case the child gets a pat on the back.
At that point of time,I was too young,too dazzled,too innocent and too slow to catch on.I was quite bewildered by this "branding" in education.And yes, I am a part of this "professional" bandwagon now.
Now that i have neared the end of this crazy endeavour to obtain that pseudo status badge that comes with the degree and some of my contemporaries have already obtained theirs.. i find myself trying to analyze certain things.

My upbringing has taught me to believe that education implies much more than what is in a text book.It makes one more superior as a person ,and instills certain principles and values in him or her.After having interacted with both students and professors from many places,and varied courses, I at times doubt what I have learnt. \n\n \nAs unpleasant and harsh as it may sound,there are professors in both IIT and non-IIT intstitutes with extremely provincial mindsets and outlooks who impart in the the name of "technical" education,tips to write that perfect paper or ways to crack a problem... but will almost always discourage his students to think and try out something new fangled,seemingly unpractical or theoretically unsound.

At that point of time,I was too young,too dazzled,too innocent and too slow to catch on.I was quite bewildered by this "branding" in education.And yes, I am a part of this "professional" bandwagon now.

Now that i have neared the end of this crazy endeavour to obtain that pseudo status badge that comes with the degree and some of my contemporaries have already obtained theirs.. i find myself trying to analyze certain things.

My upbringing has taught me to believe that education implies much more than what is in a text book.It makes one more superior as a person ,and instills certain principles and values in him or her.After having interacted with both students and professors from many places,and varied courses, I at times doubt what I have learnt.

As unpleasant and harsh as it may sound,there are professors in both IIT and non-IIT intstitutes with extremely provincial mindsets and outlooks who impart in the the name of "technical" education,tips to write that perfect paper or ways to crack a problem... but will almost always discourage his students to think and try out something new fangled,seemingly unpractical or theoretically unsound.
Some of the engineers I see,civil or genetic engineers, are from the backward pockets of Bihar or Jharkhand who have managed to acquire no professional knowledge or skill,and have certainly not deciphered the meaning of professional values,ethics and principles.They have neither the inclination nor the grey matter to try out something new. They are ,however, very aware of how eligible their degree makes them in the marriage market.On the other hand there are some who have at last realized that they were never meant to be a part of this rat race. Due to all the information,opportunity and freedom from parental pressure they get to discover that they could be journalists,watch designers or food connoisseurs.

My friend, a law student now,has already decided to become a drummer after his graduation. Another child,after having studied architecture for just two years has found his true calling-photography.And I hope i get to be that bartender when i finish college.

In this world where we are under constant pressure to perform,hand in assignments and what not...Long live the photocopier... it mass produces copies of soiled notes the night before the exam. Viva the " cut-copy-paste" technique,anything can be duplicated.Copyrighting had long lost its meaning.We promote team work when an entire class gets marked on an assignment that only one student has worked on. Oh yes... we get by.

Though we aren't a student of Economics,Sociology,History or English... any one of us could write a dissertation or a short thesis on anything from the history of the rock-n-roll movement,South East Asian Trade relations to Maupassant.We burn a lot of rubber on the roads,live at places ranging from the roadside dhaba to anyplace more fancy... and gain a lot of wisdom form such a lifestyle... if not knowledge.I need not be a software engineer to know about Web 2.0.I need not be an architect to know of Dorian column and arches."


In retrospect,our "professional"education had not contributed one bit to what we are today,not in terms of knowledge,capacity or skill;nor in terms of being more "educated" beings with lofty thoughts and noble intentions who are a class apart.

We are a generation who are tech savvy and are equipped with more information that we can handle.Our parents and professors ,in contrast, are still trying to grapple with "technology".They are living in awe of it, and at a subconscious level often get massively confused by it all.We on the other hand,try to modify it,live it.. and not give it such a name.We do not try to figure out the intricacies, we build up on it.When we try to give shape to one of the many "ideas": that we get, we don't call it "entrepreneurship", and we are definitely not aware of which of our "professional"skills or what "technical" knowledge we are exercising.

I do not intend to be offensive or insulting,but will people ever accept that a college degree is ...just a college degree.An eighteen year old who had just cleared the class 12 exams cannot possibly know if he or she wants to be a corporate lawyer or an aeronautical engineer.A subject like nutrition or commerce is not an insipid course... nor does it signify a students level of intelligence.What counts, is what you eventually do in life after having utilized all available resources.Three ,four,or five years of college changes ones perspective drastically.And that is when, with the help and support of the parents does an individual know what he or she wants to do in life. Till then.... professional education is a farce.Anything and everything has a future.... anything could be lucrative or not so.... irrespective of what the degree gives you.

The other day i found myself talking to a few old friends... some seniors who are now practising lawyers,some scientists who are doing research in hilariously obscure things.... some who have just finished their engineering courses... and some like me,are waiting for it all to end.
One who graduated from a certain engineering college said rather gleefullly,".... the end of engineering!"
Another very solemnly and wisely stated," Dude,with us having become engineers,it certainly is the end of engineering."

And that,is that.

i have no more idea as to how i am expected to survive this heat,this hole,this gujju hoi polloi.....
gujarat..... sry state..(.. well supposed to be so...) and dry intellectually,socially,.....
gujju guys.. thick in the head,at the waist and at the pocket.. not where they are supposed to be though......

ive been here three years... i only hope... i even pray if anyone shall listen... get me out of here.....
i am just tired and drained.......
have mercy....

all around me......
i look...
after three years..... i have built up a library of 468 story books in my room in the hostel.
and i have been consistent in maintaining the same,sparse wardrobe.
i have accumulated stationary paper,staple pins,wooden pencils that i dont use ......
....and i cant seem to be able to glipmse a single sheet of paper with class notes or the likes of it.
i can only hope they emerge in time.....


my best friends....
my denims which i have not moulted in some time now.
and my parker fountain pen which has been an extension of my rite hand and fingers since class 9.

i treasure my adidas sneakers, i white leather retro pair much abused.
my all time companions or room mates.....my comp and the Roadesian here.

... my table lamp.... a 10th bday present from my dad.... burns on even when i am beamed out.....

i love the morning dewey air.
i love the night.... luke kennys after hours,moonlight,nostalgia,work,the silence.... the mind works.....

im a soul deprived of sex,alcohol and drugs... yet im frequently high,intoxicated or turned on.....

i cannot imagine how ive subjected myself to being jailed in by 8 pm into the girls hostel everyday for the last three years....
cant comprehend how ive bcome so passive, so not rebellious....
cant figure out ppl here... or there... and what all makes them tick....
i dont blv i shall ever be one of them..... not here ... not anywhere....

"I am a rock,I am an island.
I have my books and my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
hiding in my room,
safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.

I’ve built walls,a fortress deep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It’s laughter and it’s loving I disdain.

If I never loved I never would have cried.
......And a rock feels no pain;and an island never cries."

i shall live on.....

THE BONG BAJAR

The daily ‘bajar’ is essentially a very Bengali concept. My poor mother, a low-tech lady thought that the
frigidaire was alright for milk and curds and the occasional ice-cream, but the fish and the vegetable
and the fruits had to come from the ‘bajar’ everyday. My father was never to be trusted with the bajar.
He invariably bought the most sub-standard stuff at the most exorbitant prices – something my mother
could not bardast. Hence it fell upon my brother (young that he was) and sometimes me to do the daily
marketing.

We would line up in the kitchen, where Mother would reel off in a rapid-fire-line the things that would
be needed that day .A certain amount of money would be handed over, and my brother would charge off
t.o the local market. He had to rush back, because he had to get ready for School.
Sometimes I went along. It was really fun and a real pleasure. Rows and rows of red tomatoes. The
bright purple of the brinjals, the pale fresh green of the lauki, the darker green of the palak sak.
fresh silvery ilish maachh on a wet and gray day. The dark koi being kept alive in water. The colour,
the vibrancy of the early morning shoppers, the haggling over prices, choosing the right fish.
The joy in buying the first cauliflower of the season, with a little bit of fresh green peas The posto that
has to be bought if we were buying jhinge .The mocha to be bought only on a Sunday, because time
came at a premium on weekdays.All such sublime pleasure not ever to be compared to the air-conditi
oned pre-packed system at C3 or FoodMart or FoodBazaar.
Then on the agenda next was the hisab to be given to my mother. A quick reeling off of prices
by us, and the equally quick adding up my Mother. I do not know how my brother did it, but there
never was a paise out of line.. Once he bought taangra fish at quiet a steep price. Mother was furious.
“How can you buy such expensive fish? Don’t you know it’s the end of the month(masher shesh)?
Do you think money grows on trees? “ All this, while my poor brother stood shame-faced.

However , in retrospect, I think the bajar system did both of us a lot of good. It taught us the
value of money.The masher shesh concept stuck on. Today , both of us are very prudent
spenders. It taught us accountability – after all we were spending money which was strictly not ours
and we had to give an account . However brief and verbal the account may have been. Above all,
the bajar system taught us to appreciate the land and the products off the land. An immense
lesson learnt, for India’s greatest wealth is her land and thereby the agricultural produce.Whether
it be the high-profile tea estate or the simple but enchanting field of yellow mustard flowers.

mango pulse.
long lost friend prianCa visited. last time i met her was 30 days ago. spoke to her that day only.. but what to do.... miss her ya.....
anyway.. to get on with story.. she came to visit me anand.she came in auto. i was being worried that she would not find route... but my friend smart. i messaged her instructions and she came!!!wearing red t shirt and all... i was being very impressed....
anyway... my freind priyanCa is happening to be damn good cook. at least she is in regular touch with it.. bcoz she is in habit of cooking lunch daily for her family.prianCa liking my cumpoos very much. she says it is green and very open. so naturally i showing her the rest of cumpoos. now agriculture cumpoos mine.... best way to see all farms and also civil structures like biuldings are on cycle... so we went cycling around at 11 am in the heat. i told no that we are pucca insane.???
mess food.... in honour of her arrival it was extra specially bad. all girls who were in hostel that day worrying very much. one thing leading to another.. and in way of general conversation we decided to be cooking aam dal. .first i have to be teling that i am very bad at cooking shooking..... i dont know squat or jackshit. but have watched many people cook in my life... so i am knowing many many recipes.. from all over country... but never have tried.
with prianCa at my side .. i am feeling very brave..... i volunteer to be doing something for lunch.i say to make bengali aam daal. very simple and cool cool in summer time.
unfortunately... i am not knowing procedure rite from beginning. i told all that certain thing like onion and all not required.... but no one listening to me only... turned me out in heat to get things which i was a little sure that you dont need... but whatever. so people cutting mango,and priyanCa boiling daal.i get all things that were not needed.
just before things start cooking.. i am beginning to trust my gut. something totally wrong.... i call ma. she give insrtuction to priyanCa via cell fone from calcutta. daal of course is to be cooking in gujarat.
it was very good that i was doing that... onion and masala and things that they were saying was compulsory was not being so.
i continue to do theoretical cooking. priyanCa did practical.after all.. i know how much sugar to add to countereffect the khatta and excess of jeera. i also know at how much flame to simmer or to boil.but i am not knowledgeable in how to hold saucepan. prianCa knowing. i am after all science student. priyanCa is arts.we have wonderful compatibility.
experiment daal was successful.mild in taste and also appreciation. taste obviously affects the powers of speech.
while we were eating power cut happened. in summer it is very bad. in gujarat there is no wind also. so i take priyanca to IRMA cumpoos. my classmate living there. also they are having air condition facility.
irma zindabad.
my calssmate and colleague and fellow scientist and also very good friend deepak is hospitable on behalf of irma. we three sit in ac lib. lots of books. but we are talking and laughing of things that are highly uminportant. we are in potential threat and danger of being thrown out of library.after some time the gut again demands attention.so we go out for drive and to eat.
we eat paani puri and drink choc milk shake which is of indegenous origin.it is avalaible only from roadside stall.praiyanCa convinces deepaks sister that sprite in her hand is actually piss. what an affair with waiters who serve it....!!!!
sadly it is soon time to depart. priyanCa is promising to return this weekend. she in love with the paani puri. perhaps we can try making that next trip. my esteemed colleague and friend and fellow scientist will be helping us. his mother will have baked cake just in case.
i shall surely give you report then.

my experiments with college education.
1. have never come back from vacations less than three weeks late.
2. my family life happens long distance,my social life happens long distance, my love life is long distance..... why exclude my education....????
3. college offers more when not doing college.
4. am so dangerously in close proximity of college... yet amd so far removed from anything associated with it....
5. still doing.
6. will i get chucked out of college.... lets see if they manage to find adequate reasons for that. hehehehe.
7.classes.. great opportunity to finish reading that story book,catch up on lost sleep,do sudokus,bluetooth,download stuff in your cell.... whatever suits you......go for class always.
8. lab sessions.... licence to vent your anger,frustration or whatever by braeking any amount of glassware, manhandling or molesting any equipment without any fear of being sued.
9.cool place to hang out when there is a power cut.
10.youve lost sight of where you began.... you have no clue where youre gonna end up.... keep drifting....

like all things gujju.... the act of naming ppl ,places or things reek of hollowheaded phenomenal beings .... names of restaureants....honest,decent,relish,icy spicy,razzles......
of saloons,beauty parlors.... tokyo,new york..( for men..)
virgin,bridial(sic) .. for women.
of net cafes.. d2v.
of car/bike service centres and repair joints... downtown.
dry cleaners.... edward,george.... ( am i getting this correct that gujjus have at last found one rite link or am i again mistaken...)
of opticians..." spies" .. dont ask, man.
of babies whose surname will be patel.... chirag.the child shall one dat grow up to be a fine young man and call himself "patel fathersname bhai chirag." one may as well use the dads name.....i give up on this bunch.....
imagine going to eat at a place called honest;......

No Woman No Cry.

The woman who cleans and sweeps.She shall go from house to house as she everyday.She wears her sari,wrapping it a little tighter than usual.She flourishes her jharoo with a little extra energy and carries herself more upright than she usually does..... till fatigue replaces her childish excitement.Happy Women's Day.

The prostitute.She shall see her kids off to school,like my mother does. She cooks and cleans ,like any other housewife. She returns to an alcoholic husband,like many women around her do.She is a career woman,like most women of today.She keeps slightly different working hours though.She sells her body,but keeps her soul.Happy Woman's Day.

My classmate.Education was her passport to move out of her village and live in a town:if not a city.She dreams to earn,live and spend like the girls she studies with. Yet she knows that she shall have to return to her village someday and spend the rest of her life with a someone who is a stranger to her. Education has broadened her mind like it does to everyone.... it has also given her the knowledge not to defy tradition. She collects and preserves the broken,coloured,fragile fragments of those dreams. Someday she shall give them to her daughter.Happy Women's Day.

My grandmother and mother. Two women with a backbone of thin invisible steel.They've played the role of a mother,daughter,sister,wife,the career woman.... all at the same time. They have had to fight a different sort of a battle. Though they did not win every time, they survived to fight the next one. Salute.

Education,career,social rights,equality and whatnot have been my birthright.I've never felt i was denied any of it... nor did i ever have to fight for it.I had considered myself to be too urbane to be concerned with mediocre mindsets and middle class struggles.

Today i am humbled by these women.They have seen what could be a better lifestyle. But they have learnt that the have to achieve not what they aspire,but what those who are dependent on them need.How they can be so selfless is beyond my comprehension.How they live a life of continuous sacrifices and compromises is something i fail understand. I am awed by their strength and hardiness.Life has,time and again, reminded them of their place and role in society and the family.

To those who are not aware of it,Happy Womens Day.To the urban hoi polloi,Happy Women's Day.After all is your celebration.

and today was just born
and this is another day.... another paper which just happened... and was over b4 i could judge if it was good or bad.... guess it doesnt matter anymore.. its been proved to me over again... so i need not assume or assure myself on false grounds.... that this was just anotherr one of them.assignments,exams,submissions,.... all one after the other.... what the heck.
its a briliiant day today. and tomorrow is a holiday for i know not what.im reading the cal telegraph,watching the day get hotter by the minute.this minute... i have no aim in life.. no perspective,no target.theres a sky thats a new shade of blue, and a wind that is as lazy as i am.. or maybe vice versa.
i have another practical exam in a few hours in which i shall have to watch a bunch of bovines being subjected to juvenile prods,pushes and tugs of the inexperienced students... the indignity that they silently suffer pains me.... does it actually bother them..... is there more to their life than cud and dung..... i wonder... and i wonder why i wonder.