"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again."
That's how Rebecca starts.
A line I had probably never appreciated fully till today.



Last night I went to my flat in S*******e again. I was crossing the parking lot when something invisible grabbed my collar and pulled me backwards. For a second I was so scared, but then I sensed that it was you. So I laughed.
And you appeared.
And for a while everything was right with the world.

You even made me clean some things, making excuses that your ghost form did not allow you to do it. Prankster.

Typical you. Enjoying your ghostlyness with more joy and enthusiasm than most of us manage for our lives. We caught up. Like we always did(do?) after a year of our unintersecting lives have gone by. Your brows knit together, listening like everything I say or do is important. An expression I did not know I remembered so well.

It was an afternoon(night?) well spent dude. Thanks for dropping by.



It was almost a pity that I had to wake up.

The first two days of university were almost like a 'what-not-to-do-in-the-first-two-days-of-uni' manual.
I missed orientation. Because I am disoriented in space and time.
I missed the welcome party. Because I am lazy.
I did not knock on the other doors in my flat and say hi. Because I am socially awkward.
I ate only sandwiches. Refer to welcome party point.
I spent most of my conversations wondering who I was talking to instead of participating intelligently. Because my brain cannot handle being introduced to more than one dozen people per day.

Things are looking up though.
Every appointment that I mis-schedule and miss, I cancel formally.
I have made it to one party. Even though I was late because I fell asleep before it.
I eat cooked food. Mostly cooked by my roommates. But also sometimes by me. And I have found out who I live with.
I attend classes. Not necessarily my classes. I still don't know which ones those are. But I attend some classes.
And I live near here so life can't possible be too bad

I'm reading in the bus today. Wondering if the sweaty smell is the guy next to me or..... I was on the way home to take a bath. A whole day of overseeing repairs could make you sweaty. Fan repairs. Haha.
My phone beeps. I perform a complicated manouvre involving head, bag, book and phone in pocket in limited space. The text is simple.
Yes or no?
I blink. Then feeling very positive inspite of everything i text back a 'yes'. And for good measure add a 'What was the question?'. Thankfully my old roommate is used to my conversational nonsense and explains the question to me.
'Did you get the parcel?'
Oh. The one I have been begging for for only the last ten weeks.
Sheepish reply-"I haven't been home in 24 hours. Don't know if I have received any mail."

Reminds me of another time. I receive a text from my brother. 'Pick a number between one to twelve.'
So I get excited. Do vague probability sums in my head and text a number to him. Then I wait for a long ten minutes and send another 'Now what?'.
The curt reply. "It wasn't a magic trick. I was choosing a sample question paper to solve."
Such cruel disappointment.

blue is the color. and the mood?

First ChelseaFC match of the season. Sunday. 6pm in India. At around 5.30 my aunt feels the need to go to the mall one last time before she returns to her small town.
We run to the mall, pick up a t-shirt and run back. Some sort of record timing, even with a break to grab some street food. I can still make second half.
The moment I sit on the sofa my mom comes in with a demand that I go buy dinner.
"I want forty-five minutes. Leave me alone."
For whatever reason my mom and my aunt plonk down beside me.
Sometimes their chatter breaks through my invisible barrier of sound.
"This guy is wearing a monkey cap!"
"Oh, yeah! Why?"
"Just like a Bengali"
"Why? Is he cold?"
"It's not a monkey cap. He had a concussion once."
"Ohh. If he had a heart attack why does he wear a monkey cap?"
"He had a concussion."
"These English medics are so great. That black guy who had a heart attack on the field, he was clinically dead for a few minutes."
For a minute I'm wondering how she confused Cech with a black man. Then the commentary is back on.
"He should wear a helmet. Why aren't his ears covered? Did you know he could die if his ears are hit hard enough?"
"I think he'd die of the heat if he covered his ears. He is playing football."
.
.
.
.
"Where is the Chelsea goalkeeper? How come we haven't seen him yet?"

Mars

The curiosity rover landed on Mars on the 5th. Therefore the new header. MARSscape. Whoo!

There are days when I would kill for fifteen minutes of uninterrupted time. Literally.
I would probably settle for five without getting my hands bloody. But in a family with one deaf mom who can't hear her phone ring and one super-busy-semi-celebrity-scientist-dad who refuses to buy a cellphone and gets atleast one call every half an hour, it is very hard being the jobless one cum telephone operator.

Attempts to lie on the sofa and watch the olympics were thwarted by my brother threatening to spit on me if I took up too much space.

All I want to do is hear one spanish conversation beyond the starting Hola!

a muddled rainy goodbye inside my head

It hit me on a rainy afternoon.
It hit me like a swift punch in the guts.
Like a cold clammy hand seizing you from behind.

I stuck my head out of the auto and let the rain soak me. Distracting me for a moment as the delightfully cold droplets slipped into my eyes, behind the contact lenses and the world went blurry for a second.
I blinked furiously as I attempted to focus on the familiar roads.

I had grown up here. Cycling like a madman, stealing guavas from irate neighbours. Walking down the road calmly, so covered in mud that the crowds in the street parted to let me pass, after an afternoon of football in the rain. The disregard that only familiarity can bring.

It hit me when he asked me which one of my guitars I would take with me. I stared at him for a moment.

Then comprehension dawned. Like the first ray of light breaking through the heavy shroud of cumulo-nimbus on a monsoon morning.

It was time, to pack up what little I call my own, apart from these streets and this city. It was time to leave.

 

That's it. I have been trying to write a seriously touching, tear-inducing, total literary piece of a post.
And all I can think of is my brother throwing a capo at me after I try to sing a song, realise it's not in my natural key and thus alternate between screechily high and ghoulishly low. I am a one-woman orchestra of dischord.
I then hit my brother's friend, ask him to hit my brother and run away before anyone hits me.
I then finish dinner feeling hungrier than when I started thanks to Masterchef Australia.
So this is all you get to read. *lopsided insane grin*

Toniiiiight, weeee are young

Everyone who knows me knows that before going to watch an A-rated movie I must be reminded to carry ID.
Some people who know me well also know that my mom has hearing aids. But she never wears them.

In a flight from foreign shores to home.
Steward to me-"And what would you like to drink with that?"
Me-"The red wine please"
"But.."
"I'm 22."
"Ohh, you look so young. What's your secret?"
*charming/mysterious smile*  (or maybe the why you delaying my food you strange man)
"I guess it's your mother's genes"
Mom-"I'm her mother!"

The steward looks a little confused and walks away. 

Thanks mom. Let's both jump on the train of youthfulness.

The next day she's recounting the story to my Dad.
"The steward wasn't letting her have any wine and he asked her where her mother was so I told him that I was her mother and he understood that it was ok to serve her alcohol and stopped questioning her."

My sudden burst of laughter was discounted as normal madness.

Truth.

Boredom can do strange things to you.
Four of us hanging out. We've known each other forever. Or since school. Same thing.
There is absolutely nothing to do. No new dramatic gossip. None of us need advice on boys/girls/relationships (except the three of us who needed some but refused to take any). It's too hot to go out. Dark Knight doesn't release till friday.
After reading through the troll football page and textsfromdog we reach the point where we're just logging in and our of facebook in the hopes of either something new happening or someone's new interest coming online. He's not going to ask her for her number. He only really wants to but won't.

Finally we settle on a game of truth and dare. Ahhh, school nostalgia. Spin the pen.
Truth.
I refuse to ask anything. I don't want to find out anything which you don't want to tell me.

What's the dirtiest thing you've ever done?
She answers promptly. "I picked a coin up from inside the commode."
Me and the boys are literally ROFLing.
Not THAT KIND OF DIRTY!!
Ohh... sorry.
But THAT was BETTER!
Was it a public toilet? Why were you THAT broke? Was this before or after you peed?

ROFL.

The pen is spun again.

Truth.
What is the lamest place you have ever peed in?
Define lame.
I don't know... whatever... she defined dirty so you can define lame yourself. You know, desperate moment.
I peed in a bottle once. 

ROFL.

Eventually the game is abandoned for better things like momos.

Walking towards Borobudur

And then finally a full view!

Just got back from Indonesia. Will post soon.
It's good to be back and re-establish my buttprint on the sofa in the good spot in front of the tv.

The Sardinha Festival

At six in the evening my father calls me. "Where are you?"
"On the way home."
"Don't go home. There's a parade and some festival here. It starts at nine."
Ok...

So my tired brother and I step off the metro and sit and wait for our dad. We have already visited the Gulbenkian museum that day. Then taken a bus to see the ancient Roman aqueduct. Then tried to walk back to where we started from and realized that the bus had been faster than we'd understood and trudged a long way uphill. We make our way to this viewpoint near downtown and sit down on a bench. A man with a dog asks me for money. I pretend not to speak any european language. Yes, not even english.
To add to our misery, there is a freezing wind blowing.

Dad arrives a little later and we're on our way to Alfama, an old neighborhood in Lisbon. And the festival starts right from the metro station. The streets are festooned with streamers and lamps. There is music blaring out of every store. There is a grill outside every store where they are frying sardines. Beer and sangria flow freely. People in the thousands are flocking to the party, swaying to the music. The whole neighborhood IS one giant party!

We taste the sardines. Sardinha no pao. Or sardines on bread. It's yum and there's also a dog sniffing us and trying to get in on the goodies. Dad and I take flight. Then dad and bro buy a beer. One sip each and they are ready to donate the rest to me. Ah the kindness! I refuse point blank. "I shall need to pee." What is it with my family's belief that I will be there for them to finish their beers? Of course, I do finish it for them with a quick chug and then pay to pee at the train station. My brother says its against his principles to pay to pee! I later have to persuade him to run into a restaurant and use the WC. The guy has principles about not paying to pee and also about not peeing in a restaurant where he is not eating/paying. What? Isn't that contradictory?

At some point past midnight we stagger back home. 

Pictures shall be added later. :)

The Museum of Natural History....

Dinnertable conversation last night.
My brother is telling my father about the mathematical exhibit he saw at the museum. The solid shapes of different geometries were on display. My father listens, then asks what museum we went to.
"Museum of Natural History and Science"
"Oh. Your sister left out the Science part."
Me-"I didn't know the science part."
Bro-"So you looked at the maths exhibit and thought math part of natural history?"
Me-"I kind of zoned out after the dinosaurs."
There is a sudden flurry of rolling eyes.

One of my oldest memories is looking at a giant dinosaur skeleton. I am not very sure if this memory is real. But I definitely went through a dinosaur phase.
The Natural History Museum in Lisbon has a wonderful dinosaur exhibit. Allosaurus skeletons, T-rex skulls. Overall a great evening, till we had to leave because it was closing time.

Parent-less in Portugal

It is 3p.m and my brother and I are staggering around the statue in the centre of the 'Praca do Comercio' or 'Plaza of Commerce', Lisbon, Portugal......

Dad is working at an institute here and bro and I have tagged along for the fun.
Mom has decided to stay at home. She's used the oldest excuse in the book. 'I have to study'.
Every day we set out for a new adventure. The two of us have never been left to our own devices in a foreign land before.
Neither of us speak any portuguese and lunch is ordered by stabbing at random lines in the menu. In the absence of both our parents, we've managed to drink a leeetle too much wine. We keep weaving into each other and then we stand to take pictures and my brother has to use me as a camera stand because he can't keep still enough to use a camera which autofocuses!

After a while we consult our map book. I shall not be able to understand maps until 3D maps hit the market. My brother, thanks to years of NFS, turns the map round and round and predicts which direction we should walk in. Sometimes he's wrong. So then we just walk downhill because its easier to.

The other day we ended up at a museum in an old ruined convent. The collection included the creepiest little mummified children. And while entering the museum I asked for student tickets. The lady asked for student ID. My brother started searching his wallet for his card. Me, am I even technically a student at the moment? I definitely don't have any student ID. I started flapping my wallet back and forth and wondering what to do next. Before I took any action (I'm sorry I'm a liar/cheapo/idiot who's lost her ID) the lady got bored and just let me in.

Later that day we tried some pastry at a 180 year old 'pastelaria' or pastry store. On the way back in the train we both fall fast asleep.

Another day's adventure shall be another post.

Unsent Letters..

My dear bhindi
there is a lot i know u know. like the fact that i loved u. like the fact that those days with u in class eight are an integral part of my growing up memories. and school magazine every year was our thing. our article every year. and the newsboard was our thing. we the editors. and how what we started never ended how we intended it to. which was fun.
and then our lives bifurcated. but i had a corner for u always and i know u did for me too.
but u came last month, december to visit. and for a brief two days we were happy. so happy. so we made plans to make our lives intersect again soon.
and then some incalculable factor, some inhuman person, some bakery table underneath which there was a bomb..... and then u were a face on a newspaper for many and a reason to light a candle for many more.
for me u are the girl who gave me a shoebox on my birthday with a bhindi and a potol stuck inside it. to potol from bhindi. and a lot of glitter. because u cared enough for ur friends to spend ur time doing crazy things like that. and a book inside the box which said to me from u on the first page. and to ankik from kaushik on the second. and u burst out laughing when i told u and said u had given me ur brother's book by mistake.
and now u and ur brother are gone. and in the hostel lawn is a ghost of a memory of u and me sleeping in the sun. and then there is me. sitting here wondering why, and what to do, and knowing that this pain will never go. what would i not give for u too call me and say ur coming tomorrow.
i'll do those things ok? and i dont know how i'll let u know. maybe i'll blog again. i'm sorry i dont know what else to do. i've never believed in god or afterlife. right now i wish i did.
u would have been very critical of this letter. u would have made me rearrange it.
and i'll finish here today coz im sleepy. coz i havent slept much coz every time i close my eyes the tears try to squeeze out.....and im signing of like i always do, always did in emails, and bhindi its too true......
"love, always."
yours
....


(something i found in drafts. dated december 2010)

Poet vs Physicist

Staggering up the stairs with two really heavy bags.
Thought process...
1st floor- This is a total work out. Weights.
2nd floor- Graaavityyyy. Working against meeee. (My brother is a huge John Mayer fan)
3rd floor- As I struggle against gravity, gravity pulls me in. As I step higher and higher, the bag gets heavier and heavier. It's a battle between nature and me. What chance do I stand?! (The inner poet in full flow)
4th floor- According the law of gravity, there is an inverse proportionality to the square of r. So as I'm climbing up, the bags are getting lighter. (The inner physicist kicks in. And wins...)

Mother's Day Ispeshial

The first day I went to school, I apparently ran in, screaming with joy at the sight of so many more children to play with. All the other kids stood there bawling because they had to leave their moms. My mom went home feeling a little hurt. Does my kid not love me and miss me, she wondered. She called her sister. My aunt, a doctor, explained to her how she had brought me up to be confident and secure enough to manage that super cool walk to my first classroom.

The Boringest Week Ever

Week? Month. Whatever...
All my seniors who took gap years warned me that they get boring in February. I sailed through Feb. Swaggered through March. I told people that gap years were meant for me, I loved every second.
Then I ran out of things to do.
One day I was bored and lying on the couch watching strangely dressed NRIs dancing around in a K-Jo movie with fascinated horror. Maybe the florescent clothes hypnotized me a little. The next day I was throwing up five times a day and too weak to get up. That wasn't even the bad part.
The bad part was my mom waking me up to ask me if I was feeling ok and then telling me the silver lining of my sickness was that I might lose some weight.
Thanks Mom. Worst nurse ever!

Once I was better I realised that I had actually slept for four days, not one and missed a Chelsea semi-final. I also started suspecting that I wasn't actually Sherlock Holmes and that might have just been a fever induced hallucination. Both these facts depressed me a lot so I enrolled at the local swimming pool.

I hate swimming. My total lack of grace on solid land is only magnified in water. Moms probably point me out to their children as an example of how-to-not-swim. The other day I crashed into someone, floundered in the water till I was sure I'd drown and then grabbed a passing butt to regain sea level.

I thought I'd hit rock bottom till I went to the vegetable market, lost one of the two bags I was carrying and retraced my steps for half an hour in an effort to find it. The vegetable-seller-person suggested that I look in bag one to find bag two. I mean, do I really look that stupid? I nodded politely and walked away. Then I bought a watermelon, telling myself that I could eat it for four days and hence wouldn't have to come back to the horrible bazaar. Two minutes later I realize that I'm not strong enough to carry it home.

After staggering home with that giant watermelon (it was the smallest in the store) I'm taking some well-earned rest. Mom walks in. She launches into a whole worry thing featuring a mean conservative mother in law vs me. ME? I'm 22 and weddings scare me. Not to mention relationships, responsibility and commitment.
"Ma, can we not talk about this?"
"Why can't we talk about this? We never talk. These things are real. We should talk about it. Listen I'll totally beat up your mean mother-in-law!"
The imaginary one?
"You're going to miss me when I die and there's noone to beat up your mother-in-law!"
Yep, that wiped the smile off my face. Now I was just baffled.
Still not finished she goes on,"I'm sure you're gay. That's why you're so uncooperative when I try to talk about these things."
I got up and ran. Earphones!

Did I miss the headlining research on mothers-in-law being nicer when the couple is gay?

Maybe I'll start reading newspapers to get rid of this boredom. Be up to date on mothers-in-law and genetically modified mini-watermelons.

MIssion Pudding

Bro and I venture into the kitchen yesterday. It feels like an expedition, a voyage into the unknown.

Mission: To make pudding. Ready-mix pudding.

You take the powder and mix it in milk and heat it till it boils and then dump it in the fridge. One simple sentence of instructions?

I'm hunting in the fridge for milk. Mom seems to have put the milk into several separate containers. I find one with enough milk to use and stagger back into the kitchen. My brother helpfully hands me the powder. I immediately start juggling with the packet. Toss it from my right hand to my left hand. I'm so cool I can catch things. And,"OH MY GOD YOU OPENED THE PACKET!!!". There is a fine dust of powder all over the floor.

Much deflated, I start boiling the milk while my brother sweeps the floor and hides the powder behind the dustbin. Why not in it, I wonder?

My threshold of boredom being a little low, I hand over the job of stirring the milk till it boils to bro. Two minutes later there's a loud shriek. "IT"S BOILING AAAAAAAH WHAT SHOULD I DOOO??"

I jump in and turn off the flame before it boils over and we are left with nothing to show for our efforts. The genius hadn't thought of turning it off.

It's going to be a while before we venture back in there again.

Marital and martial are almost the same word. Just one letter changes place!

Hmm. I started a post with that sentence a week ago. Then I abandoned it. It could have been a good post. I don't know, depending on where it went.

I abandoned it because I didn't know where it could go.

Speaking of things headed in unknown directions. My teacher from school asked me to come speak to her class about career options. The reason she asked me to come speak to them is that out of the fifty students who were in my class, I am one of the two who did not become an engineer.

Things headed in unknown directions, did you say?

answer 1- my life.

answer 2- that talk.

Let's not discuss answer 1.

Talking to schoolchildren. Schoolchildren are scary. When I was in school we made it a point to try to reduce all the substitute temp teachers to tears. And the career counselling sessions! Well, I wouldn't know, I was bunking them and playing ping pong. Hmm, that could explain answer 1.

In summers I teach schoolchildren karate. Summer before last, they misbehaved, I refused to punish them because I was just one year out of school and thought I was one of them. Then sir punished me for failing to maintain order.

Last summer, two of the boys thought it would be funny to run in circles when I told them to practice their kicks. So before I was punished, I went ahead and punished them. Thirty sit-ups. We start from one each time you stop you little buggers. Then I felt REALLY happy about punishing them. Then I felt REALLY guilty for feeling really happy about punishing them. They had turned me in to a monster!

This summer I haven't turned up in the club yet.

Maybe they've reformed schoolchildren since last summer.

Grandchildren

Yesterday, at the mall, mom demanded grandchildren. For a second I was sure I was going to fall down and hit my head on the floor, forget the moment and let it go. Then I didn't fall. Maybe I was too concerned about not letting the cheesecakes get ruined.

So I put forth my feeble defence. "Mom, I'm 21".

"I don't care. My friend from school had a grandkid last year, she keeps sending me pictures."

I skim through possible replies/plans of action in my head. Mom, but I'm 21/ It's not a competition/burst into tears/run away as fast as I can, with the cheesecake.

While I'm thinking about which door is closest and planning the best escape route she adds,"The only thing you are interested in is food. I have to bribe you with cheesecake to make you come to the mall. I could take my grandchildren shopping."

At this point I actually felt a pang of pity for the hypothetical grandchildren.

Then astonished at my own brain's uselessness, I come up with the reply "But I just got into university."

"Yeah but I have to have grandchildren so they can inherit my jewellery. You aren't interested in jewellery. I looked for abandoned children in the bushes whenever I went for evening walks but never found any."

(She's been out for two evening walks in the last two years.)

AND THEN. Then the ridiculousness of the whole conversation hit me. I finally come up with the correct reply. "Let's go home. You can ask bro if he is willing to go get you some grandchildren."

Clutching cheesecake, we make our way back in happy silence.

2011 was epic. I graduated college and bagged a college honor. Both very unexpected, as my parents told me. My brother graduated school and got into college as anticipated. My parents completed twenty five years of being married to each other.

And to celebrate....... family trip.

SO we board a flight to North bengal, book a room in a resort near the jungle, and with Axl Rose singing 'Welcome to the Jungle' in my head, punctuated with my Mom screaming at me to pack more clothes, we're off.

Like true bongs we have packed enough warm clothes to withstand Arctic cold, with mom seriously considering buying a monkey cap, and once there we don't know what to wear. Because it is HOT. In the day atleast. Evenings we all flaunted those skull caps.

In the flight there is an unfortunate child in front of me wearing a sweater knitted by her grandmother. The body is sky blue and red stripes. The arms are cobalt blue and red stripes. Gran ran out of sky blue wool it seems.

Day 1: Lyaadh. (yeah, sorry, this is still my family's trip)

Day 2: Jungal Safari

Jungal Safari turned out to be very dusty with not an animal in sight. Just a lot of elephant poop as the driver pointed out proudly.

Then there was the trip to see the Kanchenjungha. I really don't know how to spell that. My dad stared out at the horizon and after a moment of scrunching his eyebrows finally asks us..."Where is it?" My brother points. Dad hadn't thought to look above the clouds.

And skip skip some boring parts, some depressing meals because the chef was sick it's the last day.

Looking at a CUTE rhino from a watchtower, followed up by tribal dances and drinking their salty tea, it's time to go back to the room, driving through the forest in the dark, followed by fireflies.

Peace to everyone. Have an epic 2012.