Remembering & wanting to forget

For my very own, for every tear, for every faith, for every act of courage.

For serenity. For peace.

WhatEwah!

Found this random article while browsing today. And at 2 a.m. when your mind is unclogged of sounds and outside influence, it makes me wonder even more at the 'Amreekans'.

'Whatever' so totally tops most annoying word poll

By MICHAEL HILL, Associated Press Writer – Wed Oct 7, 3:25 pm ET

Americans are totally annoyed by the use of "whatever" in conversations.
The popular slacker term of indifference was found "most annoying in conversation" by 47 percent of Americans surveyed in a Marist College poll released Wednesday.
"Whatever" easily beat out "you know," which especially grated a quarter of respondents. The other annoying contenders were "anyway" (at 7 percent), "it is what it is" (11 percent) and "at the end of the day" (2 percent).
"Whatever" — pronounced "WHAT'-ehv-errr" when exasperated — is an expression with staying power. Immortalized in song by Nirvana ("oh well, whatever, nevermind") in 1991, popularized by the Valley girls in "Clueless" later that decade, it is still commonly used, often by younger people.
It can be an all-purpose argument-ender or a signal of apathy. And it can really be annoying. The poll found "whatever" to be consistently disliked by Americans regardless of their race, gender, age, income or where they live.
"It doesn't surprise me because 'whatever' is in a special class, probably," said Michael Adams, author of "Slang: The People's Poetry" and an associate professor of English at Indiana University. "It's a word that — and it depends how a speaker uses it — can suggest dismissiveness."
Adams, who was not involved in the poll and is not annoyed by "whatever," points out that its use is not always negative. It also can be used in place of other, neutral phrases that have fallen out of favor, like "six of one, half dozen of the other," he said.
But the negative connotation might explain why "whatever" was judged more annoying than the ever-popular "you know," which was recently given a public workout by Caroline Kennedy during her flirtation with the New York U.S. Senate seat vacated by Hillary Rodham Clinton. "You know," Adams notes, is a way for speakers to seek assent from others.
Pollsters at the Poughkeepsie, N.Y. college surveyed 938 U.S. adults by telephone Aug. 3-Aug 6. The margin of error is 3.2 percentage points. The five choices included were chosen by people at the poll discussing what popular words and phrases might be considered especially annoying, said spokeswoman Mary Azzoli.

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938 US adults actually pondered over the 'most annoying word' when questioned over the telephone? Or when questioned, did they just roll their eyes and say "Whatevah, man!" and slam the phone? And that by default became the most annoying word?
Now, How about questioning 938 US adults what they really thought about the war? How about waking them up in the middle of the night with the shrill ring of the telephone, and asking them if they thought about it at all? Would the response then be "Whatever"? Or would there be genuine concern by a country that has therapy for a phenomenon called 'shopping stress'? Would there be, if any an answer at all?

So, like, you know....Whatever.

'Pulp'...and just that

Pulp

Definition: any soft or soggy mass; "She pounded it to a pulp"

The last week was filled with hugely hyped movies/books for me. And i found myself asking "So what's all the fuss about?" It made me momentarily wonder if I was too 'dumb' to 'appreciate the finer points'. But then, I'm not one for intelligence that needs to concord with the rest of the world…just to fit in smugly :P

The first of my woes was 'Pulp Fiction'. I had heard so much about it being a cult movie, so many friends raved about it and gave me an accusing "You haven't watched it yet?!!? You ought to be dead!" kind of feel...I almost felt obliged to watch. Or be relegated to being the scum of the universe.

Five minutes into the movie and I was thinking how blissful it was being the scum. At least I wouldn't have been subjected to this. WHAT THE HELL WAS THE MOVIE (*!!@#$$%&**!) ALL ABOUT? It was like listening to somebody indulging in all the talk they never got to talk about, because people just weren't interested. I can take that in a book, but a movie??? I was biting my knuckles to stop myself from yelling "Aw C'mon, what's the story??!!?" (yes…I need a STORY). I didn't even find the dialogues funny (somebody droning on about a cheese burger...really???). I'm suspecting the only reason it got popular was for the uninhibited language.



Which brings me to 'The world according to Garp'. I won't slam the book as much as I did the movie. But again, I wondered what the fuss was all about. It had its moments...some bits i really liked, some that made me ponder, some that made me laugh. But for the majority of the book, it was nothing more than a recounting of male fantasies (despite its pseudo-dominant theme of feminism).

After that week of sex and violence, I snuggle up to my (safe) copy of ‘Mill on the floss’ and inject a dose of DDLJ into my system. And with a blueberry cheesecake for company (:), I’m purged of the last week’s excesses.

Of trash & moving

I can't believe how callous some people can be. With a LOT of effort, I was clearing up the last of the trash in the house before moving to another place (this is my 3rd house in 2009, by the way). I had dumped all of the heavy stuff at my doorway, so that I could drag it all to the chute.

When I was done with the house, I stepped out to find that somebody had happily clubbed their trash with mine! (oh, the joys of communal living…). I was furious…what did they expect, that I lug their trash as well?? Couldn’t they do it themselves?? All these question-rounds later, I still threw all the trash – theirs and mine. I couldn’t bear to have it lying around. I lugged all of it, making 4 rounds up and down (yes…I’m a chronic garbage collector). I came back thinking…would I ever do that? I somehow knew I wouldn’t…

It may be a small thing, but still…to me, it shows a lack of sensitivity and respect. Oh well...

As an aside, I was quite proud of myself during the 3rd exodus. Daddy’s li’l girl who couldn’t cross the street without holding his hand (even till high school!) packed all her stuff, hired a couple of pathans for the moving and set up the new place – all by myself. The 1st 2 times I had friends who helped me out while I stood like a helpless puppy and followed orders. This time around, I kept fretting how I would do it with my friends being away. But lo & behold! The good Lord shows you that you are capable of much more than you know and gives you the strength to do it. And I suddenly felt thankful for those years that I’ve spent away from the protected and loving environs of my home – or else I would have remained the same delicate, fragile person bursting into tears at the slightest challenge.
I’ve never worked this hard in my life, made so many decisions, or carried so much (esp. in 40 degree heat!) and the satisfaction was immense. I looked like a burnt pygmy at the end of it all, but it was worth it.

I adore my new, cozy li’l home and I have this smug smile on my face. There! I did it dad!

Rest in Peace, MJ...hopefully.

I hope we let you live in your death. I hope we let you be the child you've always wanted to be. I hope we stop dissecting your life. I hope we realize how music mourns your loss. I hope, finally we let you rest in peace.

Why so serious?

I'm bored. I'm so bored, it's unbelievable. I don't remember ever being so bored in my life. I find a seriousness creeping in, a lethargy, a 'I-don't-care-what-happens' settling in like a curling-up cat. I don't want to feel like this, but I'm too bored to even try. I find people, places uninteresting...I find my mind drifting when someone's talking. I find talk boring...it's the usual, the mundane. All I want to do is snuggle up in bed with a good book and doze off peacefully, somewhere in between it's pages.

People drive me nuts and I can't understand why humans love to complicate their lives. I'm bored of their constant whining, of perceived threats, of advices doled out, of illogical reasonings. I'm bored that there's nobody here who likes to share long silences with me...and not feel the need to puncture every silence with a word.

I'm bored that I'm bored.

I'm bored that my job doesn't excite me anymore. That it's become just another means to make money. I'm bored to the depths of my being.

And now I'm too bored to write.

I miss...

Unending coffee table conversations.
Mindless laughter, uncontrollable giggles.

Jumping fences.
Familiar faces.

The company of good human beings who occasionally bitch :)

But tomorrow...

“But tomorrow, dawn will come the way I picture her,
barefoot and disheveled, standing outside my window
in one of the fragile cotton dresses of the poor.
She will look in at me with her thin arms extended,
offering a handful of birdsong and a small cup of light.”

- William Collins

Roads on water

"To translate the wind by the water it sculpts in passing"

I'm sitting in my office on the 18th floor, facing the largest canvas of Burj Al Arab with the sea all around it....sipping tea and spinning my chair absent-mindedly. The water around the Burj (a playground for the rich & famous) is alive again. Power boats and yachts skim the waters rending them in two. But now, I stop my spinning. The water where the sea traffic skimmed through is sculpted in the shape of a path. It looks like a perfect road in the sea. And it stays there for a really long time, as if the water was not liquid, but something solid. All around, the placid blue doesn't stir. There is a scientific explanation, I know :) But I can't stop feeling mesmerized.

It's so beautiful...i can see myself walking on it. Mmmmm....

Older, none the wiser

31. There, I've said it. *Breathe* *inhale* *exhale* *don't choke* I turned 31 last month. *breathe out*

Till I was teetering on 30, I convinced myself I hadn't tripped over the threshold yet and died. Basically, I had convinced myself (and everybody else, for that matter) that I was 29. Still. Yet.

And now 31. It means the threshold has been passed. The first foot set in. Not unlike the bride in hindi soaps that upturns a tin can of rice...and looks up to scowling faces of in-laws and a few outlaws. And no..I'm no fan of the 'new-age' Indian soaps. But I feel all the insecurities, depressions and countless 'phases' scowling down on me.

The question writ large on everybody's chastising, patronising countenance??
"30 and not married yet?" "30 and no man yet?" "30 and not married yet?" "30 and no man yet?"

Essentially the same thing. That brings me to the question “Is it such a horrible, horrible thing to be sans man while you cross that 30's threshold?”

To a certain extent, yes. To a large extent, no.

I do admit to pangs of loneliness and hopelessly waiting for ‘true’ love. I also admit to being much happier, saner while single.

I am deeply grateful to those men who entered my life at the right time and left at the right time. Grateful, despite everything for having given me all the love, all the attention and all the care. But grateful, most of all for letting me realize how important I am to me. And how much I need to hold on to my identity, thoughts, feelings…without being manipulated into changing my patterns.

At 31, what have I learned really? A lot…and not so much. Quite a bit and nothing at all.

What I’ve learnt is not to trade in ‘myself’ for anything in the world. To love and give without expecting much. To be content with myself and not so content at the same time…so that I’m always at competition with myself. I’ve learnt to cherish the few, long relationships-friendships and not take them for granted. I’ve learnt how to unlearn and start all over. Also learnt that even the most self-assured person in the world needs a kind word, a loving smile. Learnt to let bygones be bygones. Not to let regrets hang over my shoulders in a thick cloud. Learnt also not to judge too quickly.

What I’ve not learnt is to budget.

31…it’s got to be a hazardous journey from here on. Fun part is, I’ve got myself for company :)

Reverie of light

I came home, walking through a patch of Lalang rods lustily cavorting in the breeze. Sunlight was trapped in them…it moved restlessly from fuzzy tip to stem…only to get trapped again. When I came home, their hair had clung to my skirt. When I came home, I was wearing a sunlight sprinkled skirt that glowed warm with every swish.

I reached the wooden table, where I laid down my basket. My basket…it was filled with gold of all hues. Red gold, yellow gold, violet gold, gold gold. Somehow, the rainbow had gotten trapped here too. I walked towards the living room. A burst of honey gold spread over me. I felt warm as toast. I knew then that he had left the door open.

I walked towards the living room and I saw an old, weathered chair covered in soft cotton, it’s back towards me. It was white (well…worn brownish white now) with green clovers printed on them. At the top of it, I saw a halo around a head. It changed hues, gold to champagne to pink. And then the head turned. I saw your face awash, the smile that let your dimples gather pools of liquid light. You seemed ecstatic, as you always did when you saw me. Every hair on your beard seemed to capture the light. Which light was it…the one in your eyes or the one of day? I decided to stop asking myself that.

As I drew near, the house smelled of soup cooking thickly, like something into which were hurriedly put the freshest things. Also of some brew, aromatic and sweet…that would be golden brown and forming words, shapes with it’s steam. I was right. You motioned me to partake of a cup of tea on the table. I sat opposite you on another worn chair, right in front of the door that allowed sunlight in, right where the dog sat lazily curled up on the steps, warmed to his bones, right where the wind found voice through the leaves like some silly ventriloquist, right where I wanted to be. I looked out. No words were spoken, none needed. The golden brew with its steam formed all of it. Steams from two delicate china cups mingled, held hands and drew apart.

The Lalang rods as if on cue, let the sunlight go a little too quickly to embrace the velvety night. The lights, finally freed, shimmering, thirsting rush up homebound. It’s the end of another day. The lights have dimmed.

Alyque, have you lost it??!!?

Alyque Padamsee and his theatrical troupe landed in Dubai with ‘Unspoken Dialogues’. I jumped at the chance to encounter the histrionics of the legendary ad guru & actor…hoping his flamboyance was intact (keeping in mind the fact that he’s older than the nearest antiquity).

The play came with generous helpings of his family….wife Sharon (ex-Madonna-impersonator-current-botox endorser), daughter Shazahn (young, beautiful…and that’s where the achievements end).

With a name like ‘Unspoken Dialogues’, the play held many a promise claiming that “it reveals the hidden secrets of the heart that are always left unsaid”.

Made me think “Ah! So much like my life, where things are always hanging unsaid”. That said, I waxed and waned and conned a friend, Van (who’s mildly suspicious of anything to do with advertising people…can’t say I blame her!) by buying the most expensive, best seats in the house. And the promise of a substantial dinner. In my delirium, I do admit I bled through my nose a little, but figured an evening of pure theatre would purge me of my feeling of guilt.

I was wrong…so, so wrong.

The play began with Sharon’s ‘unspoken dialogue’…which ironically was a monologue of a woman so besotted by a man, that to have him by her side forever, she murders him and keeps his body in the basement. In short, the story of a maniac. I could still live with that and admit to having taken a certain amount of pleasure in a woman murdering a man (Aw c’mon…I was kidding!!). Despite Sharon’s foot-stomping, immature portrayal, her dialogue delivery was flawless. I waited.

The next set saw Alyque himself (and this is where I brightened up a little) take on the guise of a doctor (quack?!?) giving advise to his patient. Nothing could save that dialogue…not Alyque’s Wodehouse-like delivery, his strange conviction in the horrid piece he had written…nothing. I couldn’t believe that I was watching a play with the kind of script we rustled up for school plays!!

Case in point. Remember those snickers passed from girl to girl when anybody mentioned ‘laptop’ in the days laptop first came into the limelight?? A dialogue between a boss (Alyque) and his secretary (some girl I don’t know from Eve) had the boss saying “What??!!? You want a laptop? Do you want to sit on top of my lap??”

Sigh.

I still gritted my teeth and sought deliverance…especially since my theatre-uncouth friend got increasingly restless and started biting into an apple (an act which normally would have made me gaze in anger at her having defiled a play…but this, I had to concede). Between the scrunches of an apple, I heard the rest of the incredulously-childish play.

The next, we saw the quintessential generation gap fight between father and daughter. And the lame way it was handled. Nothing different from what we have seen in countless, mindless movies…the only exception being Shazahn, holding a Barbie doll, teetering edgily between adolescence and childhood.

Just when I was nursing the burnt hole in my pocket, which by now had seared the inside of my thighs…and just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, it did. With a talking dog (a man dressed in gloves for paws and strangely rouged red on the apples of his cheeks…as if dogs had rosy cheeks). He panted and spoke about how his master treats him. Just when Van threatened to get up in her seat and do an item number, I decided to leave.

Just then, the next dialogue’s theme was announced…’what women want’. A-ha! I thought…now we are getting somewhere!

Two women…Sharon & that other girl. Sharon, shrill and whining because she just left her husband. The other girl, her friend….trying to put up with her and coaxing her to drink away her sorrows.

Sharon’s tone got shriller, sillier and I got going…in the company of a friend with a murderous expression on her face.

I said “Maybe they’ve dumbed it down for the Dubai audience”
She asked “Whatever for?? Considering 3/4th of the audience was Indian!”

All I could mutter was “Maybe Alyque’s lost it…he’s quite old, you know”

And she “Then he should just retire…gracefully, no?”

After this, I had to agree.

Yiiiiikkkkkeeesss!

I apologize for that barrage of pictures. I couldn't help it! :)

The people

Pyramid, sphinx

As you can see, I have no clue how to format the page :(

Just been Egyptized!

The falcon-headed God, Horus took us on a journey. A journey that skimmed eras, swirled around ages and settled upon the new. That made the hair on my neck stand up and calmed me down at the same time. I...went to Egypt :)

Ever since I can remember, I've been dreaming about it. Sitting on that plane seat, I could never have been prepared for what I was about to see, feel and sense. Egypt was a revelation, in more ways than one. We hit Cairo city and chaos. It reminded me so much of India and I warmed up to it instantly :) A quaint hotel in  the middle of the city accorded a better view of everyday city life in Cairo. But by then, I had frozen into an icicle. It was 9 degrees!! 

The next day, Giza loomed large before us. And the pyramids loomed larger :) I was awestruck. If I could find words, they choked in my throat. The 3 pyramids stretch into the skies, tall, magnificent triangles fitted into an exquisite jigsaw of perfectly uniform stones and you wonder - "HOW???" 

No amount of Discovery or NGC can prepare you for this. Our guide, Iman was wonderfully eloquent...being an archeology graduate herself and having worked with Dr. Zahi Hawass, who I am a huge fan of (o.k., o.k....I am a geek)...she gave us an even deeper insight into Egyptian history. After entering the pyramid, which was a looooong claustrophobic way down a narrow shaft, we entered an ammonia-drenched pyramid interior. The tapering at the apex was perfect, reaching upwards with clean-cut symmetrical stones...smooth and unglued, just fitted into place! After climbing out of it, breathless and hardly able to feel your legs, I knew what it was like to 'Walk like an Egyptian'! 

Giza's Sphinx welcomed us majestically and gloomily...missing a nose isn't easy! The half-man, half-beast had secrets he was unwilling to share. Although he did speak in a sonorous voice via the modern-day light and sound show at Giza!

From there to the Egyptian Museum, which was a smorgasbord of such spectacular glimpses into a rich heritage. Pity we weren't allowed to take our cameras. I went from one display to the next with the predominant question in mind "HOW??". Everything was larger-than-life - the display of pyramidal wealth, accessories - everything to ease the passage into the afterlife. The sculptures, the artistry, the detailing, the sheer talent of a people way ahead of their times. Tut-Ankh-Amon's chamber - sacredly standing, aloof and dignified with the boy king's treasures up for public scrutiny. 'Oh's and 'Ah's peppered around, the artifacts made me wonder at the meticulous attention to detail these ancients mastered. 

And then....strange things happened, which you will never find in a travel guide :) A man approached our guide and started talking to her, fretting over something. A lengthy discussion later, our guide turned to explain. She said the man had visions everyday of a Queen/Goddess  who had an unfinished crown on her head. He said that the queen told him that he was the only one who could finish the crown for her and he had to do it. He paced the museum halls hoping to find her. We kept looking out for a statue with an unfinished/ broken crown...and we chanced upon Tutmoses III's wife. She had an unfinished crown on her head and we wondered...was she the one who haunted the man? Unfortunately, we couldn't find him anywhere.

Iman told us many more stories...of the guide who took a bunch of Europeans to the temple of the Goddess Hathor and plunged to her death after having climbed the roof of the temple, crying wildly "She's calling me! I have to go!"....Of the cigarette smoke in Hathor's temple that assumed the shape of a cow - her symbol. One day could never be enough for the museum, not with stories like that!

Saqqara, the Nile cruise, the ride around town, observing cultures, taking in everything....

...I really can't put it all down...REALLY. You have to see it for yourself. And there's so much more to explore. I have just seen a sneak preview - there's still Luxor, Alexandria, Valley of the Kings...

Although it's very little I've seen, Egypt pervades the senses and remains. And i keep dreaming of going back.

 

And so it shall pass :)

 

A li'l late, but Happy New Year it is!!

Geez! it has been long...and I somehow feel awkward writing after this hiatus. As for me, 2009 started on an excellent note with a trip to Egypt! (This one's for another day). So, I'm still warm and snug from memories of that trip. But for now, the words aren't pouring out like they should... and I'm racking my brains for things to talk about other than my holiday...so this one, I'll sign off with a (albeit late) wish for the New Year :) And hope that my next blog is more verbose!

I wish you all with so much happiness that it makes you cry...

I wish you all so much health that you glow with life...

I wish you all so many more years that you can fulfill each dream, each wish...

Most importantly, I wish you all new dreams, new hopes and renewed lives.

I wish you all...a fabulous, rocking 2009 :)