open air.....

another open air concert. they called it a rock concert...i want too sure...i just loved the open air bit. the people.. free movement...the strains from the loudspeakers and the lack of acousitcs...
boys jumping and monkeying...and doing the bhangra cum bharatnatyam,....
and there was just one thing that i missed...
beyond the "rock" and the people.....

i missed holding some ones hand....and the warmth that is not just the people laughing and singing or body warmth...
i missed the array of sweat shirts representing different brands and backgrounds from football to beer....
i missed having some one elses borrowed oversized sweatshirt to keep me warm...
i missed having a guy stand next to me.... so tht i could hold his hand and jump or sway ....

i had a great time though....

just a college student.

as a college student i know that we are not just the new generation..... we are to old to be described in such a cliched way.neither are we the future citizens et al....we get too intimidated by that.

we are just a generation of individuals,each with a different aim,an outlook.
we are more aware of whats around us,from the society and the endangered environment .. to the latest gadgetry.
we are more informed,have an opinion on everything..... and thus nearly always demand to be heard.

i can nearly always detect.... unfortunately cannot always comprhend... where life is taking a turn.
i see that the career amd the profession always gets top priority.. and then we all become human and fall into each others arms,crying or laughing.
theres always a broader picture to what is said and done.... and always a new perspective with each person.
and against the backdrop of college.... we all rise and fall...
its a security blanket for trying the untried ... and a reason to go ahead in life....
nobody is a loser for falling more than once.
no event is ever too insignificant.

and thus... as i can study,analyse and put into words... with intelligence and passion.... as and when required... and yes... i will lapse into being too judgemental at times.....or harshly critical.....

as un conventional and non conformist as i sound...

walking shoes.

i shall walk when the calcutta crows go home to their southern avenue trees.
i shall walk when you,or i ,are troubled.
i shall walk in school para,my para,flyover,delhi, anyplace....
i shall walk when i want to be me... dreamer,the wild spirit,the impulsive.
i shall walk when i want to feel the sunshine,the air,the happiness that i feel only with you.
i shall walk when i am alone.. and i miss you.
i shall walk when i think about you.
i shall walk when we cant come to a conclusion.... bcoz we are supposedly grown up.
i shall walk when i want to shed a tear.
i shall walk when you want to shed a tear.
i shall walk when i realize... not for the first time that i am not invincible.
i shall walk when i am defeated.
i shall walk when i am in love...
i shall walk when i have my dog.
i shall walk when i am misrable,or elated...
i shall walk just when you have thought that i am no longer incorrigible.
i shall walk when i am jobless...
i shall walk when i need to think.
i shall walk when i can no longer walk.
i shall walk when there are no roads.or a path.
i shall walk.....
come walk with me.

the tea drinkers association.
in the past four years that ive stayed in the hostel...we've grouped and re grouped our sisterhood....all over the cup of cha.
the ritual of coming back from college and drinking our mammoth mugs is comforting beyong explanation.no... we dont choose to hang out with the boys first... and we dont opt to go out to the local ccd and do it in "in stlye." the pavement chawallah sufficed occassionally... but we all agree that the single "cutting"of cha goes down like a tequila shot.

there is a strange fun in scurrying around to loacate a mug.. only to find that it has the previous nights dregs and stains,in the juniors juvenile attemtps to get the quantity of tea leaves,sugar or water etc correct,in the mad marathon to stop the over boiled cha from spilling out of the saucepan... and in deciding whose turn it will be to wash up.

each evening...we witness tears and tantrums,silly giggles and stories of our goof ups... or exmas that have gone bad... and the smart thing we did...
about professors and boys,
about parents and " i want to go hoooooome" ;
about a relatively intelligent topic or the latest recipe to a modified maggi...

there have been girls who have passed out,and have been replaced by fachchas who try to stick to their claim..."i dont drink cha... i drink milk."(haha... weve lost money in betting over the time duration b4 they succumb to the vice.)
we fall sick,we are tired,we are heartbroken and we are lost...
and we are there for each other.we've planned uour lives and our careers.

it has been understood that some will be the perfect housewife...and it has been proved that muy homekeeping skills are limited to washing bartan and i cant "cook"anything other than the holy cha.

the act of asking some one to have cha... its like welcoming who was the social outcast,comforting the girl whose upset for whatever reason,pepping it up... or whatever...
just have cha.
this is muy last year.ive accepted that its all upto me to get that mug of cha done for everyone.yes.. ive been bluntly told that there is no question of thanking me ever for making the cha,washing up,rounding up the herd etc... bcoz its muy duty to do it.fair enough.

i look at the motley bunch sprawled on muy bed....weary faces,impish exprssions,looks of lethargy,bubbling with energy...and above the steam that rises from the mugs... a wan smile of relief... or grin that warns me that something not too good is being planned.

i survey the array of mugs.at a subconscious level i curse... i have to wash the entire lot...i cant help thinking of all the seniors whove drank out of them... how and why we bought the one which looks like its been whacked from a railway platform tea stall... the story of how another lost its "handle"and one which proved that permanent marker isnt permanent.

i think aroma... cardamom,clove,ginger,basil flavour.
i think diet..."too little" ,"too milky","not sweet enough" ,"i cant stay awake on this"
i think lifestyle... tea at 2 am,11 pm...or 5 am b4 we go to sleep.
i think ppl...who deteseted tea but got addicted,who tried to stay off it but we wore down her reslove.

im leaving college in a few months.
and ill miss this bunch who raid my wardrobe every morning,and rob my stationary every evening to piss me off.
this family of the naka,the insipid,the boka,the STUPID,the brainless,the vacant and the babe trying too hard.

im already fighting tears... wondering who will be there to cradle each others moods every evening.
im smiling...wondering that ill no longer have to be a coffee machine,tea stall and alarm clock in one.
im relived ...knowing that kranti wont be barging into muy room at any goddam unearthly hour to demand a cuppa...

the tea drinkers association.
its just not enough to say that i love the members.
they are an extension of muy family.
just over a cup of cha.

crises...

i want a haircut...not that i need one...but i just want one.im sick and tired of my bland strands.they so reek of insipid good girl thing trying to act civil. if muy hair HAS to be wannabe... id rather its a wannbe junkie/pixie/wicked than a wannbe doll.why to girls have to be so stupid... and no.. being"intelligent" or a sassy street smart ass doesnt qualify as being sensible.

i want everything to be sent to muy room... i cant go out.so please send,courier or deliver things to muy doorstep.for the past three weeks ive been sleeping in a bus,bathing in alien bathrooms,seeing the scenery change too fast.. now im just plain tired.i want to stay in muy room and never step out.so please send the story book im yet to read,the pizza i havent eaten in ages and the boyfreind i havent seem in a while to muy room.

im suffering from a severe case of writers block.i have a lot to say and write... but i somehow cant seem to be able to go beyond scribbling.... what do i do.

these people.. the girls are so so virginal.they see stars when they "hold hands" with their boyfriends and have mind orgasms.sorry.... orgasms and condoms are dirty words."bitch" is the worst form of abuse... will someone please have sex...???!!!
and the boys... enough to make me want to be a nun.
a pre historic bunch of neanderthals.

i have to do something to re affirm that i am a non conformist.
i have to do something to know if i am still as bohemian as i was in school.
damn.. what has college done to me.

i need to get my post grad modus operandi in order.at least a blueprint.
i have to study...(????)

i miss home... but am trying to figure out what and why... i had thought i was over it.
how can one ever get over home....

i need a huge,strong,male bear hug.. the type that says its ok....
as usual the male in question is absent.

%$#&&^%.... im getting rid of my tresses NOW....any suggestions...

and yes... muy nose is running...
muy feet encased in muy socks mite smell...
im upside down!!!!!

ps... muy feet aint smelling... but muy nose is running.