Narcoleptic

A month no different, no new

2009-11-12T08:10:00.004+05:30

Dark, twisted people should not be allowed to blog.

They will rarely ever find inspiration to write, they will jump to superlatives of pessimism. They will not write for so long that they'll get all rusty and take like 5 minutes to type out a decent length-ed sentence.

All ME.

In retrospect, my life is getting nowhere but I am hanging on, by an ever so flimsy thread. January will be interesting. I might have a cardiac arrest later that month. That is when the college acceptances/ rejections start coming in. Right now, I have a paper to write within a fortnight and I have no data at all, and guess what? my graduation depend on this paper.

Mustered up the courage to apply for a PhD program at Hopkins, that's pretty much the high point of my week.

I seriously need some inspiration, an Italian hottie maybe, what say?

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The leaves were white before they turned Orange

2009-10-19T09:38:00.009+05:30

So, the last few weeks:

Took a major aptitude test, got drunk, came back home reeking of musty south Indian dishes after having helped cook for 500 people, drank some more, procrastinated to the point of nauseating myself, came threateningly close to lashing out at this man I am forced to work with, discovered Alexi Murdoch, befriended a Colombian Latina, donned a sari to the local Durga Puja, raised funds at the campus for a flood back in India, fell in love with a Polish young lady, batted eyelashes at a south Indian grad student – and then forgot all about him 24 hours later, got funded for a project to last me half a year, got whammed on the nose by the workplace politics I was hitherto unaware of, found that I am too fat now to fit into my only pair of formal pants, wallowed over the weight gain with junk food, missed three buses in a row, got asked out by a creepy black student and came very close to a heart attack in the process, witnessed the winter set in after letting a sneak peek at Fall for a mere week.

Sounds like a lot ? Really? Nevermind.
But their goes one entire month of my life that I will never get to redo.

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When there are things going on

2009-09-26T04:00:00.002+05:30

MAJOR exam meltdown, will resurface in a couple of weeks.

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Realizing

2009-09-14T23:59:00.005+05:30

What you know: So, obsessive neurotic that I am, I could make my heart go 400 beats a minute, wondering if I should take the plunge or dwell forever in the bitter incapacitating misery jabbing every rib bone of mine, one excruciating poke at a time.

What I learned: Answer to everything you ever wondered about is just one step away. You just NEED TO ASK.

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Where you need more than an Orange Button to publish

2009-09-09T10:11:00.006+05:30

Ah the joys of Senior year.
This time of the year all vestiges of pride fade away, when you practically wander from one professor's door to another - requesting, mooching, downright begging. This is when the stringencies of classroom conformity seize to exist. What I mean is, given my undergraduate field of study, I am most likely supposed to go the extra mile in a research laboratory, and no, one is not enough. So I snub back all inhibitions, and approach the professors directly. And guess what, they actually think I am good enough. Okay, so this was a year back. so you'd expect that I should have got this covered, right? Well, turns out - not so much. Now I need to get a paper published.
Wait, WHAT?
Right, as an undergrad, I need my name up there, alongside people I'd consider nothing less than celebrities - people who, given their 15 years of experience, make my 4 measly years of college education look like pigeon poo. Well, at least that is what page after page of graduate admission requirements tell me.
So I wander around the hallways resplendent with the palpable air of academic intellect, muttering to myself "Will not pass out, Shall not pass out".

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What do you say when they point at you?

2009-09-07T11:55:00.002+05:30

Once in a very long while, you realise that the little bubble you have built around you may not be as resilient as you would prefer to believe. Like when you find out someone has been talking about you. Good things? Atrocious unaccountable snide? It doesn't really matter. Because as far as I am concerned, either elicit a similar reaction. A feeling of helplessness, of being jolted back into reality without prior warning - there are people looking at you, forming opinions about, saying things about you - and here you believed you are invisible. The wispy imperceptible veil, that until now only fluttered sporadically to let you catch fleeting glimpses of what lies beyond, now melts away, and you feel naked and raw - exposed to the leers of all.

Even when good things are being said, the very knowledge of other people acknowledging your existence can be disconcerting. It means you will have to peek out of your little existential carapace, and match them eye for eye, beat for beat. Your countenance will betray the scuffle inside of you, blood searing through the veins up your flustered cheeks, evoking awkward sensations you never knew you could feel, summoning the most incoherent of all ramblings, airbrushing your otherwise pallid face in the hottest of red.

Embarrassed? What for? They only mentioned you once. Well that still does it, doesn't it?

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THAT is your last name?! (are you sure?)

2009-09-02T11:17:00.007+05:30

We are taught to take immense pride in our names, right?

One can certainly notice how much their name stands out in a foreign land. You can see the annoyance furrowed into the foreheads of the customer service agents ... "Ughhh, not another Indian freak!". I have noticed, people at the university to be somewhat more patient, if not occassionally interested, with learning strange sounding names. Though when you step out, one may often neglect to refer to you as anything at all, just because they cannot pronounce your name.

Although, the name is quite simple and straightforward, granted you may have never heard of it unless you have associated with atleast over three hundred Indians, it simply doesnt make sense not being able to grasp it. It is pronounced just the way it's spelt and there really isn't any more to it. Nevermind all of that, I have so far encountered all variations of it, some people just go ahead and say "Oh, I will never remember that!", with a downward intonation indicating they'd much rather bathe their dogs following a mudfest, or watch the 700th rerun of Seinfeld. Some just add a 't' somewhere in between to make it easier for them to pronounce it. No idea how that happened.

My last name is the source of an even greater controversy, and often amusement. It is small, consisting of a single syllable. Now, people don't have a problem with pronouncing that right (or atleast what they think is right), but now the shortness of it makes them smile ("Ah, one less Muthukumaraswami to spell").

Somehow, this never bothered me until today. Maybe I never noticed how common this phenomenon is. Today I had to explain my name to 3 administrative assistants, 2 professors, 5 customer service agents and 2 research technicians - by the end of the last round, I did not tell my name anymore, all I did was spell it out and hope the person was bright enough to grasp the 5 letters in quick succession.

Not that I am thoroughly peeved by this or anything, just a little frustrated. I do however realise, why this problem may have arisen. Maybe all they need is some substantial exposure to the quintessential Hindi daytime soap. 'Ekta Kapoor', what say?

After all, I do find it quite difficult to acquaint myself to Asian names like "Xihauo", or "Xiunjing" and the likes, but I am making an effort to get better at it. I wonder if they feel the same way, or they recognise that it may be genuinely difficult for non-Chinese/Korean/Japanese/Vietnamese/etc. people to pronounce their names. The common trend for them is to come up with generic western names like "Ben" or "Amy" to avoid all confusion. Even the professors who are originally from these parts of the world participate in this practice. But I am often curious to know their real names. And I do ask them, "that isn't your real name right?". They don't seem too impressed, at all. And that leaves me bewildered, for all I know they may be fighting back the urge to kick me in my shins. Why? I don't know. But I am sure they have a good reason.

Maybe I need a new name too. Nah, I'm too proud to do that.

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There you go...

2009-08-31T06:33:00.003+05:30

Keep to yourself, keep to yourself, keep to yourself!

Get it? No? Well, keep that to yourself.

There is no need to let people know you are basically a glorified dud. There is no need to get whiny, please. There is no need to be pretty, look pretty or act pretty. You do not need to be able to finish a sentence you have started only to realise you don't know how it's supposed to end. Nope!

You don't need a dog, or a car, or even clothes. You do not need to be an intellectual whine-ass. No need to tell people how you really feel, no need to beat yourself for letting them know how you feel. There is no need to be guilty, no need to obsess, no need to check out a white guy who don't really like.

You don't need to think logical, coherent blocks of thought. No need to pretend that you aren't really deranged. There is no need to blame Cheetos for that pit in your stomach, no need to drink beer when you hate it anyway.

You don't need to stay up nights, worrying a lifetime's worries. Just shut your eyes up tight, bite your tongue, and hope everything will melt away when you are awake again.

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Listening

2009-08-17T03:33:00.006+05:30

1. Nitin Sawhney - The Boatman. I wish I could find a better version of this online. Even though I personally feel this is his best work ever, this particular song seems to be the most difficult to come across on the internet.

2. Nitin Sawhney - Falling

3. Radiohead - In Rainbows

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One Whole Year

2009-08-17T00:25:00.006+05:30

One year back, to this very hour, I was probably hung in midair somewhere over the Atlantic.
12 hours later, I found myself wide-eyed in a foreign looking quaint little airport - not so much an airport than a little homey aviation museum.
My first flight was to Frankfurt, the second flight landed at Chicago, and the third flight, which was more like a bus with huge metal wings, would be the last one I would have flown in for about a year, was significant in so many ways. After over 18 hours of flying and over 24 hours of traveling over all, I was impatient to get home, or something I would call home for the next 9 months.
Even when I was sitting in that last flight, with my head pressed against the window - I already felt relieved, hopeful and situated. I felt like I was actually going somewhere with all the chaos that I had been through the past couple of months. It felt like it would all pay off now.

I am not sure if it did, but I can attempt to go over the developments.

1. I had an academically successful year, overall
2. I have a well paying job. Yeah, it's on campus - federal law does not allow us international students to work outside of campus.
3. I finally have a room of my own! Yes, that is significant enough to be mentioned here.
4. I am about to graduate is a few months.

And that is where I would like to stop recapitulating.
I have mixed feelings about this day. At some level it feels like a significant one, one that I will remember every year. However, mostly it's just another day - a casual Sunday, where my computer is shot, (I think the hard drive bailed on me, that annoying little wretch!!), my stomach aches from all the spicy food, my laundry basket is dangerously close to overflowing and I am in a very conspicuous need of a haircut.

I wish I had something more meaningful going on. But I don't.

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Graduation Shmaduation

2009-08-16T07:21:00.004+05:30

About to graduate in December - I do not know if that is something that should bring me joy.

I am currently going through something that can be best defined as a Graduate's Nightmare.
Okay, so I am looking for grad schools, and yeah if you thought undergraduate applications were tough, well wait 4 years and then you see that all the crap about college being the "real world" meant nothing until you got to grad school. Now undergraduate college seems like heaven when I even look at the grad school admission pages. They expect you to have grown up by now, yes you are supposed to know exactly what you want, and to have exact credentials to match your choice. Well, that seems reasonable enough. But what about people like me, who think that every decision they make is going to blow up in their faces and bury them alive.

A major dilemma I face is deciding between productivity and interest. When I read through the various faculty research pages, there are these certain areas of research that stand out and glare at me like the lights at Vegas at midnight. I go like "that is so cool, that is so what I want to do for next 5 years". They are singular, novel and have never been done before. And that, is the very problem. I find myself disheartened by the fact that I will essentially be taking a risk by throwing myself into such a specialized field of study, and that I will not have a lot of options once I complete grad school. I find the scientist in me die a little every time I reject a program on these grounds. I look for a program that could help me later on, that could help me find jobs, buy a house and look after my parents when they are old and wrinkly.

Somehow, what I really want has been shoved into the deep crevasses of my subconscious, peeping out sporadically when I come across something that is supposed to stimulate the scientific spirit in me. I am so overwhelmed by figures of GRE scores, financial aid, stipends, course eligibilities, that I often find myself floundering around to re-evaluate the reason that motivated to get into all of this in the first place. Most days I don't know where to start, where to look and what to settle upon.

I guess this is one of the reasons that makes me feel like I am a disadvantage for being an international student in the U.S. I have no knowledge of the reputations of the universities here. Of course we all know the best ones, but that somehow applies mostly to undergraduate choices. For graduate programs, I learned after much research, I could not rely on my meager knowledge of college credentials.

So what do I do? I loathe researching college applications. I delay it, and delay it some more. Meanwhile my dad freaks out over how I need to shortlist my choices "BY THE END OF THIS MONTH!", and I just 'hmm' my way out of those awkward conversations with him.

Also I binge on fatty food. I know, that seems unrelated - but my corpulence index seems to be gaining momentum once again owing to the hypertension-clinical depression combo pummeling away on my head all day. There were these nice few weeks, when I had become conscious of all that stuffed into my mouth, and planned out my grocery lists and such. But of course, that fell through, as I got closer and closer to August

So, yeah I graduate in December. I so don't want to know what happens after that.

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Minneapolis '09

2009-08-12T07:35:00.008+05:30

I went over to my aunt's place, over at Minneapolis for a few days. We then traveled to Duluth and beyond. This picture was taken with my cousin (left) at Gooseberry Falls State Park, which happens to be very close to Canada. I loved the water there, even jumped around the boulders a little. There is something very alluring about nature, something I don't realize until I am planted right at the middle of it, with wild lizards crawling around me.

My mother's birthday happened to coincide with one of the days of my visit there. She wasn't there, but my aunt (mom's sister) thought it would be nice to have a cake all the same. Apparently I qualified as the next of kin. There was a pink ribbon and everything.

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Who's the boss?

2009-08-12T00:07:00.003+05:30

So, computers. Who said they can't be the most vicious, most formidable, most exhausting monster you will face?

So what if this horrible horrible little piece of scareware/malware has slurched all the way down your throat, into the lowest point of your gut. So what if barely a month before your GRE and college applications has technology decided to turn your life upside down, so much so that you are actually enjoying the change of pace that this unexpected threat has brought along?

Oh, no! You have to hate it. You have to fret.

On a different note, I held a guitar yesterday, at BestBuy, and instantly fell in love with it. I have no idea how bad I will be at it. But right at that moment, when I cradled that beautiful piece of woodwork in my arms, there is nothing I wanted more than to just take it home. And then my brain fought it way back, kicking my 'aww'-ing heart in its shins, and reminded me how I need to save money. Cliptt! That was my heart being shut back in its cage again.

Ah well, maybe someday.

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Second time around

2009-08-07T09:35:00.006+05:30

I guess I have been away for so long that I was literally surprised by the new (to me) 'Monetize' tab up on blogger. Gosh!

Now, about the desertion. Basically I had been whining a lot, and I figured that is not how I wanted this space to be. I wanted it to be a somewhat decent extension of my already irreparably screwed up persona.

I cringed at the thought of going through my older posts. I did not want to whirl down that vortex again, you know? Now, under no circumstances do I think that I need to justify any of it, and the sole reason I say any of this is so that I can look back at this time, years from now and be comforted by the fact that there was this one day I felt strong enough to stride out of the abyss in me and make a semi physical contact with the world outside. That been said, I realised that to be able to do that I need to be completely honest and be myself, no matter what. Now, you may be thinking "What is so challenging about that?" Well most of my life I have struggled with letting people see what I really am like, and it goes without saying that here, in this space too, I haven't projected myself in my true identity. Of course I haven't lied about who I am, or what I am like, but in a way - I probably have. I always hoped to get in touch with who I will be when I grow up.

And now that I guess I am pretty much grown up, there are things that I am discovering about myself that really do not make me very happy. So all I am saying is, when I realised that what I am saying here is not helping me in any way, that it is not enriching me, or satisfying me, or even letting me vent for that matter, I knew that I needed to be true to this space if I wanted it to be a true reflection of my life.

I think a part of whatever it is that held me back, was the lack anonymity I had allowed this blog to enjoy. People I know, people who know me personally used to read this blog. And of course, neurotic that I am, I would obsess over every possible reaction they would experience to what I write.

Remember though, I am from India, so blogs aren't that big a deal there. Moms do not blog there, men above a certain age are skeptical about using the internet for anything other than business, and barely manage to associate it with only sports, news or pornography. Enlightened-quasi intellectual-emotionally estranged high school students do blog, but they 'grow out' of it by the time they start college, and the few that stick around through college write about food and movies, or powerful women at the most. Also there is the category who are poets and have discovered this channel to burgeon their creativity. I, of course, landed into none of these categories. If anything I would probably come closest to a disgruntled teenager, wading through the pangs of self destruction - so the high school 'emos'.

But really, I did not want to see myself as any of that. I wanted to be proud of myself and to reinforce by belief in the strength of my character. You see, right after I landed in the United States, I lost all sense of identity. That might sound strange, because in a land that I was so alienated in, that only thing I trully felt sure about should have been myself, right? But no, turns out I spent way too much time with myself, over analysing every single move I made, and consequently getting so wrapped up in it all that somewhere down the road, I completely lost touch with myself.

Suddenly I wasn't sure of my decisions anymore, I regretted things after I had calculatedly decided on them, I did not like the clothes I bought a week after, I didn't know what cuisine I like the most. I no longer knew what my favorite color was, did not like Poets of the Fall anymore, did not enjoy walking by myself.

You'd expect my saying all of this to have a point right? That everything turned out fine, that I had a moment of revelation, and that I looked through all of this?

Okay, that has not happened. I loathe myself, now more that ever, and may have stringed other people into this mess. However, something makes me feel that even the act of thinking all of this aloud, or even putting them down in published text will help me sort things out better. This may be one of the most fulfilling things that I have done in months, and I am glad I waited until I was strong enough to sift through the junk inside of me to find a handful of cogent thoughts that I could string together and form something coherent and honest and that did not make me want to gag a minute after hitting that orange button down there.

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2009-02-23T03:34:00.003+05:30

I have been away. Not because I have gone nuts again.
I have plenty to say.

I'm just not sure if anyone is listening.
That's why.

I need to get over it. And I will - soon enough.
And I'll be back.

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You know, the review..

2009-01-28T09:56:00.012+05:30

This is the review. I feel like I should do something to it. Frame it. Take screenshots of it. I was curious to see how people reacted to what I write, and I knew it would be a long time before I'd actually get the review. So there I was, sprinting around like a maniac at the computer center, printing out truckloads of lab assignments and protocols, and there it was - the beaming pregnant email - the review.

Shit!

And then I read it, catching approximately one phrase per sentence, given the 2 minute window I managed to catch in the middle of a routine school day. And I smiled, smiled like no one had seen me smile before. And then I had to run. And of course I missed the bus. But it was ok. A wind chill of -35 celsius doesn't really upset me anymore. Today I even walked around campus without a hat. But I digress.
So the point is, I loved the review.

At least, now I know my English isn't crappy. Or is it?

Well my boss thinks I need 'help' with responses. He teaches me how I need to respond when someone is done making stupid jokes. Apparently I am supposed to say "Thank Goodness!". "That's ok" works too. Of course this is a man who makes fun of me because I study a lot, and am 'tiny', not that the two are connected in any way. He also thinks I don't know what caterpillars, carpets and clay are, because I am from India. So, I don't know what to say when he says anything at all, because I know he has this novel response worked out in his brain which I am supposed to live up to. So I get sweaty and grin like a moron, hoping that would be enough. But I absolutely adore the man and couldn't ask for a better person to work with, and who knows, maybe I'll really learn some 'kick-ass' stuff to say and stun the 'duuuudes'.

I have been trying to work on that 'About Me' page, but I guess it's not as easy as it sounds. I also wanted to play around with the template, but college happened. It's sad that I have a photos link up in the link bar, but no links to the new photos. Well I ran out of free space on flickr, and now I have to delete the older ones. So I guess I'll just get rid of that link and post all the photos here. (See, I'm not editing!)
Anyway Lyell and Steno need my attention now.
But I do have some pictures for you.

Evenings with much to do and more to whine about

Some days, I love the snow. Some days I could hose it green.

Home. Someday maybe.

Finals week, the hair - oh the hair!.

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The Ailing Acerb

2009-01-23T08:13:00.003+05:30

5 months of 'The American Way' hasn't been easy so far.

I have learned that human beings can be insightful and dreary, all at the same time.
I see people around me, all the time, all day. And I am sure, most of them are pretty nice people. What stops me from being nice to them? From smiling and them and not being awkward when thy try to be nice to me? I justify by saying, I am tired enough without trying to make new friends.
Old friends have wisped out into oblivion somehow. I don't know if they care, it's been ages since I last had a chance to find out.

Either I am paranoid, and a complete self-deprecating freak, or I am plain scared.

Change has never worked for me. I take ages to adjust and set my cushions right. Making new friends, and then losing them is probably something I am not bold enough to face. Something ticks off inside me, and makes me run away. I wonder if it's always going to be this way for me.
Pretty damn sketchy.

Organized freak that I am, I am prepared for everything that comes my way. I have the weeks planned out. Not in a creepy, obsessive way. But in my mind? everything is chalked out. I do it subconsciously, I never make a conscious effort to plan my hours. So when something jumps out at me from the bushes, this I don't have planned out. I panic, and lose grace. Maybe I should hide in a bunker somewhere, and do us all a favor.
I wonder if I am messing with myself. Prodding and poking myself into glorified un-socialism each day at a time.

I wish I could find better words. To write and to speak.

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First Words

2009-01-14T01:50:00.003+05:30

He said, "You seem intelligent"
I said, "You look like an ape"

Happy Birthday.

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If I were an alcoholic, I'd be the best one ever

2009-01-04T03:48:00.003+05:30

So here's to a crappy start to another year.

I am half a world away from where I was last year at this point, but things inside of me haven't changed much. I seem to have plunged right back into my depression. So much so that little things rake up the junk settled around that itchy little hole inside of my chest, straining the insides of my eyes and inducing an explosive headache. Tears have run out on me too. All I have is 88 cent a bottle of cheap 7 Up helping me wade through my weekends filled with miserable mush and gore.

I currently despise all human contact. Not because I hate them, but it's more of a kind of a rebellion. They make me feel insignificant, invisible, unworthy - and frankly they have no idea what they are up against. I am glad I am able to look after myself even when I am so messed up. I am glad I am not one of those unfortunate people who lose complete touch with themselves in an effort to get back at the world. But I miss being happy nevertheless. I miss looking forward to my birthday, which happens to be a week from now, in a happy daze. I miss eating proper meals with respectable amounts of carbohydrates in them. No, don't get me wrong, I am currently gorging only and only on extremely high fat junk, so my self esteem is on its way down the drain as well.

It's funny how I always claimed to be a loner, because I now realise that I probably wasn't one ever. Now that I think of it, I really blame the people around me for it. I know that is wrong in more ways than I can possibly think of, but that's just how I feel now. I have been abandoned mid-flight more than once, and it hurt so much that I gave up on society. I, however, did manage to bounce back again, but only when I got tired of the darkness and the night after night of crappy movies, I guess. Right now, I am no where close to feeling good about anything, atleast that is what I keep thinking, but then the smallest semblance of smile from someone cheers me up, even just a tiny bit, and I realise how wrong I am about myself. People do make a difference, a big one that too. Maybe that's the problem?

Anyway, I realise I have no idea what is going on inside of that haunted head of mine. And having equally messed up people around me doesn't help at all. It makes me cranky and jumpy and jealous. Jealous, of my friends who spent their new years walking around Times Square and drinking to the fireworks at NYC. Jealous of all the people in love, people who have people to care for them. Jealous, of all the dimmed lights in the basements of the cozy little houses next to where I live.

Nights give way to days, I try to shake the thoughts out, but the pain remains. It may be corny, but it really really hurts.

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Thank You

2008-12-22T02:33:00.004+05:30

There are days when you feel like smelliest bit of crap and then a sweet gesture from someone you have never met makes you smile, even if it's for a moment.
Things have been bad the last couple of weeks. I am a wreck, and no one knows it. No one needs to know. I feel invisible. There may be an upside to this, but I don't see it yet.

Anyway, I couldn't thank D enough for my first blog award ever. I had no clue what I was supposed to do with it, but I soon recovered from the excitement and realised I could figure it out.

So the award is given to:

a blog that invests and believes in PROXIMITY - nearness in space, time and relationships! These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers!

So I am said I am supposed to pass it on to 8 more bloggers. I could come up with many names, but I don't know of as many as 8 people who read this blog.
So I would like to give it back to D, because I see a real friend in you and I am glad you received this award in the first place, because you really deserve it.
And also to Coal Miner's Granddaughter because I think you rock as a mom.
And I wish I had 8 people I wanted to name here actually read what I wrote here, but I guess that's not happening.
So if you are out there reading this, let me know, may be my list wouldn't be so short then =)

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A Moment's Prejudice

2008-11-21T10:36:00.004+05:30

It hits you. Just for moment. And you know you are in trouble.
And then the world comes down on you, the devilish rainstorm pants behind your ears, waiting for you to take the wrong turn, waiting to devour you. All this time you were in blissful oblivion, and time just took it's course - you have your faith, but nothing works.

Not now, not ever.

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Sweat the Good Talk

2008-11-15T07:02:00.010+05:30

Every few months, I feel this inexplicable longing for Calcutta.
Maybe this is my version of homesickness, which I otherwise claim not to suffer from.

I wonder what it would be like to be an 'antel' (as we say it in hard-core teenage Bengali school-talk) from the Presidency College Physics Dept, to bear the grime of Calcutta University on my hair, be able to snack on understated canteen food everyday without having to bother about money, to wear the plainest 'kurta-s' to college everyday, to be around people who would be intellectually sound and able.

I wonder if I'd be a different person if I stayed back in Calcutta. A city can do a lot to you, especially when it has 19 years to its claim.

I was pretty sick of the city by the time school got over, but college would have been different, and of course a lot less challenging. Sometimes I wonder if I am strong enough to be an alien for the rest of my life in a country that makes me feel like an infant every step of the way.
It's new and foreign. Every place I go, I am noticeably conscious of the smallest movements I make, the obscurest of sounds that I mumble. For once, I feel like resting my shoulder, shedding off the alertness and the indolent smile.

I crave the Khatta-Gola from landmark.
I miss Park Street and Gariahat.
I miss my aunt's place where we staid up countless nights chatting like there was no tomorrow.
I miss the times we cooked and messed up and the times we didn't mess up.
I miss Class 10.
I miss Sruti's spectacles.
I miss the water-logged lane outside of my school.
I miss Spectrum.
I miss the smell of Durga Puja.
I miss the time I got locked out of my house for 6 hours.
I miss the kajal and the sultry glow Bengali twenty-somethings boast.
I miss the stupid boys with their funny school uniforms that we mocked endlessly in school.
I miss the rain that photoshopped the city a notch brighter.
I miss Trincas.
I miss College Street. I distinctly remember the last time I walked that place alone, wondering if I would ever wander about those streets again, the streets that almost got my foot fractured by a caged-van. I haven't been there in 4 years now.
I miss the 5 Rupee ice-cream and the 4 Rupee bus rides.
I miss the school fests that I avoided attending with all my might.
I miss all the over-hyped extracurriculars my classmates were so into.
I miss the rickshaws.
I miss the trees that looked like they had chicken-pox
I miss a minimum of 10 degree celsius in the coldest of the Winter days.
I miss the time I was unfathomably thin.
I miss not bothering to shampoo.
I miss feeling at home, no matter where I went in the city.
I miss being able to judge people by the way they spoke.
I miss tea, the diesel, the boats at Ganga, the lights at Victoria Memorial, the traffic jams at Dum dum, the coffees at Coffee Day, the gravel of the worn out roads, the obnoxious taxi drivers, the plain middle class Bengali families at the bazaar, the sluggish afternoons when the city literally stops working, the lovers at Rabindra Sadan, the glitter and dazzle of a Calcutta Christmas.

I miss taking my City for granted.

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A Picture a Day, can keep the guilt food away

2008-11-10T09:37:00.005+05:30

We Love the Re-frozen slippery Snow

We Love McDonalds, which is about the only place we can afford.

We don't eat pretty, we only pretend to do so.

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Cheat Sheet, Crib Sheet, whatever.

2008-11-09T08:10:00.007+05:30

And here I thought I had moved past my old habits.

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Give it up, for the Ostrich here.

2008-11-09T07:44:00.009+05:30

What do you do when your boss says "I'm sorry" in the sincerest way possible? Do you say it's okay, or do you just walk away awkwardly with a lame smile stuck up on your face?

What do you do when your thermostat isn't working and your house is colder than the insides of your refrigerator?

What do you do when you are so broke that going to the mall actually makes you sleepy?

What do you do when an ex-boyfriend wants you to react to the fact that he has moved on and you feel nothing at all?

What do you do when you are almost crushing over a much older man ... again?

What do you do when your only contact with the outside world is the stream of chilly air sneaking in through the seemingly defective window right over your bed?

What do you do when every time you try to figure out where you will be next May, you run for a bag of chips which, incidentally, is not at hand most of the time?

What do you do when you happen to lose your ipod and in subsequence your lifeline?

What do you do when you drink so much Diet Pepsi to try and stomp down on that pelting feeling of panic in your stomach that it stops tasting like Diet Pepsi and more like water?

What do you do when you want straight hair, but you almost have straight hair? You know what I mean...well, maybe you don't, but I assure you I do have a genuine point here.

What do you do when you have such immensely pressing needs, that you hope getting away from them for 5 minutes on your blog will spontaneously melt them away, just like that?

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