Category: Ramblings

The double decker!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

A double decker bus doesn’t fascinate people much these days. Or may be I’m wrong about that. I dont see my sister or my little cousins desperate for a double decker ride. Compare to what it used to be for me or people of my generation, it’s not much wrong to say that people in the present dont find it enough interesting to travel a level above others on the road. And I wonder why! Come on people! Doesn’t that feel (or atleast sound) really cool? But then, it’s not completely right when I say people, as a whole, aren’t fascinated by the idea of it. There are still people, may be of a different generation, who still find it scary, (and funny), when someone shouts that there’s no driver in the upper deck! Why not? I’m still there!

My double decker experiences are as few as to count by fingers. But, every single one of them are cherished and relived as the most precious segments of my travelogue!(if ever written :P) The best part of it is, obviously, the journey on the upper deck. Ironically, that’s just once in my constrained memory. The most memorable!

The money business

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

If there’s one thing that I shouldn’t be talking about at all, it is money and business. And here I am, talking about those forbidden topics as well. Mostly coz I’ve practically nothing else to write about and partially coz I’ve gained enough confidence to write and think free, even on topics beyond my reach. As a matter of fact, I’m not talking about big business and big money. Its all about these petty reality shows on TV.

What with them? Ever since India had private channels, there always was some game show or interactive discussion forums. And people always won gift hampers, for all the right answers, and even for the not so right answers, they were consoled with the hefty consolation. What changed now? The idea remains the same. They ask. You answer. You win. But instead of gifts, now you win money. Abundant money! So much so, the greed and gluttony is on public display!

To be honest, I dont feel confident enough to write further. For I dont quite well understand the background information about these shows. I also understand that I should have ample knowledge to authoritatively and authentically comment on such things. From all that I grasp, there’s a lot of business. A lot of hidden agendas. A lot of intricate money is involved. But that’s not sufficient information. You need facts and figures to trust such accusations. Without proof, they, forever, remain allegations. And I’ve none. But I’m waiting. For something to stir up a commotion. This is point blank cheating. People are fooled. And all I do is curse every telecast and yell at everyone who supports such insanities. For so much less is my reach! So much cramped is my space. And so much less is my will!

Nostalgia!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

The first thing that I think of at the sound of the word ‘Nostalgia’ is the ‘mail a song’ programme telecasted in Kairali channel. The anchor’s sober looks and melancholic tone made the programme nostalgic enough. The genre of songs played also had such discretion. Even the beautiful Malayalam font that read ‘nostalgia’ had a style of long lost elegance and simplicity. The background score,the dimly lit studio. Everything about the show had an element of nostalgia in it, except the unavoidable shriek of advertisements.

The second, third and nth things that I relate to ‘Nostalgia’ are not in the order of their priority. Randomly, it teleports me to my dad’s native and the ancestral home that housed sprawling memories. And with recent reference (and relevance), it reminds me of 48 hours of ‘uninterrupted nostalgia’ that I shared with my little cousin. Everytime he said ‘nostalgia’, it meant a glitch in my brains!

I could keep writing about another ten things atleast, that I’d relate with nostalgia. But for now, the whole idea of nostalgia has shifted focus and now it means a totally different thing to me. You wouldn’t guess it until I say it aloud to be my new mobile ringtone’s name. (as a matter of fact, mine is called something else. But the tone is very similar sounding to the one named ‘nostalgia’). Long back, I had this habit of assigning unique tones for each contact so as to distinguish the caller from the tone itself. But then, it was really discouraging for I never got the rings that I expected to hear more often. Phone most usually went to silent mode too, making the uniqueness of the tones pointless. I used to jump at every vibration and even thought of doing something about getting a unique pattern of vibration for the callers. But then, ultimately, everything killed my hope of being beckoned by the callers that I always looked forward to. It was depressing. Finally, I had a hitch with the ‘nostalgia’. The very loud, most unique and so very nostalgic ring of the old rotary dial telephone. Making you feel like somebody is calling from some decades behind, the ‘tring-tring’ indeed has stolen a lot of hearts. I really fell in love with my ring tone for it seemed so unique and nostalgic and a symbolic victory of getting away from my yearning for specific calls. But then, looks like I am not the only one. There are plenty more with the same idea about nostalgic ring tones!

Ah! That’s perfect. Just as I am typing this, the very same tune is playing in the background. Somebody is being beckoned from their long lost past! My tone is not unique anymore. Yet, very so passionately, I cherish it as a nostalgic piece from my fading memories.

The colours of Holi!

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

The splash of colours and the ‘holi’ spray gun are what welcomed me to college today. The fervor and spirit in those guys were unbeatable. The dashing along the corridors and the welcome party at the entrance were unexpected. Yet again, the least of expectations was that they’d come to a docile group of girls by the corner(which obviously included me :P) to shed the ‘holy’ colours! And surprisingly, not a tinge of any colour or spray was seen on me. It was as though I turned non-existent even to a gang of shrewd festive spree struck guys!

I didn’t want myself to be soaked and lost in those colours of theirs. But the point is evidently obvious here. Being left alone doesn’t feel good. I’d have wanted to be a part of all the fun. But I believe in the natural sense of belonging you thrive upon, rather than a cooked up and manipulated mingling. I’m not regretting. Just looking back on yet another day, of feeling out of place and being ridiculed at. I’m glad nobody pushed me into any of those. But I’d have really appreciated myself if I could spot any inviting eyes. There could be a hundred reasons why things are sober. Could be that I am too withdrawn that people actually think I could be insane. Or it could be simply that everyone is caught in the mess and finds it difficult to make sense to themselves. Or even, it could be just that I look too old to fall into anybody’s group!

But yeah. Everything happens for a reason. Untouched by the colours, I was walking along the black and white corridors of my mind only to meet a much cherished person of the college, face to face. My most respected and dignified teacher. I was more than shocked to see he noticed that I’d not done the colours, and even pulled my legs on keeping away from all the frolic. Amazingly though, I felt good. That he talked to me after long, with a long lost intimacy. It didn’t take me long to grab my senses back and stride ahead with more pride than ever. Everything sure happens for a reason. It’s never about being left out. It’s all about how you cope till you finally reach your abode. Reach safe and sound. That’s the bigger challenge. Mine is unclear. I’m squinting. Coping till then!

Changing perception

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

A change in my perceptions is the least of my expectations. But surprisingly, I’m through with a very drastic change of opinion. Not specifically about someone or something. But generally about everything, about everyone. All things trace back to a reason. So does this sudden change. I cant pinpoint any particular incident. But yet, vaguely, it’s all related to my recent family get together. Falling back to the land of my dreams, walking around the source of my spirits, what I gained back could be partially termed as my sanity. Out of the blue, people turn more transparent, and life seems so much more clear if not plain and simple.

I am afraid this post might be very specific since most my readers precisely know about the instances and incidents that I am hinting at. I am a person with very strong opinion and sense of discretion. Atleast, so does people around claim about me.I am shook by one such judgment of mine. The moment I hated being so judgmental!! Ironically, I cant even judge if this is like being judgmental. I always thought ill of this person. I am not wrong. The ‘ill’ feeling hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s there. As strong and as deep as it were. But yet, something is topping it up now. A sense of strange change in perception. For the first time, I could see there’s a point why the person could be so. I could think of accepting the way things are and live with it, without complaints or regrets. I could think of justifying the person’s actions, after years of struggle to cope with the harm it brought on me. I could actually forgive. Nobody asked for forgiveness. Nobody even knows I could have had such a wound in me. But yet, in that flick second, the person opened up and I could see myself crying. Standing by the dimly lit corner of our home’s entrance, I wished nobody saw both of us. Talking, rather whispering. I held out my hand to hold the person’s hand. I expected my hands to be held too. But it was not to be. I didn’t withdraw nor did I pause. I went on to hold hands, with all that it takes for my pride to oblige. Hands entwined, I saw somebody’s life unwinding in front of my eyes. Treading the same path, feeling the same agony, laughing at the same joke, fearing the same fate. I could finally topple my
ideologies. I could let go. I forgave the person. Begged for forgiveness too. Within myself.

The swing!

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

I aint a child anymore. I very well get that. But then, as in everyone’s life, there could be something in mine too, that can bring out a bit of a child in me. It kinda contradicts my own theory that I never felt child enough. Life was always very pragmatic and rational to me. Excuse the past tense. It still is so and will as well continue so. Eventually, I reckon that my losses are something that I lost in the mad rush of articulations. Knowing it to myself, that none was intentional, I assume I can live through the losses. Ironically, despite the whole missing of sweet naughty memories, I do have occasional reminiscences. Of a past that I never had.

My nostalgia and longing have always been mocked upon. I dont blame anyone. Nor am I particularly sad about being laughed at. I honestly understand that all of them have a point. For my nostalgia is ridiculously dwelling on a past that I never had. It’s difficult to fathom and empathise with me. Very so often, I fail at that all by myself. My birth and raising up was completely in a city, that’s continuously pacing to the “Metro” status. My life is pivoted around the city and the normal urban middle class scale. But every time I visit my dad’s native, something changes in me. From my very first visit till the current one,(typing from the very same home’s sit out), I have increasingly fallen for this place and the old ancestral home.I connect perfectly to the village, the temple nearby, the temple pond, the home itself, the extended backyard, the cramped bathroom, the dimly litambiance, the ear-bursting loudspeakers. Not to forget the dusty attic and the rickety ‘monuments’ and the ‘priceless treasure’ that I dig out of them, in every single visit.

I wish I could write more and relate my existence to something worth the survival. But instinctively, I believe that somethings are better unsaid. The aura that this place radiates, is amazing.I am spellbound by it’s charm. I am surprise how I am urged to write about one particular thing. The swing of my life. The only one that I truly admired for its rhythmic oscillations. As I sit on it and rock myself, it feels like the entire world is striving to do away with my sleeplessness and cradle me into a peaceful sound sleep. My swing!

For the first time, there was actually a choice to not rock myself. Somebody else did it for me. I am glad. Blissful.

Update : I guess the reference to the swing was very vague. But have a close look at the image just above this. Its an open gate with another opened gate within it. That’s where I sit and rock! 😛

Early morning dream

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

My mom is constantly worried ever since I told her about my blog. After seeing it for herself, she’s not yet confident that I can make sense in my writings. She assumes I’m nuts and I might blabber around things that I shouldn’t be talking about. My assurances about my readers aint soothing her. Paavam amma! But then, I think she’s a point. So I’ve come to the point of not letting her read my blog. But instead, just tell her what I write. So then, I can conveniently decide what to say and what not to say. This probably is one such post that I wouldn’t let her know.

Came home after a strenuous journey yesterday night. Was tired and slept pretty soon (after the night’s post obviously). Somewhere in the middle of the night, I woke up and there was no returning to sleep. Thought about the unthinkable. Expected the unexpected. Craved for the impossible. Yearned for some sleep. Finally, slept by around six in the morning. But now I wish I hadn’t gotten sleep at all. Do early morning dreams actually come real? I was talking to someone in the same room that I slept yesterday night. Suddenly the conversation turned wild and I went out of my mind. Next thing I see is the person screaming in agony and my left wrist bleeding and right hand clutching to a blade. I saw my hands for a second more in the mirror and then my dad knocked the door. The dream ended there. But the knocking didn’t stop. My dad was actually knocking at the door. I took out my phone to see the time and it was six thirty or so. I was not sweating in shock. But I’m kinda disturbed. Why would I dream of suicide? I dont have such ideas. But then, why did I dream of dying? Rather, killing myself. Do early morning dreams turn real? Hope not. 🙂

Matrix and the parker

~ Soumya ~ 4 Comments

Gotten close enough to a Matrix Bilt note book? With elegant black cover, and the problem free wiro binding, as they name it, it’s classic and executive. Always had an eye on their 5 subject note book. Considering the price and the number of pages, I reached at the obvious conclusion that’s not worth my ‘lecture’ notes. However, as things always happen, a Matrix three – partition book came to me through a cousin.

Ever since I got it, I was confused what to write in it and hence just kept it aside. Until recently,I assumed nothing worth to be written there. Now though, with my most cherished and chaste Parker, I pen one liners and multiple liners in them. They may be not extra ordinary. But the pen and the book got something of my satisfaction to be engaged with. Upon some ‘elderly’ opinion, those ramblings will also find room in my blog, right here.

More to write. Later.

UPDATE :

What I wanted to write on the book and the pen was simple. I was always intrigued by the ‘pen holder’ they offered with the Matrix. I was wondering what on earth did they actually mean by this amazing offer? It took a long time for me to notice the small hole at the back cover of the book! That was disgusting. They present it as though its some additional effort that they took to make the product more attractive. But what do I see instead! They should have given us something ‘extra’ and what they do is actually take away portion of the back cover which should have been our rightful possession. But you know what? I am stupid. Dumber than dumbu. It was the perfect ‘pen holder’ I ever had. The page size and the spacing of the hole was so perfect that my Parker glided through the hole and peacefully held on to the Matrix. That was one fine thing the book and the pen taught me. Taking away of a portion of the back cover was such a brilliant idea. Sometimes, all we need is that. Take away a bit of those things that needn’t be there in life. It will make room to accommodate all those indispensablities of our existence. Look around and learn. There’s a lot to learn from everything, every moment.

Team India MadE victorious!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Team India just won over Aussies by four wickets! And I’m so happy and proud! Obvious question. When did I ever start being a cricket maniac! Let me explain.

Its not about cricket. Its all about my stupid symbolic triumph. My victories always remain rooted in my symbolisms. Was watching the match with my uncle and cousin, the one who always make predictions about how things are impossible. As ever, he declared India lost the match. Twelve runs in six balls was impossible for him! Based on his run rate calculations and whatever other probability that the game of cricket gave, he should have been right! But my point was simple. One ball can give you a maximum of six runs. Six balls naturally can give ya thirty six runs! Yeah, I know I’m talking about the rarest ever and seemingly impossible happening. But yet, its still plausible aint it? And it did happen! Last over’s first ball was a six! Second one was a No-ball and they ran for three runs. And the third ball was another six! Hurray! India just won! Impossible turns possible, in a split second!

I dont know of cricket. I dont know of the match. (Is this the Common Wealth thingy?). I dont know of No-balls. I dont even know the implication of ‘winning by 4 wickets’. But yet, I’m the happiest person that India won today. It feels like my victory. My symbolic triumph of making the impossible, possible! I dont know much cricketers. I dont know of their history and trackrecord. But then, Dhoni is god to me. His last three battings, changes my life! Symbolism rocks. Only with me!

The baby times!

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

Preface : https://soumyavg.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/disclaimer/

Me and baby? What relativity eh? Seriously, I’m wondering too. Eventually, it seems like there’s a lot of relativity though. Not that I’ve, out of nowhere, started loving all those ‘cute’ baby photos or all those pink ‘n blue things of life. But things have definitely changed between me and the babies.

My bro always pulls my legs on how I used to check if the diaper is on before getting anywhere near my cousin’s child. I dont think anybody believes him on that now. It seems a near impossibility now coz I’ve gotten that intimate with the kid. Back then, I had told only him about how I used to do that. Nobody else holds a reason to believe it now. I dont even realise how much has change swept over me.

Its a wonderful kid. I cant say the ‘best’ coz I dont know many kids to make a comparison. She’s the only one I’ve ever known. Known the best! Tending to her, reaching out to hold her hand, coaxing her, yelling at her. I’m loving it all. Love the way she calls me ‘athey’. Amazingly, I kinda even miss her when she’s away at her grandma’s. For people who have known the callous me, aren’t these ‘interesting and new’ developments? Lol. Hell they are! And I cant even bring myself upto believing it.

With all the preconceptions of people around me, I’m very much disturbed by their assumptions and notions. Its so much a relief to see her and believe atleast she knows me only the way I’m to her; nice but easily angered. I wish if things could remain that way with her forever. With someone atleast, let me sneak out of all the prejudices. She’s growing, soon losing her innocence. Life and its prejudices aren’t far from her. And I’m worried. Ironically, I crave to see her grow up into a pretty girl, yet staying the apple of everybody’s eyes. She’s one such whom I’ve loved so much that it causes envy. It might even asphyxiate her. Worry gets recursive! (Read the previous post to make some sense of the last sentences)

She’s growing. Already at the computer! Lol.