Monday, February 25, 2008

Random jokes at 3 in the night..

Pal: I love Paki singers..

DhUm: Youtube is banned there..

Pal: Why is the song not playing??


Me: Because youtube is banned there?


Pal: Why is the video quality so bad?

Piks: Because it's coming from a place where it is banned?

Pal: ...

We are studying while this conversation is played out. We are crazy. I know. :)

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Don't tear it up.. please..

You hold out a paper with your thumb and index finger. You clasp it tight. And then the train starts, at full speed, rushing past every tree, light pole, building, and glass structure. Rushing past some stations too. Then stops at one station, a slight pause, but the momentum is gained back.
And the paper is fluttering crazily in the continuous, fast and strong wind.

Sometimes the paper falls out of your hand, but sometimes you can hold on to the paper. No matter what.
Trust is like that piece of fluttering paper. Held just as gently between your heart and your brain. But once it goes out of your hands, another paper, just does not feel like the old one. Or it's really really difficult to find that piece of paper which flew with the wind. Difficult but not impossible.

And I hope that day never comes when that paper is just torn into bits.. and flung into the wind..

And no matter how much I love the wind, the heady gush of wind in a fast train, I hope till my last breath that the people I trust do not let go.. It's a crumbling feeling, getting all too familiar to me..

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

You. Just you.

Just read this.. and no matter how clich├ęd it sounds, try to look beyond the words and the lyrics..
(the {very brief} post follows this, but do read through it to reach the post. Say it out loud if you can.)

Na hai yeh paana,
Na khona hi hai..
Tera na hona, jaane...
Kyu hona hi hai

Tum se hi din hota hai,
Surmayi shaam aati hai,
Tum se hi, tum se hi
Har ghadi saans aati hai
Zindagi kehlati hai,
Tum se hi, tum se hi..

Aankhon mein aankhen teri
Bahon mein bahon teri
Mera na mujh mein kuch raha..
Hua kya..

Baaton mein baatein teri
Raatein saugatein teri
Kyu tera sab yeh ho gaya..
Hua kya..

Mein kahi bhi jaata hoon
Tum se hi mil jaata hoon
Tum se hi.. Tum se hi..
Shor mein khamoshi hain
Thodi si behoshi hai
Tum se hi, tum se hi..

Aadha sa vaada kabhi
Aadhe se zyaada kabhi
Ji chahe karlu is tarah..
Wafa ka..

Chode na choote kabhi
Tode na toote kabhi
Jo dhaaga tum se jud gaya..
Wafa ka..

Main tera sarmaya hoon
Jo bhi main ban paaya hoon
Tum se hi, tum se hi..
Raaste mil jaate hai
Manzile mil jaati hai
Tum se hi, tum se hi..

Na hai yeh paana,
Na khona hi hai..
Tera na hona, jaane..
Kyu hona hi hai

I know its a romantic song. But it is not the stereotypical romantic song. I know it is a song written to make everyone who hears this identify with it. But for some reason, this song is so much more. So much more.

I know I could paste the youtube link here for you to see the song too, but the beauty of the filmed song is a different thing altogether. (And I know everyone can look it up on youtube, if everyone wants to see it.)

I know that no one really will want to respond to this post, but this truly is a post of passion. Written with all that goes on in my mind while this song plays in the background and I write down the lyrics.

Because copying and pasting the lyrics from some site, would just not do justice to what I feel for this song.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

A life lost..

I see my updates in Orkut telling me that you have put up more pictures...

I click on the smaller-than-thumbnail picture so that I directly go to your album. I do that very deliberately. Carefully. I don't want to be redirected to your profile so that my visit shows up on page.

You nic says that you recently went to Goa. Your pictures show you there. With your hair flying, in a sleek sleeveless top. Note: a top not a Tee-shirt. Remember how we always used to crib that we were both too guyish. You look pretty and pretty darn girlish in the tank. Your hair is open too. Something you never did then.

I see other pictures. One's that I have already seen, the last time I visited your album. I see pictures of you celebrating someone's birthday, a diwali party in the office, a pajama party at someone's place, a classy party in a hotel and then there is a picture of four other people who you claim you can't live without.

I am not there. I am just in your friend's list. Probably added under the category of "Don't Know Too Well". Probably added just because I sent you the request. All we have exchanged till now on Orkut is a Hi. One word.

Behind that word hides the million conversations we once had. The cell phone bills we used to drive up, even when incoming was not free. The way you taught me statistics and the way I taught you logic and English. The way we discussed that guy who looked like a Greek God and smiled at me sometimes. The way you oohed and aahed at a typical Rahul. The way you covered up for me when I made that mistake. And that's it.

That mistake ripped my life. But I have accepted that. What is still difficult to accept is that it took away my friend from me. Just because her Mom thought I was not a good enough girl, while once she adored me and fawned over me. And because my Mom thought that you were a liar to cover for me. We were both at fault, but those were mistakes teenagers often do.

But it has carried on to our adulthood. I don't know what type of a person you are today. But you are someone I still sorely miss. Not as an everyday presence, but as a support. As the one person who backed me and told me that "If you think this is love, then I will back you through everything so that you are happy."

I hope you think of me tis wistfully too. I hope you miss our friendship too. I hope I am not asking for too much.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Understanding Irrelevance..

19 or 20 year old me would have definitely killed me had she known I would say this in the future..

Today I realized something really important. Something that has been important to me all my life, but I only understood it now.

You know how we always curse those extra classes we take in college? Economics in Computer Engineering college, Accounts in Advertising college, Feminism in Urban Planning college, Hindi in Science college, E-Commerce in Mechanical Engineering, Great Social Thinkers in Civil Engineering, Sociology in Aerospace Engineering. The list goes on.

One of these were my cribs too. I am sure everyone can account for at the least one subject in their college years which were absolutely ridiculous. Or so it seemed then.

Today after attending a class on sexually violent video games, I realized, that understanding these studies, researches, people's way of thinking, deciphering, deriving is an understanding process too. Struggling to understand a research over the span of the entire night, with anatomical jargon, terms and biological measures, I realized that I did not hate this. I liked it. I liked the fact that I was studying something that did not do anything directly to my career field, but it contributed to my knowledge base, to the library within me I call intelligence. To helping me form more credible, and valued opinions.

I remember being asked when I was 19 what I wanted to be in my life. I had said, "Knowledgable and wise. Well read and someone who has a holistic understanding of whatever is being discussed."

I am not there yet, but I realize that reading about P300 amplitude in Brain Functions and applying it to advertising and every other thing I can think about, is what will get me there. For a start.

I know this is not my normal style of a post, but its a thought. A very valuable thought for me, and that's what this blog is here for. To record my thoughts, even after I don't last, which I actually meant as a record of thoughts once I cease to exist. And I aimed to achieve the exact same thing with that. Have a record of my thoughts, opinions, dreams, ideas and emotions.

Sunday, February 10, 2008


It's like different pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, which has a way of falling in place.

It's like a complicated game of Sudoku, which has a way of all just fitting in together.

Its like a beautiful song, where each word and sentence are written to complete the whole.

It's like a a strong coil of rope, where each individual strand is inter-twined.

It's like looking around you, and knowing, this is right. This is real.

It's like looking up at a comment passed by someone else, and knowing that all of us are thinking the exact same extension to that thought.

It's like reaching a point where its all about pulling through, and we do it together, for the love of each other.

It's like

It IS family. My Family here.

For once, I wished Pal would actually go ahead and start her blog, so that you could read her version of it, because trust me, when she writes, she floors the reader. And for once, I really really really wish Dhum would let his words come out to us, for I know he has worded his thoughts, and his thoughts, are beautiful, way beyond beautiful. His words can be magic, and would be magic for me.
And I am so glad, so so so glad that Pik has written this. It shows how the entire episode was processed in his brain.

But all of these would show just the tip of the iceberg of their thoughts, and the rest? is just for our gumbal to scuba-dive and explore.

Friday, February 08, 2008

Yes, I deleted the last post

Not in randomness. I deleted it after sleeping over it. I deleted it after coming to face with facts. After accepting it all.

And realizing that there are people around me doing more of the accepting than me. Because they are accepting me with all my flaws.

Thursday, February 07, 2008

Beginnings - Vikram

"Bhaiya, I want to study in U.S.A too", Vicky bounced the table-tennis's ball across the wall as his brother cleaned his closet out.
"Yeah Vic, but not now. Complete your bachelors here. You can do your Master's in U.S.A"
"But why Bhaiya, I want to get out of this place. I hate the system here, the teachers are pathetic and Mom-Dad just don't understand"
"No Vic, what you will learn here, you will never learn there. Trust me", Ranjit replied.

Vikram shrugged away. He hated being here. He couldn't wait until he completed his 12th and then finished his engineering so that he could fly away from here too. He would probably do Master's in Computer Science and specialize in Networking.

"You enrolling for GRE classes, man?", Hayden asked Vic.
"Definitely. I shouldn't have done a BMS, yaar, this way I have forgotten all my maths, and english is fu---, I mean screwed anyway."
"So why are you avoiding abusing again?" asked Hayden. Abuses were a part of his conjunctions.
"Because, my parents don't like it all that much. And I don't see the use too you know.. Anyway, where are you thinking of applying?
"I was thinking maybe UK, you know.. MBA's from UK are pretty well recognized, and they just need my TOEFL or IELTS scores.."

Vic got through the University of London effortlessly. The thought of London excited him, but for some reason, the thought of going there for so long, was, still not sinking in.
He had been reading up on everything about London, ridiculously expensive, ridiculously snobbish, unbelievably beautiful and really good-looking girls. Lots of Indians. He joined all the yahoo groups for students going to University of London.

He was ready. His mother was packing his bags, his aunt was making all his favorite sweets, his cousins had gifted him watches, and leather pouches and belts and wallets. His friends were running around, last minute errands. His bestfriend, Nita was leaving for the airport this minute. Her flight to Chicago was within a few hours and he couldn't even go to drop her. His flight was after 2 days.

"Vic, here. The last pair of contact lenses in your number, man"
"Hayden, one last favor?"
"Yea dude"
"Call me Vikram please. Always"

Sunday, February 03, 2008

Counting the Kilos..

Seven days, and two meals consumed. And counting... the days.

This is a confession. And this is an awakening. I hope.

When I was a teen, around 17 years old, I wanted to look good for someone. I had read a lot about people who ate and puked it out, then they wouldn't put on weight. I tried that twice. I gave it up after that. I think. I don't remember trying it more than twice.

As a kid I was skinny (that's what all over-weight people say I think). Around the beginning of my teens, I started putting on weight. No particular reason. I was FAT when I passed out of school, chubby when I was in junior college. I started gymming seriously then. I had already enrolled in Talwalkar's after school. I needed to lose the extra 15 kgs on me. Everyone said I was fat. My neighbor, pesky as she is, once told me, "I saw you from my balcony when you were coming yesterday and you looked like a full circle."

The gym helped me lose slowly. I had lost around 4 kgs in a year and a half. In 12th, I fasted for 8 days, no food, only water. I lost 8 kgs. I was at my perfect weight. I looked good, really good. A model bloke was interested in me. It did not do wonders for my self-confidence but it was assurance that I was not fat anymore.

Under grad at Nationals. I had to regain that weight sometime. I slowly put on weight, a few kgs not much. I was still not too bad. Summer came, and my Mom is the world's best cook. Really. I went through a horrible time. Depression, lies, deceit, and the wrong guy. I put on weight. I had a best friend, Mr. Pilot, who thought I did not eat enough. I put on weight. All over again, I was 5 to 6 kgs over weight. I gymmed some more. Like crazy. I lost some more.

I was riding on a pendulum. I put on weight, lost some more. Put on some more, lost a little. My confidence was not that bad. I started drawing a line between self confidence, body image, and weight issues. But I had an eraser in my hand all the while.

One comment about not looking good, looking fat, and I was tempted to, and did many a times, erase that line.

One day, someone I did not know too well said, "Are you dieting? Please don't believe in that rubbish, you are fine the way you are." That took me a little by surprise. I was not dieting, but I was avoiding food which had excess calories.

All through BMM I used to avoid food I did not need. I used to urge Pri to lose a little bit of weight because I knew she would look beautiful if she did. When I was not overweight, I would love my state of having no tyres or love handles.

Grad School in Illinois. First few months alone. Wrong kind of food. Soda. It's not a good combination. I was putting on weight. I realized, and I stopped the wrong kind of food. I went to visit my aunt in Chicago. Home food, and the Gujarati custom of "Agr", its when the person who has cooked almost pleads you to eat. And eat. And eat.

I put on unimaginable amount of weight. All of a sudden I was back to square one. 15 kgs over weight. I was not too bothered about it. I thought I could push the weight off. I had enough encouragement from Mom, Bro, Pal and Pri to get started with it.

Once I came back on campus, I could control my weight and diet. The day I came back on campus, I was too exhausted to eat anything. The next day, there was so much to do! The day after that, I was just not in the mod. Th day after, I was good on coffee. 5 days, and no solid meal. I finally felt hungry enough to eat a meal, but I was outside. Shopping.

Subway sandwich. Lite Mayo, no-fat sweet onion. Half a sandwich actually. As soon as I finished the meal, my system started on a weird drive. I was feeling guilty. I felt guilty all night, and all day. Did not eat anything the next day. A cup of milk, no fat. The next day, dinner at Pals. Ate a little. Felt full. I swear I thought about taking a second helping. But my brain would not let me do it. And today. Coffee in the morning, and a cup of No fat yogurt.

I know what I am doing is wrong. I know that my body needs the food. I know that I am hungry. I know that I am not cooking because I am hungry, since I can't cook on an empty stomach. I keep convincing myself to eat a little bit. A little morsel, if nothing else. Just a little bit. But, it's not working.

I did not write this blog to declare a food disorder. I did not write it to receive shitty comments. I wrote because that seems to be my last solution. The last way to convince myself to acknowledge a problem. To face it. Writing has always been therapeutic for me. I am hoping it will work this time too. It took me a lot of guts to write this. To be able to admit it here. To push that button "Publish Post" which is a bright orange below my blog's body window. And I hope you guys acknowledge that.