Sleepy

I'm feeling increasingly sleepy, in an alarming rate and almost at any part of the day--after breakfast, mid-afternoon, in the gym even (that is, once in a blue moon that I manage to go..), in evening, and you name it, ....whichever way...bottomline is-- I'm feeling sleepy. Not that I'm feeling bored but I just want to sleep and my idea of perfect happiness is sleeping.

With the eyeshades on.

I remember this person pretty much complaining about the same thing some months back, but I'm feeling too sleepy to even ask how he got out of it. Or whether he got out of it.

The worse thing is that I can't even offer the simple explanation of fatigue or lethargy or depression or any reasonable rationale since I'm not feeling any feeling close to these. I can't legitimize my sleep.

I can only problematize it.

I'll finish off (for the obvious reason) with a crucial example: inspite of being a 29 year old and being meticulously militant in representing the right thing (postmodernism notwithstanding), I have put up a picture of a sleepy baby (of all things) to represent my state.


Yes. I'm that sleepy.

26/11

Why do we blog? To represent, to express us?

What about then, ....when words fail and one is past anger to dig for any indication that certain things are not repeated? To compare words then and now? How do we go past the restlessness to compare the International media reaction, to suppress the insurmountable urge of showing the middle finger to today's Indian politicians and to express how we feel?

We, the people of India?

Whenever I remember these words, the civics book of class VIII and political science books of successive classes are pulled in memory "................do hereby adopt, enact and give to ourselves this........."





THIS.


I wish and pray that Time, this time at least, is not the healer.

The Eyes Have It

Now, me and my husband recently thought we should change the way we see life in general. And after much speculation and deliberation that befits this kind of determination and carefully weighing in the pros and cons, we thought we should shed..............................


















yes, obviously our weight but that is redundant, isn't it? Everybody's trying to shed off their weight. Well, almost every-sensible-body. We were actually thinking of shedding our.............





























glasses. And get contact lens. So off we went and got them in our eyes.








The result was that it was literally a pain in the eye the first time--not the lens but ascertaining whether they were straight or reverse based on very minute difference in their curvature.....and then getting them in the right shape, on the tip of the fingertip. That's the painest-in-the-assest part.

E.g. the following pic shows a lens in reverse:Therefore, if you wear them, you will receive no other satisfaction other than wearing a lens just for the sake of it. And you are no Nagina, sorry Sridevi in Nagina, are you? So... hmph!

And then, removing this soft almost intangible thingy-r from our eyes earnestly made us wish for their dissolution in our eyes or our being born with permanent glasses fixed in our faces which would have ensured never to go for lenses in the first place.

Finally, jiska koi nahin hota, uska bhagwan hota hain.

In lieu of God, there is youtube.

Teary-eyed, we directed our gaze to this revered divine artefact and yes, there were N number of well-made videos on how to remove lenses without hurting your eye, and without feeling paranoid about hurting your eye. After mastering it, I got curious.

I gave a search and yes, I found something. It left me mesmerizingly thankful that even such things had a step-by-step instruction video-s in youtube.

Enjoy:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKE0djunoes&feature=related

Face value

A close friend recently wrote me something like "I didn't contest your assertion because I take every word of yours in their face value". With the obvious realization of absolute glee and spilling pride in receiving this, there was also a tad bit of mellowness in facing the fact that with the above happening, there is no more offering of other possibilities. I would translate value as the manifest being, as well as a possibility. And then, if values could be interchangeable as well as be variable, computing confusion is nothing less than a matter choice.

And why would I like to create confusion irrespective of countrymen, Romans and friends?

To build walls, precisely. With changeable and customized boundaries, risk management is handy. Doesn't matter whether you've read Foucault or not, protective instinct and self-preservation is only human (or animal...whatever), and illusory images are used only towards that end.

After all, value is what is deemed to be by consumers. It doesn't exist; it's simply constructed.

As long as I've my share of control, I'll be a happy bee.

Low Batteries

Last night, I overheard somebody telling somebody (on the phone) that she has to opt out of a meeting because her batteries were at 20%.


For people who might mistake the batteries as belonging to her car or mp3 player, let me offer the corrective: she meant herself. Needless to say, I liked this figure of speech, though so often used, and was pondering on how well it describes the motivation (or lack of it) in writing this blog.

But then, I thought, it obviates a reason.

Ever encountered a printer low on ink while trying to print ruthlessly?












Now you know. And there it is.

Ink will be filled in. Pronto.

Less is more; conversely, More is Less

Now, I was overwhelmed when I saw the Dark Knight. Like many others, I'm truly at a loss for words, and representative words at that, as to how should I go about it? Well, the title of the blog entry was a start.

In a world where economy is the prime thing in our lives, I'll be economical in this blog entry. Coming straight back to the issue: How did I feel on watching "The Dark Knight"?

To be on the same level where language is spoken in metaphors these days, let me put it in this way:

When you watch a Feluda movie where Feluda is a supporting character and Lalmohonbabu and Maganlal Meghraj are the prime players, with the movie dealing with Nandigram, Singur, Kashmir, the governtmentality of the Congress Party, the Nuclear Treaty controversy, the global warming.....and characters such as Topshe's mummy and daddy being given royal footage, with Haripadababu being the modern Krishna in a postmodern Kurukshetra, AND such a movie being directed by Gautam Ghosh, and more importantly, also written by him, based on the characters created by Satyajit Ray.........................there! you know exactly how I feel. If you do not, then I cannot be more open. I'm apprehensive of minority persecution, you see....

Lastly, in memory of the joker, (the remnant of which/who is bound to stay on), let me end this blog entry with a joke--

There was a mental patient in a mental hospital. He loved to read and wanted a steady supply of storybooks/novels, failing which he used to create the most tumultuous tantrums one could tolerate. No doctor was able to treat him and they were running short of storybooks.

So one intelligent doctor came up with a bright idea.

"Why not give the patient a telephone directory to read? That could take one month, and by that time we could devise a treatment plan for him".

And on they went and give him a huge, fat telephone directory.

Next morning, the intelligent doctor went to visit the patient. The patient was sitting very dejected. The doctor was surprised and asked him, "What's the matter? Did you finish reading that big book?"

Patient replied, "How can I read this book?"

Doctor: "Why? What's wrong with it?"

Patient: "It only has characters. There's no plot!"




I wonder what could have the patient said on watching "The Dark Knight?"

And then, how would the doctor justify the movie?

Toronto Turnover

I realize that such titles possibly indicate the Lalmohonbabu spirit and temperament in me, and though I do not have any problems whatsoever with such recognition that might come into play from some remote and heartfelt corners, I only wish I had half the adventure the good-natured bhadrolok experienced.

Though a turnover can be interesting and unsettling (try tasting and then making pineapple turnovers and apple turnovers), I have doubts whether they could be called adventurous. Regardless however, turnovers happen without us having the slightest inclinations in making them happen. For, I have a can of pineapple in my pantry but the least possible thing I'm thinking of doing with it is a pineapple turnover cake. I would rather make a pineapple plastic chutney, or better still, just serve/eat it raw. But then, who can say......?

Even 6 months back, neither me or Supratim had any idea how our lives would take a turnover by being in Toronto. Whenever we think Toronto, or any city for that matter, the business area or the downtown becomes representative, owing to their supposed appeal of tall buildings. Like this picture, for example:And the above pic conveniently negates the maddeningly fast paced life, the Calcuttan feel you're bound to get at times, the newmarket seller-like mentality of the people, the road accidents, the absolutely fabulous vegetation (this might sound as too "white" but then the trees are wonderful), the rudeness of the city, the booklovers, the people who lets you live and exactly that, and the engulfing and absorbing experience one is drawn into.

This is only tip of the experience, and you can't blame me, as I'm only a few days in.

Yet, with the grumbling acceptance of the early-to-bed and early-to-rise habit that we are compelled into, and the surprise at the incivility of a North American city, somehow, among all these, Calcutta flashes by now and then....... sans the khistis and mejaj, but complete with the thelathelis and continuous running (to somewhere and God know why so fast), as well as the impassive faces.
No, not in the way when people climb moving and perfectly working escalators as well as run on anything moving. If you just stand on an escalator, you would hear very visible jeers and face haughty stares for "blocking the way". And when you get down or up, the metro is dirtier than Calcutta metro, much more so (and you would feel another misplaced pride and all that), but also thank the people who do not stare onto you because you look different from the dominant/mainstream ethnicity. The city's not a melting pot, but a big pot that accommodates. The other day I heard a little white kid say "tata"....to her familar face closeby. Cabs are familiarly called "Taxi" (We know they are always named Taxi, but to call them "taxi" is...well...more relaxing). Moreover, although after 5-6 years of stay in Canada "Thank you-s and Sorry-s" get under your skin, Toronto presents you the opportunity not to put your sunny side up when you are not feelin' like it! This is as much about "Live and let live" as possible. Therefore, as long as I get a hint of home now and then, I ain't complainin'!

I guess, sometimes, when you turn it over, things remain the same.

Encounters with random passengers on the train reading Khaled Hosseini or Pamuk or playing games on a palmtop or even a mouth organ, makes you feel the vibe, the pulse, and the existence of life that that so often is missed in a cold and alienated foreign country.

Oh...you also get red and yellow mangoes in 50 cents (each) here. More about that later!

Tagged: Tad bit more of narcissism

I was tagged some months back by a pechhon paka and now by the Jhinka chica! Supposedly, tagging relieves the blogger's block. Though, I'm more in a time block than a blogger's block so to speak, gathering up time to coherently write through a mass of things could probably be eased by a tag. So here we go:

1. LAST MOVIE YOU SAW IN A THEATER?
Ratatouille. Seven months back. Both my roomie and me loved it. And then none loved each other like before. But that's another story, and a very different one too. Also, not palatable.

2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?
None.

3. FAVORITE BOARD GAME?
Scrabble. Also, Ludo, at times.

4. FAVORITE MAGAZINE?

What becomes favourite does not remain so after a while. Very temporally bound then, in random order: Shuktara, Anandamela, Chnadmama, Desh, Readers' Digest, Graffiti (definitely, for the same reason Jhinka mentioned)

5. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Can't play favourites here. Not possible, since the favourites are very intense. And also very, very cliché.
Just extinguished candle, petrol, kerosene, sandalwood, wild rose, wet earth, old book smell, vanilla, lavender, paint, aloo-posto, luchi, Chnapa phool, Madhobilata on a summer evening (obviously this has to be in somewhere in West Bengal), Chanel no. 5 [:P], Also.....Flower by Kenzo (yes, I'm one big materialistic consumer)

6. FAVORITE SOUND?
Again, no single favourite. Very variable, depending on the situation and also differing at times.


7.WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD:
I guess that would be being a failure.

8.FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP?
Unfortunately, I'm unable to think of a thing. The thoughts of things to be done in the day ahead comes rumbling up as soon as I wake up.

9. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE?
Bad question.

10. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME:
Brishti.



IF it's a boy, then probably Neel. But then Supratim often ponders over the possibility of the kid being called "Neel Giri", so I will have to think it over. I like the name "Ujaan" too, but my dear husband differs with me on that one too.

Well, if he chooses to differ too much, I will have three kids and name them Uday, Dhabal and Khanda.

Irrespective of gender.


11. FINISH THIS STATEMENT.
"If I had a lot of money I would.........not do research to meet the hegemonic agendas.


12.DO YOU DRIVE FAST?
Can't drive. But I like fast driving.....especially speeding very fast on a bike. Cliche, no?

13. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL?
I prefer not to call human beings animals.

14. STORMS-COOL OR SCARY?
Definitely cool when you are indoors. Or a kid in a rural area.

15. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CAR?
Never knew I appeared that male.

16. FAVORITE DRINK?
Aam porar sharbat; Long Island; Water; Seven Up.

17. FINISH THIS STATEMENT,
"IF I HAD THE TIME I WOULD... I would sleep more (and thereby, live better)

18. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS ON BROCCOLI?
If I am made to eat broccoli, then stems or flowers are hardly a choice.

19. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOR, WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHOICE?

Red!



20. NAME ALL THE DIFFERENT CITIES/TOWNS YOU HAVE LIVED IN.
Ahmadpur, Calcutta, Badajoz, Calgary, Toronto

21. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?

They are all good as long as they have good looking men in them.


22. ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU:
I don't like the adjective "nice". I would say one helluva thing that I admire and respect in the person who sent this to me is her maturity (given her age) and wit.

23. WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED?
Ummm....wrappers. Of chocolates, trail mix bars, and so on.

I know.

24. WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE BORN AS YOURSELF AGAIN?
Absolutely.

25. MORNING PERSON, OR NIGHT OWL?
Can and have been both.

26. OVER EASY, OR SUNNY SIDE UP?
Sunny side up.

27. FAVORITE PLACE TO RELAX?
Too many and too personal to list. The place where I had spent my childhood would top the list though.

28. FAVORITE PIE?
Shepherd's. Always :D :D

29.FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
Chocolate; cookies and cream; peanut butter and caramel; blind love.

30. OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU TAGGED THIS TO, WHO'S MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND FIRST?


The one who is in a narcissistic mood :P

I would tag a lot of people, but some of them do not blog anymore.

And then, I'm past the age of tagging and Frisbees. How about just passing on the baton whoever reads it (and takes it)?

Lessons from a comprehensive Exam

I'm learning so many things while I'm writing this out-of-the-world Examination (adjective applied both in literal and metaphorical sense) that I thought them to be imperative in being listed (for a future footnote to an amnesiac myself).

No.1: Your insomnia gets absolutely gets cured when you are studying day in and day out; more so when you're trying to figure out the crucial person who influenced you to love the subject which does you...
In fact, the cure is too good to be believed, if you could keep your brain working for the belief, that is...
Indeed, I'm almost tempted to put another bullet in my friend's entry here

No.2: You do not miss orkut. Not at all.

No. 3: You keep having deja vu of already having finished an answer of 3000 words even before you've started writing it. Deja Vu of this type is particularly dangerous, since it makes you hate the whole Examination even more owing to its sheer frequency and non-existence of its mirror image in reality.

No. 4: You can entertain yourself by noticing many myriad variations of an empty grumbling stomach throughout the day.

No. 5: It is possible to procrastinate even when writing comprehensive examinations and thereby defy exhaustive levels of logic, anticipatory stress levels and expectations, as evident in putting together a blog entry at 3:00 am .

Transnational Translations

My cravings for food usually come intensely, stay for a few days, ....and for those few days I can do nothing but sink in to give into my basic instincts. Recently, it has been the "The Club" Panini from Jugo Juice. Like a loyalist to myself, I was standing in the small queue when a recent promotion of theirs made me intensely depressed in thinking about how life is a never ending journey of adaptation and learning.

There was this advertisement about "Skinny Peach" smoothie. Suddenly I realized how conspiracies to hammer negative connotations never leave the unfortunate. When the word "skinny" is used as an adjective to sell something, to describe a jeans size in which every self-respecting and sensible woman should feel jubilant to get into, you can't help but rue those moments of blessed childhood as motherly figures (meaning friends' mom and next-door aunties) would wiggle their noses and dwell upon the prospects of you never getting married, because, you were skinny. Indeed, being skinny was like being stupid by being bad in Maths. It bought you only shame and earned others the right to lecture you on the prospects of your future. Being "skinny" was bad, was awful, was darned something you shouldn't be proud of.

And now, when I'm not "skinny" from any remote angle, and am in a remote land away from home, I hear the word day in and day out in such positive connotations. For the love of food and language, why?

Almost makes me snap at anything.

Umm...no...not the kind of "snaps" we are used to understand in India. Snaps in India are cool words for "photos". Nobody says "photos" nowadays, as speaking civil English is passé. Snaps are taken, used, passed around, made understood, and then....when innocently ever used in their sonorous forms, anywhere in this part of the world, are snapped at again.

But no, you are not allowed to "freak out" at conveniently different usage of words and phrases. Of course, in India, freaking out is allowed. And freaks are allowed entry and admittance and enjoyment to their desires in this part of the world too. But you know what I'm talking about. If you don't, then you are a freak. Of course, it's a different story if you don't want to understand. In that case, you should go and "freak out" in any urban nightclub in India.

Looks like, you should be smart enough to understand and recognize these translations as soon as you position yourself in either of the two situations. It suffices to speak urban English and being reflexive to fill in the "smart" shoes back home. Once you are in here (in this freak hell hole), smart shoes get bigger with enough space to bring in intelligence and presence of mind and what not to be stressed about.

Sorry, if up till here you were feeling what's the need to write pure gibberish about very commonplace and obvious things, then I must tell you that this has a purpose. For posterity. For clueless people who shouldn't be losing time in translations they were never taught in school. So yeah, when you are defending yourself, it's extremely useful to start a sentence with "sorry", even though you are least meaning it. Sorry, when used in the beginning of a sentence and followed by a "but" somewhere in the middle of it, explicitly states that the only person who should be sorry, without a doubt, is the listener. Funny....and all these while we were taught that the word is used only to express empathy and thereby, save our face. Turns out, you can start the process of saving your skin and defending your face with the use of "sorry", so that you evade any possibility of being sorry later. Recently, I received a passive-aggressive note that began with "Sorry", though the person never ever appeared sorry, but made me sorry for choosing her in the first place...

Now, even though the lines "It's only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away" might sound romantic to some, certain words almost takes your mind away and leads utterly confused souls like me, to let it out and make a mention of it so that passerby-s could notice how much importance I give to the significance of transnational connections.

Conclusion: Even with the pervasive McDonaldization of cultures and ways of life, words retain the traces of their embankment. Therefore, let's drink to glory of the words that are positive and empowering in one part of the world, and woes to people who ignore this.

Aside...

It is funny how unsuspecting moments and visuals catch you on and make you wish for something. Yesterday, as I was in the bus, coming home, this picture taken below, made me certainly wish I were knitting a sweater or a cap or something woolen, ......see something being produced, do something else with my time other than saving the world and fighting human shaped demons. Funny, because the patterns in the head gear worn by these people reminded me that I can do stuff with wools. These are not extraordinary patterns by any means, but possibly, the vague memory of doing similar stuff brought back a long lost skill learnt in past. How weird is that? And then, I, this self, am not supposed to be knowing certain things, doing certain things, leave alone, wishing certain things. It's a different issue though, whether any importance whatsoever, is given to such presuppositions. The presuppositions regarding others and own, exist and will exist based on core rules of human thought and judgement, and no amount of adulations, cajolations or revelations can make them go away, ain't it?

So, two middle fingers to presuppositions. And a blog entry.

In fact, presuppositions are handy in the way partitions are handy to privacy. One doesn't need, as such, to react to them, but they could serve as inspirations to have one good look at them, and taking the conscious decision of changing them, or sustaining them. It's an artefact, to be used.... till they are no longer usable.

But then, when the temporal dimension of presuppositions is considered, in that, the time lapse usually has a positive effect on presuppositions, it also reminds me of the better use of time I could do with (other than writing a redundant blog entry), in actually producing things that could last and matter. Matter for people who matter to me and so on. And in howsoever we are barged on with the addendum "nothing lasts forever", and howsoever we would produce wear and tear in the addendum with overuse, certain things are always left behind. To be consumed, to be enjoyed, to be loved.

Only.....what about thoughts? and restlessness?

The X Files

Situation 1

X1 tiptoed into the room. He had to be careful. No one must know. The task at hand required utmost secrecy and noiselessness as rivals to his mission had only temporarily laid their guards down and this is the only opportunity he could use. He stretched out his hand. Yes, the thing was in his reach, as were many such enemy things. He knew he was an expert in these secret conquests. Man, wasn't he good?


Situation 2

Y3 was almost asleep. In her sleep, she could smell a strange smoky thing. Opening her eyes, and using her other senses, she could understand that it was coming out of the heating vent. "X5!!", she thought.
She called the Lord, the Master. The Master was very specific. "It's between you and X5. Deal with it".

Y3: "But it's so cold outside. I can't open the windows and breathe fresh air. And I'm allergic to this. Why can't you help me, Master?"

Click. Went the transmitter.

Y3 knew it was an unequal battle, like clash of species are supposed to be. She could hear other Xs in X5's room. But Y also knew what she could say and what probably would bring an effect.

Knock, knock.

Y3: "Hello. I'm allergic to {this particular} smoke." (Can we have a fair and just use of weapons and an equal war?)

X5: Emitted more smoke onto Y3's face. More smoke was coming out with the door of X5's chamber being open. "Sorry, it's not {that particular} smoke."

Y3: What is it? (Eyes rounding and wide looking)

X5: "Hashish".


Situation 3

Y3 was thinking what could she cook for Y4? After all, Y4 would come all alone, without anything. What would she like??


Y3 and Y4 were getting along fine. Fine, fine, fine.

Until after 2 months, Y3 discovered to her horror and utter amazement that Y4 was not a Y. Y4 was actually an X. To be precise, X9.

Several things happened which made Y3 better enlightened.

X9 stole her keys and refused to give it back.
X9 refused to pay for stuff that both Y3 and erstwhile Y4 (actually, X9) use.
X9 made weird, loud noises in weird times of the day.
X9 refused to return things that Y3 owned and had lent X9.
X9 refused to take the waste, the toxic things out of the cohabitation settlement.
X9 brought in more X-s and demanded full accommodation, in every sense of the word, of those X-s, from Y3.

And so on.

The enlightenment had better utilitarian returns when X10 came in. Y3 found an uncanny similarity between X9 and X10. Though X9 wasn't living there anymore, X10 who also came masked as another Y, had striking similarities as far as creating innovative situations of non-cooperation and conflict were concerned. The first step to clash was deployed with the refusal to bear the costs of consumption. The second, and subsequent steps were aggressive missions to capture spaces of Ys and cornering them. If done step by step, and little by little, Xs always found that Ys could be defeated just like that.

Y3 at least knew what was coming and how the process works.

Defeat by Y feeds on the Xs. It's a parasitic relationship.

And thereafter, the door would be kept closed.





FFWD>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"We have been observing for the past few months that you have been consistently eating our grocery stuff like chips etc. Initially we thought it was a one off incident, and may be you were running short of your own stuff, so we let it go. But eventually it seems that there is no stopping you, and starting from chips, to milk and we are not sure what more, the saga continues.

So we are forced to write this email as all of our efforts to make you realize have ended in failure. We want to make it clear that since our food habits don't match, we can't share our groceries. So it is better you get your own stuff and spare our chips etc. Since the ones you eat are not proportionate to the amounts we eat, it is not logical to share a subset of the items. So its better we don't share anything, you be on your own, and we will get our own share. For the items which you have already shared, we will share the prices (e.g., the diet pepsi and the milk from the last grocery). But in future, we will not share any of the groceries.

As you still don't have a car, we don't have a problem giving you a ride to the grocery store, but it is your responsibility to find out when we are going for groceries, and adapt your routine accordingly. We made initial adjustments thinking that you were new to here and needed some assistance in settling, but the things didn't work out as we thought and eventually ended up in such a scenario where we are writing an email to you. And if you want to use any of our stuff (like recently you were using Y1's and Y2's slippers), you need to ask explicitly from the owner of the thing before using it. We hope you can adjust yourself accordingly, and similar circumstances don't arise in future.

About the common duties which fall on us as we are sharing the same apartment, we all should share it equally. All of us have our own academic commitments, but that does not mean that such commitments stop us from doing the chores. You should also share the responsibility of occasionally clearing off the trash can, as it has been observed that you shirk that responsibility. Cleaning of the kitchen and living room area will be shared as it has been going for the past few months. Its a pity that being such a matured person doing your PhD, we have to explicitly tell you all these things, and we hope such a scenario is not repeated."

The above letter was received by X1 (Remember Situation 1?) from a group of Ys.

X1 obviously knew that letters like this, have little impact. He knew he had to be calm. And he was calm. For.... a letter cannot destroy the breed and mission of X-s. It was but common knowledge.

To be continued......sometime, somewhere.....

Long Footnote:

Since I earnestly intend to earn the status of an intellectual writer and thereby get an upgrade from being the "siren", I have employed the strategy of using quadruple meanings of words and symbols so as to elicit appreciation of possessing a large range of comprehensive thinking. Having said that, I'm also wary of being misinterpreted. Therefore, relevant and common meanings of X are given below. The list includes, but is not exhaustive, of all the possible connotations of X.

# X oftentimes is used to designate the unknown.

# Sometimes it is also used to mean the Independent Variable. Y is the dependent variable. X has effects on Y, the range, magnitude and strength of the relationship varying from situation to situation. But X always has an effect on Y. The relationship could be expressed as the following equation:

Y=a + b₁X₁ + b₂X₂ + b₃X₃

Y is the value of the Dependent variable (Y), what is being predicted or explained

a (Alpha) is the Constant or intercept

b₁ is the Slope (Beta coefficient) for X₁

X₁ First independent variable that is explaining the variance in Y

b₂ is the Slope (Beta coefficient) for X₂

X₂ Second independent variable that is explaining the variance in Y

b₃ is the Slope (Beta coefficient) for X₃

X₃ Third independent variable that is explaining the variance in Y

s.e.b₁ standard error of coefficient b₁

s.e.b₂ standard error of coefficient b₂

s.e.b₃ standard error of coefficient b₃

# X in this entry, is manifestly used to mean roommates of a special breed. Y is the cohabitant of the roommate. But cohabitation is the only similarity point between X and Y.

Images

Today I was talking with my husband and were mutually laughing over how our parents and bengali parents in general, go or rather used to go paranoid over "nijer paa er darano" (which not literally, but substantially translates as being involved in a respectable career) and did enormous levels of policing (in Supratim's case) and complaining (in my case) on studying times. The conversation then moved to how ....being up in night (raat jege pora) usually never bought us respite. Making up for daytime sins was how night time studuing was seen....as yet another mode of alleged detour from studies, notwithstanding how my dear husband never really studied at night. Night time activity would always comprise of different stuff for any urban middle class guy growing up in Calcutta in early 90-s...in that embryonic cable TV stage...and ahem...I need not say more.

And then I was telling him how our respective neighbourhoods would actually feel like very late at night even at 11:30 or 12:00, inducing our parents to "shun the sham" and go to bed. So much contrasted when I fast forward the images to our present grad student lives in a foreign land, when almost all of us would have done stuff like frying fish or making an omlette at 2 am in the night (i.e. catching up with cooking) and the night is still young (with work and play). Even though the noise pollution is much less in our foreign land neighbourhoods, night life here never feels so quiet and night-like sans the close and distant baying of the street dogs, wall clocks ticking away and ceiling fans humming lullaby-s back home. The mere nostalgic drop of those images are sleep-inducing to me.... but then the deafening silence in here, breaks through the comfort.

In fact, when in our day-to-day activities and thought processes, we make those little trips back and forth... and engage upon verifying the right images of things while picking up the compromised versions, the images are as much based on sound and feeling as they are on visuals. Although this is plain common sense herein as I'm saying this.....as we know and accept Cooley's looking glass concept......and accept the fact of our embeddedness in images, the power of images are perhaps more determining than we can expect and consume.


This entry is not supposed to be a treatise of how and where images are overpowering and staggeringly so...but a pondering piece on what could we do and they do. Images stare back at us, and then stay in our heads. They do not talk back but yet, do the talking. Think of particular words, certain photographs and even the sonorous shapes of words heard aeons back, the traces of which refuse to leave our head spaces and instead creep into every later images formed, including those that were formed to drive the formed ones off, as well as those that were formed to complement them. Social Construction of reality? I can almost hear one my dear friends (a sporadic reader of this blog too..) come with Berger and Luckmann and probably wondering what's the motivation of questioning a basic cornerstone after 10 years of indoctrination in the camp. My confusion stems not from refusing to accept that basic cornerstone, of the construction part of reality, but making sense of the fragmented pieces that are left in the multilayered tensions of being there in everyday life.

And then, there are a few choices, making the task a lot easier (less choice always equals easy, in my opinion)

1. Being a passive receptor of images
2. Being a passive maker of images (passive--> not active, and probably subconscious)
3. Being an active receptor
4. Being an active maker of images and actions

Of course, these are not mutually exclusive categories and intertwining formations could very well occur, complete with qualifying adjectives. Even with the knowledge of all possible permutations and combinations of the above, the confusion wouldn't leave. There is no problem in reckoning passivity but there is a problem in being passive. It does hurt our images of the self and our consciousness of our active agency, and sometimes urges to change the fluidity of it all.

No, this is not about control and externality of situations or their determining influence. But being able to know oneself, of finding the receptors that act differently with similar and even same images, transport us into different worlds and make different selves of ours. Yes, this is a lifelong journey, or even transcendental of lifetimes, so to speak, ....but where, when and how do we know to stop, to move, to perceive or at least, to make an attempt? Now, the question could be: is it essential to know in lieu of a "right" answer, but if we have a vague sense (in fact, very vague...would be good enough) of the maps (to be encountered), based on the past paths taken, probably the ensuing pain and confusion would considerably lessen?


Is it possible to consciously solve these puzzles? In the attempt, do we merge our selves and form a coherent distribution where overlapping areas attract the process of knowing our reception, perception and reaction to images?

If it is possible, one good thing will happen for sure. I will be deemed as less angry and more cool. Cool as in both bangla and English slang connotations.

So much for my image!

Of earrings and ears

There could be more things than the infamous bloggers' block in writing as sporadically as I have been doing, for quite some time now. As a rooter for cumulative causes and coming from a social science brainwashed camp, it is indeed very predictable that I would hereforth put in several reasons for not writing in the pace as I was doing before. So, here they are (and they would be repeated with unabashed shamelessness in near future when I stop writing again):

1. Lack of time (Try being a TA for a stats course and then we will talk)
2. Lack of interest in anything that could call for interests...such as movies, books, girls, pals, tagging, weather.
3. Lack of having a rocking social life that could serve as a fodder for this blog with no sarcasm barred.
4. Not doing well physically, and perhaps mentally, if inability to make and understand any coherent thought could count. I guarantee you'll see traces of that mental state now and then in this entry as well.

Now, it is impossible that nothing would not have happened in my life. Yeah....right.

In between and as far as I can clearly remember one thing has been happening with alarming regularity. And I'm left with these:

Yes, I've lost the other pairs. All from my left ear. And in many instances I've realized I've lost one of them after enough time have passed since I've made a fool of myself by wearing one of them in a TA class, in a meeting with my supervisor, and after I've finished grocery shopping.

Life doesn't spare me, at all. Not even in the usual trivialities where you could count on things.

Things like being politically correct, at least in front of others. As I was walking into my TA class sometime in last week, some of the students were discussing about the American Election Politics. Their comments were not very interesting in any way...and I was looking into my notes when I heard, "I can take a minority only as long as it's Black". Instantly my ears went upright as radars (and I don't know whether I dropped and lost my left earring in the process, but mah ears were right upright!)

I was hoping someone would at least condemn....but well nobody did. People were bashing minorities, with a minority TA hearing it all.....thinking and trying to analyze why and how Blacks earn their respect among racist White richie kids? Once I went through some completed questionnaire that asked if the respondent felt any hatred towards any ethnic group in particular and why. Most of the respondents mentioned Ukranians, Chinese and "Paki-s" as the ethnic group that are "sick" and should be "out of Canada". Surely, there is a colour-coded hatred mosaic and I'm gonna work on that!

So, yeah, I got some research idea, which should translate as fantastic, because 3 years of PhD life has made me a dead head as far as research ideas are concerned (well...ahem...also in other areas but I better not divulge all my secrets in a single blog entry. Some could serve as inspirations for more to come, especially when the situation of nothing-to-write-about has an immense imminent probability to strike).

And then, things have been delayed in the professional front...but finally falling in place.

Though I still haven't started going to the gym.

Oh...three of my friends' email id-s got hacked (or cracked), their chat histories read, selected and doctored. The rest is history. Friendships were severed, people were suspected and clueless mindsets were transmitted over phone. Taking sides and being involved were never murkier.
I also had to hear that nothing could be severed if it were not actually severed. No, it's not a circular statement, the actuality of the breaking event is emphasized here. That is, friendships that are already tampered, severed, cannot be broken any further. As one of my very cool and cold-headed friend told me this, I couldn't but agree, though partially.

After all, when conversations in a messenger chat take place, between two people, people will and do comment about a third person and engage upon "he said-she said" sort of "bitching". Human nature cannot be expected to be just. It is less often than not that we learn it the hard way and though it does not justify giving in reasons, it could probably make us see things analytically, if not forgivingly and indifferently.

But when persons do not choose to say those things in face of that third person, obviously those persons are exercising a choice and agency to maintain a "facade", so that the particular relationship or friendship could go on. As to why is it necessary to maintain a friendship, even on the surface, and even in the face of being called a "facade", there could be various reasons. But then, who's listening? This is a lost cause and it doesn't take much to lose ears on an issue.

As long as our positions in a chain of relationships are secure, and ego-s are intact, ears and earrings serve as food for blogging, all of us should be happy neighbours, if not a family.

Oh...the above emoticon is meant in its true connotation, not sarcastically. The disclaimer is categorically given since people love and hear my sarcastic avatar more too often than I mean...and it never hurts to take a precaution. Better be safe than sorry, ain't it?

Later!

You have a new message

Missed calls and missed presences often bring in new messages. Oftentimes there exists little novelty in the messages in terms of content, but the eternal time-space dimension lovingly imparts it a new extension and packaging as far as the form of a message is concerned. As I write this, it does appear a bit surprising that content not withstanding, a form can make each message so distinct and different from all others lying in a continuum. Ah well....such is life's turns where, even as you realize that corners are indeed circular, that particular state of realization does not buttress the state of acceptance of the obvious, howsoever unbecoming.

For example, when people leave messages on phone, the possibilities of communication between the caller and the receiver could very well be served without necessarily leaving on messages.
I, for one, am very particular about leaving messages. And I insist to my close ones to leave messages when I'm not available to them. Most of these messages relate to caller's current states of mind, comprising of requests to call them back, relate an issue, or sometimes, even ranting. I've received 3 minute long messages from my friends who had to rant about their boss or supervisors...and I could fully understand the length: who doesn't like these cathartic actions?

But when you think about it, just letting it go at a missed call is as good as leaving a voice message. Quite obviously, it is more poignant, leaving much space for speculation and space of reasoning when one does not want to call back: a convenient arrangement for both the parties when things are not going good. Hmm.
But when things are going good, a missed call probably tugs more than a message.

With emails, it is even trickier. Some webmails do have options to track when your recipient open that email, and when did they actually start resuming to answer it. The power and prison surveillance talk of Foucault receives a whole new dimension here. This facility was adequately put to good use when I was doing my MA in University of Windsor, especially with faculty member emails. Yes, little brownies as puzzle-solving rewards are indeed offered by Grad School. Probably they do not tell you where the brownies are concealed, but once you find them, they are yours. And with that facility of actually locating the timing of opening and replying an email, timing gaps, calculation of typing speed and thinking ratio while replying an email, .....life and procrastination couldn't get any better.
The message part in this? That there's more to a message than just the content.

About freebie emails that do not have such service, but only the time tag, you do not get such above mentioned building blocks but.... random blocks. Inbox cries about that new message, you open it, decide to reply to it, edit it, delete it, save it in draft/or send it right away...and probably it makes less of a difference to your usual night's sleep if that message hadn't been sent. Exceptions to this could only lie when emailing to your occupational master (employer/supervisor/client) and your family (aunt/dad/mom/spouse).

Alternative to the above situation, you could still probably get a missed call. And you would still have the option of keep watching and thinking about "One missed call" and munching about whether to tell the full version of your side of story OR return the call and spread yourself tempo-spatially.

In the full circle long run, it seldom makes a difference, except in specifying and delineating the stops you've made so far. The stops probably tell a story, in terms of setting a pattern, but the story hardly matters in our cramped lives.

Still, newness and novelty, in form of messages, will always remain attractive. As much as this is so obvious, like many other things, Horatio, this is frustrating.

Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast

Yes, this song. This song came to my mind when I was standing in the bus stand today, for 20 minutes at --49 degree centigrade. Although I am worse in dancing than any human walking on the face of earth, and although I shouldn't be proclaiming this fact in public and although this song is most remembered for its dance movements, and my dancing has got nothing to do with the disassociation of this song for its dance movements with my memory system, this came to my mind as I was struggling to keep blood circulating in my body.

Before I tell you why, do watch this video and do watch closely (Get your headphones on).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNIBmo2LmIw



Now, my eyelashes were freezing. I had a scarf put around my face (like Arab Bedouins, or so I would like to think) and then the vapour of exhalation was going in direct contact with my glasses. As a result, first, my glasses went cloudy. And then ice formed. And then, I panicked (as predictable).
If they broke, I wouldn't be able to see the bus number, teach to my students, or do anything sane. And a new pair of glasses would cost (sans the minimal fashionable look and with an eye exam...roughly around $175-$200). That would hurt....sorely.

So I was panicking and wishing I had a pair of glasses with an outer detachable layer and then an inner vacuumed layer (that wouldn't freeze or whatever...you do the scientific explanation)....much alike Paresh Rawal was wearing in the song. Instantly the song came to my mind and I was humming it.

In case you want to know who Paresh Rawal is, go back to the video link given above and see his entry around 1:54 minute...he's the other man, not the hero.

As I was saying...I actually liked the song and was singing it (not humming, but singing it in a low voice...)when I got onto the bus which came 20 minutes after.

I reached University, met my supervisor and learnt that one of my committee members wants me to change the focus of my research. Now, I'm doing multi-method. He's from the quantitative camp (and somehow I wasn't expecting the trouble from him....but from another member who belonged to the qualitative camp).
Turns out that he wants me to do "confirmatory qualitative research with a large sample size", with explicit specifications of variables and hypothesis AND research questions right from the first paragraph. On getting this first academic assualt, I promptly changed tracks from "cheez badi..." to "Kutte Kameene.....main tera...". Though it was not a song per se...but it fitted my mindset perfectly well. For any person who can envisage doing confirmatory qualitative research and tries to infiltrate and get disguised into the qualitative camp thereby, I have no better words for description. I should be fuming and foaming in the mouth, but well, here I am, blogging and thinking about Lalmohonbabu as he was examining yellow sandstone bowls in Jaisalmir ("Shonar Kella") and exclaiming in ecstasy "Eh to Sonar Pathorbati moshai!"

I need to find that yellow sandstone and create a sonar pathorbati and go back singing "Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast" ......................no not to myself, (Even if you might think so, let me correct you in your belief; I am, not, that narcissistic).....to my proposal.

How great is that? I would be doing Confirmatory, Qualitative Research!! Woo hoo!!!

Hallucination? (gibberish)

When an ultra cynic like me hallucinates, or imagines that she hallucinates, or rather has an imagination which she calls hallucination, it is worth writing it down; these things do not happen everyday and this blog is hardly well-read or well-worth to not contain it.

Moments ago as I was lying, face down, facing the stove-like heat from the room heater on my face (my bed is positioned just along side it), with my eyes closed and feeling that I'm going through a sweet earthquake with everything oscillating around me, the walls, the floor....I was rather liking it...it was like being drunk without even drinking a drop...much alike seeing a movie without going to the movie theatre (or opening a WMA file in your computer); and then I was going deep, falling deep, I don't know where but I could see a big, snowy cottony, bluish roundish chunk of matter which I recognized as affection, waiting to be tossed by someone's fingertips. I know that someone and I have a blood relation with that someone. That someone made a slight movement, the big ball of chunk of affection rolled into me, crushed onto me, broke onto me and then....went past me...and as I opened my eyes I could see the white walls and the white roof and I felt like I'm lying on the snowy road below with of course my comforter on and a ping-pong ball juggling its way through red and yellow liquids in my head while I could still hear the winds blowing (well....yes...howling) outside the closed window in my room and then in an attempt to do something to the whiteness I pick up the knife thought I would give a drop of red...but the red droplet just went inside the snow but then I should never give up.

I was fully wide awake as I was feeling all these...

Funny that at this moment I remembered a song, or rather a discotheque song which became very popular while I was in Spain..."give it up...ta da da da da da ...give it up....." and it went on and on...

It is easy to give it up but hell...all hell breaks lose when one gives it up and should I take the responsibility?
But I like the oscillating feeling. Liking something never has to be sinful.....has it?......and when all definitions and borderlines of sins and goods gets blurred, it is even better......like that ping pong ball going through and through.....

911

Should I feel happy on the fact that the first post of 2008 is headed as 911 (based on the assumption of a better ending with a 911 start) or should I be wary of the signs?

Whatever....should-s and thoughts do not matter much, right? No matter how many times Ishwarchandra Vidyasagar would like to hammer "bhabia korio kaaj, koria bhabio na" in our minds (Think before doing anything and do not think after doing it) Nike's "just do it" is deeply imprinted in our minds. And where the mind is without rest, the situation could get only even worse.

Since the last 2-3 weeks I haven't been doing good physically. I've lost all urges to eat anything, from chocolates to chips to rice and you-name-it (do name edible stuff, though). I've been dropping pounds (which is the only good thing in the whole scenario....but then, probably the pounds come from lean mass.....which is not so good again....), resulting in a perpetual drunk state: I've been feeling dizzy in the head, even when doing simple activities.

Combine that with a night of sleeplessness, and you have a mind without rest and a room full of mess (books, clothes, empty water bottles, papers.....just about everywhere).

With that mind, I was trying to call a friend who lives in U.S. Her number was saved in my cell and I looked at my cell, dialed the number in my landline, and instead of the expected childish voice and bengali words, I hear "911, which city?"

"Helloooo?????" (what......???)

"911, which city are you calling from?"

"Oops!!" (I look at what I've dialed, and disconnect the phone with great panic)

Kintu mama ekbar dhorle ki ar chharey?

They call back and disregarding my explanation of dialing an Indian friend's number while trying to make a call in U.S, they tell me that they are sending the police shortly ("Karma" is instant since John Lennon).
And then, they ask me several questions 4 of which I remember (based on their deep down implications):
1. Do you have any dogs? (how is this relevant?)--"No"
2. Do you have a firearm? (I would like to have one, but I'm too poor and dangerous to have one) --"No"
3. Do you live alone? (How I wish...............) "No, I live with my roomie"
4. Is your roomie there right now? "Yes"

I offer my apologies and say goodbye to the call as well as to my bed. I had to tidy up my room............................not because I was getting a visit from a friend or anybody but because the police was coming. I had heard earlier that they look into closets and under the bed so that there isn't anybody hidden there. The preceding things just made my hidden grief come out with overwhelming level at having to clean up stuff, with that stage of mind and body. I was cursing myself.

And then, while I was running around, I saw my roomie checking herself in the mirror. She was going out.

Apart from tidying up my room, I was trying to think neat then. What if they ask me "where is your roomie now?"

But Canadian police (women, they came) were good. They looked around and then they went away. The good thing was that in 3 minutes my room was tidied up.

Which makes me ask: Why do we need someone to come with a whip and make us do things? No, I do not believe there is a child in every man or woman; those are ego-fulfilling proverbs which are useful to impress dates in coffee shops, making headlines in second grade magazines and in justifying things in orkut posts and scraps. Grown up men and women are too polluted to let the child breathe....

There could not be a 911 for everything, but could there be an intervening one when...