Once upon a time, (probably in my first year of MA in Windsor, Canada) I was exasperated: at the level of writing of an assignment I was marking and I told my co-TA "She (student) has written rubbish all over!"
Next, my co-TA was almost rolling on the floor laughing...............on my vocabulary. Apparently and understandably, the word "rubbish" was archaic and very British, and pointed to my colonial heritage which even though one possesses, one is not supposed to show; the inheritance of such outdated and misplaced vocabulary should be trashed out.
Even though I knew the word "trash" this is how I remembered to use it.
Of course, when I say the above sentence, I mean that this is how the word "trash" came upon my life with enormous significance. Trash took up a significant chunk of my arguments with some of my roommates, with however, little substantive consequence on the ritual of taking out the trash. It was me who always had to do it; and then thrash out indirectly to my husband at how insensitive and useless rest of the world is.
(Whoever takes out the trash everyday will sympathize with me and whoever just fills in the trash and never/seldom takes it out will feel an increasing sense of pleasure for belonging to the other camp)
But that is not the point. The point is that, many times when I take out the trash I cannot help but remember (very boringly and very predictably) of that one Sociology experiment where researchers went through trash of their targeted houses to see who used condom and who didn't (I think it was the tea room experiment). Bypassing the Ethics people, the researchers were following people to see who was gay, who was closeted gay and who used condom when having sex with their wife.
So it turns out that trash is not trashy after all. It does have its use, isn't it?
Of course, the use is not limited to only experiment! All of us (us=middle class Bengali children growing up in the late 80 and 90s) have made (or attempted to make) something decorative with trash. Taj Mahal from homeopathy bottles or injection syringes, wall hanging from own or others' rejected bangles, handmade greeting cards with pencil shavings off the sharpener......the list can only grow and make me nostalgic....
Which again is told to be trash; the nostalgia......it does no good except make you hate everything you are doing at the moment.
And when you hate the moment, you think you are leading a trashy life. This is what I think though, sans the effect of nostalgia. When moments slip away from your fingers, it is hard to love them, isn't it?
And even though ideas (and dreams) stay in your head, bringing them on to your fingertips can make you being trashed out to others. Yes, even though GIGO (Garbage in and Garbage Out) remains the popular rule according to which the basic programming as well as the universe is supposed to be bound together, sometimes Garbage Out becomes the bottomline irrespective of what is inside, garbage or not.
Like this entry.
The resultant angst of posting entries like this can only give more reasons to pick on the roommate who never takes out the trash and/or to regret ruefully on how one could bypass the ethics people, get an unthinkable work done and get a paper published.
Among all the trash that comes out of AJS, ASR, Social Forces and Social Problems, probably the above one could be true to its roots; to say it in the outdated Herbert Spencer way.....it would be true to its organic roots, compost trash being one of its significant components.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Mehfuz
I was listening to this Euphoria song...."mehfuz hoon" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8sJ_9pHTh5A) .....though I've heard this song numerous times, and whenever I hear it I can't help but remember a particularly lecherous guy, so named, of a cyber cafe in College Street seen some 8-9 years back......it made me question:
Am I "mehfuz" in any area of any person?
Well...that is a question which can have the inevitable, predictable non-affirmative answer anyway, so why even bother asking it? Like running a mostly narcissistic blog, questions like these have little utility except perhaps buttressing self-doubts.
For everything else, there is orkut.
Am I "mehfuz" in any area of any person?
Well...that is a question which can have the inevitable, predictable non-affirmative answer anyway, so why even bother asking it? Like running a mostly narcissistic blog, questions like these have little utility except perhaps buttressing self-doubts.
For everything else, there is orkut.
Friday, December 7, 2007
The more things change....
There have been numerous songs and poems on September and Autumn, as well as December and Winter. Though...when I come to think of it, December hardly comes around to me (..I mean to my inner psyche) as a winter month. Yes, even in Calcutta....it was somewhat a "feel good" month, complete with new winter foods and circus and enjoyable mellow sunshine. For me, wintry months were January, .........and now it is February. In present times, I hate and dread the snowy, the painfully cold, February. Yet, December, January and February were not perceived to be too different from the season preceding it...Fall/Sharat.
The season of "Fall" was as joyful as our good old "Sharat". "Winter" only extended it with numerous fairs, nolen gurer sondesh, joynogorer moya, several Biriyani biyebaris where you could actually wear the compact and keep the hair open and not sweat, the precious bookfair for which I saved money the year long....where you would go with friends, family (separated by different trips) and meet friends and foes and interesting strangers, get mehendi done on palms, followed by dear-to-heart Saraswati Pujo, and Valentine's Day with Holi to end the unforgettable joyride.
Now,... people who are in the same boat with me (the boat being made of self-chosen iron, formed like a cage of "foreign" material with alienation to feed on) get to experience some of these things, via staged desi flavour of things and orkut albums that give us sneek views of weekends spent in Bijoya, Diwali, and then snowing....
Of course, people who are not in the same boat are often heard to be saying "if you had to sigh...why are you even there? why did you choose to be there?"
To this....we cannot give the reason....we cannot...no....probably, couldn't show them the green money...because confess it...there isn't enough green money to flaunt actually. I'm saying this with full knowledge of the subjectivity the word "enough" entails.
The reason of ending something that was started with active agency and motivation, is hardly digested as reason enough.
The good thing is that, even then...there are some goods to flaunt. Oh yeah...you can flaunt money and milk and honey; only when you belong to Married, International Grad Students.
So what does the single grad students (and pseudo single grad student like me) can flaunt?
In this season?
SNOW.
So here you go.....flaunting you my last winter...
Now, before single students living in....Florida and Houston...come with their usual criticisms of snow being the choicest flaunting thing...I can explain............my choice and position, though....probably not my representativeness.
Being in Canada gives you with little option. Yes...it doesn't matter where you stay....as long as you don't stay near the beach....it doesn't differ and and the rest doesn't matter. You can enjoy the fire inside and listen to "let it snow...let it snow..let it snow..."
Recognizing the fact that one could flaunt whatever the other person has less of (or doesn't have), it is understandable how graduate students flaunt their snow experiences regardless of the amount they receive. That gives me some courage to join the flow and flaunt mine too. Regardless of how unappealing the images are to my own self.
Which brings me to the realization that this year would be no different. Winter/snow photos would just be the same...Hello-s would just be the same, Boxing Day wishlist (and budget) would just be the same, and the regret of not meeting some of the inward "to do-s" would also be there; along with the regret of not being able to go home in December.
In spite of so many things being there....and just being there...things that would change--and I would say, probably change--are hairstyles, number of married friends with children (with an ascending rate), weights (both gaining and pulling/pushing), music talent hunt shows, number of friends getting busiest, significance of the academic ego, Rani Mukherjee's haggard look,
and our ability to put in the ":D" smiley with the straightest face.
(I said ability...not frequency and the ultimate reality)
And then...who cares? As much as things change and remain the same or change forever....we remain as good-hearted, as optimist, as cynic, as funny, as naive, as difficult ....as we find ourselves in our daily frugal moments. Circular reasoning? ummm......is it only me who find life as a complete circle? And hope to travel "the full circle?"
Till we cover and complete that circle, let's enjoy the eggnog.
The season of "Fall" was as joyful as our good old "Sharat". "Winter" only extended it with numerous fairs, nolen gurer sondesh, joynogorer moya, several Biriyani biyebaris where you could actually wear the compact and keep the hair open and not sweat, the precious bookfair for which I saved money the year long....where you would go with friends, family (separated by different trips) and meet friends and foes and interesting strangers, get mehendi done on palms, followed by dear-to-heart Saraswati Pujo, and Valentine's Day with Holi to end the unforgettable joyride.
Now,... people who are in the same boat with me (the boat being made of self-chosen iron, formed like a cage of "foreign" material with alienation to feed on) get to experience some of these things, via staged desi flavour of things and orkut albums that give us sneek views of weekends spent in Bijoya, Diwali, and then snowing....
Of course, people who are not in the same boat are often heard to be saying "if you had to sigh...why are you even there? why did you choose to be there?"
To this....we cannot give the reason....we cannot...no....probably, couldn't show them the green money...because confess it...there isn't enough green money to flaunt actually. I'm saying this with full knowledge of the subjectivity the word "enough" entails.
The reason of ending something that was started with active agency and motivation, is hardly digested as reason enough.
The good thing is that, even then...there are some goods to flaunt. Oh yeah...you can flaunt money and milk and honey; only when you belong to Married, International Grad Students.
So what does the single grad students (and pseudo single grad student like me) can flaunt?
In this season?
SNOW.
So here you go.....flaunting you my last winter...
Now, before single students living in....Florida and Houston...come with their usual criticisms of snow being the choicest flaunting thing...I can explain............my choice and position, though....probably not my representativeness.
Being in Canada gives you with little option. Yes...it doesn't matter where you stay....as long as you don't stay near the beach....it doesn't differ and and the rest doesn't matter. You can enjoy the fire inside and listen to "let it snow...let it snow..let it snow..."
Recognizing the fact that one could flaunt whatever the other person has less of (or doesn't have), it is understandable how graduate students flaunt their snow experiences regardless of the amount they receive. That gives me some courage to join the flow and flaunt mine too. Regardless of how unappealing the images are to my own self.
Which brings me to the realization that this year would be no different. Winter/snow photos would just be the same...Hello-s would just be the same, Boxing Day wishlist (and budget) would just be the same, and the regret of not meeting some of the inward "to do-s" would also be there; along with the regret of not being able to go home in December.
In spite of so many things being there....and just being there...things that would change--and I would say, probably change--are hairstyles, number of married friends with children (with an ascending rate), weights (both gaining and pulling/pushing), music talent hunt shows, number of friends getting busiest, significance of the academic ego, Rani Mukherjee's haggard look,
and our ability to put in the ":D" smiley with the straightest face.
(I said ability...not frequency and the ultimate reality)
And then...who cares? As much as things change and remain the same or change forever....we remain as good-hearted, as optimist, as cynic, as funny, as naive, as difficult ....as we find ourselves in our daily frugal moments. Circular reasoning? ummm......is it only me who find life as a complete circle? And hope to travel "the full circle?"
Till we cover and complete that circle, let's enjoy the eggnog.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Pursuit of Happiness ...by unhappy souls
An orkut friend of mine once told me some weeks back that he doesn't read blogs (of friends, foes and acquaintances) since they are all depressed and depressing; people are no longer happy.
Another orkut friend of mine told a very-depressed-at-that-point-of-time me (also some weeks back) that we should learn to be happy. Happiness is to be picked up and consumed....it is just lying around.
True. We hear these words from psychiatrists and Oprah, read them in Bible and Jehovah's Witness books and the poster in the xerox machine room and yet these words are tossed around with cynicism of mundane reality. Happiness is a subjective term. Yet, if not all of us, a majority of us that we see around us, live with, meet with, fight with, are deeply unhappy souls trying to appear normal and lucky.
By the way, I'm excluding the happy albums that we hunt around everyday in orkut, in lunch breaks and when we get up. I'm excluding them because happy people do not deserve to be debunked. They should be left with their happiness, left aside, as you can observe them. And it stops at just that. You can only see. You cannot absorb. You cannot learn an iota of the wisdom of happiness. You cannot just pretend life is good for you when it is not; you just cannot presume the happiness in life when your aficionado takes forever to come to you, when your academic career is just in pieces, when your job is the usual grilled sandwich, when your roommate makes it impossible for you to come out of your room, when you eat your lonely dinners and try to find happiness in the testimonials others have written about you in orkut or the "hello" you receive from the white chick whose ass you were eying yesterday evening. These things just do not go away. We do, from life.
Yet, we show how happy we are in our little pigeon hole constructions. There are so many "yet"-s in the story that when you would actually pause and take notice, you would probably exclaim at the need to maintain such a facade. If we are supposed to be happy with the set of life situations we are in, why cannot we just be that? From this perspective, it appears so easy to just to swiss and squish the missing block from our lives and move on.....doesn't it? With so many formulas of happiness around, and so many living legends to be inspired from, why is it such a difficult task to be just content and accepting of whatever life gives us?
No, dear reader, henceforth doesn't come the answer to how to be happy. Neither do I intend to ask rhetorical questions only. In fact, this entry is being written without any manifest and/or devilish intentions. If I would have to put anything in the "intention" box, it could only be "an attempt to describe and just describe" the "Happiness Problem".
We know why we can't be happy. Only this time, like many other "why"-s, knowing and recognizing the problem does not help us find the solution but increase the unhappiness. To renounce all temptations and bounce upon the path shown by Buddha appears to be too unrealistic and certainly....very suicidal. To bounce upon the path of picking up the lying-around happiness as my orkut friend has suggested, appears, at least to me, young, unrealistic and enthusiastic suggestion. If we dig deeper and get into the physiological reasons that enhance the unhappy state....all the chemicals in the brain and the hormones in the body....we all know the counteractive effect of serotonin. Yet, few of us would join a laughing club or go to the gym to be happy.
No, we all want to be happy.
We know why we can't be happy.
We know how to look happy.
We just don't know how to do it.
Even when we have love, when we achieve success, when we look smashing.......some of us are seldom happy.
We've perfected the art of creating the illusion of happiness......perhaps because the real thing is not real? Perhaps because there is no such thing as happiness? Perhaps because the non-existence of happiness keeps us going ......and searching....and going....with life...........and suffice to be the reason of living?
Now....that is quite easy to fathom and accept.....................and be happy about. No?
Another orkut friend of mine told a very-depressed-at-that-point-of-time me (also some weeks back) that we should learn to be happy. Happiness is to be picked up and consumed....it is just lying around.
True. We hear these words from psychiatrists and Oprah, read them in Bible and Jehovah's Witness books and the poster in the xerox machine room and yet these words are tossed around with cynicism of mundane reality. Happiness is a subjective term. Yet, if not all of us, a majority of us that we see around us, live with, meet with, fight with, are deeply unhappy souls trying to appear normal and lucky.
By the way, I'm excluding the happy albums that we hunt around everyday in orkut, in lunch breaks and when we get up. I'm excluding them because happy people do not deserve to be debunked. They should be left with their happiness, left aside, as you can observe them. And it stops at just that. You can only see. You cannot absorb. You cannot learn an iota of the wisdom of happiness. You cannot just pretend life is good for you when it is not; you just cannot presume the happiness in life when your aficionado takes forever to come to you, when your academic career is just in pieces, when your job is the usual grilled sandwich, when your roommate makes it impossible for you to come out of your room, when you eat your lonely dinners and try to find happiness in the testimonials others have written about you in orkut or the "hello" you receive from the white chick whose ass you were eying yesterday evening. These things just do not go away. We do, from life.
Yet, we show how happy we are in our little pigeon hole constructions. There are so many "yet"-s in the story that when you would actually pause and take notice, you would probably exclaim at the need to maintain such a facade. If we are supposed to be happy with the set of life situations we are in, why cannot we just be that? From this perspective, it appears so easy to just to swiss and squish the missing block from our lives and move on.....doesn't it? With so many formulas of happiness around, and so many living legends to be inspired from, why is it such a difficult task to be just content and accepting of whatever life gives us?
No, dear reader, henceforth doesn't come the answer to how to be happy. Neither do I intend to ask rhetorical questions only. In fact, this entry is being written without any manifest and/or devilish intentions. If I would have to put anything in the "intention" box, it could only be "an attempt to describe and just describe" the "Happiness Problem".
We know why we can't be happy. Only this time, like many other "why"-s, knowing and recognizing the problem does not help us find the solution but increase the unhappiness. To renounce all temptations and bounce upon the path shown by Buddha appears to be too unrealistic and certainly....very suicidal. To bounce upon the path of picking up the lying-around happiness as my orkut friend has suggested, appears, at least to me, young, unrealistic and enthusiastic suggestion. If we dig deeper and get into the physiological reasons that enhance the unhappy state....all the chemicals in the brain and the hormones in the body....we all know the counteractive effect of serotonin. Yet, few of us would join a laughing club or go to the gym to be happy.
No, we all want to be happy.
We know why we can't be happy.
We know how to look happy.
We just don't know how to do it.
Even when we have love, when we achieve success, when we look smashing.......some of us are seldom happy.
We've perfected the art of creating the illusion of happiness......perhaps because the real thing is not real? Perhaps because there is no such thing as happiness? Perhaps because the non-existence of happiness keeps us going ......and searching....and going....with life...........and suffice to be the reason of living?
Now....that is quite easy to fathom and accept.....................and be happy about. No?
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Ranting, ranting, ranting
Now... why on earth do qualitative (and supposedly, fashionably more intelligent) sociologists do not have a section called "data and methods?"
why? why? why?
I need to rant. I need to beat. I need to ask.
And do I need to emulate the qual people since I belong (right now) to the God-forsaken multi-method camp?
If narratives are good and the uncompromising essence of qualitative writing, quant should also have the wholesome goodness. Why can't we have a narrative style of "My data consists of 25,000 respondents who were telephoned and then interviewed through random digit dialing and then I applied some weights to equate differing income levels........."
Why can't all nighter quant stories have the right to be published? Who listens to our narrative? Why can't there be a quality to un-quantifiable days of agony and frustration?
I understand this is not a blog entry per se and too sociological perhaps without caring a damn about this being so and seriously hoping my daughter/son do not have to choose a medium when s/he is writing up their proposal/thesis and tearing their hairs. IF, EVER they take Sociology, that is.
why? why? why?
I need to rant. I need to beat. I need to ask.
And do I need to emulate the qual people since I belong (right now) to the God-forsaken multi-method camp?
If narratives are good and the uncompromising essence of qualitative writing, quant should also have the wholesome goodness. Why can't we have a narrative style of "My data consists of 25,000 respondents who were telephoned and then interviewed through random digit dialing and then I applied some weights to equate differing income levels........."
Why can't all nighter quant stories have the right to be published? Who listens to our narrative? Why can't there be a quality to un-quantifiable days of agony and frustration?
I understand this is not a blog entry per se and too sociological perhaps without caring a damn about this being so and seriously hoping my daughter/son do not have to choose a medium when s/he is writing up their proposal/thesis and tearing their hairs. IF, EVER they take Sociology, that is.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Monkharap...
With Puja coming in 3 days and me being an usual, mushy, ordinary Bengali, I can't help but feel mellow; and wonder whether I'm slave to ceremonial exhibitionism? or is it natural? (which again makes me think....is there anything natural? But no, I'll leave my idle philosophical speculation aside, stop being judgemental on myself and others and just take things in their face value.)
Even though it's getting quite chilly at night (sub zero) and I've to groan and partially close my window while sleeping, I can feel the crisp breeze back home.
And wish I was home; wish I could be at those times when my anger, my happiness, my dreams, my laughter, my tears, my angst.....all centered around Ma, Baba and my brother.
This would be my second year in Canada and in this goddamned place called Calgary where I wouldn't (or rather couldn't) attend a Puja. Not that it totally provides a balmy experience in attending a phoren puja, but well....admit it...you don't feel your life is so full of shit.
No, not that it matters to anybody if I don't go and meet grandfatherly Dada's and self-important and amusingly jealous Boudi-s.....but it does matter a lot to me when I'm not being able to conceal the tears in dhuno'r dhoa and stare through a blur;
when I'm not being able to meet friends and family;
when I've to eat the same old mundane food like 800 other days;
when I'm unable to be anything other than cranky;
when I'm unable to stare at the face above across many heads, amidst habitual assumption, amongst privileged situations.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Irritation
Just realized that nothing of the following could be more irritating:
1. After listening "Allah ke Bande" in an online FM and then having to listen to "Ur ja kaale kaa...ke teri meri ek zindari....(from Sunny Deol's movie "Gadar") that is played next. Have people really lost it?? Why? why?
2. Dreading your supervisor's mail asking for updates every 7th day when checking webmail
3. Dropping coffee on the carpet in the process of trying to get to the computer from the coffeemaker in the kitchen, so that you don't miss the action on an orkut community. I really need to see a shrink; and a better hands-on-eye coordination; and certainly, better things to do in life.
4. Having your husband call you, without fail, day after day, when you are doing one of the following:
a) doing dishes and having soap and suds in your hands
b) having moisturizing lotion in your hand
c) have heavy bags full of groceries and trying mini gymnastic tricks with your finger and door keys to open your apartment door and get in eventually...
5. Discovering expiry date on yogurt and salad mixes left on your refrigerator. Healthy food options should always be enjoyed and consumed and never left for future (supposedly) enjoyment.
6. Seeing the sunrise............................................after you've spent the whole night working on a paper that would hardly be read by 10 people (if you are lucky) or 3 people (if you are born with average, normal luck)
Each of the above has equivalent quotients of being an irritant to me.
Pour in yours.
1. After listening "Allah ke Bande" in an online FM and then having to listen to "Ur ja kaale kaa...ke teri meri ek zindari....(from Sunny Deol's movie "Gadar") that is played next. Have people really lost it?? Why? why?
2. Dreading your supervisor's mail asking for updates every 7th day when checking webmail
3. Dropping coffee on the carpet in the process of trying to get to the computer from the coffeemaker in the kitchen, so that you don't miss the action on an orkut community. I really need to see a shrink; and a better hands-on-eye coordination; and certainly, better things to do in life.
4. Having your husband call you, without fail, day after day, when you are doing one of the following:
a) doing dishes and having soap and suds in your hands
b) having moisturizing lotion in your hand
c) have heavy bags full of groceries and trying mini gymnastic tricks with your finger and door keys to open your apartment door and get in eventually...
5. Discovering expiry date on yogurt and salad mixes left on your refrigerator. Healthy food options should always be enjoyed and consumed and never left for future (supposedly) enjoyment.
6. Seeing the sunrise............................................after you've spent the whole night working on a paper that would hardly be read by 10 people (if you are lucky) or 3 people (if you are born with average, normal luck)
Each of the above has equivalent quotients of being an irritant to me.
Pour in yours.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
A Block
I'm not a prolific blogger and yet the blogger's block or the old-fashioned writer's block has lasted the longest, I think....since my last (and that too, very trivial) blabbering. This has been happening even when new stories were being written every day, different deaths being experienced every day and getting on varied high-s and low-s of life, every day.
Yet, when asked how we're doing, we reply "I'm fine/So-so/cholchhe"! There is no other alternative to stating our "happy" and "okay" status to friends, foes and strangers. That slot has to be filled in; lest the aforementioned friends, foes and strangers creep in into our lives with unwanted impression. In addition to unwanted situations and unwanted baggages, who wants unwanted impression of footprints?
Not me, much alike others.
Even then, considering the highly exhibitionist nature and strangely exhilarating effect of blogging, here's a very brief update of sorts...
1. Finally, I found a roommate and after Trista (of Windsor) I haven't got such a nice and friendly roommate in years. Thank fate or God or whoever decides these things, for that.
2. I've re-learnt how life could be led without Internet in this month; the lesson hasn't been happy but it was surprising to notice that in absence of the most highly held privilege, necessary work does get done faster, and better.
3. No. 1 stated above was balanced out by learning new things about old friends. Unpleasant things. I learnt that some persons could never evolve from being assholes but I did learn it the hard way; so I decided not to learn anymore like this, and so, have erased them from my life. For anyone trying to do some guesswork, these are college friends, and involves a handful of incredible MCPs.
4. I've been getting some work done on my proposal. It's not as much as it's possible ideally speaking, but then, some is better than none.
5. For the first time in my life, I liked Pink! This embarrassing revelation came to be when I was trying to buy my camera, and I actually thought the pink model looked more sleek. May I explain that it was a very different pink? I guess that's pretty much obvious...since it's me who liked pink!
6. It snowed today in Calgary.
7. One of my closest friend, Nishil (nickname/pet name) replied to a scrap after months. Heart-warming to know that somebody has me in their brains.....that somebody being someone I care for.
8. I've noticed that loners and lonely people exhibit that loneliness everywhere: in bus/train/transit, when they're walking alone and even when they are gymming; I could pick up a loner, any day, anytime. Not the self-proclaimed and thereby attention-seeking loners though...
And that's about it.....a block of updates to cut through the blogger's block.
Yet, when asked how we're doing, we reply "I'm fine/So-so/cholchhe"! There is no other alternative to stating our "happy" and "okay" status to friends, foes and strangers. That slot has to be filled in; lest the aforementioned friends, foes and strangers creep in into our lives with unwanted impression. In addition to unwanted situations and unwanted baggages, who wants unwanted impression of footprints?
Not me, much alike others.
Even then, considering the highly exhibitionist nature and strangely exhilarating effect of blogging, here's a very brief update of sorts...
1. Finally, I found a roommate and after Trista (of Windsor) I haven't got such a nice and friendly roommate in years. Thank fate or God or whoever decides these things, for that.
2. I've re-learnt how life could be led without Internet in this month; the lesson hasn't been happy but it was surprising to notice that in absence of the most highly held privilege, necessary work does get done faster, and better.
3. No. 1 stated above was balanced out by learning new things about old friends. Unpleasant things. I learnt that some persons could never evolve from being assholes but I did learn it the hard way; so I decided not to learn anymore like this, and so, have erased them from my life. For anyone trying to do some guesswork, these are college friends, and involves a handful of incredible MCPs.
4. I've been getting some work done on my proposal. It's not as much as it's possible ideally speaking, but then, some is better than none.
5. For the first time in my life, I liked Pink! This embarrassing revelation came to be when I was trying to buy my camera, and I actually thought the pink model looked more sleek. May I explain that it was a very different pink? I guess that's pretty much obvious...since it's me who liked pink!
6. It snowed today in Calgary.
7. One of my closest friend, Nishil (nickname/pet name) replied to a scrap after months. Heart-warming to know that somebody has me in their brains.....that somebody being someone I care for.
8. I've noticed that loners and lonely people exhibit that loneliness everywhere: in bus/train/transit, when they're walking alone and even when they are gymming; I could pick up a loner, any day, anytime. Not the self-proclaimed and thereby attention-seeking loners though...
And that's about it.....a block of updates to cut through the blogger's block.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
WHAT.....is it?
Please see this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj3iNxZ8Dww
A miss South Carolina answers the question: "Recent polls have shown a fifth of Americans can’t locate the U.S. on a world map. Why do you think this is?"
No kidding here...you just can't get a better answer......than this
Among many gemstone like things that you might pick up....let me pre-pick-up the following for you:
1. That there are U.S. Americans
2. That there is a phrase called "Everywhere like such as"
3. US should help others in Education.
Notwithstanding, i sincerely want to know....where do these people come from? I know where they live.
and WHAT is it?? What the Fuck????!!!!!!
Oh yeah...May God Bless America. Truly.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj3iNxZ8Dww
A miss South Carolina answers the question: "Recent polls have shown a fifth of Americans can’t locate the U.S. on a world map. Why do you think this is?"
No kidding here...you just can't get a better answer......than this
Among many gemstone like things that you might pick up....let me pre-pick-up the following for you:
1. That there are U.S. Americans
2. That there is a phrase called "Everywhere like such as"
3. US should help others in Education.
Notwithstanding, i sincerely want to know....where do these people come from? I know where they live.
and WHAT is it?? What the Fuck????!!!!!!
Oh yeah...May God Bless America. Truly.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Life in a ...Metro
As I was involved into a Sunday afternoon lazy routine of reading "The Telegraph", the following excerpt from a similar titled feature was successful in sticking out in my mind:
"The Metro is not foreigner-friendly, either. A hush descends as soon as a phirang comes into the compartment. “I feel very conscious whenever I get on to a train. Nine out of 10 passengers will turn to look at me, measuring me up from head to toe,” complains Jennifer, a researcher living in the city for a year."
Source: "Entertainment", The Telegraph, Sunday, August 19, 2007.
Apparently, the "foreigner experience" has a common element, irrespective of time and place; I also have a tweaking suspicion that being of a particular gender assigns a similarity to it. Obviously, I didn't actually "learn" this small piece of truth from reading The Telegraph, but the tangible piece of news was reassuring and disheartening at the same time. Reassuring as I could see I am not alone; disheartening to see my place and place-men doing the same detestable thing..... even now when supposedly Calcutta has "changed".
Of course, I never expected "chivalry" from Calcutta men. If this sounds too objectionable, let me put it thus: I never expected and observed chivalry from men travelling in bus-es, auto-s and metro-s of Calcutta. This is because most of the male species were (and are) involved in extracting varying degrees of derivations from pleasures of travelling with women by touching them with whatever body part comes 'handy' (in true sense of the term...that is using body parts as hands); For example, toe fingers, shoe soles, elbows, love-handles...you could think of all sorts of body parts men would use to show they are dicks and what could be used in lieu of a dick......to touch a female wherever touchable.
Leching? yeah.....leching was there, but that was Level 1 of extracting derivations from pleasure. Most men grew up from Level 1.
So yeah...I was saying that I never expected nor observed any form of chivalry from Calcutta men. I'm sure most men wouldn't know what chivalry entails, let alone spell it.
Chivalry was something too pricey to ask for. Humane feelings were also in rare supply (even though we, Calcuttans, would like to brag about them).
Seats were seldom offered to pregnant women, from men; Or to senior citizens. These gestures comprised more of a scene in a public bus of Calcutta....but Metro was something else. Metro was Calcutta's pride in its supposedly stylish packaging, fast service and Bhadrolok clientèle. Metro signified a space where people left their class and class values (middle class values at that) with cold business and plain individuality of each to one's own.
The exception offered was the gaze. From men to women; from women to women; seldom...from women to men; and almost never from men to men;
Sharing some personal experience would make the above assertion less ambiguous.
When I was travelling with a plastered right hand in Calcutta Metro for almost a month in 1999....seldom was I offered a seat; of course I could manage without one, even with one working hand, but it was indeed amusing and interesting to see that men held to their seats as there was no tomorrow....with seats. Of all the offers of seats I could think of...it used to come from women and old gentlemen.
My plaster exhibited love from my friends: funny, serious, weird quotes, mushy sher-o-shayari's and whacky messages adorned my plaster from my adorable friends. In addition to being a female of 21, the plaster was also a piece of observation with an unfaltering gaze from men.
Women also used to read and oftentimes I would play with that gaze:- If I were standing and a woman was reading it, I would slightly move my hand at an angle where she would have to squint her eyes....even then she would move her head, squint her eye and keep on reading! And I would keep moving my hand....and watch the game! Satyi bangali poraku jaat!
I did not use to see any more reading however....certainly some persons used to carry newspaper rolled into a convenient size as they held on to their handrails and briefcases...but reading books and newspapers were not a common sight.
I think my plaster came as an oasis to these hapless passengers.
In fact, doing anything extra-ordinary got the metro passenger's attention, e.g, even listening to a harmless and status-less walkman. Unlike the Canadian experience, that walkman did not make the fellow passenger listen to the music played, but people would keep staring nonetheless at the little tool and the owner..... as they perhaps silently hailed me from doing this extra-ordinary thing. Sometimes me and one of my friend would share the musical experience, in that she would have one earphone and I, the another....and that would do the ultimate magical trick. NOTHING, nothing could take the eyes off us then. From men.
Which makes me wonder....are Calcuttans bored? So that anything that goes over the predictable gets their attention so instantly and holds their gaze so long? And is asking this question very non-calcuttan?? I was never bored when I was and am in Calcutta...even though we get used to monotonous routines of life there. Monotony exists in every city, but it seldom makes its citizens so bored as Calcuttans.
Therefore... what are the factors in operation here?
"The Metro is not foreigner-friendly, either. A hush descends as soon as a phirang comes into the compartment. “I feel very conscious whenever I get on to a train. Nine out of 10 passengers will turn to look at me, measuring me up from head to toe,” complains Jennifer, a researcher living in the city for a year."
Source: "Entertainment", The Telegraph, Sunday, August 19, 2007.
Apparently, the "foreigner experience" has a common element, irrespective of time and place; I also have a tweaking suspicion that being of a particular gender assigns a similarity to it. Obviously, I didn't actually "learn" this small piece of truth from reading The Telegraph, but the tangible piece of news was reassuring and disheartening at the same time. Reassuring as I could see I am not alone; disheartening to see my place and place-men doing the same detestable thing..... even now when supposedly Calcutta has "changed".
Of course, I never expected "chivalry" from Calcutta men. If this sounds too objectionable, let me put it thus: I never expected and observed chivalry from men travelling in bus-es, auto-s and metro-s of Calcutta. This is because most of the male species were (and are) involved in extracting varying degrees of derivations from pleasures of travelling with women by touching them with whatever body part comes 'handy' (in true sense of the term...that is using body parts as hands); For example, toe fingers, shoe soles, elbows, love-handles...you could think of all sorts of body parts men would use to show they are dicks and what could be used in lieu of a dick......to touch a female wherever touchable.
Leching? yeah.....leching was there, but that was Level 1 of extracting derivations from pleasure. Most men grew up from Level 1.
So yeah...I was saying that I never expected nor observed any form of chivalry from Calcutta men. I'm sure most men wouldn't know what chivalry entails, let alone spell it.
Chivalry was something too pricey to ask for. Humane feelings were also in rare supply (even though we, Calcuttans, would like to brag about them).
Seats were seldom offered to pregnant women, from men; Or to senior citizens. These gestures comprised more of a scene in a public bus of Calcutta....but Metro was something else. Metro was Calcutta's pride in its supposedly stylish packaging, fast service and Bhadrolok clientèle. Metro signified a space where people left their class and class values (middle class values at that) with cold business and plain individuality of each to one's own.
The exception offered was the gaze. From men to women; from women to women; seldom...from women to men; and almost never from men to men;
Sharing some personal experience would make the above assertion less ambiguous.
When I was travelling with a plastered right hand in Calcutta Metro for almost a month in 1999....seldom was I offered a seat; of course I could manage without one, even with one working hand, but it was indeed amusing and interesting to see that men held to their seats as there was no tomorrow....with seats. Of all the offers of seats I could think of...it used to come from women and old gentlemen.
My plaster exhibited love from my friends: funny, serious, weird quotes, mushy sher-o-shayari's and whacky messages adorned my plaster from my adorable friends. In addition to being a female of 21, the plaster was also a piece of observation with an unfaltering gaze from men.
Women also used to read and oftentimes I would play with that gaze:- If I were standing and a woman was reading it, I would slightly move my hand at an angle where she would have to squint her eyes....even then she would move her head, squint her eye and keep on reading! And I would keep moving my hand....and watch the game! Satyi bangali poraku jaat!
I did not use to see any more reading however....certainly some persons used to carry newspaper rolled into a convenient size as they held on to their handrails and briefcases...but reading books and newspapers were not a common sight.
I think my plaster came as an oasis to these hapless passengers.
In fact, doing anything extra-ordinary got the metro passenger's attention, e.g, even listening to a harmless and status-less walkman. Unlike the Canadian experience, that walkman did not make the fellow passenger listen to the music played, but people would keep staring nonetheless at the little tool and the owner..... as they perhaps silently hailed me from doing this extra-ordinary thing. Sometimes me and one of my friend would share the musical experience, in that she would have one earphone and I, the another....and that would do the ultimate magical trick. NOTHING, nothing could take the eyes off us then. From men.
Which makes me wonder....are Calcuttans bored? So that anything that goes over the predictable gets their attention so instantly and holds their gaze so long? And is asking this question very non-calcuttan?? I was never bored when I was and am in Calcutta...even though we get used to monotonous routines of life there. Monotony exists in every city, but it seldom makes its citizens so bored as Calcuttans.
Therefore... what are the factors in operation here?
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Getting into dark.....
In this time of the year, lots of rabbits/bunnies could be seen in Calgary. They are almost on every green space...enjoying themselves and making us enjoy them.....
Which made me wonder where do they go in winter time? I see them in winter when the snow melts but when it snows....they are possibly back again in their dark little homes underground....making us wonder, "Where did they go? when will they be out again?"
I wish I had such a dark, little, cold home underground. Where I could go and be an undisturbed recluse. Where nobody could touch me; where nothing could touch me.
And I also wish people will ask, "Where did she go? when will she be out again?"
I wish.
Like all wishes....this can never be true..........except perhaps the invisible dark hole I'm left into. trapped into. this life....it has almost become an unique wished upon thing. It doesn't move, it doesn't change...it stays in the same point. So wistful...no?
When will the dark underground wish come true?
Which made me wonder where do they go in winter time? I see them in winter when the snow melts but when it snows....they are possibly back again in their dark little homes underground....making us wonder, "Where did they go? when will they be out again?"
I wish I had such a dark, little, cold home underground. Where I could go and be an undisturbed recluse. Where nobody could touch me; where nothing could touch me.
And I also wish people will ask, "Where did she go? when will she be out again?"
I wish.
Like all wishes....this can never be true..........except perhaps the invisible dark hole I'm left into. trapped into. this life....it has almost become an unique wished upon thing. It doesn't move, it doesn't change...it stays in the same point. So wistful...no?
When will the dark underground wish come true?
Friday, July 20, 2007
Old Boy (!)
Today as I was watching the usual evening news, one commercial got my attention, particularly because it was somewhat irritating.
The commercial was about "Ritz", the biscuit (or cookie as it's called over here) brand promoting a hitherto new kind of toasted chips (healthier, as against fried chips). The 30 second commercial was about a man introducing himself (and I couldn't recognize him, my fault... actually), with a pack of Ritz toasted chips,.... by a pool, and then offering that pack to two blonde (babes, naturally) females who made orgasmic expressions on eating those chips
The final execution in which the oldie was lechering and flirting (and offering chips not to forget) with two young females completely put me off.
Which puts me back to questioning myself: what's wrong if an old man flirts with young females? If there's nothing wrong in a young man doing so, and if I am, and have been, convinced and vocal about the rights of the importance of consenting adults in matters of love, sex, adultery and homosexuality, then it annoyingly beats me to realize that I don't particularly find the idea of oldies romancing youngies somewhat appetizing.
And, as I said, it annoys me, let alone oldies and supporters of oldies who might be reading this entry.
I don't know...probably it's because I've been socialized to believe that old men and women should do different stuff and be of different persona than young men and women;
probably it's because popular stories (or myths) of decreasing sexual libido of old people do their works: they aren't supposed to be like that...so anything contrary is annoying;
or the mismatch between an aesthetically pleasing thing (youth) as against eroding aesthetics and abating energy....somehow doesn't seem right to my conservative mind.
Truly, an old man lech-ing at a female seems doubly disgusting than a young man doing the same.
I'm aware of this bias but I wish I knew the reason and I wish if I could get this over......apart from wishing I didn't have this discriminating bias.
The commercial was about "Ritz", the biscuit (or cookie as it's called over here) brand promoting a hitherto new kind of toasted chips (healthier, as against fried chips). The 30 second commercial was about a man introducing himself (and I couldn't recognize him, my fault... actually), with a pack of Ritz toasted chips,.... by a pool, and then offering that pack to two blonde (babes, naturally) females who made orgasmic expressions on eating those chips
The final execution in which the oldie was lechering and flirting (and offering chips not to forget) with two young females completely put me off.
Which puts me back to questioning myself: what's wrong if an old man flirts with young females? If there's nothing wrong in a young man doing so, and if I am, and have been, convinced and vocal about the rights of the importance of consenting adults in matters of love, sex, adultery and homosexuality, then it annoyingly beats me to realize that I don't particularly find the idea of oldies romancing youngies somewhat appetizing.
And, as I said, it annoys me, let alone oldies and supporters of oldies who might be reading this entry.
I don't know...probably it's because I've been socialized to believe that old men and women should do different stuff and be of different persona than young men and women;
probably it's because popular stories (or myths) of decreasing sexual libido of old people do their works: they aren't supposed to be like that...so anything contrary is annoying;
or the mismatch between an aesthetically pleasing thing (youth) as against eroding aesthetics and abating energy....somehow doesn't seem right to my conservative mind.
Truly, an old man lech-ing at a female seems doubly disgusting than a young man doing the same.
I'm aware of this bias but I wish I knew the reason and I wish if I could get this over......apart from wishing I didn't have this discriminating bias.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Silence...
Silence! Silence. Silence... Silence?
A punctuation mark creates the shape in which it is delivered and perceived.
Yet, seldom we understand it; or understand why it's there; or know what it means; and when we know what it does mean, we know every other thing...of the sender of silence.
Even when we know the content of silence, we don't know whether it should be met with understanding and more silence in reciprocation or a deliberation to break it. There is no presupposed trend, no protocol of reciprocating perfectly to silence......even when there is a contextual guidance.
Who said silence is golden? Is it ever inert??
Especially between two well-known....very well-known persons?
A punctuation mark creates the shape in which it is delivered and perceived.
Yet, seldom we understand it; or understand why it's there; or know what it means; and when we know what it does mean, we know every other thing...of the sender of silence.
Even when we know the content of silence, we don't know whether it should be met with understanding and more silence in reciprocation or a deliberation to break it. There is no presupposed trend, no protocol of reciprocating perfectly to silence......even when there is a contextual guidance.
Who said silence is golden? Is it ever inert??
Especially between two well-known....very well-known persons?
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Here Comes the Sun...
The first thought when she was checking the sharpness of the knife against her upturned wrist was....how would the police know which number to call when they first find the body?
Should she make a note? Leave that on the table?
But it was very, very tough to decide on the first one to inform. Okay....she thought...that should be a North American phone number...let's cut down their cost.
And then, remotely and suddenly she thought how her roomie would react?
That moment changed the decision. She laughed. She thought, ah well....she would just shout and shout and have the fright of her life! What a lesson to teach!! And all these days she was thinking how to retort irritation and arrogance....what better way could this be.
Immediately after however....she understood it's nothing but self pity. And that she needs to get a new knife. She had an Indian blade but then ....that got lost in innumerable moving of houses she had to make over here.
And it could have made the whole things so dramatic. Narcissism warns, you see....against going overboard. Why try to connect with pieces of mind and persons left in Kolkata? By using a blade?? If life was so pathetic....would death have to match that pathetic pattern? nah...
Today, she had lots of groceries in her hand. She got on the bus.
The driver said "Thank You! You've got me supper!"
Unexpectedly to herself, she said "Thank You!!" And chuckled.
When getting off....the driver said again "Would you do me a favour? Could you keep my groceries in your fridge for this week?"
Why are people nice? She thought? She said, "Yes, next time! That's a raincheque!"
When the "why-s"? of her life came running to her again....she told them...I don't know. She would never know. As she would never know why certain things are nice, but are seldom asked as why they are.
Like we don't ask why the sun comes out....we just notice.
Good Morning, by the way!
Should she make a note? Leave that on the table?
But it was very, very tough to decide on the first one to inform. Okay....she thought...that should be a North American phone number...let's cut down their cost.
And then, remotely and suddenly she thought how her roomie would react?
That moment changed the decision. She laughed. She thought, ah well....she would just shout and shout and have the fright of her life! What a lesson to teach!! And all these days she was thinking how to retort irritation and arrogance....what better way could this be.
Immediately after however....she understood it's nothing but self pity. And that she needs to get a new knife. She had an Indian blade but then ....that got lost in innumerable moving of houses she had to make over here.
And it could have made the whole things so dramatic. Narcissism warns, you see....against going overboard. Why try to connect with pieces of mind and persons left in Kolkata? By using a blade?? If life was so pathetic....would death have to match that pathetic pattern? nah...
Today, she had lots of groceries in her hand. She got on the bus.
The driver said "Thank You! You've got me supper!"
Unexpectedly to herself, she said "Thank You!!" And chuckled.
When getting off....the driver said again "Would you do me a favour? Could you keep my groceries in your fridge for this week?"
Why are people nice? She thought? She said, "Yes, next time! That's a raincheque!"
When the "why-s"? of her life came running to her again....she told them...I don't know. She would never know. As she would never know why certain things are nice, but are seldom asked as why they are.
Like we don't ask why the sun comes out....we just notice.
Good Morning, by the way!
Monday, July 2, 2007
F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
My last haircut was 4 months back. Since then, my hair has grown. I like long hair for myself, and like other sane females, also feel I should trim it periodically. There is a very good salon within 15 minutes of walk....and there's no reason that I shouldn't walk there.
But,......like avoiding being social by attending other social gatherings I thought I should avoid another wo/mankind-inhabited place. The world is a friendly place, wanting to become friends with you through asking friendly questions with friendly smiles and expecting friendly temperament in return. Now....now.....I wasn't and am not detesting F.R.I.E.N.D.S. I love the show. I love my friends. I do....even though I might behave the otherwise and not say it.
But I'm terrorized of friendly questions and friendly advice, coming from.....all sorts of people you least expect to be friends with; for example,
a) Hairstylers;
b) Bartenders;
c) Remotely known professors encountered in occasions of picking up free food from uninteresting seminars;
d) Smiling and busy Dada-s (of Dadu's age) encountered in Pujo-s, and such other occasions of Bengali chestbeatings.
e) Random guests of guest of your roomie;
f) Indian salesgirls working in grocery stores;
g) Taxi drivers driving you to airport;
h) Movers helping you to move you to yet another house;
From different background and found in vastly different situations and places, these people pose one common threat to me: being friendly.
Before you assume how mean I am, let me tell you how and why I derive my feelings of fear. terror. avoidance.
Questions start generally in this order.
1) Hi! How is it going?
Pretty good! How's it for you?
2) I'm good! So you're doing *general assumption* (like being an undergrad, or being single and looking or being married with your husband tending and caring for you, or being very happy without any reason)
*Response* (Trying desperately to close all deliberations with a one liner; which doesn't work, as you'll see)
3) Why?
*Mention reason, as succinctly possible in a civil and formal relationship*
4) But....I know this.....and you should do that.
I will.
Then,
5) That is pretty strange. Why don't you have kids?
*a#@& % !!* Ummm......*feebly* because I don't want to....?? I'm not really into a situation.
6) No....I don't think you realize this.....blah blah blah.....and when I was your age..../when I will be your age....blah blah blah.....
Uh...yeah....probably.....yeah.....okay.....hmmm........
And then, when I'm finally with myself again, I crave for some friendly talk. Some friendly interaction. You know.....those.... like real.
But,......like avoiding being social by attending other social gatherings I thought I should avoid another wo/mankind-inhabited place. The world is a friendly place, wanting to become friends with you through asking friendly questions with friendly smiles and expecting friendly temperament in return. Now....now.....I wasn't and am not detesting F.R.I.E.N.D.S. I love the show. I love my friends. I do....even though I might behave the otherwise and not say it.
But I'm terrorized of friendly questions and friendly advice, coming from.....all sorts of people you least expect to be friends with; for example,
a) Hairstylers;
b) Bartenders;
c) Remotely known professors encountered in occasions of picking up free food from uninteresting seminars;
d) Smiling and busy Dada-s (of Dadu's age) encountered in Pujo-s, and such other occasions of Bengali chestbeatings.
e) Random guests of guest of your roomie;
f) Indian salesgirls working in grocery stores;
g) Taxi drivers driving you to airport;
h) Movers helping you to move you to yet another house;
From different background and found in vastly different situations and places, these people pose one common threat to me: being friendly.
Before you assume how mean I am, let me tell you how and why I derive my feelings of fear. terror. avoidance.
Questions start generally in this order.
1) Hi! How is it going?
Pretty good! How's it for you?
2) I'm good! So you're doing *general assumption* (like being an undergrad, or being single and looking or being married with your husband tending and caring for you, or being very happy without any reason)
*Response* (Trying desperately to close all deliberations with a one liner; which doesn't work, as you'll see)
3) Why?
*Mention reason, as succinctly possible in a civil and formal relationship*
4) But....I know this.....and you should do that.
I will.
Then,
5) That is pretty strange. Why don't you have kids?
*a#@& % !!* Ummm......*feebly* because I don't want to....?? I'm not really into a situation.
6) No....I don't think you realize this.....blah blah blah.....and when I was your age..../when I will be your age....blah blah blah.....
Uh...yeah....probably.....yeah.....okay.....hmmm........
And then, when I'm finally with myself again, I crave for some friendly talk. Some friendly interaction. You know.....those.... like real.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
self doubt # you-count-it
Hearing Crow's crowing (or chirping, from a postcolonial viewpoint) in Calgary is secondary to nothing. Crows have been coming from nowhere to this city, to the curses of its citizens who think it...yes...to be an emissary of evil. But somehow,....the crowing brings in some form of familiarity in the seemingly alien surroundings here. It makes me feel good....reassured.....and reminiscent (as you can see).
Like the music played on the online radio, the B-grade movie shown in Saturday Evening Ethnic Channel, like the smell of alu-peyajkoli bhaja coming from unknown somewhere, certain primary essences of familiarity refuse to leave me...even when I least expect them to be.
As it stands now, I do understand that certain things just remain primary. Irreplaceable with anything else, even when craving for those anything-else-s never subsumes.
Somethings are just meant to be primary. And somethings will always be secondary. And even though these are not words of some deep, profound truth or realization, it takes a lot of failures to understand them......and God knows how much more time to accept them...and move on.
How much more time........??
Would I take?
Like the music played on the online radio, the B-grade movie shown in Saturday Evening Ethnic Channel, like the smell of alu-peyajkoli bhaja coming from unknown somewhere, certain primary essences of familiarity refuse to leave me...even when I least expect them to be.
As it stands now, I do understand that certain things just remain primary. Irreplaceable with anything else, even when craving for those anything-else-s never subsumes.
Somethings are just meant to be primary. And somethings will always be secondary. And even though these are not words of some deep, profound truth or realization, it takes a lot of failures to understand them......and God knows how much more time to accept them...and move on.
How much more time........??
Would I take?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Lunch
Age 5--An apple, a sandesh and a boiled egg on weekdays. Normal rice and associated Bengali delicacies on weekends and holidays.
Age 10--Varied homemade non-conventional lunches consumed as lunch on weekdays: such as upma, chire'r polao, luchi-tarkari, Maggi or Licia noodles, Farinni Cake, french toast, et al. Normal rice and associated Bengali delicacies on weekends and holidays.
Age 15--Fuchka, and alukabli on weekdays. Homemade lunch were given away regularly to enthusiastic friendly patrons. Normal rice and associated Bengali delicacies on weekends and holidays.
Age 20--Wide-ranging options on weekdays: Varied homemade lunches sometimes, half-plate chicken fried rice from 'Tasty', 'Gunjan', 'Rinky', (all in College Street), Pan fried Momo-s from Momo plaza et al (Esplanade) or in 'Food Station' (in College Street too), Singara and Mishti doi from 'Pnutiram', Jhalmuri and Fuchka and Alukabli wherever available....and many other sensational options.
Anger and Normal rice and associated Bengali delicacies on weekends and holidays.
Age 25--Whatever's available in Grad House: absolute boring and cheesy (in a literal sense) soups, Sub-s, and sometimes Vietnamese food on weekdays.
Nothing on weekends. Nothing consumed. Nothing consumed as lunch. Nothing consumed in lunchtime.
Age 28 (now)--Salad with Greek and Italian Dressing, yogurt and some "garden fresh" soup, normally on weekdays.
Rich, Dark, French Roasted Coffee on Weekends.
Looks like....by 30...I had it all without any chance of having them all yet again.
Could the sign of degeneration be any more explicit?
And what's the reason to live???????
Age 10--Varied homemade non-conventional lunches consumed as lunch on weekdays: such as upma, chire'r polao, luchi-tarkari, Maggi or Licia noodles, Farinni Cake, french toast, et al. Normal rice and associated Bengali delicacies on weekends and holidays.
Age 15--Fuchka, and alukabli on weekdays. Homemade lunch were given away regularly to enthusiastic friendly patrons. Normal rice and associated Bengali delicacies on weekends and holidays.
Age 20--Wide-ranging options on weekdays: Varied homemade lunches sometimes, half-plate chicken fried rice from 'Tasty', 'Gunjan', 'Rinky', (all in College Street), Pan fried Momo-s from Momo plaza et al (Esplanade) or in 'Food Station' (in College Street too), Singara and Mishti doi from 'Pnutiram', Jhalmuri and Fuchka and Alukabli wherever available....and many other sensational options.
Anger and Normal rice and associated Bengali delicacies on weekends and holidays.
Age 25--Whatever's available in Grad House: absolute boring and cheesy (in a literal sense) soups, Sub-s, and sometimes Vietnamese food on weekdays.
Nothing on weekends. Nothing consumed. Nothing consumed as lunch. Nothing consumed in lunchtime.
Age 28 (now)--Salad with Greek and Italian Dressing, yogurt and some "garden fresh" soup, normally on weekdays.
Rich, Dark, French Roasted Coffee on Weekends.
Looks like....by 30...I had it all without any chance of having them all yet again.
Could the sign of degeneration be any more explicit?
And what's the reason to live???????
Thursday, June 7, 2007
lost in transit
Now Blogger saves your drafts automatically!
If only our draft of intentions and actions could be saved to prove their originality.....if only. Once they are delivered, they lose their umbilical connection and are so often perceived in a new fluid reality. Who is to blame? The sender? the medium/media? the receiver? reckoning that there cannot be one exclusive answer, is there any infallible answer?
Then from where does the virtual world is inspired and/or mirrored on the real world?
Half of our lives are spent in trying to press Ctrl+S and save our little selves in transmission. Sometimes part or whole of those little things are recovered, but--for me at least--most of it is lost in transit.
Apart from mourning for them and trying to find answers and solutions, I try to find some emotional antiseptic......which sometimes do their job pretty well depending on the wounds, but some wounds are left gaping, ugly and....... concealed from the ones who gave them.
Anyway....let me get back to my movie, which is not an emotional antiseptic, but is one of my MOST favourite ones: Kaagaz ke Phool.
Featuring one of the unforgettable songs having this unabashedly haunting/recurrent feeling:
tumi bhi kho gaye
hum bhi kho gaye
ek raah par,
chal ke do kadam.....
waqt ne kiya
kya haseen sitam....
tum rahe na tum
hum rahe na hum
If only our draft of intentions and actions could be saved to prove their originality.....if only. Once they are delivered, they lose their umbilical connection and are so often perceived in a new fluid reality. Who is to blame? The sender? the medium/media? the receiver? reckoning that there cannot be one exclusive answer, is there any infallible answer?
Then from where does the virtual world is inspired and/or mirrored on the real world?
Half of our lives are spent in trying to press Ctrl+S and save our little selves in transmission. Sometimes part or whole of those little things are recovered, but--for me at least--most of it is lost in transit.
Apart from mourning for them and trying to find answers and solutions, I try to find some emotional antiseptic......which sometimes do their job pretty well depending on the wounds, but some wounds are left gaping, ugly and....... concealed from the ones who gave them.
Anyway....let me get back to my movie, which is not an emotional antiseptic, but is one of my MOST favourite ones: Kaagaz ke Phool.
Featuring one of the unforgettable songs having this unabashedly haunting/recurrent feeling:
tumi bhi kho gaye
hum bhi kho gaye
ek raah par,
chal ke do kadam.....
waqt ne kiya
kya haseen sitam....
tum rahe na tum
hum rahe na hum
Friday, June 1, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Bheja Fry
Saw the movie and I can't remember when I loved a movie moment after moment...so much.....recently!
A must watch. Truly.
Yeah...yeah....it's an adaptation, or a lift....whatever...but the adaptation seemed really well-made, there being no extra dialogues, the casting couldn't have got any better (I Love Milind Soman.....I just love him.....yes, I said Milind Soman. Absolutely sexy and so..........*sigh*.. droolable!), above all, the execution was suited well ...to seem Indian.
When was humour so humane?
Even if you don't like me or don't like my likes, do watch the movie. This time, you won't regret it!
(Clue: when did you last see me gushing about anything or anyone in the planet?)
A must watch. Truly.
Yeah...yeah....it's an adaptation, or a lift....whatever...but the adaptation seemed really well-made, there being no extra dialogues, the casting couldn't have got any better (I Love Milind Soman.....I just love him.....yes, I said Milind Soman. Absolutely sexy and so..........*sigh*.. droolable!), above all, the execution was suited well ...to seem Indian.
When was humour so humane?
Even if you don't like me or don't like my likes, do watch the movie. This time, you won't regret it!
(Clue: when did you last see me gushing about anything or anyone in the planet?)
Friday, May 18, 2007
random questions
Finally, I hit on that most used and cliched word--"random"--of bloggerworld.
Though it's not really random, nothing is. NOTHING. Everything can be traced, but probably when we do not choose to/don't know how to trace, we use this most comforting cover of "random" and act in another of innumerable ways of being lazy and/or indifferent and express our hurt emotions, I guess.
Whatever, after this badly drafted justification, here's some of my random questions. Put forth for anybody who's still listening (I don't find anybody, by the way, and the reason has to lie more with the chance probability of my ill-destined luck than with the quality of this blog or the time-gap arrangement of potential and/or actual readers).
1. Why do we not call some friends we always remember and miss, especially when we're feeling miserable?
2. Why do English-medium bred Indian girls speak English in an accent that has very little gaps between the words? (Corollary question: does it sound very urban and more uptown? really, what's with the gap??)
3. Why don't we taste the flavour/seasoning when we chew chips as against when we lick them and then chew? (Try slowly chewing them.....even then the difference of tasting the flavour will exist between just chewing them and licking-before-chewing)
4. Why can't we say what we want to say? (even when the listener is listening and is most empathetic,/ sympathetic,/ friendly,/ unassuming,/ un-harming)
5. Why do, we (some, not all) drink water without touching the bottle with our mouth, knowing fully well nobody will be asking for water from our bottle (in a foreign land)? Is it habit? unconscious decision? or hope?
6. Why are some questions formatted in a profound way but are the most parochial? Like, "how are you?"
7. How does retaining old bills/old tickets in our purses, pockets, bags, ......help us (in any way?)
8. Why don't we never buy toothpicks but never fail to take one in eateries/restaurants after a meal? Are restaurant meals always successful in sticking something between our teeth?
Answers would be appreciated.
Attempts to answer them would be applauded.
And you know the rest.............don't you?
Though it's not really random, nothing is. NOTHING. Everything can be traced, but probably when we do not choose to/don't know how to trace, we use this most comforting cover of "random" and act in another of innumerable ways of being lazy and/or indifferent and express our hurt emotions, I guess.
Whatever, after this badly drafted justification, here's some of my random questions. Put forth for anybody who's still listening (I don't find anybody, by the way, and the reason has to lie more with the chance probability of my ill-destined luck than with the quality of this blog or the time-gap arrangement of potential and/or actual readers).
1. Why do we not call some friends we always remember and miss, especially when we're feeling miserable?
2. Why do English-medium bred Indian girls speak English in an accent that has very little gaps between the words? (Corollary question: does it sound very urban and more uptown? really, what's with the gap??)
3. Why don't we taste the flavour/seasoning when we chew chips as against when we lick them and then chew? (Try slowly chewing them.....even then the difference of tasting the flavour will exist between just chewing them and licking-before-chewing)
4. Why can't we say what we want to say? (even when the listener is listening and is most empathetic,/ sympathetic,/ friendly,/ unassuming,/ un-harming)
5. Why do, we (some, not all) drink water without touching the bottle with our mouth, knowing fully well nobody will be asking for water from our bottle (in a foreign land)? Is it habit? unconscious decision? or hope?
6. Why are some questions formatted in a profound way but are the most parochial? Like, "how are you?"
7. How does retaining old bills/old tickets in our purses, pockets, bags, ......help us (in any way?)
8. Why don't we never buy toothpicks but never fail to take one in eateries/restaurants after a meal? Are restaurant meals always successful in sticking something between our teeth?
Answers would be appreciated.
Attempts to answer them would be applauded.
And you know the rest.............don't you?
Saturday, May 5, 2007
from a rainy, foggy, gloomy morning experience
This morning after I got up and decided not to drink coffee even though my eyes were stinging, I was standing on my balcony (without any warm covers). For 20 or more minutes. This was the second time after I moved into this apartment last October. The occasion was not warm. It was the usual minus 1 degree, raining tip-tapped-ly, with the sky looking gloomy as usual.......and the fog hanging just 1 km over my head... I guess.
Yet, somehow it looked different and didn't make me feel gloomy. (Yes, the weather does have an effect on you, howsoever spoiled it might sound. To beat me, consider coming and staying in Calgary)
After two or rather four months from now........I would probably not stand here like this. Probably I wouldn't come back here...to the hills, to sigh at the bony trees and watching the grass getting eatably green to greener, to look at the mass of cars following each other day and night, to count the percentage of red cars and blue ones among Calgarians from a 16th floor window.....ever in my life. The place that I despise of so often--so evident through my rantings in this blog--would cease to be part of me.
Yet, I wasn't feeling a sense of peace or any distant whiff of happiness.
I realized I wouldn't have this freedom...and variations thereof, from freedom to cook at 3 in the morning to freedom in judging the same scene from my kitchen window differently and feeling justified in doing so.
Sometimes I crave for being seen in certain identity brackets; and sometimes I would like to resist in being judged only through particular identity brackets. I know that cakes can't be had and eaten too, except by the lucky, deserving, bold and beautiful people.
I just wish I fitted in one of these labels. I was called the third (stated above) quite a large section of my life, past years,.. that is. And then I realized there's more to heroism than boldness. Time or age? I can't tell which made me realize this.....at the extent of sounding cliched once again, ......I would say a bit of both, the former one in greater measure perhaps.
To put it very flatly, the exchange rate of blessings and/or other forces in my life has always been too less or too intense freedom. The one or the other identities. Me not liking it hadn't been able to change the states of being I've gone through.
This of course has pleased some persons I call "friends", but it hasn't made me self-deprecating.
Here I am......able to philosophize on workings of "fate" albeit all my mights and attempts against its operations.........with enough doses of fuzzy peach candy slices.
Candytherapy works.
(I hope you were not looking for some other morale of the story)
Yet, somehow it looked different and didn't make me feel gloomy. (Yes, the weather does have an effect on you, howsoever spoiled it might sound. To beat me, consider coming and staying in Calgary)
After two or rather four months from now........I would probably not stand here like this. Probably I wouldn't come back here...to the hills, to sigh at the bony trees and watching the grass getting eatably green to greener, to look at the mass of cars following each other day and night, to count the percentage of red cars and blue ones among Calgarians from a 16th floor window.....ever in my life. The place that I despise of so often--so evident through my rantings in this blog--would cease to be part of me.
Yet, I wasn't feeling a sense of peace or any distant whiff of happiness.
I realized I wouldn't have this freedom...and variations thereof, from freedom to cook at 3 in the morning to freedom in judging the same scene from my kitchen window differently and feeling justified in doing so.
Sometimes I crave for being seen in certain identity brackets; and sometimes I would like to resist in being judged only through particular identity brackets. I know that cakes can't be had and eaten too, except by the lucky, deserving, bold and beautiful people.
I just wish I fitted in one of these labels. I was called the third (stated above) quite a large section of my life, past years,.. that is. And then I realized there's more to heroism than boldness. Time or age? I can't tell which made me realize this.....at the extent of sounding cliched once again, ......I would say a bit of both, the former one in greater measure perhaps.
To put it very flatly, the exchange rate of blessings and/or other forces in my life has always been too less or too intense freedom. The one or the other identities. Me not liking it hadn't been able to change the states of being I've gone through.
This of course has pleased some persons I call "friends", but it hasn't made me self-deprecating.
Here I am......able to philosophize on workings of "fate" albeit all my mights and attempts against its operations.........with enough doses of fuzzy peach candy slices.
Candytherapy works.
(I hope you were not looking for some other morale of the story)
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Zone
When it's 6 am in Calgary, which place has the time of 12 am (or close to it)?
I need to know as my body lives in that time zone.
As soon as I know this, I'll try to find some work in that time zone and live there so that I don't have to go to bed when rest of the city is going to work.
It's killing me.
I need to know as my body lives in that time zone.
As soon as I know this, I'll try to find some work in that time zone and live there so that I don't have to go to bed when rest of the city is going to work.
It's killing me.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Wanting
The water unsettled me. As I walked within it, I could feel the warm and the cool currents but I couldn't decide on their directions. None of it....where from they were coming? where to are they going? The warmth and the coolness seemed all over me,...touching me under the skin so much that it seemed to burn me and freeze me without any warning or pattern. Without failing to do so every time, every second.
I kept walking on ...into the clinging water.
A kid looked at me from a distance and shouted "Ohh...the water is hugging you!"
Puzzled, I saw indeed the water was rising to give me a probable overwhelming hug. But I wanted to be able to keep walking. Towards the moon.
I wanted just to keep walking. Just that.
I kept walking on ...into the clinging water.
A kid looked at me from a distance and shouted "Ohh...the water is hugging you!"
Puzzled, I saw indeed the water was rising to give me a probable overwhelming hug. But I wanted to be able to keep walking. Towards the moon.
I wanted just to keep walking. Just that.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Tooti Frooti Summer Love
I found this incredibly jaw dropping video for whoever interested.
Please watch closely and hear keenly. I'm sure you haven't heard such a level of lyrics anywhere before. Do check out the pathetic guy as well.
Spoilsport as I might sound....I have a question here as well. When do these species of people stop to have/make love, .....and that too.... crazily? When do they resume again? I guess the venue changes...but I was never aware that the process actually stops!
Anyway, Enjoy the video.
Please watch closely and hear keenly. I'm sure you haven't heard such a level of lyrics anywhere before. Do check out the pathetic guy as well.
Spoilsport as I might sound....I have a question here as well. When do these species of people stop to have/make love, .....and that too.... crazily? When do they resume again? I guess the venue changes...but I was never aware that the process actually stops!
Anyway, Enjoy the video.
Concerned Questions
My printer is not working for some unexplicable reason, and this is one of the reasons I've been feeling down, of late. Thinking about why I feel down and how negative feelings are borne out of daily interactions and life situations compelled me to come to this virtual space. In addition, how an alternative situation could have led to different motivations and state-of-mind is also a point of concern.
Even though us humans tend to think in pigeon-holes and non-analytically, though categorically, life do not happen in that format. I think it is essential to recognize this plain fact, as awareness and sensitization often enable touching base with the other, if not leaving our pet projects.
Pet projects could be anything.... but the ones that are dependent on other people, usually range from: blowing in to hollow self-egos through attempts to inflate the ego of the person one-doesn't-like/person-one-can't-be-but-wants-to-be, hurling supposedly subtle satirical comments to that person in order to prove hierarchical difference of the one's self, and preaching for own ideals in order to strengthen one's own ground by converting some more followers to own camps. When these pet projects fail, people get angry. They get reticent. They get abusive.
If we do not meet these people, we would probably be less hurt, but then....hey.... we would also probably be less entertained, especially when entertainment these days comprise of very little comedy. It is wise to use as much resources as we could probably gather to do as many things are possible.
And, this gathering of resources could form an alternative to how we are taught to see things, as they are.
For example, when I choose to encroach the alternative--which requires some genuine effort and time--I am the one who's rewarded. It does take some attempt not to get angry ...when people who define films as "art films" and "commercial films", and think of Fellini as some obscure person if not a Bengali, comment on my habitus, and think that comment to be sublime and profound; it does take attempt on my part to stabilize and not feel negative when people get angry and abusive just because I swear some slang words (not at them but at the situation); it takes some attempt to continue interacting with people on civil and friendly terms even when I know they expect a very gendered role out of me.
It takes a lot of work to be polite to people. A lot. Much more than tolerating Himesh Reshamiyya or news about Anna Nicole Smith's baby's paternity.
But that attempt is well rewarded when I try to find the alternative meanings, at the end of which, I can't stop laughing and thank them for the opportunity to make me laugh.
Taking a step back, I see these people trying to hold on to their ideas and ideals which they were passed down, and grew up with; in that, they are no different. We all try to hold on to our own; except that some of us ensure the existence of our boundaries by being aggressive and intruding into other people's spaces and boundaries while some of us do not feel the need to do so.
Stepping on to other's boundaries is also conceptualized in emancipatory terms. Our beloved Tagore used to say: Strike and save those who are half-dead ("aadmorader gha mere tui bnacha") I often do think...was it designed as stepping on to other's boundaries with the responsibility resting on our shoulders to successfully complete the presumed project of saving and emancipating them?
I guess the question was more of sensitizing the other, the half-dead and the half/or fully constrained of the alternative possibilities. Knowledge, for them, would serve as strength.
But this attempt has its own costs. To do so, entails a lot of reactions bending on the negative side, which are reciprocated through vindictive attitudes and actions. It is not a good thing to assume the half-dead to be half-dead. Don't ever, dear reader, include it in your pet project....so as to hold on to your own.
If you want to maintain your boundary, flash your smile.
It's no surprise that Gandhigiri sells. I'm not selling it any further but reminding you of another possibility that flashing your smile might entail. The inherent reward, of course, comes from not having to interact with intruders to your boundary once you smile at them and laugh at them. Yes, they could get more antagonistic if given indifference. Or they could stop. Either way, you will gain....because when you are able to go beyond anger and actually laugh on them, they would hold on to their erstwhile spaces and follow you and think about you. What could be more ego boosting than that?....learning that people you don't like and don't give a damn to, doesn't stop them from thinking about you as they keep on being abusive, satirical or aggressive. That, is an upside to being in negative interactions.
But when pushed to the corner of your own space, flash your smile, and your weapon. Oftentimes, that works. This is a tried and tested thing......so you can try it sometime!
I have always antagonized people just by being by own self. The one thing that I still cannot fathom is (even after all these): If I don't step into their boundaries, what gives them the stimulation, the motivation, the reason (and of course, the right) to step into mine? What parts of me, challenge them to do so?
I promise I will say more about the answers to the above questions when I find them. If you have any idea of the answers, please let me know. You will be duly rewarded.
Even though us humans tend to think in pigeon-holes and non-analytically, though categorically, life do not happen in that format. I think it is essential to recognize this plain fact, as awareness and sensitization often enable touching base with the other, if not leaving our pet projects.
Pet projects could be anything.... but the ones that are dependent on other people, usually range from: blowing in to hollow self-egos through attempts to inflate the ego of the person one-doesn't-like/person-one-can't-be-but-wants-to-be, hurling supposedly subtle satirical comments to that person in order to prove hierarchical difference of the one's self, and preaching for own ideals in order to strengthen one's own ground by converting some more followers to own camps. When these pet projects fail, people get angry. They get reticent. They get abusive.
If we do not meet these people, we would probably be less hurt, but then....hey.... we would also probably be less entertained, especially when entertainment these days comprise of very little comedy. It is wise to use as much resources as we could probably gather to do as many things are possible.
And, this gathering of resources could form an alternative to how we are taught to see things, as they are.
For example, when I choose to encroach the alternative--which requires some genuine effort and time--I am the one who's rewarded. It does take some attempt not to get angry ...when people who define films as "art films" and "commercial films", and think of Fellini as some obscure person if not a Bengali, comment on my habitus, and think that comment to be sublime and profound; it does take attempt on my part to stabilize and not feel negative when people get angry and abusive just because I swear some slang words (not at them but at the situation); it takes some attempt to continue interacting with people on civil and friendly terms even when I know they expect a very gendered role out of me.
It takes a lot of work to be polite to people. A lot. Much more than tolerating Himesh Reshamiyya or news about Anna Nicole Smith's baby's paternity.
But that attempt is well rewarded when I try to find the alternative meanings, at the end of which, I can't stop laughing and thank them for the opportunity to make me laugh.
Taking a step back, I see these people trying to hold on to their ideas and ideals which they were passed down, and grew up with; in that, they are no different. We all try to hold on to our own; except that some of us ensure the existence of our boundaries by being aggressive and intruding into other people's spaces and boundaries while some of us do not feel the need to do so.
Stepping on to other's boundaries is also conceptualized in emancipatory terms. Our beloved Tagore used to say: Strike and save those who are half-dead ("aadmorader gha mere tui bnacha") I often do think...was it designed as stepping on to other's boundaries with the responsibility resting on our shoulders to successfully complete the presumed project of saving and emancipating them?
I guess the question was more of sensitizing the other, the half-dead and the half/or fully constrained of the alternative possibilities. Knowledge, for them, would serve as strength.
But this attempt has its own costs. To do so, entails a lot of reactions bending on the negative side, which are reciprocated through vindictive attitudes and actions. It is not a good thing to assume the half-dead to be half-dead. Don't ever, dear reader, include it in your pet project....so as to hold on to your own.
If you want to maintain your boundary, flash your smile.
It's no surprise that Gandhigiri sells. I'm not selling it any further but reminding you of another possibility that flashing your smile might entail. The inherent reward, of course, comes from not having to interact with intruders to your boundary once you smile at them and laugh at them. Yes, they could get more antagonistic if given indifference. Or they could stop. Either way, you will gain....because when you are able to go beyond anger and actually laugh on them, they would hold on to their erstwhile spaces and follow you and think about you. What could be more ego boosting than that?....learning that people you don't like and don't give a damn to, doesn't stop them from thinking about you as they keep on being abusive, satirical or aggressive. That, is an upside to being in negative interactions.
But when pushed to the corner of your own space, flash your smile, and your weapon. Oftentimes, that works. This is a tried and tested thing......so you can try it sometime!
I have always antagonized people just by being by own self. The one thing that I still cannot fathom is (even after all these): If I don't step into their boundaries, what gives them the stimulation, the motivation, the reason (and of course, the right) to step into mine? What parts of me, challenge them to do so?
I promise I will say more about the answers to the above questions when I find them. If you have any idea of the answers, please let me know. You will be duly rewarded.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Happy Days are here Again!
Yesterday was an immensely happy day, and the happiness somewhat continued albeit a break in between, since this evening.
Truly speaking, I haven’t felt happier in weeks, so to provide my friends, enemies and acquaintances some proof of non-eternal (or limited) depression, here’s what I did and why I felt happy. As they say in ANT (which colours my current belief-system,…and this is not ant or “pipre” in Bengali, that I’m talking about) ...if I explain well, I do not need to explain why.
I got up and decided to do a lot of work done yesterday. (If you haven’t really guessed by now, Work = reading moronic stuff in journals and doing even more anal stuff…and putting another dose to turning myself into a moron)
After deciding on the above, did some Yoga and felt good afterwards.
Did some TA work.
And decided next, that to compensate for this brief agony, I should satisfy my food needs.
I chose to replace Coffee as lunch to alu-chachhari and ruti. I put as much chilli powder as I could withstand without being hospitalised, and absolutely loved the hottest ever thingy later.
This food bliss was followed by the decision to take a break and read a book.
It was bliss outside too…sunny after 7 days, at 12 degrees,….. and I had nowhere to go.
Read, read and read…after so long a time, I actually read something non-academic. Found out that there’s an idyllic bliss in reading and revisiting childhood books. I was reading “Saradindu’s Aitihasik kahini Samogro”. I don’t care if you snort up your “tnyash” noses, because I don’t care about Tnyash people. This book definitely, is much better than reading Robert Ludlams, and Jhumpa-s of your world; in fact by standing up for this book, I’m actually devaluing it. Let’s not get there…
In the evening, I decided I would stall the process of turning into a moron for a bit, and continued reading the book. Next, chatted (not online, folks!) with my husband.
Night time entertainment was acquired with “Koffee with Karan” (had Konkona, Riteish Deshmukh, and that guy from RDB …Kunal Kapoor). I felt wee bit down afterwards. I used to think Konkona was more intelligent….but she appeared to be more Modern-High School-for-Girls than Delhi-bred. Hmph. I really liked Riteish ( I hate this numerology spellings)….he appeared very, very decent, restrained, sharp and witty.
Next, did some scrapping here and there. I have been observing that people derive almost a gurgling pleasure on reminding me of my recent weight gain and how ugly I look. Mostly these people are those who are fat (not obese) themselves, and I understand that this mostly comes from their need to boost their ego by flattening the curve of self-images with others. Yes, I do understand. But that doesn’t stop me from thinking of those people as assholes.
But even after these swarming attacks to my ego, I remained to keep feeling bunny-like happy. I was happy to set aside a day for myself, absolutely doing nothing, and investing in myself than project ideals of some myopic shithead academicians.
Today, happiness emerged on seeing that it was actually raining in Calgary! Not that one-a-drop, two-drop kind of rains which is the norm, but it was raining in six and seven drops.
I understand that this account is increasingly giving the hint that I would be more happy not doing what I’m currently involved in, which would be encountered only with a partial protest, the hint being a glimpse of partial truth…but it is more a matter of living life simply; living life without the pretension of we-are-doing-a-great-service-to-the-world-by-doing-our-dissertations; living life without blocking our thinking abilities and without finding life’s all pervasive glee in food, recipes and discussions of the number of publications made.
And in case you are wondering about the parochialism of the blog title, it is taken….no not from the Barbara Streisand song, but from (I can see that snort….and I don’t like it) a song of “Om Jai Jagdish” (look up imdb and raaga, I’m not giving you more details). It’s very bollywoodish, and totally is disconnected with my life situation….for I’m not wearing any churi or kangan, but only studs on my ears, (contributing much to the chagrin and gossip among my married, female and male friends/acquaintances).
The association of this line with my current state possibly stems from the way it is sung, and hence portrays the mood I’m in.
Appearances can be deceptive, eh?
Truly speaking, I haven’t felt happier in weeks, so to provide my friends, enemies and acquaintances some proof of non-eternal (or limited) depression, here’s what I did and why I felt happy. As they say in ANT (which colours my current belief-system,…and this is not ant or “pipre” in Bengali, that I’m talking about) ...if I explain well, I do not need to explain why.
I got up and decided to do a lot of work done yesterday. (If you haven’t really guessed by now, Work = reading moronic stuff in journals and doing even more anal stuff…and putting another dose to turning myself into a moron)
After deciding on the above, did some Yoga and felt good afterwards.
Did some TA work.
And decided next, that to compensate for this brief agony, I should satisfy my food needs.
I chose to replace Coffee as lunch to alu-chachhari and ruti. I put as much chilli powder as I could withstand without being hospitalised, and absolutely loved the hottest ever thingy later.
This food bliss was followed by the decision to take a break and read a book.
It was bliss outside too…sunny after 7 days, at 12 degrees,….. and I had nowhere to go.
Read, read and read…after so long a time, I actually read something non-academic. Found out that there’s an idyllic bliss in reading and revisiting childhood books. I was reading “Saradindu’s Aitihasik kahini Samogro”. I don’t care if you snort up your “tnyash” noses, because I don’t care about Tnyash people. This book definitely, is much better than reading Robert Ludlams, and Jhumpa-s of your world; in fact by standing up for this book, I’m actually devaluing it. Let’s not get there…
In the evening, I decided I would stall the process of turning into a moron for a bit, and continued reading the book. Next, chatted (not online, folks!) with my husband.
Night time entertainment was acquired with “Koffee with Karan” (had Konkona, Riteish Deshmukh, and that guy from RDB …Kunal Kapoor). I felt wee bit down afterwards. I used to think Konkona was more intelligent….but she appeared to be more Modern-High School-for-Girls than Delhi-bred. Hmph. I really liked Riteish ( I hate this numerology spellings)….he appeared very, very decent, restrained, sharp and witty.
Next, did some scrapping here and there. I have been observing that people derive almost a gurgling pleasure on reminding me of my recent weight gain and how ugly I look. Mostly these people are those who are fat (not obese) themselves, and I understand that this mostly comes from their need to boost their ego by flattening the curve of self-images with others. Yes, I do understand. But that doesn’t stop me from thinking of those people as assholes.
But even after these swarming attacks to my ego, I remained to keep feeling bunny-like happy. I was happy to set aside a day for myself, absolutely doing nothing, and investing in myself than project ideals of some myopic shithead academicians.
Today, happiness emerged on seeing that it was actually raining in Calgary! Not that one-a-drop, two-drop kind of rains which is the norm, but it was raining in six and seven drops.
I understand that this account is increasingly giving the hint that I would be more happy not doing what I’m currently involved in, which would be encountered only with a partial protest, the hint being a glimpse of partial truth…but it is more a matter of living life simply; living life without the pretension of we-are-doing-a-great-service-to-the-world-by-doing-our-dissertations; living life without blocking our thinking abilities and without finding life’s all pervasive glee in food, recipes and discussions of the number of publications made.
And in case you are wondering about the parochialism of the blog title, it is taken….no not from the Barbara Streisand song, but from (I can see that snort….and I don’t like it) a song of “Om Jai Jagdish” (look up imdb and raaga, I’m not giving you more details). It’s very bollywoodish, and totally is disconnected with my life situation….for I’m not wearing any churi or kangan, but only studs on my ears, (contributing much to the chagrin and gossip among my married, female and male friends/acquaintances).
The association of this line with my current state possibly stems from the way it is sung, and hence portrays the mood I’m in.
Appearances can be deceptive, eh?
Friday, April 6, 2007
Banal post # 567
A friend has been urging me to write/blog more. Almost everyday....and I tell her that there's nothing to write. This reason could also possibly pass as there's nothing that I could write about in the moment--and if you missed the difference between the previous and this sentence in absence of italicized words, please go back and read again--but more than that, it's possibly also because I don't seek to write about banality, .....ahem...anymore. Regardless, I thought I would give one more BIG dose of banality to keep people satisfied. It's not that there has been nothing happening in my life since my last blog update.....only that it's not worth mentioning/remembering/writing.
So what's been happening?
1. It's 6th day snowing in Calgary, relentlessly. The sky, the landscape, the visibility...everything is white, bleak and depressing.
2. I still don't have any idea whether my hardworking roomie is home or in university as always,... right now (Yvonne, if you are reading this, please post a comment. You don't even make any sound nowadays.....*sigh*)
3. I'm feeling more unfit physically and even more depressed mentally, though my face looks less bloated, somehow. I wish I could figure out the trick for future repetition. Sadly though....I still can't figure out.
4. I got in touch with some of my school friends, through orkut. Almost everybody have changed, which is normal and obvious....but somehow it seems many can't seem to come in terms with the change in me.
5. I've been wondering about the utility of keeping in touch with people....especially when there is almost no kick received out of some relationships. Unlike real life relationships, we can possibly put an end to relationships that are largely dependent on virtual communication, even though I agree with my friend Ashish (aka mycotoxin) in our failure/inability to escape the network of virtual life. With real life relationships where conversations are limited to asking me how I am, and me asking the same question with thanks and the listener reciprocating with thanks and one-liner of how s/he is, most of my virtual communications with others never cease to hurt, to be irritating, to be irrelevant, and banal. The people I love, admire and cherish,... form few of the people I interact online.
6. I have been feeling the urge to call some friends, but lack the verve and enthusiasm to maintain a normal voice level and balance. I've been loving my quiet self past these days.....to my surprise.
7. It's yet another weekend...of movies,....of cleaning,.....of hogging on to inconsequential supposedly academic work....and of reading the weekend versions of ABP and Telegraph.
I wish to go to the seaside, with my best friend, with my husband. I wish to go away from all these banality. I wish to blog better. I wish to be more interesting. I wish to be alive.
So what's been happening?
1. It's 6th day snowing in Calgary, relentlessly. The sky, the landscape, the visibility...everything is white, bleak and depressing.
2. I still don't have any idea whether my hardworking roomie is home or in university as always,... right now (Yvonne, if you are reading this, please post a comment. You don't even make any sound nowadays.....*sigh*)
3. I'm feeling more unfit physically and even more depressed mentally, though my face looks less bloated, somehow. I wish I could figure out the trick for future repetition. Sadly though....I still can't figure out.
4. I got in touch with some of my school friends, through orkut. Almost everybody have changed, which is normal and obvious....but somehow it seems many can't seem to come in terms with the change in me.
5. I've been wondering about the utility of keeping in touch with people....especially when there is almost no kick received out of some relationships. Unlike real life relationships, we can possibly put an end to relationships that are largely dependent on virtual communication, even though I agree with my friend Ashish (aka mycotoxin) in our failure/inability to escape the network of virtual life. With real life relationships where conversations are limited to asking me how I am, and me asking the same question with thanks and the listener reciprocating with thanks and one-liner of how s/he is, most of my virtual communications with others never cease to hurt, to be irritating, to be irrelevant, and banal. The people I love, admire and cherish,... form few of the people I interact online.
6. I have been feeling the urge to call some friends, but lack the verve and enthusiasm to maintain a normal voice level and balance. I've been loving my quiet self past these days.....to my surprise.
7. It's yet another weekend...of movies,....of cleaning,.....of hogging on to inconsequential supposedly academic work....and of reading the weekend versions of ABP and Telegraph.
I wish to go to the seaside, with my best friend, with my husband. I wish to go away from all these banality. I wish to blog better. I wish to be more interesting. I wish to be alive.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Amen
I think today I surpassed all my past records...of procrastination. I realize this is a highly narcissistic blog--the me-myself-my thingy- types--and even though I do realize the need to stop this, I thought I would document this shameful and indicative event in order to keep a surveillant record of one of my innumerable dark sides. In lieu of my good old blue diary, and in presence of impersonalized practice of typing on a keyboard, what could be better than a blog to serve as a Pan Opticon of sorts...?
How did I procrastinate?
By Staring at the roof;
By Sleeping;
By Staring on a blank document on Microsoft word;
By Reading and re-reading ABP and rediff websites;
By Reading orkut profiles and absolutely, undoubtedly useless community postings;
By Doing all the relevant household chores that I could possibly pass;
By continuing to procrastinate through writing this blog;
Why did I procrastinate?
I hated doing what I'm and was supposed to do (the reason is always this simple).
Realizing this is commonplace. Realizing this and continuing to be stupid enough to carrying on procrastinating is somewhat commonplace too. Making a blog (and an increasingly boring one at that...) would also perhaps be commonplace (based on my experience, at least).
And I'm not going to suggest a climactic "but this is not commonplace" piece. I am quite commonplace so there's no point in pretending to be the other, is there?
So why I'm writing even this very sentence? Apart from documenting and creating an unabashed drum beating blog?
Because facing our own selves sometimes enables observing and correcting the things we don't like in us. If we do possess the ability to correct, that is. But even then, the wish is always there.
I desperately wish ...I wasn't a member of Procrastinators Anonymous.
There, I said it.
Here, I end it. (it=blogging; also, it=procrastinating)
I would not cross this record of Procrastinating.
Amen.
How did I procrastinate?
By Staring at the roof;
By Sleeping;
By Staring on a blank document on Microsoft word;
By Reading and re-reading ABP and rediff websites;
By Reading orkut profiles and absolutely, undoubtedly useless community postings;
By Doing all the relevant household chores that I could possibly pass;
By continuing to procrastinate through writing this blog;
Why did I procrastinate?
I hated doing what I'm and was supposed to do (the reason is always this simple).
Realizing this is commonplace. Realizing this and continuing to be stupid enough to carrying on procrastinating is somewhat commonplace too. Making a blog (and an increasingly boring one at that...) would also perhaps be commonplace (based on my experience, at least).
And I'm not going to suggest a climactic "but this is not commonplace" piece. I am quite commonplace so there's no point in pretending to be the other, is there?
So why I'm writing even this very sentence? Apart from documenting and creating an unabashed drum beating blog?
Because facing our own selves sometimes enables observing and correcting the things we don't like in us. If we do possess the ability to correct, that is. But even then, the wish is always there.
I desperately wish ...I wasn't a member of Procrastinators Anonymous.
There, I said it.
Here, I end it. (it=blogging; also, it=procrastinating)
I would not cross this record of Procrastinating.
Amen.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Material pleasure!
When I was a kid, I loved " Gold Spot", the orange flavoured soda. In fact, I loved it for the orange taste, and also because I couldn't take in the 'extreme' soda that Campa Cola, Thums Up and Limca had (there were no Pepsi or Coke those days). I just loved Gold Spot.
But as soon as I grew up, that is, developed the sense of twisting our tastes to appear sophisticated, I gave up Gold Spot. Only Children and ladies drank Gold Spot, I observed. And I wanted to be neither a kid (eeeeekssss!!!!) , nor a female (I became female only in 1999).
So I gave up my love. I can't remember when I last tasted it.
Today, in a flimsy moment, I bought "Crush" (a soft drink, orange flavoured) from the nearby grocery store. I just had it.
I loved it.
I had to! It so much resembled my first love!! Gold Spot! The Zing Thing! (what does zing mean, anyway??)
Next, I found this on youtube. It used to come in the 1980s, when I did not ditch it.
Simple material things give us so much pleasure. Rather, gives me so much pleasure. Oh, I'm not apologetic and ashamed of confessing it. When did we start to apologize for being honest?!!
But as soon as I grew up, that is, developed the sense of twisting our tastes to appear sophisticated, I gave up Gold Spot. Only Children and ladies drank Gold Spot, I observed. And I wanted to be neither a kid (eeeeekssss!!!!) , nor a female (I became female only in 1999).
So I gave up my love. I can't remember when I last tasted it.
Today, in a flimsy moment, I bought "Crush" (a soft drink, orange flavoured) from the nearby grocery store. I just had it.
I loved it.
I had to! It so much resembled my first love!! Gold Spot! The Zing Thing! (what does zing mean, anyway??)
Next, I found this on youtube. It used to come in the 1980s, when I did not ditch it.
Simple material things give us so much pleasure. Rather, gives me so much pleasure. Oh, I'm not apologetic and ashamed of confessing it. When did we start to apologize for being honest?!!
Monday, March 19, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Sensibilities? I don't know. I don't know what title would be satisfying. I don't care.
Yes, I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't care about "doing Sociology" and subscribing to (as much as I hate it) the precious idea of doing it for the benevolent purpose. Not when 14 villagers (officially, according to CPM and government officials, that is) and 40 (unofficially) are shot by state sponsored police.
http://www.ibnlive.com/news/six-killed-in-nandigram-violence/35984-3.html
and this says 14: http://www.ndtv.com/topstories/showtopstory.asp?slug=Nandigram+violence+kills+14%0D&id=21629&category=National
But death toll has risen more than that. Before we point fingers at the world, at TMC, at CPM, before we meet our deadlines and exchange greetings, and before we sip our mocha-s and beers and eat our food, would we ever go beyond the figures?
What are we? What, exactly what will take us to jolt us of our indifferent and inhuman sensibilities?
I do include me within this "we". Apart from writing my blog, what can I do?
This is a question that is haunting me. And I seriously hope I will find an answer. Probably not today. But I'll be little more at peace if ever I can find the answer.
http://www.ibnlive.com/news/six-killed-in-nandigram-violence/35984-3.html
and this says 14: http://www.ndtv.com/topstories/showtopstory.asp?slug=Nandigram+violence+kills+14%0D&id=21629&category=National
But death toll has risen more than that. Before we point fingers at the world, at TMC, at CPM, before we meet our deadlines and exchange greetings, and before we sip our mocha-s and beers and eat our food, would we ever go beyond the figures?
What are we? What, exactly what will take us to jolt us of our indifferent and inhuman sensibilities?
I do include me within this "we". Apart from writing my blog, what can I do?
This is a question that is haunting me. And I seriously hope I will find an answer. Probably not today. But I'll be little more at peace if ever I can find the answer.
Friday, March 9, 2007
Depressed Day # 73452
Some days I appear to be stressed, probably of no reason.
And there are various, some trivial and some huge, reasons why I'm stressed. Which leads to depression. As much as people know me, probably they know this (and make fun of this as well), that I'm a depressed person. I don't conceal the fact. Neither am I proud of it. It's part of me, ....and as much as I like easy answers to everything, there is no one-liner answer or any easy answer to why I seem to be depressed most of the time.
It's just not one reason. I live too much in my past.....and too much in loneliness. Even as much as I realize this, I cannot control it, or certain chemicals in my brain that are supposed to cause depression. I wish I could control those who ask me: " what happened? why are you depressed?" I wish I would never had to interact with them...so that I don't end up being even more irritable and irritated. I wish I could tell them not to mess with me, and make them regret their decision if they did.
Right now, I'm more stresssed than depressed.
Over writing a book review. Over writing an A grade book review. Over the fact that I don't have a clue where to start, and what to put in-between, within 800 words.
Lata Mangeshkar is helping me a lot....in curbing it....the stress. And the depression.
And there are various, some trivial and some huge, reasons why I'm stressed. Which leads to depression. As much as people know me, probably they know this (and make fun of this as well), that I'm a depressed person. I don't conceal the fact. Neither am I proud of it. It's part of me, ....and as much as I like easy answers to everything, there is no one-liner answer or any easy answer to why I seem to be depressed most of the time.
It's just not one reason. I live too much in my past.....and too much in loneliness. Even as much as I realize this, I cannot control it, or certain chemicals in my brain that are supposed to cause depression. I wish I could control those who ask me: " what happened? why are you depressed?" I wish I would never had to interact with them...so that I don't end up being even more irritable and irritated. I wish I could tell them not to mess with me, and make them regret their decision if they did.
Right now, I'm more stresssed than depressed.
Over writing a book review. Over writing an A grade book review. Over the fact that I don't have a clue where to start, and what to put in-between, within 800 words.
Lata Mangeshkar is helping me a lot....in curbing it....the stress. And the depression.
Ethnography: Married International Students
Disclaimer: International Students in my blog implies only Indian Students studying in North America.
Back to making claims--about married International students--and fulfilling my earlier made promise of coming up with a treatise on International Students, this post would also include Committed International Students. (treatise excludes committed couples in a long distance relationship).
Category 1: Married/Committed couple, both being students (without kids)
Dreams: Dollars, the good life, smashit careers.
Reality: Mostly achieves and lives with the dream. If you are on an inherent and Buddhian quest to find the happy man, look closer at these people. These people work hard and party harder (in weekends, with other married/committed couples.) Their friends mostly consist of happy people, with some single souls thrown in for variation, interesting conversation and to fulfill the maternal instinct/protective instinct (of these couples). These student couples eat well, look well, make great pics, and publish well too. They go home once in 2 or 3 years, in perfect timing to get married/attend other weddings of friends/family, buy jewellery and clothes, fulfill familial duties of being the time-being son/daughter-in-law, comes back and talks about that "vacation" for the next 2-3 weeks.
These couples generally love to experiment with food, dress and beverages. Both the male and female generally drink alcohol and do not think of it as sinful. They consume beef and pork and they do swear, too. Mostly English swear words, though.
Category 2: Married/Committed Couple, with one of them being the Grad Student.
The student in these couples is mostly male. Haven't ever seen the opposite--that is, the female being the student and the male being the homemaker.
Dreams: Dollars, more dollars, the good life, smashit career, recipes, more recipes, a perfect house (with a worship room), kids
Reality: Mostly achieves the good life, recipe, one career and somewhat the dollar part. The incomplete puzzle piece of the happy picture is composed of some sighs regarding more recipes, sometimes slight defraction from achieving the perfect career, and the absence of kids and sometimes, a career for the wife.
These guys work in the weekdays and work less in the weekends. Weekends are one long never ending party, to be spent in inviting similar couples, getting invited to dinner invitations from similar couples, and in thinking about how to make life even more beautiful, enjoyable, ...apart from grocery shopping and preparing hard-to-harder Indian dishes that Moms back home could only dream of making. These couples love food, love people who love food, and love to find ingredients and replaceable ingredients in a phoren country that can make awesome food. Yes, the females in these kind of relationships form the inspiration of the "boudi-s" in Sunil Ganguly's novels/stories, as well as Shankar's, Shirshendu's and other author's writings.
If you want to be well-fed, you must and must visit these households.
However, these couples generally do not consume Beef. Pork ....is iffy....you would get mixed results if you do a survey...but that's not something preferred. These couples generally do not swear. If the guy used to, once upon a time, he wouldn't, once he starts forming the couple picture.
Generally the male drinks, the female doesn't. Generally the male appreciates the food, the female makes it. Generally, these guys are overweight. They make happy pics, but I can't gurantee that you would feel happy after seeing those pics.
These couples go home once in 3-4 years. Shops and does the usual there. And feels more resolute in their decision to stay in their phoren abode. The dust, the pollution, the heat, the sound, and the people back home appear too much to take, for them.
In addition, careers pay more, are easier to find, and more stimulating here. Therefore, almost all married/committed couples think, ...and do, stay back (back= North America. The US. Canada).
Common stuff: Love for food, love for dollars, Love for North America, love, love and love in general...towards each other, and their friends consisting mostly of other married/committed couples.
Also, married/committed couples are involved in less online activity. They are involved rather, in more socializing. Almost no porn is enjoyed by the male. The couples use very less of webcams but makes very huge use of digicams. They possess very low to low knowledge of politics, music, TV and social scene of India (or what used to be home).
So what's the bottomline of reading this long and boring post?
Get a partner/married, before coming for Grad Studies. You will end up happier. You will never, ever, regret it.
Back to making claims--about married International students--and fulfilling my earlier made promise of coming up with a treatise on International Students, this post would also include Committed International Students. (treatise excludes committed couples in a long distance relationship).
Category 1: Married/Committed couple, both being students (without kids)
Dreams: Dollars, the good life, smashit careers.
Reality: Mostly achieves and lives with the dream. If you are on an inherent and Buddhian quest to find the happy man, look closer at these people. These people work hard and party harder (in weekends, with other married/committed couples.) Their friends mostly consist of happy people, with some single souls thrown in for variation, interesting conversation and to fulfill the maternal instinct/protective instinct (of these couples). These student couples eat well, look well, make great pics, and publish well too. They go home once in 2 or 3 years, in perfect timing to get married/attend other weddings of friends/family, buy jewellery and clothes, fulfill familial duties of being the time-being son/daughter-in-law, comes back and talks about that "vacation" for the next 2-3 weeks.
These couples generally love to experiment with food, dress and beverages. Both the male and female generally drink alcohol and do not think of it as sinful. They consume beef and pork and they do swear, too. Mostly English swear words, though.
Category 2: Married/Committed Couple, with one of them being the Grad Student.
The student in these couples is mostly male. Haven't ever seen the opposite--that is, the female being the student and the male being the homemaker.
Dreams: Dollars, more dollars, the good life, smashit career, recipes, more recipes, a perfect house (with a worship room), kids
Reality: Mostly achieves the good life, recipe, one career and somewhat the dollar part. The incomplete puzzle piece of the happy picture is composed of some sighs regarding more recipes, sometimes slight defraction from achieving the perfect career, and the absence of kids and sometimes, a career for the wife.
These guys work in the weekdays and work less in the weekends. Weekends are one long never ending party, to be spent in inviting similar couples, getting invited to dinner invitations from similar couples, and in thinking about how to make life even more beautiful, enjoyable, ...apart from grocery shopping and preparing hard-to-harder Indian dishes that Moms back home could only dream of making. These couples love food, love people who love food, and love to find ingredients and replaceable ingredients in a phoren country that can make awesome food. Yes, the females in these kind of relationships form the inspiration of the "boudi-s" in Sunil Ganguly's novels/stories, as well as Shankar's, Shirshendu's and other author's writings.
If you want to be well-fed, you must and must visit these households.
However, these couples generally do not consume Beef. Pork ....is iffy....you would get mixed results if you do a survey...but that's not something preferred. These couples generally do not swear. If the guy used to, once upon a time, he wouldn't, once he starts forming the couple picture.
Generally the male drinks, the female doesn't. Generally the male appreciates the food, the female makes it. Generally, these guys are overweight. They make happy pics, but I can't gurantee that you would feel happy after seeing those pics.
These couples go home once in 3-4 years. Shops and does the usual there. And feels more resolute in their decision to stay in their phoren abode. The dust, the pollution, the heat, the sound, and the people back home appear too much to take, for them.
In addition, careers pay more, are easier to find, and more stimulating here. Therefore, almost all married/committed couples think, ...and do, stay back (back= North America. The US. Canada).
Common stuff: Love for food, love for dollars, Love for North America, love, love and love in general...towards each other, and their friends consisting mostly of other married/committed couples.
Also, married/committed couples are involved in less online activity. They are involved rather, in more socializing. Almost no porn is enjoyed by the male. The couples use very less of webcams but makes very huge use of digicams. They possess very low to low knowledge of politics, music, TV and social scene of India (or what used to be home).
So what's the bottomline of reading this long and boring post?
Get a partner/married, before coming for Grad Studies. You will end up happier. You will never, ever, regret it.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
Ethnography of Single, International Grad Students
This post will be cliched, as it will deal with the cliched life of what are known as International Graduate Student in North America (meaning Canada and America). I do not know much about life in UK for my sympathetic counterparts, but I've a feeling that things are not too different there, as far as quality is concerned. Probably there would be a difference in degree.
How would I name the life here? Where do I really start?? What about year? So here I go:
First Year Int'l Grad Student: "chokhhey tahar notun asha, mukhe notun bhasha" (that's bengali for the uninitiated...)
Dreams: (MALE) Student thinks of partying in sprawled new apartments/bars, meeting and doing subsequent activities with white chicks, owning laptop after a month, a car after three months, meeting sympathetic and patriotic taxi drivers (like shown in Hindi movies) and having li'l chit-chats, cracking exams and courses like coconuts,....and publishing after a year.
(FEMALE) Student thinks of partying in the trendiest tank tops in sprawled new apartments/bars, meeting white and desi dudes, owning laptop after a month, a car after three months, seeing snow and dancing on them in bollywood fashion, getting beautiful and attractive and beat the white chicks in class, cracking exams like kitkats, .......and continue doing so for the rest of the year.
COMMON stuff: Material gains, and dreaming of living rest of the life here.
Reality: (MALE): Student lives in a four or five bedroom house with three other people/lives in two bedroom apartments with two or three other male students. If he's lucky, he would get an entire bedroom to his own self. He does partying.....in dreams. In reality, he does not have the bucks. Sometimes he does, but only gets the boring desi dudes to accompany him. White chicks don't look at him. Student goes and buys some good aftershaves, invests some money in jackets, and caps. No improvement, still.
Exasperated, Student learns about new forms of entertainment--downloading stuff. Starts downloading. Porn and non-porn movies. Watches them in weekend after cooking daal and tarka and chicken curry. Washroom remains uncleaned. Student dreams of home and prepares inward dialogues with friends and family once he goes home (which he thinks will be after a year).
Courses suck. Student learns how to use sci-finder and google scholar. Student befriends some white dudes and keeps away from the black and chinese people. White dudes say "Hi" and "Hellos" sometimes. Student feels elated. Student calls up home and tell Maa "I've made some friends--Mike, Brian and Steve". Maa back home tells neighbours.
Laptops arrive after 3 months. Cars? No sight till now. Like white chicks, they prove to be a myth too. Student is able to save some money though, and send some back home. Student sighs, goes to sleep after watching porn.
(FEMALE) Student lives with four other desi and multi-national gals. Student has frequent fights sometimes, over who would clean the washroom and kitchen. However, sometimes life is good when all the chicks share boyfriend blues and dessert. Student gets some photos taken and sends them back home.
Student takes some pics of "FALL COLOURS" and posts them on personal websites. Sends some home. Student wears tank tops and mini-skirts and really doesn't feel bad. Feels good, actually. Takes pics with Becky. Sends them back home. Student learns American/Canadian cooking. Exchanges recipes with other fellow students in and across continent. Student learns about how to apply make-up. Student works hard in weekdays, writes papers and impresses supervisor. Partys in the weekend. Gets elated on seeing the first snow....but seems like no one shares excitement. Tries dancing, slips and falls. Swears not to do it again.
Learns and realizes it's not sinful to drink alcohol. Drinks wine. Learns about wine.
No white dudes, still. Desi ones suck.
Second Year Int'l Grad Student:
Dreams: No Dreams except of going home.
Reality:
(MALE) Student knows where coke costs less and which grocery store/liquor store sells beer @ 50 cents less. Student gets worldly wise. Student is able to adopt the american accent. White chicks can finally understand him. No other sign of liking, however. Student now is wise enough to try for desi chicks instead. Student spends more time on Facebook, Yahoo chats and Orkut. Finds similar minded Desi chicks. Student is able to hook up some, talks to them over phone. Sends them flowers in birthdays. Turns out Desi chicks like some other guy. Student returns back to square one.
One thing that Student learns is Patience. Student patiently tries and keeps on trying his tricks, on chicks and cooking. Cooking has got better. Washrooms have got better too. They get cleaned once a month, instead of once in three months.
Student works hard in weekdays. Stays in Lab since 10 pm mostly. Comes back and does some online stuff.....they are the only source of diversion now. Student owns a webcam and uses it 100%. Student learns about how to watch cricket matches free from pirated sites.
Come Puja and Diwali, student visits local desi junta. Chicks that look good are all married. Sees some chalega types. Exchanges phone numbers and asks chalega chicks to call them whenever they need a ride....or when they are grocery shopping.
Yes, student has a car now. For which, student has to pay high insurance.
Student learns how to fool the supervisor. If the supervisor is desi however, God bless him. Student has to buy more vaseline, then.
Student does TA-ing and keeps requesting supervisor to make him a RA. Student likes some undergrad white chicks, but like plagiarism, this is something he must not try on. Mike, Steve and Brian haven't advanced more than Hi-s and Hello-s. To make matters worse, KFCs and Pizzas and beers have added to the weight. Late nights and that weight make the student look 20 years older and 10 times worse. However, Student has got wise. We must not forget that.
Student advises junior student back home not to come here. Junior Student thinks of that as blocking opportunities. Student tries to explain--"Life sucks here, man"
(FEMALE) Student looks better. Does some gymming so as to keep looking different than the married fattening bhabis. Student does not send money back home but never forgets to order some cakes and flowers for parent's anniversary. Orders online. Student misses home and friends of college.
Snow doesn't excite the student anymore. Student feels excitement only at conference calls, paper and abstract acceptances. Student does TA and doesn't mind it much.
In one year, Student gets wise and gets online-savvy. Student owns webcam, and uses it 70%. Hooks up with some desi guys back home as well as close by. Student likes some of them. Thinks of visiting some of them in the Thanksgiving break. Student thinks of buying a car. But thinks of the high insurance and backs off. Student invests more on clothes now.
In Diwali and Puja, Student dresses in ethnic wear and gets some pics taken. Sends them home. Posts some online. Some guys get attracted, and communication finally starts.
This inspires students to make some trips. Student visits some naturally beautiful places, takes pics and sends them back home.
Student tells fellow junior students back home: "If you need some info mail me. Life is a bit strange here, sometimes lonely, but you will get a lot of freedom.....all the best, yaar!"
COMMON stuff: Webcams, Loneliness, online activity. And the strange feeling that home wouldn't be better, back home. Student gets used to the fruit juice and starbucks coffee.
The above treatise is on Single Students. For Married Students, treatise is forthcoming.
Stay Put.
How would I name the life here? Where do I really start?? What about year? So here I go:
First Year Int'l Grad Student: "chokhhey tahar notun asha, mukhe notun bhasha" (that's bengali for the uninitiated...)
Dreams: (MALE) Student thinks of partying in sprawled new apartments/bars, meeting and doing subsequent activities with white chicks, owning laptop after a month, a car after three months, meeting sympathetic and patriotic taxi drivers (like shown in Hindi movies) and having li'l chit-chats, cracking exams and courses like coconuts,....and publishing after a year.
(FEMALE) Student thinks of partying in the trendiest tank tops in sprawled new apartments/bars, meeting white and desi dudes, owning laptop after a month, a car after three months, seeing snow and dancing on them in bollywood fashion, getting beautiful and attractive and beat the white chicks in class, cracking exams like kitkats, .......and continue doing so for the rest of the year.
COMMON stuff: Material gains, and dreaming of living rest of the life here.
Reality: (MALE): Student lives in a four or five bedroom house with three other people/lives in two bedroom apartments with two or three other male students. If he's lucky, he would get an entire bedroom to his own self. He does partying.....in dreams. In reality, he does not have the bucks. Sometimes he does, but only gets the boring desi dudes to accompany him. White chicks don't look at him. Student goes and buys some good aftershaves, invests some money in jackets, and caps. No improvement, still.
Exasperated, Student learns about new forms of entertainment--downloading stuff. Starts downloading. Porn and non-porn movies. Watches them in weekend after cooking daal and tarka and chicken curry. Washroom remains uncleaned. Student dreams of home and prepares inward dialogues with friends and family once he goes home (which he thinks will be after a year).
Courses suck. Student learns how to use sci-finder and google scholar. Student befriends some white dudes and keeps away from the black and chinese people. White dudes say "Hi" and "Hellos" sometimes. Student feels elated. Student calls up home and tell Maa "I've made some friends--Mike, Brian and Steve". Maa back home tells neighbours.
Laptops arrive after 3 months. Cars? No sight till now. Like white chicks, they prove to be a myth too. Student is able to save some money though, and send some back home. Student sighs, goes to sleep after watching porn.
(FEMALE) Student lives with four other desi and multi-national gals. Student has frequent fights sometimes, over who would clean the washroom and kitchen. However, sometimes life is good when all the chicks share boyfriend blues and dessert. Student gets some photos taken and sends them back home.
Student takes some pics of "FALL COLOURS" and posts them on personal websites. Sends some home. Student wears tank tops and mini-skirts and really doesn't feel bad. Feels good, actually. Takes pics with Becky. Sends them back home. Student learns American/Canadian cooking. Exchanges recipes with other fellow students in and across continent. Student learns about how to apply make-up. Student works hard in weekdays, writes papers and impresses supervisor. Partys in the weekend. Gets elated on seeing the first snow....but seems like no one shares excitement. Tries dancing, slips and falls. Swears not to do it again.
Learns and realizes it's not sinful to drink alcohol. Drinks wine. Learns about wine.
No white dudes, still. Desi ones suck.
Second Year Int'l Grad Student:
Dreams: No Dreams except of going home.
Reality:
(MALE) Student knows where coke costs less and which grocery store/liquor store sells beer @ 50 cents less. Student gets worldly wise. Student is able to adopt the american accent. White chicks can finally understand him. No other sign of liking, however. Student now is wise enough to try for desi chicks instead. Student spends more time on Facebook, Yahoo chats and Orkut. Finds similar minded Desi chicks. Student is able to hook up some, talks to them over phone. Sends them flowers in birthdays. Turns out Desi chicks like some other guy. Student returns back to square one.
One thing that Student learns is Patience. Student patiently tries and keeps on trying his tricks, on chicks and cooking. Cooking has got better. Washrooms have got better too. They get cleaned once a month, instead of once in three months.
Student works hard in weekdays. Stays in Lab since 10 pm mostly. Comes back and does some online stuff.....they are the only source of diversion now. Student owns a webcam and uses it 100%. Student learns about how to watch cricket matches free from pirated sites.
Come Puja and Diwali, student visits local desi junta. Chicks that look good are all married. Sees some chalega types. Exchanges phone numbers and asks chalega chicks to call them whenever they need a ride....or when they are grocery shopping.
Yes, student has a car now. For which, student has to pay high insurance.
Student learns how to fool the supervisor. If the supervisor is desi however, God bless him. Student has to buy more vaseline, then.
Student does TA-ing and keeps requesting supervisor to make him a RA. Student likes some undergrad white chicks, but like plagiarism, this is something he must not try on. Mike, Steve and Brian haven't advanced more than Hi-s and Hello-s. To make matters worse, KFCs and Pizzas and beers have added to the weight. Late nights and that weight make the student look 20 years older and 10 times worse. However, Student has got wise. We must not forget that.
Student advises junior student back home not to come here. Junior Student thinks of that as blocking opportunities. Student tries to explain--"Life sucks here, man"
(FEMALE) Student looks better. Does some gymming so as to keep looking different than the married fattening bhabis. Student does not send money back home but never forgets to order some cakes and flowers for parent's anniversary. Orders online. Student misses home and friends of college.
Snow doesn't excite the student anymore. Student feels excitement only at conference calls, paper and abstract acceptances. Student does TA and doesn't mind it much.
In one year, Student gets wise and gets online-savvy. Student owns webcam, and uses it 70%. Hooks up with some desi guys back home as well as close by. Student likes some of them. Thinks of visiting some of them in the Thanksgiving break. Student thinks of buying a car. But thinks of the high insurance and backs off. Student invests more on clothes now.
In Diwali and Puja, Student dresses in ethnic wear and gets some pics taken. Sends them home. Posts some online. Some guys get attracted, and communication finally starts.
This inspires students to make some trips. Student visits some naturally beautiful places, takes pics and sends them back home.
Student tells fellow junior students back home: "If you need some info mail me. Life is a bit strange here, sometimes lonely, but you will get a lot of freedom.....all the best, yaar!"
COMMON stuff: Webcams, Loneliness, online activity. And the strange feeling that home wouldn't be better, back home. Student gets used to the fruit juice and starbucks coffee.
The above treatise is on Single Students. For Married Students, treatise is forthcoming.
Stay Put.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Love is Blind
I tried posting a video, but somehow, like all other things in my life, the attempt failed. It was taking too long and I realized after much confusion that the posting wasn't happening.
That didn't deter me at all. I think it's worth a peek as it confirms the big saying--
LOVE IS BLIND.
The link? All you cynics and frustus out there....brace yourself. HOPE HAS FINALLY ARRIVED. LOVE IS IN THE AIR!!!!!! (Kissing too)
See this: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=3063185788863095747&hl=en
That didn't deter me at all. I think it's worth a peek as it confirms the big saying--
LOVE IS BLIND.
The link? All you cynics and frustus out there....brace yourself. HOPE HAS FINALLY ARRIVED. LOVE IS IN THE AIR!!!!!! (Kissing too)
See this: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=3063185788863095747&hl=en
Monday, February 26, 2007
Resolutions
This is not New Year, I'm not dieting and I'm not out of love. Even though these are reasons and times to make resolutions,I hardly do/did make resolutions in these times. I make resolutions when something hits me hard.
Like last night, it did hit me after watching "Black Friday" that I waste too much time watching and being involved in activities which cannot possibly be categorized anything better than "trash". So, this day of February, bloggers witnessing, I take a resolution # 1: of not being involved in activities which give me even the slightest idea beforehand that they are not worth me. (Yes, that's one long twisted sentence, but I prefer saying it all, than saying half-truncated stuff)
Resolution no. 2: Never tell people how you had been doing. How you are. People are not interested. So suck up to them and tell them what they would rather wanna hear: that I am very fine and up and kicking. So all you folks down there....I'm fine. Thanks for your insensitivity. You rock at it!
Resolution no. 3: Never expect anything to change. If anything does, you have your free dessert of the day. Otherwise, continue with your share of the veggies.
Amen.
Like last night, it did hit me after watching "Black Friday" that I waste too much time watching and being involved in activities which cannot possibly be categorized anything better than "trash". So, this day of February, bloggers witnessing, I take a resolution # 1: of not being involved in activities which give me even the slightest idea beforehand that they are not worth me. (Yes, that's one long twisted sentence, but I prefer saying it all, than saying half-truncated stuff)
Resolution no. 2: Never tell people how you had been doing. How you are. People are not interested. So suck up to them and tell them what they would rather wanna hear: that I am very fine and up and kicking. So all you folks down there....I'm fine. Thanks for your insensitivity. You rock at it!
Resolution no. 3: Never expect anything to change. If anything does, you have your free dessert of the day. Otherwise, continue with your share of the veggies.
Amen.
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