Just breathe

Yup.

A couple of days back, my laptop charger suddenly decided to stop working. It said ‘the battery was unrecognized’ and I would have to buy a new one. My first reaction was a loud gasp ensued by a panic attack. I could not afford to have even a temporarily dead laptop because it has EVERYTHING. Literally, everything. My books, my ongoing dissertation work, my movies, my songs, internet, everything. It’s my connection to everything important in my life right now. Then I thought to myself how pathetic that was. I mean, if I can’t use my laptop, I’m practically handicapped. I won’t be able to work, to watch anything, read anything, or chat with anyone. I mean, what about the days when your books were physical, your notes were written on actual notebooks and you spent more time outside talking to people for real, and not typing out words with a poker face infested with ‘LOLs’ when you don’t actually ‘LOL’.  

I thought to myself it won’t be so bad. I’d order another charger and in the meantime I can go out more, read a book or talk to people. But I knew I would be restless till I get my hands on my laptop again. This is what we do, every single day after our classes get over. It’s unnerving, and disconcerting to think of the amount of information that is shoved into our faces as soon as we sign into our Twitter accounts or read all those feeds on our Facebook walls. The relentless ‘Which Game of Thrones character are you?’ quizzes, or innumerable reports and analysis of the same events, or opinion pieces on politics and how so and so affects your so and so. It makes me think, do we need so much information after all? Is it even healthy?  

Everything and everyone is crying out for your attention. But not everything and everyone deserves your attention. Imagine if a person living in the 1930s time-travelled into the future and observed us. He’d be befuddled and appalled to see how everyone is so obsessed with these square-shaped gadgets of various sizes emitting light on people’s faces. He might think human beings are possessed by some sort of bewitching objects, and we have no choice but to follow their orders. Because more often than not, it is us following their orders, than giving them. ‘Read me! Read me!’ ‘Click me because my headline is really inviting and once you open it you’ll realize that it is actually completely useless.’ ‘Watch this video and waste several minutes of your life which you could have spent stargazing or getting some exercise.’ They make us lazy, complacent and totally dependent on them. People can be dumb today, because they know they just have to whip out their black mirrors and get all the answers they want. Don’t know a song? Shazam it! Forgot the name of a movie? Google it! Eating something, or absolutely anything at all? Instagram it! Came across something nobody cares about? Tweet it!

Want to know what’s the worst part? We have all fallen prey to it. Including me. Though I might not be as bad as some of my friends, who hold their cell phones as if they’re an actual extension of their hands, I do it too. I do it because I’m a media student, and I have to ‘keep up.’ I need to be up to date with facts, and sometimes I do admit, I enjoy it. There is a vicarious thrill in 'checking someone out' or 'stalking' them or make fun of what they write. But I wish we had not reached a stage where we all go out and spend half the time with our eyes fixed on our tiny screens. Where everyone can be whoever they want to be, by projecting who they want to be, and not who they really are.

I miss the time when I used to listen to music on my Walkman and rewind it over and over to try to figure out what the singer with the heavy American accent was trying to say. I miss playing board games and cards and the anticipation of getting glossy printed photographs. I just wish we were not so reliant on it, you know? Too much of anything can’t be good.

Anyway, today is March 4^th. Know what that means? We have exactly one month before college gets over. One month to finish the dissertation, classes, assignments and exams. We just attended a college fest. Our last one. We had a band called Swarathma that played in college. They were great! Entertaining, good and kind of crazy. Plus, Amitabh Bachchan visited our campus today! Yep, we saw him in flesh and blood. His voice is amazing. It was pretty unbelievable to see the not so 'angry young man' for real. So, good stuff. 

I’ve been discovering lots of new music and Fleet Foxes is one of my most favourite bands currently. Please listen to them. My top two songs are ‘Blue Ridge Mountains’ and ‘Your Protector’. I’ve also been listening to this song called 'Breathe' since I watched an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. I like the lyrics.

Went to Bombay to give an interview, and once again, was shocked at the number of people scurrying about. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get used to that.

We spent the entire time playing Taboo after dinner today. God, it can be so much fun. Really keeps you on your toes. The breeze was beautiful tonight, like always. I’m trying not to get increasingly sentimental about leaving college over the next few days.

My sister completed two years of marriage today. TWO WHOLE YEARS. I was kind of freaking out about it. I had thought I would be sorted by the time I’m 23. But I guess you can never be ‘sorted’ in your life, ever. One of the things Big B said in his speech today was, “Agar mann ka ho to achcha hai. Aur agar mann ka na ho to zyaada achcha hai.” Translation: “If something you want happens, it’s good. If something you want doesn’t happen, it’s even better.” It just put a smile on my face. It’s okay if things are not turning out as I wanted them to. It will all be okay.

Like the song says, breathe. Just breathe. 

Sunday mornings

(View from our college campus)

So I know that very, very soon I’m going to be sent out (correction: thrown out) to face the ‘real’ world. I will always be busy, always be running about, and weekends will be so precious I would probably sleep them away. I won't have views such as the one I've uploaded above. Which is why I want to write about today morning. In general, about Sunday mornings on the campus. Even though I have missed a LOT of Sunday breakfasts because I hardly ever get up before 12 o’clock, but still, I am writing about the ones I have managed to get up for.

I was supposed to wake up at 8: 30, but I snoozed my alarm a couple of times and ended up getting at 9. I brushed my teeth, tied my hair up messily into a pony tail with my scrunchy, tried to wipe off the leftover kajal from the previous night, wore my Buzz Lightyear pajamas and my Wonder Woman tee-shirt, and left my room. I hummed ‘Your Protector’ by Fleet Foxes as I walked along the smooth hostel corridor, climbed down the stairs and got out of the gate. It was a crisp, sunny day and the breeze was cool and pleasant. I was happy I had my favourite black jacket along with me. 

Chattu was already there, and he gave me a toothy ‘good morning’ grin. We happily hoppity-hopped towards the mess while I told him about the latest developments in Dr. Meredith Grey’s life. The mess area is decorated with red lanterns and posters as part of promotions for upcoming college events. We entered the mess and started stuffing out plates with poha and aloo parathas. But the butter was over. For me, parathas without butter is almost sacrilegious! But I could make do with jam and pickle. We gulped them down and had a cup of tea. After we were done, we filled another cup of tea and sat outside the mess and looked at the beautiful view. And that is why I love Sundays. Sitting in the sun with cups of tea in our hands, gazing lazily into the distance with our pajamas on, and not rushing off to class or discussing an upcoming class assignment. You can just sit, and talk. Or not. Just sit silently. I WILL MISS THIS!

I just love tea. Even more than coffee. My mom never denied us from having tea, and since my family needs to have those daily cups of morning and evening tea, it’s not surprising that I like it so much. It is so comforting, and familiar. Be it in a kulhad, or in a plastic cup, I can have tea anytime, anywhere. Plus, for me, tea means a break. Snack time. Evening. Talking. Anyway, the best part about a Sunday is, you can go back to your room and sleep till lunch!

I have been listening to some Assamese songs by Papon. Have been particularly hooked to Raamdhenu, which means ‘Rainbow’. I’ll try posting the meaning of the lyrics later on. They’re beautiful. I want to travel after the exams. I want to go to Mcleodganj and Dharamshala, and Arunachal Pradesh and Bhutan. I want a job which I would like. I want to be in a city I will like. I want to earn money and get gifts for myself. And everyone else. I want to join Aerobics classes, and learn to play an instrument. I want to start exercising. I want to start eating healthy.

I just realized the possibilities in front of me. I can live on my own, and own a pet. Okay not a pet, but I can own a potted plant which I can keep on my window sill. I can have lace curtains and a bookshelf. Ooh, I can have this café cum bookstore which I would visit on weekends and sit and read. I can have a cheap roadside restaurant I could go to when I would be trying to save money. I can learn how to play an instrument. I can learn how to cook. I can make work friends and talk about work things and go on trips with them. I can take leaves and travel on my own money! I can whine about bigger problems than assignments and marks. I can whine about work issues and not getting leave to attend a wedding and not getting raises. I can whine about the maid taking too many leaves, or the rise in the prices. I will be, in the truest sense of the word, independent! Oh my god!

Okay, no more planning. A lot has to be done before that. A lot! I need a job, first of all. Fingers, toes and body crossed. Be back soon!

For the love of fictional characters

Why is the first step so difficult? The first massive, colossal, leap you have to make, to get over the inertia and just start writing. Or is it inertia? Maybe it’s fear. Sometimes when I read a good book, I feel inspired to write but I’m afraid that I can’t ever write that well. I want sentences to just flow beautifully from my fingertips and onto the keyboard, but I always feel that I won’t be good enough.

Why can’t I just use mellifluous words that are just sitting right there in my head? Why can’t I weave beautiful stories without ever doubting my work? Ernest Hemingway once said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” So, there. 

I wanted to write about some of the movies I’ve watched recently. The latest one amongst them is Ruby Sparks. It’s a story about a boy who writes down a character and falls in love with it and she comes to life. A quirky, complicated girl with whom he shares a wonderful relationship. But when things start to go wrong between them, he tries to tweak her by writing more about her. Fascinating, right? I mean, what would it be like to whip up someone like that? Someone you think would be perfect for you? For instance, I know exactly the kind of guy one of my friends would like to be in a relationship with. Tall, lanky, bespectacled, crooked teeth, perfect nose, singer, drummer, football player, socially awkward, sarcastic, smart. How would it work in real life though, I wonder.

One of the best movies that I’ve seen in a long time though, is Her. What an irresistibly beautiful movie. It makes so much sense in the technologically advanced world we are living in. Imagine having that one socially aware operating system who is also our best friend, who we can call and have an intelligent discussion with, who we can ask anything about anything in the world. It only gets messy when emotions get in the way. God, emotions can be so detrimental to everyone, to society. Why are we such a backward species? We kill each other, we are greedy and malicious and do unspeakable things to our own kin. And what is up with all the diseases and sickness and the slow, painful deaths?  Why is the whole process of reproduction so outrageously risky and disgusting? We should have been more evolved, resistant, logical and advanced organisms. I should have been born a billion years later. Anyway, I digress. The point being, the movie is fantastic.

Another movie to watch out for is The Ship of Theseus (Fair warning: This movie is not, I repeat, NOT about a ship) It’s one of the most brilliant masterpieces any Indian movie maker has created. And that too, a movie maker who once wrote dialogues for Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi and Kahaani Ghar Ghar Ki. Until one day, he realized how pathetic his job really was and devoted himself to making god amazing movies. Anand Gandhi used Theseus’s paradox as the base of the film which questions whether an object which has had all of its components removed and replaced remains the same object. There are four stories, each beautifully constructed and woven together to form a brilliant tapestry in the end. It’s deep, you need patience and the eye for little things to fully enjoy this movie. Some of the discussions in it made me pause it and think over it. It is really something. I am so glad India is going through this sort of movie renaissance where there is this whole new parallel cinema running alongside the mainstream crap, which is coming out which such good movies. There is Vikramaditya Motwane, Anurag Kashyap, Anand Gandhi, Ritesh Batra, Kiran Rao and so many others, trying to prove what movie watching is all about. Just go through this list once. Exciting, isn't it?

Next, I watched Frozen. Sure, it’s a beautiful, funny, very well-made Disney movie. But I don’t get the hype about the two main characters being female and how it is a feminist movie. I mean, Anne was stupid and clumsy. She fell in love with a guy who she met for a few hours, decided to marry him, offended her sister and then ran away onto snow-covered mountains to get her atop a horse? Then she had to ask another guy for help. Elsa on the other hand, somehow really irritated the way she handled her problems. Okay, if you are not convinced, please read this article. I do give this movie a big thumbs up for being funny, beautiful, entertaining and engaging. Just let’s not discuss the feminism aspects of it.

Okay, I really need not say anything about the next movie. You’ve seen it, you’ve loved it and you’re rooting for Leonardo Di’Caprio to win the Oscar with all your heart. The Wolf of Wall Street. I loved DiCaprio hated him at the same time in the movie. I loved his drool phase and his cerebral palsy phase. Sheer, sheer magnanimity.

Last on my list is Don Jon, a movie about a guy addicted to porn. I had a few problems with this movie as well. The entire purpose of this movie, actor and director Joseph Gordon Levitt claims to make is to show how porn makes us have unrealistic expectations with  with our sex lives. But the movie somehow seemed to do the opposite. It reinforces the fact that girls are not hot enough, guys have to do all the work, and sex is never as good as the porn. He sort of used sex to sell the movies. Opinions are solely my own, however.

Ooh, I’m also watching Grey’s Anatomy, which is a good show. But if you’ve been a loyal Scrubs fan, you will not like it much. The concept is the same, the characters are somewhat similar, in the end everything resolves, and the narrator has an epiphany, which all of us can relate to. Scrubs is funnier, but I guess Grey's Anatomy is more popular. Oh, and the doctors look like supermodels who somehow always have perfectly blow-dried hair and lip gloss on. But it’s a good show to watch when you are not getting any sleep at night. 

Well, that’s that. I have more movies to watch on my hard disk and I cannot wait to start gorging on them. But I have this big submission on Tuesday and I JUST CAN’T SEEM TO GET DOWN AT IT. Tomorrow, fo shizzle. It's deliciously chilly up on these hills and the weather can't get any better. A few things are stagnant but I hope they will pick up soon. I shall be back.

See you soon!

The hills

Every day slips by only too quickly and I can’t help but think how fast it is approaching. The end. Of college. Of student life. Of living on this hill. I wish I had one more semester. One more semester to do so many things we do not have the time to do now. One more semester to go out to the city and eat at all the places we had favourited on Zomato. One more semester to set things right with some people. One more semester to become better friends with friends, and to get to know more people we could never really get to know.

How do I sum everything up I have seen, felt and experienced on this hill? How are you supposed to do something like that? It’s like trying to fit an elephant through the eye of a needle. How do I share what I felt when I woke up every day and just gazed in amazement at the view outside? How do I share what those long walks with friends around the campus under the moonlight meant? How do I describe the infinite cups of tea I’ve shared with my favourite people looking at the sunset? Sitting at the iconic tea-point and imitating everyone, those inside jokes, the times when somebody’s chappal would fall in the drain and one of us would have to jump down and rescue it. How do I express what I felt every time I would sit in class and it would start to pour outside? How I would itch to go outside and get soaked to the bone?

How do I describe those flashes of memories that fly before me so quick no editing software in the world would ever come close to the video that plays in my head? Those enormous clouds gliding past on those rainy days. The droplets slithering down the colourful umbrellas. The rings left on the mess table. The brown leaves falling on the road leading down to the mess. The screech of the bus tyres. The cacophony after winning a match. The twinkling fairy lights in the room. Pink Floyd. The warmth flooding through me when I would see my friends after months. The long hugs. Waiting at PMC. Running to the store to buy snacks for the night before it closes. Hot cups of coffee after dinner. Making plans of going to SS. Running to the terrace with the desperation of doing something spontaneous. Making plans. Oh, so many plans.

How do I write it all out? How it would crush me to remove the bulletin board we stuck on our walls with so much love? How will I get used to not sleeping next to a person as crazy as me who gets up squealing and screaming and laughing? What better way to start your day? The uncountable shoes under her bed. Her table so messy you wouldn’t know how she keeps a track of anything. Her laundry basket always overflowing with clothes. The sound her keyboard makes when she types away furiously. Her cookie monster face. Her horrifyingly loud and physically painful laughter. Her telling me “I ate three of your cookies in the morning but I replaced them today evening.” The one who understands exactly what I’m feeling because more often than not, she feels the exact same way. Who quivers her lips when I tell her we might not need another hand wash. Who cries when I read out my old emails I had sent to my best friend. How do I express what I feel when I think one day we would pack our bags together and will not live in room 445 anymore? How do I tell her how this time round, it will be me staining my pillow, for she will be gone and I would be missing her just too much.

How do I talk about the boy who sat next to me every day? He made me jam and butter sandwiches when I missed breakfast. He marked my proxies in class. He understood when I was hungry or sad even before I knew it myself. He sang old Hindi songs with me, he made me laugh and he made me cry. He hurt me more than anyone else here, but he loved me so much more than that. He sent me hilarious audio clips in the morning to wake me up for class. He sent me chocolates, he got me books, he encouraged me, he made me feel I am worth so much more than what I get. We would sit by the benches next to the basketball court and gaze up in amazement at how clear the skies were. He would invariably tell me “You see that? That’s the Orion belt. And that’s Ursa Minor.” And I would say “Wow”, even thought I knew that already. I would let him explain the constellations to me, because then, his eyes twinkled brighter than the stars.  How do I say what it would be to not talk to him at the end of every single day?

How do I describe what those Whatsapp group conversations mean? Asking about the next lunch/dinner, discussing assignments, events, classes or people. That incessant chatter will one day end. I am afraid it would reach a point where none of us would have anything in common to discuss. I am even more afraid that one by one, each of us would leave the group and get lost in our respective jobs, dashing about concrete jungles and trying to make sense of the brand new chapter in each of our lives.

How do I explain how much I love my room? How inviting the bed is after a class ends and you stumble inside the room, drained out of energy. How fresh it looks when it is bathed in the sunlight entering through the window? How do I write what seeing familiar tables in the mess felt? Those times when you would stand till 11:59 outside the hostel gate, talking to everyone because it was just so much fun to be with all your best friends? How it felt when the cool breeze blew the hair away from our faces, and we ran around, high on friendship and on love.

What do I do with the endless photos I have gathered in my phone? The unusual uniqueness of every relationship I share with each of my friends. So different, so comfortable. How I know each one of them so well. Maybe too well. Which makes me love them and hate them at the same time.

When you live on a residential campus, your friends are your family. And I have found my family here. These hills, silently observing our every move, knowing what takes place in dark, obscure spots of the campus, enveloping us in their misty, majestic presence. They know us. It is oddly pleasing to look at the sprawling city spread out before you like a game of Monopoly. The shimmering city lights in the distance remind you that when you gain enough perspective, your problems do not seem as gigantic as you make them in your head. Right now, I feel that there is so much more to life than your career. Than your placement. Than your CGPA. That’s not what we will remember. What we will remember are the nights we were crazy enough to stay awake and go for breakfast even before the mess opened. What we will remember are those times we stayed up at night talking, realizing how we all have the same doubts in life, how we are all in this together. We are all in the same boat. We are a family.  

I wanted to do this for quite some time. Just sit in front of my laptop without thinking and let the words spill out, like smoke billowing out of a chimney in haphazard patterns. There is so much more to this place than what meets the eye. It teaches you life lessons which probably no other place would teach. It compels you to bond with the people around you, to keep you sane. It teaches you that there is more to life than holding grudges against each other, or to wallow in grief if you miss out on an opportunity. Much like the roads here, life here has been full of ups and downs. And my heart refuses to believe that it is going to end. How would it be to not have to worry about missing class every morning? How would it be to never have to write an exam again? How would it be to not stay up all night and sleep the next day away? How would it be to not see the deep orange sky and the silhouettes of the guys playing football every evening? What would life be? Where would I be? Where would we all be?

We would all probably be struggling with our newfound freedom and all the challenges that come with it. But I am certain that we would never forget our experiences on these amazing, throbbing, gleaming, heartbreaking hills. The hills that have witnessed thousands of students come here, go through the same experiences every 20-year-old something would go through, and then leave with a heavy heart. They have watched them leave year after year, knowing that they will never be the same again. 

A Hazy Shade of Winter

Sometimes there is so much happening around you that you are afraid to write about it because it is so overwhelming. You are trying to avoid thinking about some things and writing about them reaffirms all your fears and insecurities. But then writing also helps clear your head, and gives you the chance to channelize your thoughts coherently. That is why I just decided to write today. It helps you move on.

I realized something. I was a spoilt little kid when I was growing up. I’ve been reading about the middle-child psychological traits, and most of us are attention seekers since we feel neglected during childhood. Everything the first child does is special and new and amazing, and when the second child does it, they go like “Yeah, so well what’s new?” So ever since I can remember, I’ve been a noisy little kid. My mom always says I'm so stubborn I always get what I want somehow. When I was about five, we were out shopping for my birthday and I wanted an expensive Mickey Mouse soft toy. Mom got me a Teddy bear instead. I cried and threw a tantrum. I didn't play with the bear, only cried for Mickey Mouse. Dad took me to the shop and got it for me. That thing was my life. I carried it everywhere, fed it, slept with it, even took it to the doctor, for his check up. The doctor still remembers the way I told him, "Doctor, iske batooke mein sui laga do." (Give him an injection in his butt)

A similar instance is about a fight I had with my mom over a frilly frock for my birthday party. I wanted a pink frock with a bloomer that had silver dots on it. She wanted to buy me a yellow one with NO dots on the bloomer. My mom did not get me that, and I was sore for the next few days. Another time. My brother decapitated my Barbie doll and I cried so much, dad had to go out and get the same one for me. I've always been pampered. My parents always got me what I wanted. And if they didn't, I knew if I make a lot of noise, they would. Maybe they were overcompensating for unknowingly neglecting me. Who knows? I guess I always felt that if you really want something bad enough, you’ll get it. Somehow or the other, I never had to face rejection or be desperate for anything. To pine for something. I pine for something today. A couple of things actually.

I did not get placed in the company I was vying for. My best friends got the same job. I wanted it. I really wanted it. After crying about it for two days, I finally let the most clichéd phrases people have been telling me, sink inside me. “There is something better in store.” “Maybe life has another plan.” “Maybe this job wasn’t for you.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. It’s one rejection. One interview gone bad. But it HURTS. I really wanted it. So now I’m applying anywhere I can, not really keeping my expectations high. People say it builds character. Well, I’ve built a hell of a lot of character in the past few days then.

Why is it so difficult for me to let things go? People, relationships, opportunities, mistakes, memories. I cling on to everything, every smidgen of everything, till the very last thread breaks and I have no choice but to move on.

In other, happier news, I watched the first two seasons of Black Mirror. Waiting for the third season to come out. Wow. What a show. I’ve always had this theory that too much of digitalization and social networking and gadgets are going to turn us into these monogamous zombies who do not have any idea what the real, simple things in life are all about. And it has already happened. Well, Black Mirror takes it to a whole new level. In one episode, a woman loses her fiancé in a car accident and a friend suggests a software to her in order to cope with her grief. Now this software uses all of his tweets, status updates, emails, chat histories, photos, videos and all other information available online to create a virtual him. Freaky, right? She could chat with him, even talk to him on the phone. He talked exactly like him, but he DIDN’T EVEN EXIST. You know what? Let me not spoilt it for you. Please watch it!

Also, I’m watching The Office all over again. Oh god, I still laugh at all of Jim’s pranks, and when Michel goes berserk over a stupid reason and when Pam and Jim kiss for the first time. It’s like reliving graduation days again. What a time it was.

College is awesome. This is the last sem, so very few classes, a lot of free time to spend with friends, and SLEEP and do movie marathons late into the night. We had a DJ night yesterday in college, and we all lost our minds dancing. I hit so many people in the maddening crowd, and I tripped on a wire and my muscles are aching now, but it was so worth it. And guess what? My dissertation topic is on Breaking Bad: the emergence of the anti-hero as the hero. How cool is that?

The only looming tension on our heads right now is placements. It seems as if that’s what everyone is always talking about. I am tired of people asking me about it. Whenever someone gets placed, there’s a lot of congratulations and happiness, but there is also panic. It’s like we are all in the ocean, grappling in the icy cold water, waiting for our lifeboats. As soon as a person gets a boat, we feel happy they’ll live, but we fear our own safety. We look into the distance, hoping and waiting for it to come. And I know it will. It’s just that the wait is distressing.

I’m trying to be positive now. Being with people, trying to absorb all the good things about college life, and shun out the bad ones. The weather is perfect, the right amount of chilly and yet warm enough for me to crush the crunchy leaves on my way to class. The skies are clearer than ever before, and the sunsets are as beautiful, as they always are in Lavale. Chai time everyday is what I look forward to. They have opened up a couple of eating joints down the hill, and they have started giving this divine strawberry milkshake at the Coffee Stop. Possum, as usual, is awesome. We have the most hilarious, most crazy times in the room and I don’t care about the fact that people have officially declared us insane even one bit. I’m glad we are lunatics. I wish she was my roommate last year too. Oh well, it all ended well. All in all, can't complain. So, last two months. Sigh, never thought this day would come so soon. Pune, before I leave, I’m going to soak you up like a sponge. Just you wait.

Arrivederci, Mumbai

Two days back I was going to Thane in a local train and a long distance train was running on top speed on a parallel track a little distance away. That’s when I saw them. Two boys emerged out of an opening in the engine and started to walk on the roof of the train. I couldn’t believe it. They were laughing, thrilled by the risk involved in what they were doing. One of the boys moved ahead and sat at the very edge of the train with his legs dangling, and the other one followed and sat behind him. They were screaming in utter abandonment, their hair and tee-shirts fluttering crazily in the wind. Their arms were raised in the air, and it reminded me of DiCaprio in Titanic. They were clutching each other, looking ahead and just laughing.

I could not stop looking at them. How happy they looked. How close they seemed. I so wished I had my camera at that moment. It just brightened my day. And when I saw them, I was listening to The Shins, and the image went so well with the song I was listening to (New Slang). It is funny how we can just forget all our problems and worries in the sheer happiness of moments like that one.

Today is my last day in Mumbai. I have mixed feelings. I can’t wait to sleep on my bed (which is not prone to breaking after every few days) and feel my soft pillow under my head. I can’t wait to eat all the home food, and meet my family. But I know I will miss this place. It has been a bittersweet experience. More like a saccharine sweet and a tangy sour type, actually. Some days have been unbelievably good, and some days have been the worst ever. The past two days I have just been shopping. Linking road, Hill road, Colaba Causeway, Fashion Street. Chattu and I went to Gokul last night. And there, just sitting there with him, talking about ‘work’ and stuff, I felt so grown up. I could not stop smiling. I can officially live on my own now. I don’t need anyone else. I have proved that to myself, at least. The only thing I need now, is to start earning. I cannot wait for that to happen. Having my own money to spend, on myself, and everyone I love. That’s precious.

But now I am thinking about all the things I will miss. I am going to miss the announcements on the railway stations “Overhead wires panchees hazaar volt te pravahita hai. Gaadi cha tapavan nu jaan leva ho shakte. Kripya gaadicha tapavan nu pravaas karu ne.” (Okay, I don’t know Marathi so pardon me if I got that wrong.) And I will miss the surge of relief I felt every day once the train would reach Dadar and most of the people would get out. Which reminds me, I bought a tee-shirt from Colaba which says, “Darr ke aage jeet hai, Dadar ke aage seat hai!” :D

I’m going to miss the clawing, screaming, pushing aunties who were ready to stampede their way in the trains all the time. Okay, I won’t miss them all that much. But I will miss the innate Mumbai-ness of the places. The Victorian architecture in South Bombay, people living in orange tin boxes, the pretty churches in Bandra and Christmas decorations everywhere, the salty smell at Nariman point, the hustle bustle at CST, the little trinkets people sold in the locals.

Right now, sitting in my empty apartment, I am realizing how lonely one can feel in this city when you don’t have to run about all the time and do not have friends to keep you company. The loneliness can be haunting. I’m going home tomorrow, but I am taking a huge part of Mumbai with me, and leaving an even bigger part here. A part of me at Andheri station, a part of me at the Mc. Donald’s besides it. A little part of me at Marine drive. A little part of me in this flat. And a very special part sitting on a roadside pavement talking about parallel universes in front of Bombay Blues.

It has been one of the most challenging, and ergo, one of the most satisfying experiences in my life so far. I am looking forward to home. Looking forward to the winter chill and fog. Looking forward to the new year. Bring it on, 2014 :)

This is my December

This is my time of the year. I still happen to like that song, by the way.

Guess what? Music can really soothe your soul. Fleet Foxes, Imagine Dragons, Coldplay, Porcupine Tree. Ahhh :) And what is better is to put earphones on and not care how you sound caterwauling :D 
I went on a sort of movie-watching rampage after my internship got over. I finished reading the Hunger Games part one in a day and watched the movie at night. Can’t wait to read the next two parts. I guess I will always be a sucker for fantasy fiction. Then I watched Half Nelson. Man, Gosling, he never fails to amaze me. Watched Annie Hall next. How come I had never watched his movie to the finish? What a movie. So progressive. I’m a fan of Woody Allen. I really liked when he said “I feel that life is divided into the horrible and the miserable. The horrible are like terminal cases, blind people, crippled. I don’t know how they get through life. It's amazing to me. And the miserable is everyone else. So you should be thankful you are miserable. Because that's very lucky, to be miserable.” Haha, what a man! Then I watched Lolita. I couldn’t read the book completely because I thought Humbert Humbert is really sick. But the movie was good. Especially the man who played Quilty. Very nice. And then I watched Michael Moore’s Capitalism: A Love Story. I had no idea how these big corporations had sucked the blood of the lower and the middle classes. You should really watch his movies. He’s a crazy genius.

In other news, I cannot believe my internship is over! In hindsight, it seems as if it flew by, but it was really crawling when I was counting the days. There was a point when I was utterly demotivated to work because all my efforts were not bearing any fruit. And it was a bitter, bitter pill to swallow. To work on a story all day and not seeing it in the paper because there were better or more important stories. It is a feeling every reporter goes through, and it can really deflate you like a balloon.

But then my sister reminded me of something my granddad used to tell us, “Karm kar, phal ki chinta mat kar.” Roughly translated, it means “Do your work, and do not think of the outcome.” And then my mom told me the same thing. It doesn’t matter that my stories are not coming out, I should not take life so seriously. Plus, the entire process of doing the stories itself has taught me so much. This has been probably the best internship I could have had. Worked in a healthy environment, got some good work to do, met some really nice people, got to travel all over the city. Seriously, I was not even expecting so many experiences packed in under two months. I have seen the dark side of Mumbai. The underbelly. The dirt and grime. Not to mention, a lot of crime. (That rhymes!) I have walked in lanes so narrow I felt they would cave in on me. I have smelled places so bad I felt I would faint. I have witnessed various cultures, people and lifestyles all in one city. And the biggest achievement, the oh so many lunches I had alone. I have always hated eating alone. But now, I think I can eat in a roadside restaurant without being self conscious. When hunger takes over, comfort takes a backseat.

Also, I always start smiling to myself now when I look at policemen. I’ll always have a special invisible bond with them, no matter where I go. I have met some interesting ones, some really good ones, and some really oh-my-god-will-he-ever-talk-sense type, but I’d have to say one thing. The Mumbai police force is good. I’ve seen cases being cracked in a day. Some impossible crimes being solved with the most ingenious methods. Then you should see them gloat. It’s almost cute the way they gush over when they talk about how they nabbed the criminals. It’s really interesting to see how the cases unfold though. The biggest thing is that I never thought I would be able to handle this. And I did. Now I feel like I can work in any beat. I can’t believe I’m saying this! I think I have grown up!

Okay, now this post is going haywire, so I shall write about my challenges in point form.

1.  The huge amount of courage it always took me to enter police stations and handle the stares. The curious eyes always seeming to ask ‘Okay what is SHE doing here?’ ‘She looks like a kid. She’s a reporter?’ ‘She doesn’t belong here! Go away, little girl! This is a dark place where bad things happen. Go on, go to a candy store.’

2. The infinite amount of patience it required to sit outside the officers’ offices, when they acted important, when they were busy attending their never-ending ‘meetings’, when they had more important things to do. When I waited for hours, only to hear “I cannot tell you anything about this case. You should talk to Mr. So and so. And Mr. So and so is on chutti.” Grrr. Why, god why?!

3. Visiting a crime scene after a murder or a suicide and talking to people about it. Just how are you supposed to start a conversation with a random passerby about someone else’s death? It took everything it had in me to approach a stranger and talk about it. Most of the times, they stared at me wide-eyed, dodged all my questions and ran away.

4. When I had to try all the tactics in the Handbook of rookie reporters to get information out of a cop. Stern expressions. A confident voice which said ‘I’m not going till you give me all the information’. Puppy eyes. Shadowing a cop relentlessly till he had to give me something out of sheer exasperation. 

5. Realizing you never find any other female crime reporter anytime you visit police stations for a story. And that it is such a boys club. And that police officers are so much more comfortable talking to men, rather than a skinny little girl. They even joke around with them. Sigh.

6.  Sitting in Marathi press conferences, blank and uncomprehending. Then leaning over to a fellow reporter and saying, “Um, could you give me a teeny tiny idea of what the heck is happening?” And many time, telling the cops, “Could you puh-leez be kind enough to talk in Hindi?” and grinning.

7. The frustration and the anguish of knowing that after travelling in unimaginable conditions sandwiched between people of all shapes, sizes and smells, you do not have enough to make a story. After spending your entire day bumping into dead ends, you have to go back to office empty handed. I felt like crying then. Because it made me question my abilities. But somehow you had to file in the story. Talk over the phone, make a million calls. But get it done.

8. The exhaustion that hits you on the way back home. When you sit by the window, with your hand over your head, listening to music, looking at the tired faces of the fellow passengers and thinking “This is not easy.”

9. Having to go through the arduous task of being in the midst of so many unthinkable things humans do to another. How they can be so heartless as to take someone else's life is beyond me. It's depressing. 

Apart from all of this, there have been some good times. So, naturally, it calls for another list.

1.  The feeling of seeing your name in the paper. A byline! Your efforts are there for the people to read. That some space has been carved out for you, amongst so many other good stories.

2.  The seemingly endless Monday meetings with the entire team. The intelligent discussions that made you feel like they are speaking another language. The story ideas peppered with jokes and leg-pulling. The feeling of being a part of a proper newsroom, where people churn out so many stories about the city every single day.

3.  The lunch with my team members S and G after the meetings. S’s home food. His silly quirks and jokes. G’s one-liners, the way he sang old hindi songs in office. His encouragement every time I felt down. His support every time I doubted myself. Making fun of certain people. Laughing at each other. Mostly them laughing at me. 

4. Asking T to go for a tea break. Sharing her dabba with her. Having tea and uttapa and cheese sandwiches in the cafeteria. Going outside the office and having masala dosa with cheese. So many cups of chai. Cribbing about the day, joking about our experiences, sharing the mutual problems and talking about college.

5. Stealing time from work and sitting at Marine Drive. That one time T and I were so bored we sat and stared at the crabs. For half an hour. And it was one of the most interesting things we had done that day.

6. The entire feel of Nariman point. The roads, the tall commercial buildings, marine drive, the cool breeze, the lack of noisy crowds everywhere.

7.  The overall atmosphere in the office after 7. Phones ringing, fingers tapping at the keyboards at top speed. The chatter, the excitement, the rush of meeting deadlines, the jokes.

8.  Sunlight. The drinks. The conversation. Crossing the road like little kids. Laughter. Abandonment. Popcorn stuck in the hair.

9. Having N to talk to. The way she entered my room when I was curled up in bed, and talked to me and always made me feel better. The way we went out to have coffee or just 'some place nice'. Having my college friends as my flatmates and knowing I can talk to them and laugh with them and meet them back on the hill again.

10. Always having someone or the other to be with. Trying out so many new places. The Little Door, Theobroma, ChaiCoffi, Bistro 1, Big Bang Cafe, Firangi Paani, Banana Leaf, Woodside Inn, Hawaiian Shack, Hearsch and so many more. 

10. The feeling of ending the day with a fulfilling story. A good story. The feeling that you contributed to the paper. You did something worthwhile. Sitting in the train, looking out and just feeling good about yourself.

I did not realize how long this post has turned out to be. And there is so much more that I have to say. Well, I’ll have to leave that for the next time. There’s so much more of Mumbai inside me that I have to share. Christmas is almost here and tomorrow I’m going out with one of my best friends to shop and roam around Bandra. Oh I am so excited! Life can be so amazing sometimes. I shall write more. Soon.

P.S. Today a friend texted me “You know, if all human beings were more like you, I wouldn’t have hated humanity so much.” How adorable is that? :)

Mumbai Diaries

They’re like insects here. The people. They dwell in every nook and cranny of the city. While some live in majestic bungalows and villas facing the sea, most of them live in one-roomed, cubicle like flats. Their buildings look like beehives. Each window reflecting different stories behind it in their 10” by 10” rooms. Some of them who do not have a permanent roof over their heads settle down anywhere they can. Beneath flyovers, beside railway tracks, on the footpaths, on open fields under tin roofs. When it rains they crawl out of their humble homes, and wait till they can fix them again. They scurry around everywhere, on railway stations, on the roads, in the trains. They are always walking. It looks like an ant colony. People walking so fast the world seems like a blur to them. They bump into each other, but they don’t have time to look back. They stand in queues. So many queues. Long human chains waiting for the bus, for the tickets, for taxis and auto rickshaws.

They spend half their day stuck in traffic jams. The continuous, ceaseless, mind-numbingly infuriating traffic jams. While you are praying for the bottle-necked roads to clear up, you listen to some music, but then you are surrounded by children. Oh, the children. They sell flowers, they sell balloons. They sell children’s books which they can’t read themselves. They sell bangles which they cannot dream of wearing on their tiny, dirty wrists.

Walking on the railway platform sprawling, overflowing with people, you can’t help but wonder what everyone else is thinking. Their faces flash past you in under a second, but you imagine what their life must be like. That man, running with a briefcase, wiping the sweat off his face. Is he late for a meeting? Is his boss going to give him a hard time for being late? Or that old woman, barely able to walk at a regular pace, where is her family? Is she waiting to meet them? Is she alone? Sometimes you see a lanky young boy, wearing his bright orange earphones dancing while enjoying his music, dangling by the door of the train. People grabbing vada pavs and samosas on the go. Eating while running, eating while talking on the phone. Sometimes you see young people walking holding hands, completely immersed in each other. Their fingers are intertwined with each others, their eyes twinkling with love.

So many people. So many stories. It’s a never-ending sea of people going about their everyday lives. I cannot help but think of something Kafka says in Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore. He says that all these people he sees walking past him, a hundred years later they would not even exist. They would be gone. Gone from the face of the earth. Including him. And me and you and all of us. The future generations will have different stories, different experiences. Wonder what life would be like then. How much of it would have changed? One of my friends yesterday in one of his ‘mellow’ moods said “we are lost in a mist of time. Stumbling and groping around in the dark. Then we suddenly hit a dead end and we look back and realize that the mist was all there was and the journey was the only purpose. The journey that led to a blind alley. In the end, I think, life is a purposeless journey undertaken by a blind man in the dark. We continue to live it for no other reason other than that it’s there. Even though we know exactly what lies in the end.”

Does it make sense? To me it kind of did. I should get some sleep now. Tomorrow is another day.

P.S.  Today’s date is 11.12.13 :)

Parasites

This is harder than I thought it would be. There comes a time after you shift to a new place when the weight of everything that has changed suddenly hits you like a train. In the beginning I was excited. I was nervous but I was eager. Every hardship was a learning experience. Now, I ask myself what is it that I’m trying to do. What am I trying to achieve? I feel scared. I feel lonely. I want the comfort of home, of people who I can openly talk to. I want the food, I want my bed. I feel so drained out of energy now.

In the movie, The United Stated of Leland, Ryan Gosling’s character murders a disabled boy because he could not take how unhappy he was. I must admit that I somehow get that. Not that I support taking anybody’s life for whatever reasons, but I understand what he was trying to say. I see unhappiness around me all the time. How do I ignore the little girl who lives under a tarpaulin sheet with her family beside railway tracks? How do I ignore the blind old man, who stutters about rattling a plastic box full of coins, his grandchild holding his hand? How do I ignore the woman lying on the staircase at the entrance of the railway station, her eyes staring vacantly? How do I ignore the thousands of people scurrying about like ants every single day of their lives, struggling to survive, suffering to earn their daily bread? I can only grit my teeth and let the gut-wrenching guilt fade away. I can only swallow the lump that forms in my throat. It’s not fair. It’s not.

It saddens me that we spend half our time stuck in traffic jams, standing in crowded trains, waiting in long queues for everything. Sometimes it gets too much. Sometimes I need to shut my eyes and go somewhere far away.

And then there are your own monsters in your head. Your own insecurities, inadequacies, self-doubts and the everyday challenges you have to overcome. Little strips of paper make us run around, make us kill each other, make us turn into inhuman demons. We are like parasites, consuming all of the resources nature has given us, and polluting every place we go to, and then moving on to other areas, only to pollute them as well. We are selfish and greedy and malicious. We are these insignificant organisms living on a hot, overpopulated planet floating through a universe so big, we don’t even matter. We are mortal, delusional beings just completing our time in the world. Carl Sagan once said, “We are like butterflies, who live for a day, but think it is forever.” Is it worth it? Is anything worth it? 

In the city of dreams. And some nightmares.

Today I knew I just had to gather everything inside me and just write.I  turned twenty three on November 9. Almost a woman now(?) Had a nice dinner with friends. I don't really get excited about my birthday anymore. I feel nothing really. A tinge of shock and disappointment, at how I can't help getting older.

I've been listening to ‘Death is the road to awe’, the OST of The Fountain. It transports me into another realm of the universe. I just finished reading The Lowland, the latest book by Jhumpa Lahiri. What a beauty. The ending killed me. Reading Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami now. Enjoying it immensely.  

In other news, I’ve managed to cross off one of the things on my wish list. We all went to Goa after the exams! It was exactly what I needed. We loitered around the beaches, played with the sea waves, zipped zapped zoomed all over Goa on our hired scooters and drank and ate and danced and did everything possible in three days. What a holiday! We used to come back at 4 or 5 in the morning, crash on the beds like there’s no tomorrow, get up late, have a lazy, delicious breakfast and then just rush to the beaches. I love the sound of the beach. It’s one of the most joyful sounds in the world.

It has been two weeks since I came to Bombay and started my internship at The Indian Express. Honestly, I don’t even know how to describe the entire experience. I live in a 3BHK with 3 of my other friends and a couple of strangers (who are now kind of friends as well). I travel by the local trains every day, Andheri to Churchgate, which were so alien to me fifteen days back. Now I don’t even have to bat an eyelid before hopping on a train. I see the red stripes and the ‘ladies’ symbol and BAM! I’m on it in no time. It has become so routine, so normal, so …necessary. I sit at the window seat, plug in my earphones and tune myself out till I reach my destination. The office was overwhelming the first day. It is located at Nariman point, one of the most commercial and developed places in Bombay. The building overlooks the sea, and Marine drive is right outside. That place excites me, thrills me. Every time I have to go to CST or cross those iconic landmarks or look at the skyline, I can’t help smiling. This is one of the best cities in the country! I am in Bombay! I’m working here! I’m living here! It is really happening!

Talking about work. So they have put me in the Crime beat as of now. When I was told that, my mind went like, “Oh my god, I’m done for. How will I ever do this?” But my superiors/mentors/colleagues are so helpful and encouraging. I feel like laughing when I compare them to my previous internship superiors. They are patient with me, they tell me where to go and how to go and what to do. I call them for the silliest reasons and they guide me through it. In the past two weeks I’ve done 2 suicide stories, 2 accident stories, a murder story, a couple of press conferences, and several small 100-word reports. And it has been a ride. To think that I had never gone inside a police station before in my life, and now I visit senior inspectors and police officers almost every second day. I was petrified at first. Lost. Blank. Ignorant. But slowly, I started getting the hang of it. I would give myself a pep talk. “I’m a journalist! It is my right to ask for information, and they owe it to me. These are public records and they are bound to tell me what people need to know. Just go and talk to them. They can’t throw you out.”

Some days, however, they almost do throw you out. Not literally, but they may snap at you, ignore you or pretend they are not who you think they are. They have more important things to do, cases to solve instead of talking to some newbie reporter. And I understand that, which is exactly what makes this job so challenging. I have had police officers who have made me wait for hours only to tell me they have to go somewhere urgently. It is mind numbingly demotivating. But you've got to get your story, by hook or by crook. It makes me question my own capabilities. Am I good enough for this? 

I admire the energy of this place. Not only my office, but the entire city. Everyone is busy, and everyone walks with a purpose. No one stares at you, no one tires to touch you. No one even has the time to look at you. Which is why it is liberating to work here. It is not odd to come home at 12 in the night. I know girls who come later than that. This place is for people who are really just trying to work and make a living.

The stories done by the other people in my office are sometimes so good I wonder how I will ever be able to reach that level, but I know I can if I push myself hard enough. I’ve seen good days, and bad ones. Some days were so frustrating I almost cried in the toilet. It is physically painful when you travel and walk in the heat for hours and you don’t get any information for your story. I have often wondered what I’m doing. If I want to do this. If I’m meant to do this. But I can figure that out for myself later. Right now I’m just glad at how much I’m getting to learn every single day. I’ve travelled in buses where there has been no place to move and where passengers are somehow dangling at the door, their entire body hanging outside precariously. I’ve travelled in loud, noisy, hot, crowded trains where I have stood for so long my legs have lost all feeling. I’ve gone from one place to another looking for the scene of crime, only to be met with ignorant faces and disappointment. I've eaten at small roadside shops alone. I’ve gone hungry. I come home by 10:30 at night. I change, have my dinner, read a few pages of my book and I’m out in minutes. But I know that at the end of my internship, even if I don’t report groundbreaking stories, this will all be worth it because it would make me tougher. Stronger. Build my character. Every time my report gets edited, I get better at writing it. I learn every day. Maybe this is all to compensate for all those jobless, useless, idle days I have spent sleeping and watching reruns.

I’m out in the industry. Even if temporarily. I need to learn how to swim against the current, lest it takes me away with it. I’m aware of my own inadequacies, and I have to work against them. Against my own fears and shortcomings. This is really the time to figure myself out. To make something happen. To do something that matters. This is my time.