second consecutive day in the JNU library...

well well... i am sitting on the computer adjacent to the one i had hijacked yesterday...
but there is something else that drives me to write this now...
i can see the same neem tree where the little bird sat yesterday, and the same sun trying to cast shadows...
but the tree reminded me of something else today...
a train of thought had followed when i looked at it. they worship the need tree somewhere in this country. i guess, it's not the neem, but the banyan or the peepul..i was confused when the thought really occured, but this fact took me to the day when i had seen the story of the world's origin in a serial called Jai Ma Vaishno Devi.
Not that i am an ardent fan of the serial, but the actress who plays the goddess if BEAUTIFUL! Anyways, coming back to the scene when the goddess is looking for someone to start the world with, in short do 'shrishti rachna' and decides do so with the man created out of the 'tama gun' in herself after the men created out of 'sat gun' and 'raj gun' refused to indulge in procreative activities with their 'mother', I realised discrimination against women had begun much before life became so difficult for an ordinary woman in this world.
Shakti surrendered all her powers to the man she created, 'Shiva'. Shiva became 'ardhanarishwar'. I do not know if it actually happened. I do not hold any authority over these topics. i don't know if she actually did it, or made to do it by the man who told this story for the first time. but the story of the Goddess who had to surrender all her powers before wanting to start a family to a man she herself created seemed like 'oh i have heard that before!' doesn't that happen to women all over the world?
i know, i might be talking of a past. 'come on, women are empowered today', 'they are educated' they know what's good for them, 'they rate their career as their priority' etc etc. but this happens to a rare community of those women who have been lucky enough to get education and understand what Bouvoire said a long time back, 'one is not born a woman, one is made a woman'.
Even today, as a survey done by my friend Imran from the center of Law and Governance will tell you, women face discrimination. harrassment is another truth many happily, unfortunately and deliberately ignore. market places, colleges, cinemas, etc have stories of women being discriminated against on the basis of gender, caste, region etc. I believe i heard a saying once, 'if you have sinned for 7 incarnations, you are born a woman, and if you have sinned for 14, you are born a women of the lower caste'. My heart weeps to say that there are many generations in this country and many in the world who have taken this seriously, whether they have heard it or not, and indulged in centuries of oppression of a class that if free, could have made much better of the world than it is today.

in the JNU library...

drooling from the right corner of my mouth, as i was looking out of the windows of the cyber library, through the beautiful beige sun shields put up there with the afternoon sun trying to get past them and reach us to create unfinished, abstract and somewhat beautiful shadows near the uninterrupted power supply box for the computers, at the tiny silhouette of the bird sitting on one of the branches of the huge neem tree right outside the window, i was thinking of one of my friends who by now, had become one of the prominet literary figures of young indian literature. he is my age, and somehow that is something my ma cannot seem to digest...she loves me and thinks i have the 'potential' to win awards nobody of my age has ever received. i was thinking about how lately, i have lost my touch...not the touch, but the 'touch' that transforms something mundane done by me into a miracle. not that it is not giving me some peace of mind. I was happy at, presently having no hopes from myself the unfulfillment of which would cause pain. Suddenly when i was basking in the happiness of being 'hopeless', i thought of the hundreds of students that studied here. i craned my neck to look at some of them who were sitting with their minds thinking of nothing else but what to write in the flat computer screen glowing in front of them, for the next term paper, the next research topic and the next seminar presentation. Working 25 hours a day, these students want to make a mark in the scholarly sky of JNU...some of them have political ambitions, some social and some intellectual. Take our president Sandeep. One of the most politically sound people I have met, who eats, drinks and breathes his brand of ideologies. One who sincerely, in the heart of heart believes that the world can be made rid of discrimation. he has hopes, for himself, for his people and for his ideologies...and he is happy that he is relentlessly working for them. take my friend pamir, he has hopes that he will find love before he turns 31 (that's what is the age that his kundali says when he will get married) and he is on the look out for it...take my room mate khadeeja, she hopes that she will read 5 books in one day and finish a term paper for one of the most kharoos teachers we have and impress him to get at least an A-...take the 199 students sitting in front of 199 hi-tech latest computers (the 200th being hijacked by me to write this) who have hopes of clearing this years UPSC, JPSC, RPSC, PCS or some other such examination with a CS in the end, researching, reading, writing and submitting their synopsis in 10 days and yet, manage to pass it and work online for some organisation or the other which pays them while doing their MA or m.phil at the same time. They all have hopes. hopes keep them going. a hope to reach that stage when hopes will not be very scary. when hopes, yours, your parents', your peers won't hound you every night in your dreams and leave you awake with their weight pressing mercilessly down on your chest. when i look at the faces of the 199 intent people bent on their computers, and am now trying to pretend that i am the 200th one doign the same, wiping the drool that has dried up by now...a hope silently creeps ininto my mind as well...probably, i can hope to be 'hopeless' a year or so from now, if i start working for that...probably i can prove myself once and for all and be done with it. not a bad idea. but that calls for a year of work and research and all that JNU students sitting in the library do and i don't. but yes, for a 'hopeless' fun filled and no holds barred life...it's worth taking the risk!

BRING IT ON!

brain scan?

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that would be exactly how my brain would look right now if you took a 'blog-imprint' of it...

written in typical womanly frustration...no it is not pms...

it is so difficult to take airs from someone, right? specially when it is someone whom, in ordinary circumstances you won't even look at...let alone fight with?

awwwwwww...it just rips my nerves apart to do this...but i guess...stuff have to be done to survive in this world...

just an old memory...

i come from a college where every extra curricular activity was the topmost priority for the interested students, much to the displeasure of the teachers...and with the weapon of internal assessment (now what that is, is another story) the teachers threatened not to give us any attendence if we do not attend classes on the pretext of dance or music classes...

so, it so happened that the theatre group in the college was a bit over excited about their participation and probably their very existence...

now i had many friends in the group...lots of them...a few were seniors as well...

i was in the second year the time this memory happened. one of the members of the group who had passed out of college that year but was still very much in touch with her group mates, came to college... we were sitting in the auditorium at that time...me being a part of the group that year was involved in their practice sessions.

now this particular senior i am talking about walked into the auditorium like the leader of a female elephant herd walking into the water pool and the others making way for her...

so she walks in...its almost a year after which she walks inside the auditorium and feels the air...she takes a deep breath and expresses her desire to walk on the stage... we are just too happy to oblige...

we make way and she takes the coveted steps on the stage after almost a year and says...

'orgasmic'

someone standing beside me and watching the entire episode muttered in my ear, 'have i heard wrong? shouldn't it be nostalgic?'

i don't know, but her expression made me relate so much with her...
not the feeling ofcourse (come on, i was in a girls college and in my second year only!) but the way she expressed all the joy, the sorrow, the excitement, the pleasure, the pain in just one simple word...it summed up all the literature for me at that moment...

sushmita sen once said, 'if you are having sex, god bless you with an orgasm' ...probably the fact that women do not have too many of these made her understand and relate this emotion to what she felt at that moment...

too many orgasms here right? i hope my mum doesn't read this... he he...

relief...

relief...
it just sweeps over you, doesn't it?
or makes you leave yourself in its arms like the last time you did at the dance with the guy you had a crush on, doesn't it?
it just leaves you feeling phewwwwwwwww...
almost like the bliss after a night of love?
almost like after your first orgasm?
it just is so relaxing that everything else matters so freakin less...right?

i just felt all this at the same time today...

just appreciating something we seldom talk about...

relief...
thanks for coming to me...

and ma...

boyfriends couldn't care less...

ya, that's true...
no, it's definitely not..
these are my answers to the two questions that would pop into the minds of people who actually bother to read my blog... (i am not sure there are many, but i like to be optimistic)
it is true that i think like this and no, this is not another male bashing site of a disillusioned feminist just out of an english honors course in college...
it just says from my experience...
naaaaah...me have not been lucky enough to have many of them...boyfriends i mean...but somehow this very fact makes me a non-contender in the race of boyfriend collection, and thus, i have many friends who share there deepest and darkest secrets with me (it's not as bad as you think) and i am something of an agony aunt in some wierd magazine that is published by some wierd people and read by wierder ones.

an expert in relationships this makes me i am sure...
one thing i have seen everywhere, don't know whether this makes girls the whiny, complaining creatures that they are always made out to be or the boys, the ice cold personalities who care about nothing else but having an arm candy...
times have changed without a doubt with girls having their career as their first priority, family second...but the basic college going girl remains the same..
and there is a separate thrill about this entire thing that i feel in these relationships that makes them effervescent...
whatever!
what i was talking about was that probably guys do not care about what the girl's family thinks about him like the girls do...
it doesn't really matter to them...
what the heck..
i m not being able to put it the way i want to...
i hate when this happens
whatever...
i will pick this up sometime else...

old spot of gold...

its freakin hot here in delhi...
and all those who study in jnu or anywhere in the city, and who are originally from colder regions of the world will understand what i mean...
the road actually seems to be made of fire! you walk, you get scathed, you ride, you get scathed, you exist and you get scathed from head to toe in the heat...
in this heat, sippin' on a cold drink (it says orange on the label but has wierd taste that has nothing orangy about it except leaving you tongue looking like as if you just puked 2 litres of orange dye), i suddenly remembered what it was to actually taste a thanda...
the cold milk with a hint of rooh-afza, the nimbu paani ma made back in assam, the thandai with lots or kesar and other secret recipe stuff that mum never divulged in front of the neiborhood aunty...or even our very own goldspot!
ah...
how i remember the old cold drink....
it almost meant a treat when dad uttered the word almost 12 years back. cold drink meant gold spot and gold spot meant cold drink...guess it was only after a very long time that i learnt to say pepsi or coke or anything like that...for me, it was always goldspot, with the latest additions to the market it only became black goldspot...but goldspot it was...
i still love that drink...and just for the sake of nostalgia, the belief that the world stays as innocent as it was when i was a kid, the hope that i may return to childhood once again and find that old spot of gold that my sanctuary was, i would love to taste goldspot again..
just to cheer myself up, when i have a labrador retriever as a pet, i am gonna name it goldspot!

i am so freakin irritated with the 'can we have friendship?' 'can we friens???' ' do we have friendship' and other super stupid questions that i am forced to face in community sites...

without any warning...such question, hideously, atrociously and outrageously grammatically wrong jump at me from the computer screens at all times from the pc window...mornig, evening, noon, night..they leave no space to breathe...and that too when i am NOT drop dead material! gosh...people can go to lengths of desperation...

and i though community sites were meant to get in touch with ol' friends...

whatever...

it's almost as disgusting as someone pinging you 'hey, how are you' right in the middle of an important piece of work you might be doing...as if people take for granted that 'net pe hai to velli hi hogi'...

gimme a break...

a chat i had with one of my dearest and closest friends...

The following is a chat i had with one of my closest friends Shruti Sareen (SS is what I call her).
We have a bond that cannot be easily understood by many...we hurl insults at each other at the drop of a hat. Someone who would overhear would have his eyebrows disappear into his hair, but we never mind...

One of our english teachers told our class one day that at one point of time in the history of English literature, insulting someone (the art of satire and lampoon writing) was one which demanded the most wit and cleverness... Since then, its been our (me and SS) solemn duty to keep the world of Dryden and Pope alive (within ourselves ofcourse..both of us being aspiring writers, i am sure we are going to hone our skills practicing at each other before the world is ready to fall prey to our 'witticisms')

Here is a practice session...

Mind you, Shruti is one of the people whose fashion sense i grew up to admire
(thanks to fab india, sujata, dhara et al)

And shruti, if you are reading this, I am sorry!
You can call me as many asses you want...


Shruti: maddy

me: hey! sss

Shruti: SSS??

SS or ASS??

me: same thing...

not much of a difference u c...

Shruti: hehehe

tu bataa, whats up?

me: nothing much...

writing on ma blog...

Shruti: sometiems i remmeber all the insults you've given me... esp "in god's world of fashion, you are a production malfunction"

me: i said that!

man...

Shruti: and I do not deserve it!!!

me: i am damn intelligent!

Shruti: why???

me: to furnish something like that!

that's not cool, that's simply KEWL!!!

Shruti: yeah, you called yoruself wittier than Dryden

me: he he...

Shruti: dryden would eb ashamed if he were alive

me: duh!

me: see, that's y u r an ass...

Shruti: uff!!!!

me: dryden would be proud!

Shruti: only, yiou're a bigger one!! that's the only differnce

me: ya...bigger asses make one look sexier...

you don't understand, that's y, u c, production malfunction...

he he...

uff! i will kill myself with all the wit i have one day!

ha ha...

Shruti: ugh!!!!!

ASS!!!!!

what logic!!!!!!!!!!

me: BIGG one...plz add...

he he

Sent at 8:03 PM on Friday