Defeat!

Ever since I got down to this city, I’ve been travelling. On and on. On a two wheeler (many actually), by car, by bus, by walk. Long long distances. Hours turned minutes. Confusions turned solutions. Emptiness filled. Silence echoed. Walking around like a crazy woman was so relaxing. Well, it still is. But for some unknown reason, I feel like closing myself up in this room and just stay exactly like this. Like I totally hate going out.

But that aint true. Not true at all. Coz I love going out. Just anywhere out of enclosed spaces. I just feel so defeated today. So lost that I’d rather keep myself to myself. Had this stupid encounter in a bus. Was on my way back home from somewhere and I got into this crowded bus. With too many ladies standing in the front, and relatively too few men. And then I see this guy sitting in the seat reserved for ladies. He’s not a handicap. He’s not old. Pretty much in late twenties. And I wanted him to offer the seat to somebody there, who’s old and was practically saying out she’s tired, if not to me. And when I ask him, he wants the conductor’s recommendation to look into my plea. And now when I requested the conductor, he offered me the pleasure of kicking him out all by myself. I stopped looking at him. I got the next immediate seat I got and tried to push away his victorious grimace. But I was so defeated. So lost deep down. Not to that smart ass. Not that irresponsible conductor. But to myself. I was lost if I should ask for the seat or not. Demanding my rights was never a tough thing. So it was not about asking him to get up. All that it might have taken is a bit of yelling. But it was actually about my want. Did I really want that seat? Everybody wanted to sit but nobody cared to support me. And for a moment, it all felt so futile and lost. And I stopped. Defeated. It’s just that one moment that you need to pass. The judgment. The decision making. Whether or whether not. A life long of such crucial points is nothing less than excruciating. I couldn’t stand just one such moment. So defeated indeed!

The NRI evil!

Without mention, it’s beyond just obvious that this has gotta do nothing at all with the movie, “Resdient evil”. I know the first sentence is totally irrelevant and out of place. But it was placed with the post inside my head! So, bear with me. 🙂 So the non resident evil, the typical NRI thing is what’s bothering me so much. As any other usual middle class, our family too has a couple of NRI relatives. And with most of them, I am in a fairly decent contact. All thanks to facebook and gmail! They definitely keep relations away from rotting and dying, if not fresh and lively. And one of those NRI cousins of mine is definitely getting to read this. So just be known. Its not me pointing a finger at you people, but a very genuine grievance, that most of us, your resident relatives always wanted to share. Rather write it down here and act like nothing ever happened than say it in person, and spoil the fewest times we see eachother!

Did I build up so much that now it feels like some unforgivable offence against humanity? Well, judging it so ain’t so wrong. Coz I definitely am offended by it. All these foreign returned people, you know, are so much deserving our heartfelt sympathy and understanding. They carry with them with a heavy load of expectations of their own as they fly back to their homeland. And upon that already heavy load, a bigger weight of obligation to meet their relatives’, friends’, neighbours’, friends’ of friends and oddly random people’s demands! Coupled with errands to unknown people with huge gift packets. Its such a huge commitment. And almost impossible to keep everyone happy and stay happy yourself. We just want to you people to know that we totally get that helplessness in you and hence really don’t care about the hapless greeting that we get. We fully get the situation and offer you all our understanding. Most genuinely. The one thing that we just can’t stand is your feeling of obligation to us! You know what folks? Its absolutely okay you don’t gift us anything. We are really cool with the idea that you don’t shower us with the best-est goodies from abroad! Come on people! Who doesn’t know that now Mars and Bounty are now chocolates kids demand down here too, along with all the Cadburies we get them! An iPhone or the latest tech release isn’t not much far from us, as long as eBay and Flipkart offers service! May be we don’t get to ‘feel’ the product with our bare hands. But never mind. We don’t trust your technical knowledge anyway! 😛

Did I sound too offensive? I’m slightly worried on that, coz that’s not my intention at all. I lovethe chocolates you people bring from there. May be its available here, but I like them anyway coz they are delicious. I love those tiny petite perfume bottles and their awesome fragrance. I even love this awesome thing that someone got me from abroad, which let’s me blog on the move. Its never about the worth of the things that you bring us, nor the availability. Its just that, gifts are NOT the reason why we come to see you. You can leave us empty handed and we still won’t grit our teeth behind you!

May be you NRIs would have never thought of things this way. The global exposure may have changed your wordl view and understanding of lives. But everytime you come down here, we are all back at the constraint thoughts of ‘engathu panku vere, ungathu panku vere’. (our home’s share and your home’s share ARE separate). Its not just about what you think of us and what you feel giving things away. Do look at your home-mates and what they feel. And then tell me if I hold a point or not! 🙂 You know what’s the worst thing that can happen to a person, in this context? Its getting caught up at a home where a NRI landing is expected! If you end up staying there, you’ll have to witness ‘unbelievable’ and unbearable levels of self digust! 😀 At the end of my post, I am sad about one thing. That not all my NRI cousins are getting to read this. I really wanted them to see things through our view point! Sincerely, we.

P.S. All through out, I has been replaced with ‘we’ coz its a collective grievance shared by too many of us. I still remember how somebody told me that the person was so happy about somebody else’s homecoming until the moment, a leftover gift was forcefully given, to make the person not feel bad. Ironic. 🙂

Koothara!

So what’s koothara? For a very long time, koothara was a malayalam slang which could simply imply anything from naughty to nasty. I could never bring myself to bother much around the implications, coz there were too many more such incomprehensible words in my expanding colloquial vocab! But suddenly, koothara makes sense to me. Very much enlightened kinda sense. May be it was always meant so only. But just occurred to me that, may be, it is something like “koodiya thara” – Very cheap.

Did you just think that somebody called me “koothara” or very cheap? Or did you even think that I am so cheap to be even writing about this? Seriously. I dont care what you think. But ultimately, its thoughts that matter. So I would like to clarify thoughts here. I may or may not be addressed so..(Yeah, I have no intention of disclosing such info!). The point is…well do you see any point here? Guess not. I can hardly make sense, let alone any point! Why are you still reading? There ain’t any point here. Nothing at all. Its just one of my usual blabbering. Would that have been a better title than “koothara’? I don’t think so. This is absolutely about the ‘koothara’ that I am, or anybody else is. You think otherwise? Like hell it matters!

Adieu! To all koothara-ism that was entertained till moment. I am so fucked by this and that and the umpteen implications.

The colours of Holi!

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!

College – an insight

Have never talked enough about my college. More correctly, I haven’t even thought enough about this place that I go everyday. I dont curse myself as I turn the alarm off and get up every morning to rush to college. Going to college is an enthusiastic idea to me every morning. Nobody is waiting for me there. I’m not expecting to see anyone there either. But yet, its motivating enough to pull the covers off me. My class is boring. So are the people. So is what I assume, atleast. The teachers make me yawn more often than making me think intriguing. But yet. But yet I love my college.

The welcoming entrance, the parking space and the bikes aligned, the parapet with gentle backrests, the curve of the stairs that lets me take giant leaps, the pathway that gets flooded in the rain. I’m amused by everything about my college. The ‘group-ism’ in class, the boring useless lectures, the ridiculous bunch of dumbheads. Seems like I’d live through all of them or even worse, coz so much is my liking for the place. Unusually, I feel all comfortable and cosy at a place, despite it being so rough and insensitive to me. But its not the place that’s insensitive. Instances and happenings are rough. Not the place. For it have been always good to me. Walking around the campus, I’ve cried silent, laughed aloud and cursed bad. It has been just two years here, and somehow I turn more nostalgic about my college than my school where I spent years of my life. But the reason is obvious.

In school, there were people in life. They had an impact on me off campus or on campus, the place being so irrelevant. But now in college, people stop to exist. Its just incidents or accidents if you cross another person in the daily routine. Life has changed and is all about places, things and instances. People hardly hold any worth or role in life. Doesn’t that vaguely sound like I’ve turned into a materialistic jerk? Or may be it doesn’t. It just says how life has changed my notions about it and gifted me a new sense of perception.

There’s so much to write. The lovers’ point, the bunk area, the hideout, the common joint, the budding romances, student politics, management talks, teachers’ strike and a hell lot more. I need to break it up and talk. There really is so much to say. Wait for more of them.

The three days!

‘Three days’ wouldn’t ring a bell to most. ‘Those days of the month’ says it though. Yeah, menstrual days, periods, the cat with its throat cut. Its all the same! But three is significant. Read further.

Bought up in Kerala, with the obvious inhibitions and consciousness of a woman, trust me its difficult. Just too difficult to actually ‘ask’ for sanitary pads. Super market billing counter is a different thing. Asking for ‘it’, waiting till the shopkeeper finds your brand and specifications, and finally making sure he wraps it up with something, rushing out without making eye contact. Its more difficult than taking the first step in proposing to someone! Trust me when I say that for its my experience. 🙂

How many of us women actually let others know if we are thru ‘those’ days? For some of us, it appears quite obvious when the body quite doesn’t cooperate. Its fine somebody getting to know. Not having ‘it’ in time is what concerns you here, so its perfectly fine. But announcing it? Going around and saying that ‘I’m on my periods!’ That’s impossible. Ah, and that is what I go through every month. Its disgusting. Tell your husband, tell your bro, tell your dad, tell your friend. Even tell your friend. But saying it to another male is like ‘ugly’, if I may want to sound polite and euphemistic.

So why would you say? For those first three days, you become an untouchable. When your body craves for some warmth, you’ll be dragged down the cosy bed to icy floor. Dont touch anything. Dont stay close to anything. Just dont dont do anything. Thank god, my books and phone doesn’t get washed if I touch them!

All these are what you suffer if you fall into a Brahmin family. But what it does to you is awesome things. The first three days of extreme pain, if any, you get cent percent rest. It lets you muster courage to go ‘ask’ for it. Not the least, it lets you realise the worth of touching things around you and existing with them! The bed suddenly turns more warm, the sofa all the more cosy, and the carpet becomes the best thing you have ever felt!

The Big Bang!

I thought it was a bomb blast. Even hallucinated limbs flying and blood splashing all over. Thought all my life’s pain and joy ends there. But it wasn’t. Nothing happened. It was just a crackers show for a marriage reception. Crackers? Marriage? Seriously! Well, it should be normal. Except for the extravaganza, what’s wrong in it? The guests were impressed! Oh my fucking god! You call that a marriage reception buffet? It was like you stepped into some food festival! From North to South of India. From panipuri to kappayum ulli chathachathum! People were gobbling up. Disgustingly. So did I. Ate in silence. Self humiliated by the crowd’s gluttony and the splendour of money in every object around me.

The hatred wasn’t instant. It brewed in me, ever since I started looking around and observing these marriage dramas around me. In the first place, I wouldn’t have gone at all except for the pressure from my caretakers now. With my parents, I know what would have I done. A stern ‘no’ and I’m not going for any drama. But today, I had no choice. Posing for a group photo with people you meet for the first time in my life? NO WAY! But what did I do? I went along. Not like me. Never like me. But luckily, the camera didn’t care enough to click! Had I opposed, would it have been bossing them? Or just genuinely my right to voice my choice? I was worried. So I acted as instructed. As expected. The ideal me.

Its ridiculous. I didn’t do it with total unwillingness. Some part of me said its okay to attempt the change. I attempted. That’s it. No more of it. Done with changes. Life is perfect for me the way it is.

Foodominance!

There’s this mama and mami near my home. An old couple staying alone. Not coz they are childless. Their son married a woman of another caste. So did their daughter. The old man is ailing and the wife is not able to take care of him all by herself. But yet, the couple wouldn’t give up to the children. They are wounded and wouldn’t yield to any cajoling.

The other day, mami had come to our home. She was talking to my parents about how their kids have brought them shame and agony. She was saying, “Money or caste never matters. We have enough wealth. We’d have accepted the marriage. Except for how they wouldn’t give up non-veg food.” I couldn’t stop laughing at her statement and the emotion that she gave out through it. Should have appeared rude. But yet…food habits? Seriously? That ruins a family? Rotflmao.

I laughed and laughed. People say they eat to live. And I say we live to eat. Despite that, this level of dominance that food habits have on our society seems ridiculous to me. Personal likes and dislikes do exist; on food habits, as in any other segment of life. But then, I dont get that. Is the type of food more important than your own kids? From the other point, wouldn’t you stick to pure vegetarian food if that means you can be with your old parents? I really dont get that.

May be she lied. May be there’s the usual story of adamance and ego in not accepting the marriages. But may be, there’s some truth in what she said. Foodominance indeed!

Disillusioned!

Remember this mad guy I talked about some months back? Oh I didnt post it. It was just a draft and later went to trash. As my most ramblings.

So there was this guy. (cant call him mad already!) Used to see him everyday at the bus stop as I waited for my bus to college. He walked around the place, talking senseless and acting weird. Would come so close to those talkative group of girls. So much as to make them stop all the chattering abrupt. Nervous and terrified. But he was harmless. He never did anything to them. He didn’t even stare at them, let alone talk or disturb. He just went round and round, lamenting and shouting.

One day, I could actually listen and understand what he was saying. He was talking to a lad, probably a stranger. It was not conversational kinda. More like screaming, he was saying how women are chasing him, yearning for his love and time. He was desperate. I could see through his eyes. It craved for someone to yearn for him. Someone to want him and his love.

Easily predictable. He would probably been have ditched by some bitch. And he just wouldn’t have got out of the shock. I pitied him.

Didn’t see him for some days then. By then, I had developed a habit of seeing him every morning. He resembled someone. That’s not the reason why I looked forward to see him. He just didn’t seem a stranger to me. And then he comes one day. With a cloth bag kinda thing in hand. He was going to Madras it seemed. With a small kit in hand, he was all set for a voyage. Instantly,
I was sad. Not a moment long. The bus came. I got in. And moved on.

Today morning, I saw two normal looking people talking casually. It wasn’t much difficult to recollect the face. And there he is. Back home. Back to his place.

So..was he not mad in the first place? Was that my ideas and thoughts forced upon him? Or may be he was just normal with a crazy streak. Or may be that just was his way of venting pain and agony. However may this be. My nth lesson for the day : Never ever dare judge another person’s mental status. Its complex. 🙂

Pizza phobia to mania!

Heard of such a thing? Pizza phobia? Well it does exist okay. Among socially conscious whiny wimps like me. The phobia involves fear of tearing apart the cheese with your teeth. Embarrassment, rather than fear. Fear of using cutlery due to lack of knowledge in table manners and art of eating. Fear of going thru the ‘all greek’ menu and finally make a sensible order for food! (the time isn’t far when the type of crust and size of the pan misled me.) Crust and size are never related to food for people of this kind. You cant blame the thoughts! And finally the fear of addiction. What if I actually liked it and want more and grow into an addiction? That’s the most genuine fear, atleast till the point you start buying your bread or find a boy friend with Sodexo food coupons!

Getting past all these fears listed, and the many more unlisted fears, is one heck of a task. You pray to the cheese to be intact. You beg the onion not to pop out of your mouth. You coax the crust to be just big enough for your mouth, so that you wont have to let others see the inside of your throat, pushing down the pizza. And most of all, you pray to the pan to stay warm and keep the pizza still tasty, coping with your slow motioned eating! When everything falls in place, when all your pleas and prayers are heard, finally, you’ll know it’s worth it. Truly worth the price. The majestic worth of royal food!

Here starts the truly ‘drive you nuts’ part. The mania! You brush pizza,(pee and poop knowingly avoided) you drink pizza, you think pizza, you write pizza, you talk pizza, you pizza pizza! Not enough pizza to eat! You wonder when’s the next pizza! Its just not enough!

Honestly, I love my transition. From phobia to mania. I never agree it was phobia though. Lol. But yeah, I confess it was. And now, the mania phase is awesome. It was just taking a break I suppose. Had a challenge or a bet or whatever you call it, with a friend, that I’ll no longer eat pizza until I start saving my bread. The rationale behind the bet was that the person asked me where all these pizza went into! Lol. That’s actually a genuine question. But one should be considerate enough to not ask questions, whose answers are buried under the earth, and never dug out! Shouldn’t they be? Lol. Anyway, coming back to the bet. I broke it. Had to. Unavoidable situation! As unavoidable as getting an offer to eat as much as you can! Lol.

Stepped into Pizza Hut, Gold Souk. The guy asks, “Hello ma’m! Would you like to *some voice missing*? “. I ask, “Pardon?”. He again, “Good evening! Ma’m, would you like to *some faint voice*?”. Me, “Eh?”. The guy, “Kazhikkanano vanne?”. Me to myself, “Shit! Evanum arinjo aa betine patti!”.

Appendix : The list of fears is never ending. Fear number next : Inaudible dumbhead all knowing pizza hut guys. (Or may be just the lack of a pair of hearing aids!). Back to the phobia! Lol.