Faity tale.I've been living in a fairy tale.Sure,I've had a wicked step sister here and an old,miserable witch there but all in all ,it's been a good ride.And although I am grateful for all that I've been blessed with,I cannot help but blame this for my skewed perceptions about life.Reality is something I cannot cope with.
I've had a glimpse or two of some not so nice things lately.I try telling myself that everything's alright but fail miserably at coming up with a convincing explanation.No everything is not alright but then again not everything is bad either.Right...?
It's not like I've never known of the existence of madness and tyranny(mere rhetoric?).I've had copious doses of horrible news reports and have fumed with outrage at things I do not approve of in all my naive sense of righteousness or the lack thereof.But I've never really had to deal with that unsettling reality.Now that I do,I'm handicapped on two fronts.First,my very limited appreciation of all things real and therefore,second,my sense of being lost.Hopelessly lost.
The poet and the painter have lost sanity in trying to cope with the world outside their heads.Will that then be the path for an inveterate dreamer such as I?In some twisted turn of fate,maybe the fairy tale will have a horrible end.But I'm not crying for this,I know I'll find my way sooner or later.What I am mourning though is the death of beauty.Somehow,most things I've cherished have been distorted by a world which can't seem to appreciate beauty anymore.Or is my sense of beauty outdated?Should I change?At the cost of romance and hope...maybe not.
Saturday 25 August 2007
Tuesday 26 June 2007
So Long Harini*
9 May,2007.My mother is to undergo a surgery today.Nothing major really,just an annoying umblical hernia that had to be set right.But sentimental as we all are at home,for us,this operation is not just any other visit to the hospital.
Right,so Amma's bags are packed and my sister's taken her to the hospital.My father refused to say goodbye to his wife.He doesn't want to see my mother again until after her surgery.He just wants to stay at home and 'take charge' of the house while she's away.We all know this is just an excuse.He just doesn't want anyone of us to see that he is scared,least of all the woman fell in love with all those 30 years ago.
It's afternoon now and I'm in ward number 4008,waiting for the surgeon to come.Meanwhile my mom's already clad in the hospital gown.She's a brave woman my mother...telling her two daughters to behave while she's away.The stretcher came in just then and wheeled Amma away to the operation theatre.My sister's trying very hard to be normal."Tra la la la la....how much is 8 plus 4 Chiru? 12?...that's right".Why my dear sister who hates numbers is counting now when I was counting on her for moral support is beyond me at the time.
3 o' clock.Somehow the two of us sisters get down to the OT entrance and stand by Amma one last time before she's to be taken in.We hug and kiss her.She tells us to be brave.Wasn't it supposed to be the other way round???
I'm scared.Two people I knew of had died the previous week in this very hospital.Yeah,I'm shit scared.I don't show it though unlike the brave journalist,my sister.She's wailing now just as Amma's being taken into the OT, her voice calling out to us....'don't be scared'.This is like some hysterical scene from a Karan Johar flick.And I'm in it.
It's 4ish now.I scream at my sister for crying,while I wipe my own tears away."You don't know how much I hate hospitals.Our family has had such horrible experiences
with them.When I lost my little brother,almost lost you...Can you blame me for being scared?" she asks me."It's just a hernia surgery Akka,nothing to be scared about".I hold her tight and we stare out of the window,crying hard...oblivious to the many pairs of eyes staring at us.Sounds like some mawdlin movie scene eh?
Around 6 in the evening .Akka's sleeping in the ward.I'm trying to read Lord Jim.The ship is sinking...
6:30.My father's here.We've heard from the surgeon that everything's alright.We haven't seen Amma still.
6:35.Amma's come to the ward..Her face has lost all it's colour,her hair is wet with perspiration.She's exhausted.We lift her on to the bed now.And then the four of us are left alone.Then,in complete movie style,Amma turns to my sister and opens her parched mouth and whispers ever so quietly ,"Get married soon puta".
That was it.That was when I almost fainted.I couldn't let the others see me so I just made my way to the only chair in the ward and slumped down on it.The emotions of the day had overwhelmed me.I wanted to cry with relief,laugh at the hokum that was unfloding in front of me,take away the pain that Amma had to bear...mostly I wanted to eat something.I hadn't eaten anything the whole day.
I could end with a cliched 'What I learnt most that day was that no matter how much we guys quarrel ,we will always be there for each other blah blah...'But then again,I don't want to run the risk of having all this turned into some all's well that ends well family drama movie.Copyrights strictly reserved.
*Harini:My mother's hernia was nicknamed thus.
Right,so Amma's bags are packed and my sister's taken her to the hospital.My father refused to say goodbye to his wife.He doesn't want to see my mother again until after her surgery.He just wants to stay at home and 'take charge' of the house while she's away.We all know this is just an excuse.He just doesn't want anyone of us to see that he is scared,least of all the woman fell in love with all those 30 years ago.
It's afternoon now and I'm in ward number 4008,waiting for the surgeon to come.Meanwhile my mom's already clad in the hospital gown.She's a brave woman my mother...telling her two daughters to behave while she's away.The stretcher came in just then and wheeled Amma away to the operation theatre.My sister's trying very hard to be normal."Tra la la la la....how much is 8 plus 4 Chiru? 12?...that's right".Why my dear sister who hates numbers is counting now when I was counting on her for moral support is beyond me at the time.
3 o' clock.Somehow the two of us sisters get down to the OT entrance and stand by Amma one last time before she's to be taken in.We hug and kiss her.She tells us to be brave.Wasn't it supposed to be the other way round???
I'm scared.Two people I knew of had died the previous week in this very hospital.Yeah,I'm shit scared.I don't show it though unlike the brave journalist,my sister.She's wailing now just as Amma's being taken into the OT, her voice calling out to us....'don't be scared'.This is like some hysterical scene from a Karan Johar flick.And I'm in it.
It's 4ish now.I scream at my sister for crying,while I wipe my own tears away."You don't know how much I hate hospitals.Our family has had such horrible experiences
with them.When I lost my little brother,almost lost you...Can you blame me for being scared?" she asks me."It's just a hernia surgery Akka,nothing to be scared about".I hold her tight and we stare out of the window,crying hard...oblivious to the many pairs of eyes staring at us.Sounds like some mawdlin movie scene eh?
Around 6 in the evening .Akka's sleeping in the ward.I'm trying to read Lord Jim.The ship is sinking...
6:30.My father's here.We've heard from the surgeon that everything's alright.We haven't seen Amma still.
6:35.Amma's come to the ward..Her face has lost all it's colour,her hair is wet with perspiration.She's exhausted.We lift her on to the bed now.And then the four of us are left alone.Then,in complete movie style,Amma turns to my sister and opens her parched mouth and whispers ever so quietly ,"Get married soon puta".
That was it.That was when I almost fainted.I couldn't let the others see me so I just made my way to the only chair in the ward and slumped down on it.The emotions of the day had overwhelmed me.I wanted to cry with relief,laugh at the hokum that was unfloding in front of me,take away the pain that Amma had to bear...mostly I wanted to eat something.I hadn't eaten anything the whole day.
I could end with a cliched 'What I learnt most that day was that no matter how much we guys quarrel ,we will always be there for each other blah blah...'But then again,I don't want to run the risk of having all this turned into some all's well that ends well family drama movie.Copyrights strictly reserved.
*Harini:My mother's hernia was nicknamed thus.
Wednesday 18 April 2007
Training Talent
The National Talent Search Exam(NTSE),to those unaware,is an annual exam conducted by the NCERT for class 10 students.This year on,the exam will be conducted for class 8 students.The exam is held in three phases,first there is a state level selection and then the national level written exam.Those who crack these exams go on to the interview level...and what happens to those who make it through the last and final stage you ask?They will be eligible for a scholarship throughout their academic courses,subject to certain conditions.Testing area include scholastic aptitude and GMAT
Right,now you erudite mortals can peruse the rest of the post.
I got through the state level of the afore mentioned exam and was therefore selected for the national level written exam.Having gotten through the first level without any coaching,I was planning on the same approach for the nationals as well.
All my friends laughed at me.Having been coached at the state level itself,they warned me against traversing my 'road to perdition' as they saw it.Stubborn me refused the comforts of a stuffy coaching center where I'd be blessed with 'talent' from 9 in the morning to 5 in the evening simply because I wanted to stay at home and enjoy a well deserved break after my Board exams.Blasphemy on my part I was told impertinently.
The DSERT,an education wing of the Karnataka state government organised a one week 'orientation camp' before the big finals for those selected from their state(which included me)in Bangalore(To the politically correct:Bangalore was not yet Bengaluru back then).This camp was very much like the coaching centres across Bangalore and Mysore,why they even got the teachers from these coaching centres to come and train us.
Where am I getting with all of this you ask?Well,you see I really have a problem with all of these coaching centres.The exam is meant to find talent.A kid who's trained to crack a problem,and do it with speed is labelled as someone 'talented'. Another kid who's actually intelligent and is capable of thinking differently is not noticed simply because he/she could not crack the paper on time albeit indipendantly is not 'talented'.If this is the end result,then what is the purpose of conducting such exams?
Talent in this context of course is purely in the scholastic sense.
A math teacher would walk in one day and teach us how to solve problems on algebra and then a Biology teacher would come in and teach us something about duodenums et al.I blissfully slept through all these classes meant to train us to be talented.Come on,I was hardly on par with all those kids in class who had over a months' training.They were definitely more talented than I weren't they?
As you might have guessed,I didn't make it through the nationals.I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made it even if I were taught to be talented.But my heart goes out to those smart kids who are truly talented but couldn't make it for, they had no tricks up their sleeves and more so to all those kids from rural India who made it through the state exams on their own merit but can't hope to fund their further education.
If only true talent and independent efforts were recognised and lauded,I think we would have more Sarabhais,Ramans and Boses.And fewer parrots in the upper echleons of academia.
Right,now you erudite mortals can peruse the rest of the post.
I got through the state level of the afore mentioned exam and was therefore selected for the national level written exam.Having gotten through the first level without any coaching,I was planning on the same approach for the nationals as well.
All my friends laughed at me.Having been coached at the state level itself,they warned me against traversing my 'road to perdition' as they saw it.Stubborn me refused the comforts of a stuffy coaching center where I'd be blessed with 'talent' from 9 in the morning to 5 in the evening simply because I wanted to stay at home and enjoy a well deserved break after my Board exams.Blasphemy on my part I was told impertinently.
The DSERT,an education wing of the Karnataka state government organised a one week 'orientation camp' before the big finals for those selected from their state(which included me)in Bangalore(To the politically correct:Bangalore was not yet Bengaluru back then).This camp was very much like the coaching centres across Bangalore and Mysore,why they even got the teachers from these coaching centres to come and train us.
Where am I getting with all of this you ask?Well,you see I really have a problem with all of these coaching centres.The exam is meant to find talent.A kid who's trained to crack a problem,and do it with speed is labelled as someone 'talented'. Another kid who's actually intelligent and is capable of thinking differently is not noticed simply because he/she could not crack the paper on time albeit indipendantly is not 'talented'.If this is the end result,then what is the purpose of conducting such exams?
Talent in this context of course is purely in the scholastic sense.
A math teacher would walk in one day and teach us how to solve problems on algebra and then a Biology teacher would come in and teach us something about duodenums et al.I blissfully slept through all these classes meant to train us to be talented.Come on,I was hardly on par with all those kids in class who had over a months' training.They were definitely more talented than I weren't they?
As you might have guessed,I didn't make it through the nationals.I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made it even if I were taught to be talented.But my heart goes out to those smart kids who are truly talented but couldn't make it for, they had no tricks up their sleeves and more so to all those kids from rural India who made it through the state exams on their own merit but can't hope to fund their further education.
If only true talent and independent efforts were recognised and lauded,I think we would have more Sarabhais,Ramans and Boses.And fewer parrots in the upper echleons of academia.
Something Strange
Blank.
My mind is blank.
Had a math test today and don't want to talk about it.
Hated my accountancy class,as always.
Economics..ah the lovely subject, reduced to sermons and homilies,again.
History saved the day...I enjoy this one class in school and this one class alone.
After a day of abject boredom,my mind is numb.Sure I could have used the time in school to dream a little dream,think a little thought...I generally do.Today, something held me back from doing this ...something.
I hate it when I feel blank.My mind can't process a thing.And then I get this feeling in my head where I can feel the vacuum,see that nothing fits anywhere,nothing makes sense.Try as I might,I can't remember the capital of Tazakistan,can't enjoy the sunset,can't remember that lovely tune I was humming to myself yesterday.
It always amazes me how I can get bored while there's so much to discover...As for that something,I was hoping I'd figure that out by the end of this post.And figured out I have.
That something is actually many things...And I blissfully sign off,knowing what's bothered me. All in a matter of a few key strokes!
My mind is blank.
Had a math test today and don't want to talk about it.
Hated my accountancy class,as always.
Economics..ah the lovely subject, reduced to sermons and homilies,again.
History saved the day...I enjoy this one class in school and this one class alone.
After a day of abject boredom,my mind is numb.Sure I could have used the time in school to dream a little dream,think a little thought...I generally do.Today, something held me back from doing this ...something.
I hate it when I feel blank.My mind can't process a thing.And then I get this feeling in my head where I can feel the vacuum,see that nothing fits anywhere,nothing makes sense.Try as I might,I can't remember the capital of Tazakistan,can't enjoy the sunset,can't remember that lovely tune I was humming to myself yesterday.
It always amazes me how I can get bored while there's so much to discover...As for that something,I was hoping I'd figure that out by the end of this post.And figured out I have.
That something is actually many things...And I blissfully sign off,knowing what's bothered me. All in a matter of a few key strokes!
A wound oh, miserable woes.
Some words,
A thought,and then another.
A smile,some solace
And then, a spark.
Ah ,so we meet at last
I meet myself...a stranger.
As trepid as I and just as lost
As guarded as I,withdrawn...alone.
He tells me just as much.
I tell him otherwise;
I tell him I'm unafraid,unguarded,driven...
He cuts me short,for he knows me.
Knows me as he knows himself,
Knows me more than I know myself.
And then I realise...we're no strangers, him and I
I've known him always
Just never gave him much thought.
But now, I fell in love with him.
And together,we've learnt,unlearnt,relearnt.
Passionately,patiently we've fought.
He's relented,I've relented more.
Words heal wounds,
Thoughts heal thoughts.
My love and I are healing.
Yes,healing beautifully.
Thursday 22 March 2007
Parturient
There,I've done it at last.I've gone ahead and got my very own blog.And thus begins the babble...
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