digressions

So long

2009-08-31T21:27:00.009+01:00

I shall digress here no more. I have moved to what seemed like the greener pastures of wordpress: http://iffyephemerals.wordpress.com/.

It's not greener, no. But it is a change of scenery.

I will leave with a bit of short clumsy verse, not appropriate for parting really but I feel like I should say something :)

As I stepped out into a mellow breeze,
a burst of pollen made me sneeze.
Engaged as such, I couldn’t quite see
and I walked right into a nearby tree.

As I stepped back and tended my bruise,
a black clould at that moment (violently) let loose,
fell to the earth, and drenched yours truly
who certainly didn’t deserve this, surely?

The new one opens with another one along the same lines but where I don't necessarily run into trees.

Unifinished business

2009-05-05T13:30:00.011+01:00

(05/05/09) So after watching this 1996 film about 1964, I'm pacing up and down the length of the kitchen wiping up and popping the occasional unwashed grape in to my mouth, desperate to use the only (occupied) bathroom in the house... And I get it. Finally.

What I 'got' that day, is uncertain. But I remember what a nice feeling it was. A slight buzz that would trail me pleasantly, until I wrote it down. But I took so long to get to the point, it had frizzled away. The film in question: That thing you do!
-------
(18/04/09) Rosemary and Thyme (title only)

I was sick then, and my room-mate improvised with the said herbs instead of eucalyptus or whatever else is usually used, for a steam session at the stove. Which was brilliant. I have no idea what I thought of writing about then though.
-------
(15/01/09) Having read a lot of diary-ing in the past week I feel like writing myself. I had previously established (probably more than once) that I would avoid diary-like-spewage-sessions here but I haven't quite kept my word on that.. I have also been noticing that when I'm into a book or have just finished it - my language and even the words in my head start to take a slight hint of the style in the book. For that matter I seem to be prone even to the people I spend time with. But wait, are you interested in what my lingual influences are? Does it matter whether you are? Does it matter whether 'ligual influence' coveys correctly, what I'm trying to get at ?And thus we lapse into 'more rhetorical frippery'(1) as one dictionary gives an example usage of the word.

Here I had just finished reading 'Engleby' by Sebastian Faulks. It took some mild rhetorical frippery to find out I didn't have anything to say about it after all.
---
(26/11/08)I'm frequently

Well, I don't know. I'm frequently... a lot of things! I'm frequently clumsy, I'm frequently down with a cold, I'm frequently returning to the computer instead of doing work, I'm frequently day-dreaming, I'm frequently awesome :D, I'm frequently.. no I'm not going to make this a painfully long list just to prove my point.
----
(13/08/08)"Futility is so attractive to they young, and I had not yet exhausted its possibilities." The story talks about the protagonist's nostalgia for her 'youthful days of unrequited love'.

I forget where I got those lines from. A little bit of googling shows that its from a story called 'Hair Jewellery' in a collection of Margaret Atwood's short stories (Dancing Girls and other Stories). Also found a Scribd i paper version of the book. Which unfortunately was jumbled and I read bits of three stories that started with 'Rape fantasies', on to Hair Jewellery and another unknown one by which time I was very annoyed with Scribd. It was funny how the much the voice of the second story sounded like that of the first one. It was when she told me (the reader) that the only sweater with only one hole she had (she's poor), had that hole because I made it with a cigarette butt, my vague suspicion of two odd paragraphs was confirmed. The earlier one only talked to me as if I were the anonymous reader that I was. Point? There's a reson all these were left unwritten you know!
-----
(18/03/08)Before all the lovely spring snow interfered, I was working on a post that started off with Amartya Sen's "The Argumentative Indian", intending to talk about what I found mildly disturbing about it and continuing along the same subjects. It unfortunately veered off into murky waters of the shortcomings of our educational system and my reading encounters through school-life (including some silly whining about not being given Baum and Dahl on a silver-platter when I was 11 years old) and ended with excusing my digressions as a means of staying true to the blog's title's claim. And then, I decided it was too much for one post (the joys of complete control) so here I am, trying this time not to stray from the shoddy mental blueprint of this post. I do realize, of course, that with each sentence in this introductory para, I'm championing an increasingly lost cause...

Seriously, whatever.
----
(20/06/07)A day in the life of
She had two pillows under her head to facilitate breathing through the night. The symptoms of cold always manifested rather strongly (and frequently) in her and among other irritable things made it a pain to breathe. As it happend on most mornings when she was thus affected, she awoke when, inspite of the elevation, a conscious effort had to be made to breathe. It must have been around 6 or 7 today. She always sensed that there was a gap between waking up and being aware of having woken up. But those few seconds or minutes or sometimes even hours always eluded her and this bothered her in a vague sort of way.

Oh this just sounds like someone else. What was I trying to do?
-----
(04/12/06) The first one...
...is a major digression, since exams are on in a few days. Nevertheless, as I go off organochemical synthesis of interferon genes, I get to.... shit, I'll leave this 'under construction' right now

:)
-----
A few excerpts of posts that never got to be a grey-and-purple on my blog. Because I'm desperate to get something on this page but am not able to muster up anything new.

So here's me signing off from a brown velvet armchair in a farm-house in Greater Manchester, that very often reminds me, unbelievably, of home.

I am a published poet :D

2009-01-04T22:45:00.010Z

Haha, not quite in the way one usually imagines. There is no little slip of a book filled with verses that only the local bookstore has a modest 25 copies of. That's too much to expect. There is but one poem (and probably will remain the only one for a long time now from the looks of it). And it's gotten into the Winter issue of an online publication called The Smoking Poet. I might be able to identify with only half their tag-line (of sorts) "A fine cigar and good literature - two of life's most enduring pleasures", never having had a cigar. But that is immaterial. I take heart from the fact that lots of others whose work is featured seem to be full-time writers who have actual books (of poems or not) to their credit and are generally in print. That gives me some sort of validation I think, cosmetic as it might be. Whatever, yay me! :)

Click on the title to go to the poem.

PS happy new year and all that

Where do You stand?

2008-12-08T17:29:00.010Z

Here's what Political Compass thinks:

So from the looks of it I'm clearly on the left, though not too far . Good to know -I was vaguely concerned about straying from the fence while not being sure I wanted to be sitting on it either. Had always refused to properly make up my mind about that somehow.
Have a go at http://www.politicalcompass.org/

Everyday Distractions

2008-11-09T20:43:00.014Z

Words are clearly not my thing right now. So here's some bits and odds snapped up (mostly) from my phone camera:

Feet first

My shiny Blackwell bag catches light

I turn shades of grey

The Duvet twists

Train mirrors

Even teeth frame the bruise

Window looks at Times Square

Gold

the Headboard looms over filmsy blue pillows

Feet lie together

Henna colours

Music travels along with me

the Pinkness comes Next

Light shines through

Cutting right through the Heart

2008-10-30T13:16:00.007Z

Since I do not have anything to say, I'm putting up something I do. So here is the heart, complete with the blood it was in the process of pumping when 4% PFA* (I assume? Correct me if wrong) put an end to it.

*Para-formaldehyde

What happens in Vegas?

2008-10-12T01:58:00.007+01:00

"Bland enough to make millions as culture edges closer to oblivion" says Ian Nathan of the Empire Magazine.

What is it that makes us flock to pay 6.80 quid (or even free on megavideo) to go see two 'beautiful' people kiss in the end?

Is it better/worse if it's free?

I apologize, I need to go. Oblivion awaits :D

PS Oh but don't take me seriously. I'm drunk anyway - not too much, just a little bit. Vegas did it say in the beginning?

So, what's next?

2008-10-02T22:01:00.013+01:00

Alright, that's done. Thesis completed, reviewed, examined; I passed. It's over! MRes in Medical and Molecular Biosciences - Applied Immunobiology, attained. So for a bit now (2 years, more?), I'm done being a student. Having rushed into this Master's program last year, I've decided to give it a break before starting on the seemingly inevitable PhD. Therefore, have obtained myself a change in occupation from student to Research Assistant. So much for the bum-life hmpf! :/

This means I don't get student discounts anymore: concert tickets cost twice as much, and shoes and groceries some 5% more; but I can live with that, no problem. I can also live with giving away a quarter of my income to the tax man. It would after all, allow me to get my finances together, take a vacation or two, go binge-shopping, get more research experience: all while working on someone else's pet idea before thinking of diving into my own 3-odd years' project - to give me time to decide if I actually want to do that and bail out without too much damage (and with some spare cash) if I don't. Of course, it seems impossible now, to be doing anything but this sort of thing for a living -but it's just beginning: I don't even work full-time yet, I've only seen so much and there's so much I'm shit scared of failing miserably at. Hopefully, I won't have to run away from it all.

No Sanskrit this time, no immediate insurmountable problems no terrible maladies... hell, I even like my boss! The only sad bit is that I'm not doing Immunology anymore - not for at least two more years. I had visions of working on TB or other random infectious disease at LSHTM but it was probably not meant to be. Instead, I have been saved the trouble of moving to a new city and life's so much easier for that (not that I'd pick easy in this context) - and have also a relatively unconventional start as the sole member of a brand new research 'group'. One could argue for a start as an anonymous member of a big-ass lab group in Oxford someplace as better for experience at this stage. Whatever man, this is more special, no? I am more important here :P

The only other thing that bothers me about not being a student anymore is that it means that I have effectively lost my divine right to be careless/stupid at lab-work. On the other hand, this IS it - these experiments matter, the project matters. It's not some side/fanciful hypothesis that the PI (Principal Investigator - heads an academic research group) hastily drew up, or some stale left-overs of a project that the last PhD student didn't bother with, dug up - so that the poor sod master's student or undergrad can be given something to do in the lab.

It's the real deal.*

Which is both scary and exciting :)

*At least as far as a career in medical research is concerned.

Status: Precarious. Manas chanchalam asthiram

2008-07-12T14:18:00.016+01:00

I have nothing to show, or say.. except this urge to post something here. I think it is a disease that by now, I should be very familiar with. For want of a better term, lets call it deadline-induced diversionary compulsions. Yes it's a mental condition. Physical side-effects include finishing off inappropriate amounts of Pringles/Chocolate. I'm sure it is not a rare condition, and affects thousands of others just the same, especially those whose genes (plural yes, it's a complex disease) for laziness have been set up for constitutive expression by a minor methylation mistake somewhere during development... Blanked out? Don't bother. I'm not writing this one for you. This one is for my amusement, strictly. To relieve myself of this terrible malady. Why are you still reading? Ok, if you wish then.. maybe I was lying earlier after all. Me continues... For otherwise, it might take the route of the rains in this country. Constant, unrelenting drizzle spread over inordinately large time periods. The clouds never used up completely, like there is a parsimonious, bourgeois housewife of a God assigned to the task of maintaining an endless supply of rain. It is an allusion that I never seem to tire of. I'm sure I understand why the Brits speak so much about the weather. And, that... is another one of my annoying lines that give me immense almost smug happiness. I think I quite like the complacent comfort my lines offer me. Or I'd like to think I do... What's the difference really? Or so I try to tell myself... Right, OK, I'll stop.

It's funny how each time you come across an unappetizing problem, you think that you're ready to face any number of other, more 'interesting', insurmountable problems if only just this one would be bulldozed out of the way. It's the curse of the weak-willed. The ones who wish for utter spontaneity, but cannot but factor in the consequences of their (in)actions in their 'plans'. The in-betweeners who do not have the strength to mindlessly remain true to their whims but find it incredibly difficult to follow through with all the hard-work their reason tends to argue to be inevitable. The ones who probably use arguments of the highest order of hypocrisy but also be aware of the fact that they're using them as an excuse to shirk from responsibilities.

yato yato nishcharati manas chanchalam asthiram I
tatastato niyamyaitat aatmanyva vasham nayet II

Loosely translated; whenever the mind wavers, and you become aware of it, bring it back immediately (for these purposes) to what you 'know' it should be doing (i.e, for me, write thesis, make presentation, make sense of data). That's what I've grown up on, although I probably have not taken to it very well. It's quite useful to be like that I'm sure, but half-way there is a dangerous place to be. Also renders my sudden yearning for spontaneity and the bum-life* questionable on grounds of its co-incidence with 'unappetizing' work.

I apologize. I do tend to blow things out of proportion. And I don't even do it evenly - what then would be the point of it. I know what I am. I'm a lazy bum, 's all :)

* Where the aim in life is to bum around without direction. Go with the flow and all that.

In response to a Chain Post's answer to my life's Purpose.

2008-06-03T15:40:00.016+01:00

A previous entry came up with this:

5.WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF YOUR LIFE ?
Ans. Knockin' on Heaven's Door - Bob Dylan (That's all? I'm hardly here and I'm ready to go? They wont take me don't I know?)

So I became this hypothetical person who started executing the purpose of her life. Some thoughts occurred. Well, I was trying to make some thoughts occur. And they sorta went like this (after the first couplet):

*Knock Knock*
*Knock Knock*

That's all? I'm hardly here and I'm ready to go?
They won't take me don't I know?

Oh the things I've done, the thoughts I've thought
All the unmentionable things I've bought...

Say we forget, let those crimes of Commission lie
those of Omission would cause a hue and cry.

*Knock Knock*

And if I sought to compose, a litany of my sins
it would fill many a rubbish bins.

You see,

I've always lived like this, been so many years
So far not one redeeming act my dears.

*Knock*...*Sigh*

I shall therefore let Dylan do all the Knocking
At me, heaven can but be mocking.

Anyway, it Can't be the only purpose I've got,
I have one infallible reason why not:

How could I possibly want to go anywhere near
A place where I know they've got no beer?

I started writing this.. I don't know what to call it...rhyme?(I forced it to rhyme, very hard :P Although I couldn't quite wing the metre) because John Hartford on my iTunes conveniently sang, "In Heaven there is no Beer" at the right moment. If this were written on a paper, it would probably go into the said rubbish bin along with the unholy litanies. But I happened to write it here, online. And it's such a shame to commit this to electronic non-existence on flimsy grounds of it being untrue and ridiculous, when I had fun writing it.

Disclaimers
1) I'm not that sinful. Ha! you wish. I wish. Might be interesting.
2) I'm not really that fond of beer. It's just Hartford's idea.

PS In heaven they've not got smokes either. (In case you considered going there thinking you could pass beer and be happy with weed/tobacco/whatever people smoke)

What?!... What??!... No, it's 'Who' actually

2008-06-01T21:04:00.052+01:00

Arguably, my best British find :) Something I'm sure I have been introduced to only by having come here. Globalisation had left this bit somewhat untouched in my world while it was geographically distant from this country. Not that my world was very 'world-aware'. Anyway.

Shakespeare was perhaps too obvious to grab my very modest 'Experience Britain' project. Also for lack of any initiative on my part due to utter laziness and err, funding limitations (which is an excuse at best). I was thinking Contemporary Brit-lit but never really got around to it. I haven't even finished the stuff I started on earlier* - not Motorcycle Diaries... Or Death of a Salesman... Or A heartbreaking work of Staggering Genius, for that matter. It has been a year-full of unfinished books and I am totally ashamed...

But (go away if you can't stand sentences beginning with prepositions), moving back to the purpose of this post, Doctor Who - makes up for all of it. It's not perfect... not that I have ever thought of anything as perfect: it's got its share of cringe-worthy moments. God knows I do too. But (ditto last parenthesis) I still love the thing. I have officially rediscovered my appreciation for television.

For the entirely uninitiated, it's about this guy who calls himself 'the Doctor' (real name unknown; so cool, mysterious like :P) who is always whizzing around time and space in his unassuming looking 'TARDIS' (Time and Relative Dimension In Space) with a 'companion' and generally living on the edge and saving our insignificant little planet on very many occasions from Aliens. The Doctor, is of course alien as well; has two hearts, an incredible smile (teetering on madness) and nine lives so to say... or was it 12? And the TARDIS of course, is bigger on the inside and has a life of its own. It's a looong running series (from the 60s) recently restarted with 21st century special effects.

The point is, like one of my friends put it, it doesn't take itself too seriously... but almost just enough. Which makes it really really fun. Oh and some imaginative references and settings (some obvious, some not) - Arthur Dent ( Awesome, and Inevitable:) ), Mary Poppins, Agatha Christie and apparently, the Cambridge Latin High-school Textbook etc. My tastes have always had an escapist component to them, although I wasn't quite expecting to fall for this when I first heard about it. I showed a lot of reluctance to try it and didn't, actually, for months together. I had sort of resigned myself to watching Gilmore Girls Reruns (Now, there's a secret out... no judgments please) for when I felt out of things and needed a break.. or any other lousy excuse to watch TV. Now I know better. Besides, I have been mourning the death of my interest in Cartoons for so long, I'm glad about being able to enjoy something at least half-targetted at kids. I'm probably the proverbial enthusiastic Convert and even if this is merely a passing fancy, I don't mind at all. Who da man !

* I did manage A Spot of Bother, quite punny. And Switch Bitch (Dahl's something eh). And An Artist of the Floating Word (Typical Ishiguro)

PS I see my brackets are back in form!
PS2 Watch it on http://www.surfthechannel.com/ (psst it's got Gilmore Girls as well) or still better, get the latest episode, high quality on BBC's iplayer.
PS3 I get to go to Cardiff this month. Woohoo! :D (That's where a lot of this program is filmed) PS4 So you got until here? Now click the Title.

A Non-random, very conscious Digression/Indulgence for convenience's sake: The I-tag-you Chain Post

2008-05-15T22:45:00.018+01:00

Ok, Rules:

1. Put your MP3 player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write the name of the song no matter what.

Here goes !!!

1.IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY?” YOU SAY?
Ans. All day and all of the night - The Kinks. (well, depends really)

2.WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY ?
Ans. Tam Lin - Fairport Convention (eh? fairy tale hero?)

3.WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Ans. Rama nannu Brovara - MS Subbulakshmi (nannu= me; brova ~protect; ra= come. But, the first line sorta translates to: Rama, why don't you come to protect me?)

4.HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Ans. Runaway - Jamiroquai (yes, pretty much sums it up, also the reason I'm doing this while I have a million other things that need doing.)

5.WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF YOUR LIFE ?
Ans. Knockin' on Heaven's Door - Bob Dylan (That's all? I'm hardly here and I'm ready to go? They wont take me don't I know?)

6.WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Ans. Share a little joke - Jefferson Airplane (ok, I guess)

7.WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Ans. Brianstorm - Arctic Monkeys (some want to kiss some want to kick you... balances things out nicely)

8.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Ans. Karuniso - Bhimsen Joshi (literal translation ignoring context: have mercy!)

9.WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Ans. Oh sweet nuthin' - The Velvet Underground (Fine, the secret's out then)

10.WHAT IS 2+2?
Ans. Yeh mera diwanapan hai from Yahudi. (This is my madness. Yes, explains a lot.)

11.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Ans. It only takes two Heart Attacks - Phoebe Bufay; TV themes (Do you agree, best friend?:D)*

12.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE ?
Ans. LA Woman - The Doors (She's got it all, after all)

13.WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Ans. Trigger Hippie - Morcheeba (one eyebrow shooting up, head turning imperceptibly to the side)

14.WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Ans. Love me Do - The Beatles (sometimes, you just can't read anything into this exercise)

15.WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Ans. Let it be - The Beatles (words of wisdom eh)

16.WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
Ans. Devil in Disguise - Elvis (ouch! Have mercy...)

17.WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Ans. The Masked Marauder - Country Joe and the Fish (WHO am I marrying??)

18.WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Ans. Freight Train Blues - Bob Dylan

19.WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Ans. Smoke two Joints - Bob Marley (Another secret's out. Phew)

20.WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET? (Gosh, how nosy are you?)
Ans. Mann ki Lagan - Rahat Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

21.WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Ans. I only wanna be with you - Hootie and the Blowfish (um, sure... )

I'll add one question, according to the next song I hear (ok fine the one after that) (no wait, my shuffle's useless for making questions) (ok... that's it. this one) :

22. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOURSELF?
Mine says: Loser - Beck (I had this song?? *sigh* :P)

Must say I enjoyed that. And my more embarrassing ones didn't make it here either!
The End.

P.S.Anyone who reads this is tagged and has to do the same...I'm keeping this line from where I read this because it might fit here as well: ...Which actually means myself and a nut named Musab. :)
*PS2 Ok sorry, I cheated on number 11. It originally found Zepplin's Misty Mountain Top.

untitled and under construction!

2008-05-13T11:01:00.039+01:00

Each line
etched across the knee
that reveals a clear pale stretch,
against the weathered expanse
of *_______*;

Each crater
curving down the cheek
that hollows out bits of the surface,
so where there should be skin
there's air;

Each mound
protruding out the forehead,
smoothened rubble from old skirmishes.*
a tender sore, now wholly spent-
is dry brown;

And other marks
that have been left unseen.
Ostensibly, hidden away with care
in an ever-convenient *garb*
of clothing.

Unrelentingly scratched, ruthlessly pitted and unwittingly raised,
All by myself.

(*epidermal wars of 2002)
PS1 Even with 'lines etching' away and stuff being 'ruthlessly pitted' etc., I am as Orwell-conscious as ever; may he rest in peace. If this doesn't make sense, it doesn't matter.
PS2 Nothing, I still love PSs!

Winter's Demise

2008-03-23T14:29:00.027Z

Find it here: http://thesmokingpoet.tripod.com/winter200809/id9.html

Kurai Ondrum Illai

2008-03-02T16:58:00.014Z

A song title that essentially means 'I have no regrets'.

This post springs out of my initially gradual, but recently increasing affection for the said song; and the fact that I have played it on YouTube more than 30 times in the past twenty-four hours. It could be partly due to the singer but with songs, I usually have take the lyrics into account as well so I couldn't have gone long with such unexplained infatuation without finding out more about it. My knowledge of Tamil is pretty non-existent, after all. And nearly the same goes for Carnatic music or the composers of its songs.

A quick google search brought, among other things, a link to an article (read now) in The Hindu Magazine dated the 22nd of December 2002. It served to remind me of how much I miss lazy Sundays that began with me proceeding to systematically sully the Broad, pristine pages of the Magazine (and the Lit Review one Sunday a month) with tea and/or breakfast and/or doodling while I read. I did not at all mind what seems to be the persistent and conscious maintenance of 'good taste' of the whole undertaking; but I could never get through the main paper ever. I could take a jab at The Times of India here, with an oblique, if undeserved reference to The Sun but Times was where I got my 'news' from, so I have no right. There's a little bit of self-deception here when I say it just isn't the same thing to read them online. I mean, I was all geared up for making The Guardian my homepage as soon as I landed in England. Now I don't know whether or not to feel bad about not keeping up with it.

Wikipedia lists the composer of this song, C Rajagopalachari (Rajaji) as being a Lawer, Writer and Statesman. He was by no measure, a prolific composer or song-writer. At the end of the article I mentioned earlier is a translation of the song, but a more literal and maybe less lyrical version can be found here. That article however, elegantly describes how an unexpected client, a panchama, arrested for the transgression he committed in a state of heightened devotion and possibly unconscious wave of compulsion, provided a logically undeniable... compulsion, for Rajaji to make an exception to the prevailing boycott of the Raj's courts - how one such contradiction in a largely contrary life and mind might have inspired this venture into verse. It disturbs me a little, but not too much I guess, that I can see the article as a parallel to an elegantly constructed proof-of-concept Immunological experiment. As the article mentions, the message - I have no regrets, might at first glance again seem contradictory coming from a person whose life saw more than a fair share of untimely losses but maybe more (or less?) so while considering that he seemed like a person who had 'the strength of the intellect to go beyond instinctive emotion' (I don't know if this phrase is an unbiased point in itself - but lets not go into that). It just seems to make the words somehow more... well, valid and beautiful. Besides, I already like this guy so much - he has effectively brought, at once, into my evening: a number of 'metaphorical' allusions and contradictions, some heart-warming verse and much musical pleasure!

Obviously, the knowledge of the meaning can in some cases be quite profound, and may be able to provide a whole new dimension to the experience. Unfortunately though, we may have to agree with the adage that claims that translations cannot always capture the spirit of the Original in its entirety. This does not reduce the importance of translations but it also makes case for the enjoyment of vocal music even with complete ignorance of the meaning of the words (which, on second thought must be a very natural impulse! :/). From some previous experience with language barriers, I know it just takes for me to lie down, close my eyes and listen to it ten times in a row (a matter of self-indulgence); and for many to only look at the video when it does a close-up of Subbulakshmi singing, to affirm that.

The Highlands (but not the Burrah)

2008-02-09T23:47:00.002Z

It's been while; been here since fall,
and I have written nothing at all.
No sudden inspiration, no urge to share,
until now but now, words b'come rare.
More pictures then, for you folks to see,
I'll let my camera speak for me.

Alright, getting on then. A bit of background:

'Here' was England.
'We' refers to me, Kani, Ambar and Jes (thanks guys:)
And the synopsis of the trip to Scotland we took in the Winter break:

We drove into the Scottish highlands, halfway to Inverness. Stayed the night in the town of Fort William before going up to Loch Ness the next morning. We then reluctantly turned around and were quite happy to reach Edinburgh in time for New Year's eve. Enjoyed being on the fringes of the Hogmany, the all too short fire-works, and a random party before going home 'hooting' all the way.
----------------------------------------------

The first (and thankfully, the only) wrong exit we took. The dead end came quite soon but we had go round-about quite a bit though. Ah well, the GPS totally behaved itself the rest of the way.

The first loch.

The local sense of humour has it that all of the numerous lakes in Scotland look exactly the same, at all times of the year.

Speeding past Sheep. Well, I'm almost sure they're sheep anyway.

Sheep traffic-jams formed the modern lore of Scotland once. Don't see a lot of that now, but maybe they still do this is too close to the roadways of urban civilization. Or, the urban-rustic border is blurred so much, it's hard to delineate rural from modern. (not so back home: the Economics text-book I remember studying from, put rural areas at 70% - and many rural heartlands are still quite... well, rural; complete with a caption which reads 'the Indian Express' under a picture of the bullock-cart* :D)

*KK's T shirt.

Snow-capped mountains. As seen from the Car window.

This is not supposed to be the right time to visit Scotland. It would be in all its splendour nearer summer/spring, we had been told. But hailing from what is essentially a penninsula, the grey-brown-white terrain combination still has its appeal intact, regardless of the clearness of the skies -I quite fancy the whole dark-brooding-cloudy effect as long as it doesn't turn too soggy. Depends on the mood.

Looks good up-side down as well, eh :)

There, the right side up and a wider view. Wish for more light though.

I wonder if I'd fancy living out some part of life in such a house. What a view to get up to every morning! Not seen here, but more mountains stretch up and away on the other side as well.

Fort-William.

The town-centre lies up ahead. On the other side of this road, are an innumerable number of picture-perfect Bed-and-Breakfasts, a proper tourist place and all. Unfortunate, for us. Strings run a a bit tight if you're on a student budget, especially if you haven't booked early for a place in the youth hostel. It's bit off, nearer the tallest peak in the UK. I forget what it's called - will update. Anyway, its only marginally better off on your pocket and not for someone who doesn't fancy communal living or going 'a bit rough'.
I still wished it weren't fully booked of course. However, this is where we ended up:

Pink and Pretty, it was as nice and cosy as it looks here. And I guess it was better than inside the car in the parking lot. That would have been free though - hmm, the fact that the thought even occurred makes me want monneyyy! But I hope to do more of this kind of going around before and if ever that happens. Or maybe the desire is a passing fancy. I don't know.

Glen-finnan

It looks alright, yeah, the statue. I have no story on this but I've seen a picture on one of the brochures: Spring-time and from a bridge at a distance. Must say it looks much more impressive there, though I quite like this too.

I think this is my favourite from the trip. I can't say why but it just makes me go all fuzzy.

Three soldiers of the second 'Great War' (WW2) look straight ahead.

A memorial to brave lives lost. Who cares now whose side who was on. Wait, that's an irrelevant point. But war continues to be major chunk of more recent history as well, we know. * sigh * pointless again, and moving on before I do more of that awful stating the obvious -ness:

You get the point, I took fancy to those branches with berries/little dry flowers/whatever-it-actually-is on them.
Plus, I had never seen trees that colour before - purple, now really! I thought it a little weird and very interesting, in a nice way.

A little less lonlier than that other potential haven, I think.

This little island (I mean Britain, not that I've been everywhere, just first impressions) has been so much more beautiful than I ever expected. From what I gathered earlier, I thought it might offer some quaint-city-historic-etc. things of appeal. I somehow must have missed out for the most part of anything on just how nice this place can look. Probably, the little bit of Dickens I read had too much of an effect. Or the Brits really are that modest/self-deprecatory, or it's just a case of tired familiarity and having 'Europe' for a backyard. Then maybe, the entwined and uncomfortable bits of our histories might shade them with a bit of a biased point of view on one side of things(?).
On the other hand, maybe I missed out only for lack of observation - after all, all that talk about the depressing weather does seem to dominate the general perception. I wonder why :P

The browns are lovely, dark and deep :) No Frost in sight, though.. must still be the beginning of winter.

Okay, I know there's more words there than can strictly be described as 'rare'. But when was I not the one for not being self-contradictory? (Alright Orwell, don't kill me already) Anyway, that's one of the last pictures.. didn't get much on the way back - was sleeping most of the way and we didn't do any pulling-over at whim like we did earlier. It was also dark (bang in the middle of the afternoon, I swear), and my camera is pretty useless then. I'll do one on Edinburgh (an unexpected object of my affection) and a bit of the new year stuff some other time.

I must admit though, that the pictures don't do much justice to the place (Click on the ones you think you like to get a bigger view). It's been a while and the the high is wearing off now that I'm back at the Uni with exams on Immunobiology and Neuro-pathology, and expecting assignments on bioethics and a whole five months of 9-5 lab days. Not to mention the pressure to land a PhD somehow. Phew. But really, even fully aware of the limited nature of my, err... travels, I think one just totally has to visit the highlands of Scotland. And the next time I do, I will definitely make it to Inverness!

A bunch of Mish-Mash:

2007-07-21T18:26:00.000+01:00

Ah, that's a modified form of the phrase in 'Mostly Harmless', volume five of the 'increasingly inaccurately named trilogy of five' of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Modified, because I don't remember the actual phrase. Anyway.

So what's up this time? I remember what I started this blog off with at the beginning. The P! things - the books. I finished Mostly Harmless a few days ago. It was like familiar territory after having read the Trilogy in four parts last year and I think the end was most satisfactory. Think I may fancy a blown-up earth after all, then.

Ok I have to refer to a previous entry again now. Remember the 'think at the speed of type'? How my mind used to jump from this to that and I just concentrated on writing it down as it did? It was a first-time attempt but I seem to have found what is a highly evolved form of doing just that. Well no, but it's just that it reminded me of it. Maybe the style is just a pretext and the author has a definite idea to get across but for the moment at page 44 of this novella, I'm just enjoying the jumping with only a slight and continuously elusive allusion to what he might be getting at. Not jumping really, it's more like (some very imaginative) smooth transitions with very concrete links to each new question/thought. The book's called 'Room Temperature' and is written by Nicholson Baker. Another thing that I thought of while reading it was the column at the bottom left of today's Times Edit. I forget what it's called - Devil's Advocate I think. (Yes, I'm too lazy to go check) It was something about doing away with punctuations entirely and there were those smooth transitions again but now as a necessity due to lack of full stops

Aaand I got back to a classic - been a very (can't stress this word enough) long time since I read one. Years. Not that I ever read much of that genre. It's one of those Millennium Library hard-covers devoid of any illustration funded by the (British?) national lottery. Which is nice, really. But to make things difficult, I chose Hugo's 'Les Misérables', another translated work (I'll get to the earlier one later). It's a pleasant surprise as most classics I've embarked on have turned out to be for me somehow. I'm still in the first part and I don't know if I will finish it but the prose is really easy on me and I feel like I'm floating through it. It does have the long-winded intricate details of description and a... er, verbosity to it but...

There is this other book I'm reading and I really do not know why. Maybe it's because I'm interested in what is going to be done to improve the experience of higher education here and recognise that earlier education might have bearing on this and that it would be nice to have a start to the view of the 'whole' picture in context anyway. Oh the book.... it's a collection of essays by Bertrand Russell (how can he manage to sound sane and sensible about the vision of a World-State?) and it's called 'Education and the Social Order'. Hmmm I'm wondering how it would apply here. Just wondering still, and I'm not even sure of how much I comprehended so shall move on to the next book:

Err no this would mean going back to the ones I finished before Mostly Harmless and I'd rather make another entry on that. So that's it for now. Will leave these hanging in the air for a bit once my pre-ordered Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows reaches home. Haha.

Of Dreams in the Past

2007-07-06T06:53:00.000+01:00

Doesn't 'dreamt' sound more like the past-tense than 'dreamed' ever did, or ever will, for that matter? It's like... this 'dreamed' has an obscure present-signifying quality about it.

Or is it just me?

2007-06-18T07:46:00.000+01:00

Pencil drawing, high contrast. Click on it!

The joblessness conferred by Protein estimations during biochem lab.

Mendelian Body Parts

2007-06-14T17:29:00.002+01:00

Of all the things we hated about our BSc, This one arguably ranks number one: Record work. We wrote about stuff we didn't do,(along with those that we did), things we didn't use but only saw sitting pretty on the table-top (and of course, things we did use and even those we didn't actually see in the first place), copied most of it from the previous year's records, most of it didn't make sense, and switched from present to past to present/past continuous with each coming line, most of it was Dictated to us, most of it was given to us about a week before submission, most of it comprised of long-winded repetitive 'introductions' and 'principles'...

Coming to mendelian body parts... this was one part of one record in one semester that I painstakingly did. It holds drawings of those body parts with traits that are inherited in the Mendelian fashion - independent segregation and all that. Don't even try to make sense of it if you didnt take bio in your 11th. Not that there was no redundancy in this work - we pasted pictures of them AND drew them - University regulations, apparently. So, we've got heavily distorted renditions of dimpled and undimpled cheeks, hairlines - straight or peaked, ears - attached or free, blah.

I really don't know why I bothered. But I did - I think it was an excuse not to do some other really important thing. And I enjoyed it. They weren't life-like exactly but then they were distinctly mine. And as is my tendency, I took pictures of them. And now that I am done with the course, I think it's nice to share one measly part of Record Work that made an exception. I haven't gotten around to missing college yet but when I do, I hope this will bring back sweet memories of those bits of my classmates that I committed to paper.

So here are a few favourites:

This is probably one of my favouritest ears in the world and it belongs to one my bestest of friends.

This is one of the last ones I did. Shabbily done. Reason: I was finally losing out on the patience. But of special significance is that crease that you see. That's where they fold the sheet, stamp it and heartlessly put a pen/scalpel/some sharp object that leaves a hole several pages deep. This, is the ultimate end of each semester's hard work. A mark of having been valuated, so that juniors can't submit the same record.

Hitch-hiker's thumbs bend back, straight thumbs don't. Mine do, but it is probably going to be a looong while before I actually get around to that distant dream of cross-continental travelling where I might inevitably have to hitch-hike a part of the way. Err... Moving on:

Depending on which hand's thumb's on top, as it comes most naturally to you when u happen to clasp your fingers like that, you are either a left clasper or right clasper. There are very few who actually are ambi-claspers (no, it isn't an official term, i forgot that one).

And for heaven's sake.... WHY? who the hell cares how u clasp, Pah!

It's all in your smile :)

2007-04-26T12:13:00.001+01:00

You think I’m a thing of mystery;
that there is something I’m hiding from you
And you’re dying to unearth me, to unravel these dense obscuring layers;
you’re trying, to bring me to light.

You try to slowly draw me in
First gently; now with a certain willful recklessness.
I resist,
and back away further inside.

A perplexingly hard nut to crack, you say
As you shake your head and look at me,
and smile a half cheerless smile...

And I half-melt. I understand,
I wish I could give in
Put my head in your hands and just, stop thinking -

A few moments of bliss
in exchange for the truth,
A bond of openness, maybe, even understanding

I wish. But I know better – nothing
Can ever emerge from this.

For the truth, is of no substance, no beauty,
however evanescent.
Nor is it a terrible perversity. It just - Isn’t.

And you'll see too, if you ever strip off That last layer -
there is nothing at all.

PS On second thoughts, Aaaaaaaaaarrrgh. wtf???!! hmmmm

Chale chalo prem ke saathi...

2007-04-25T21:29:00.000+01:00

The highlight of today was the 40s hindi music. Not my type really, as I found out...somewhat funny.. it was certainly interesting though. And did extremely well as background for record-writing.

Vividh Bharati brings to mind a life and nation I have no experience of and will have to be happy being curious about and that's it. But you still get letters from obscure villages and 'farmaaishen' from whole families for a song from say, An evening in Paris - read out in every patient detail by the presenter in her restrained mellow voice... aur akola se...............sonia chotu aur pinki ke liye. Sit back, close your eyes and relax. Drop reality for a bit and you're instantly in the middle of a story in the life of a fresh, new, hopelessly optimistic country, complete and disembodied.....phir kab miloge?

And then u can just imagine life with the radio as the only vocal source of news and entertainment... Even as near as one generation ago, it must have been a powerful influence. I can totally see her characteristic pale brown skirt flapping, as she runs to the window of the house at the corner of the road with her friends and siblings at 5 every evening to listen to their favourite program on the sole radio in the neighborhood. Who though??

I'll probably delete this post. I'm just writing this as an excuse to not write something else. the you-know-what. So I'll get back to it.

PS i know, loooong sentences forcibly stitching thoughts together.

Think at the speed of 'type'

2007-04-22T19:09:00.000+01:00

Oh what the hell. It's not like it's going to make a difference tomorrow. I'm stuck with records, ze prepratorys as well as an entrance. I deserve a break, or what whatever. I mean, I lapsed into browsing orkut so this can't really get any worse. So there's a downside to studying on the net... you don't get much done unless you're really into it.

And I just felt like writing. Maybe it was all the Ishiguro book conversations I went through just now. Makes me wonder why I didn't have the guts to pick a course in English lit or allied at the end of Gr 12. But no, i gave way to complacency. Science, was home. And I stayed. Not much of the traveller that I want(ed) to desperately be in any sense of the word.

I know this isn't coherent. And that I'm not making much sense to you. But.... what the hell. I don't want to do another I'm-sorry-for-myself-I'm-so-fucking-confused entry into my journal. I am tired of those. I've already mentioned that I would NOT want to use this blog as a venting machine but it would be so easy to give in and tell-all! Hypothetically. Besides, I can't claim a lot of readership (my only comment was from someone suggesting me to read some other book... honorable intentions but it does nothing for the ego :P )

I'm not a natural at this. My thoughts, apparently, don't flow. Not for lack of thinking though. I've been wanting to write a poem for sometime now. I 'just felt like it'.

There's just this thing I noticed. I'm writing down exactly what I'm thinking right now. I think this points to the fragmentatatory(coined?) nature of my thoughts. I think too much. Or rather, I like to think I do that. Also, I'm trying realllly hard to think at the speed of type. It's really hard. It's jumping away and I'm trying to get hold of it and slow it down. See? I've already jumped to something I heard about how the rishis of long ago could have actually slowed down their metabolism by will in order to be able to live as long as the stories say they did. And then I remember the the New Scientist article that first told me about how Oxygen levels can help to store the transplant organs for longer. Not a direct connection, that. But whatever. It has something to do with.....aaaah I can't remember the term. At this point I realise that my reader (virtual, unconfirmed possibly non-existent) is probably not a biologist or is old enough to have forgotten a major chunk of the compulsory high school bio that she/he studied.

Someone just now asked me what my sunsign is. And I'm inexplicably reminded of Bridget Jones. I feel like laughing out loud. But it's just past midnight and I don't really think folks at home would appreciate it.

I'm not going to edit this thing. I resolve not too. It never works with me but this time I will. Shit I'm already doing it. Okay only typos need be corrected. No rephrasing no covalent modifications. This is really hard. So I'm going to end here. I'll just read this thing once and press the orange button. Wish me luck. I'll probably change the title. It's presently Never Let me Go. You'll know what I have changed it to.... Shhhh now, later.

PS I'm not allowed to add to the main body. But I'm writing after soooooo long!

PS II I've missed PSing. I should go write someone a mail!

Ladies' "Seat"

2006-12-27T12:16:00.003Z

Is it just me, am I noticing it wrong or is it not a figment of my blessed imagination after all? We've accepted reservations as a fact of life at least till the 50th five year plan, probably...We've been living so long with it, but do we really understand what it is? Why do we overlook the fact that if some part is reserved, the rest of it is open to competition from anyone and not only for those who don't come under reserved categories??

If 33% might (hypothetically) be reserved for women in the parliament, it doesn't mean that women can't stand to try for the rest of the seats. We are just going to turn it over --- act like the rest of the seats are reserved for men. Because that is what it is effectively going to be like...Take an example..on a much lower scale where it has been in practice ever since I can remember...in the bus:

The other day... there's this old guy who asks a woman to get up from the seat because it's 'men's seat'!! I mean Dude!!! First thing, extremely bad taste... also, there are perfectly normal able bodied young adonises sitting there for asking.(who act like they can't see or hear a thing) Like women aren't supposed to sit in a place that is not marked out for them as their territory. It smacks of four walls. Ok, so maybe that is reading too much into it. But that is how it is! It's not only the men by the way... should see the women at it. Justifying his ass on the 'reserved' seat because 'today, there seem to be so many women sitting in the back seats where you could have sat...na' Also have you noticed women never venture into the back of the bus, even while standing... that's understandable considering that some of the men, can't seem to keep their eyes/hands/.. to themselves.. but even when it's not crowded?!! And she always hesitates to sit on an empty seat near the back of the bus, hell anywhere after the middle door. Women and men play into each other's notions of where she should be allowed to sit.

Yes, there are exceptions to both.That can make one feel there's hope still. But the rest can be traced back by 'experts' to some evolutionary or patriarchal origins, I don't care. It's time we went beyond those. How? Start venturing woman!....In your mind for a start... enough to see beyond what is reserved for you.

PS The woman in question smiled at him, Got up, asked him to sit down... and very politely explained that there is no such thing as men's seat.

Day 2

2006-12-19T12:33:00.000Z

Hmm Let's see. I've finally got to reading Ashok Banker's Demons of Chitrakoot. I have finished 6 books since I actually started reading it. That happens, I suppose when one reads more than one book at a time, and one of them happens to be owned.... There's more incentive in finishing a book that has to be returned in sometime. Just like we take for granted stuff we already have. And take care of those that keep swimming in and out of reach. Same applies to people. But I'm digressing (which, I believe happens to be the whole point of this undertaking). Demons of Chitrakoot. Ashok banker... I haven't read anything apart from the first few books of his Ramayana series. Turns out the guy was a pulp fiction writer..well,partly. Pulp Ramayana. It's beautiful. Embellished a little beyond recognition, it's hightened and drawn to the highest extent of emotions and drama and yet the thread don't quite break. Doesn't. Bad grammar never sit well on me. Hmph. He might have overdone a few things/descriptions but... yet the thread don't break. Anyways, he might even have changed the base work of Valmiki to some extent and Thickened the plot. If I have a puritan in me that's outraged or pissed, she doesnt quite surface enough to spoil the experience for me. It's also kinda refreshing. I don't know why. Maybe because Rama will laugh at a risque (for want of a better word) joke Lakshman would make and not be stiff upper lipped(ditto last paranthesis). Not that Ajji's stories potrayed him as such but I havent got anything beyond the epitome of goodness and Dharma angle on him from them. Reminds me of the story I used to ask Tata (Granpa) to tell me....Must have been Over a hundred times. It's funny how grandparents don't seem to mind telling you the same old story. And grandchildren wanting to listen to it as many times... I mean, I wouldnt quite read a book twice unless under extreme circumstances... About Punya koti, The Cow. Who promised the tiger who snared her -she'll be back to be his meal just after feeding and entrusting her calves to someone...trustworthy. And did come back to him. And of course, the tiger didn't eat her. If you're from Karnataka, you've probably heard a song of it too. Maybe I'll do a retelling in English sometime. Make the tiger a tigress. And do a Banker on it, my own style of course.... Times like these I don't know if I have a mind of my own! I admit I would have thought of it sans Banker but it nags a little that I think someone else had to plant it in my mind. Where do thoughts spring from..within, granted. And that is just a popular notion. Original thought, Is there anything as such (Has to be!!(?)), or is it all recycled?? From a Thought Pool. Like a gene pool, Permutations and Combinations (I'm a bio student, bear with bad biological metaphors and parallels)...Right, I don't know why I used to like it so much though. I don't happen to relate to any of the characters or actions. And yet I used to go over to the Grandparents' room almost every night like a ritual and if I asked Tata, it would be this story. I still feel like listening to it from him.

The beginning

2006-12-18T16:17:00.000Z

It seems extremely hard to get started. I feel a little.... lost! But then, as I said... not all is lost. The thing is, I don't know what this blog is going to be about. And why. I'd like to have the satisfaction of seeing my words in virtual print, I suppose. I want it to be be insightful and entertaining.... maybe thought provoking too (Hah!) But basically, start with stuff that you would have no trouble reading through, in terms of boredom. And later, as I find.... I don't want to think about that right now. I have doubts about my own perseverance and abilities. I'm also trying to make it as less personal as possible (what's my own journal for?), as less about that tiff with a friend that totally ruined the day. However, there really is no getting away from the 'P' word and we might as well learn to live with it (self-contradictory??). Even if it isn't as mundane as that, I really have serious doubts about why anyone would want to read about my take on life in general or other such opinions. That is something I consider personal too.

Having said that, I would be fooling myself if I said this is only for my own satisfaction. This is for You... to read and appreciate/criticize/be indifferent as well as to get in touch with me about. Because I still haven't reached the stage where I wouldn't need.... You(eek).

So what's this going to be about??? Random digressions.
I will start with something that is close to my heart (P,P,P!!!) The Loves of my life, my ultimate source of outside pleasure, relief, challenge, inspiration or escape or whatever the case may be. Books. Though technically, they won't count as 'digressions'! The books in my life.....the next time I write in, of course.

PS nothing, I just love PSs