Not Again!

When a man sees his end he wants to know there has been some purpose to his life.
- Marcus Aurelius, Gladiator

I am sure the postman of my locality is curious to know why I receive so much mail and why he never gets to see me. I have a thick bunch of letters sent to me by business schools all over India asking me to attend their next phases of selection processes or at least apply to their colleges telling me that I am eligible. I haven't read even one brochure completely till now and I don't intend to. I have also learnt how to say a 'no' on the phone. I still get irritated when I receive calls from people I dont know.

I received my TOEFL and GRE score reports together a couple of days back. It was a pleasant surprise to see that ETS took only 16 days to help me receive my GRE report. But the content was disheartening. It told me that I deserved only 3.0 out of 6.0 in the analytical writing section. After writing GRE whenever I thought about it, I was sure that I would at least make 4.0 there. I failed. Perhaps I didn't write what they were looking for. Perhaps I didn't read their instructions properly. Perhaps I was over-confident.

I had fancied 115 in TOEFL. I was in fact expecting it. When I first saw my score on my ETS's profile, my first reaction was "Hmm! Okay. Sure". I had to accept it but later I realized that I was good and my score should satisfy me. I was happy with GRE though I also had thought of more than 1400 there. There were no big efforts put behind it so I never let even a bit of negativity effect me. I kept thanking Allah and He kept blessing me.

I am frequently reminded of a conversation I heard between my mother and a paternal aunt. It was at least three years back when this happened. My mother was telling my aunt about my early school days when I would go to her office daily after school-hours and she would bring me home in the bus along with my brother. She said that one day I had asked her to buy me peanuts and she didn't. Now, I remember asking my mother for those nuts several times and she did buy them for me, but this particular day it was different. There was a reason she wasn't buying them for me. She had no money with her. And that day I had told her "you don't have even a rupee for me". That was more than 12 years back.

My mother was telling my aunt how time had changed and how different and easy things are now. Today, now, Sunday, the 24th of February, with all that I can put behind my intense feelings, with what all sincerity I can attach to my words, I thank Allah that I am in a position from where I spend hundreds of rupees and I don't have to report that to my parents. I can just ask them for more and they give it to me. There are always reasons why I consider myself to be the most blessed. There are more reasons than the one I have mentioned just now.

I spend hundreds on cell phones, I spend hundreds on shawarmas, I spend hundreds on ice creams and chocolates and the list is enough lengthy. And I am the same guy who once quibbled at his mother for not buying him peanuts worth a rupee. And I am the same guy who knows how important it is to cry to thank Allah. I wonder why some people still consider me mysterious and complicated.

Last Saturday I visited my maternal grandfather's grave. I had been thinking of going there since long and finally got a chance. That was for the first time that I went to visit a grave all alone. I first went to its gate and saw the bolt shut. I came back to a nearby shop and asked the person there if I could open it. He said I could. Then I bought some roses and went inside. It hardly took me any time before I found my grandfather's grave. I didn't know how to react when I saw his name engraved on the tablet. Time was moving fast. I put some flowers there and some on the graves surrounding his. I stood there silently for a few seconds facing the quibla.

Time seemed to race by me. I wanted to stand there longer hoping that I could talk to my grandfather. Deep inside my heart I knew that was never possible. I wanted to be there longer. Something pulled me out. I shut the gate close letting it make the least sound possible and reached my grandmother's home in some time. I was happy I went there but I wasn't satisfied. I couldn't understand what had me leave the place so soon. I could have even prayed in the mosque overlooking the graveyard. I couldn't understand what exactly was going on. The only thing I know now is that I have to visit that place again very soon.

Earlier that day I had been to my school. As I got down at the bus-stand near Cherma's, I could recollect my old days. I entered Gunfoundry thinking about my father's old scooter in which he dropped me for 12 years. I saw the new name of the stationary shop; earlier it was 'Uncle J'. Then I looked at the straight streak of auto rickshaws lined along both walls of that lane. As I crossed the buildings of Rosary Convent I recollected the stairs in front of the catholic church there where I used to play with my friends for long hours. I visualised the parking space which was reduced by some construction activity which never succeeded to its objective.

It was 12 noon when I saw 'All Saints' High School' written high above the building which was separated from me by the sprawling football ground that lay before me reminding me of a scar I still have on my right hand's elbow. I glanced at the corner of that ground where I had skidded causing a thick and bloody bruise on my elbow. It was when I was in 9th standard running after the white ball trying to play this game called football. My only game was to run after the ball and shout whenever my team won. There were some students practicing cricket there this Saturday.

I met the necessary people who gave me the necessary attestations on my memos. I wanted to meet my PT sir and thank him for the discipline he had taught me but I couldn't find him. I met the new Rector there who asked me to stay in touch with the school. I couldn't believe that he was being so polite to me. When I was leaving I tried to see if I could feel any affection for my school. I walked staying close to the railing that had probably stood there for years as the only protection from the playing-ground that was 20 feet below. I could recollect standing there on the walkway in a long queue whenever I had reached late to school.

I saw the place my father use to park his scooter. I saw the speed-breaker that had played a very important role for years. I saw all the places I used to play. I saw the entrance of the church. I saw the steep slope where I used to run. I saw the crowded street because of which I used to come late to school at least once a week. I walked through all these places recollecting my old days.

Then I passed by the bus-stand that was a stop for hundreds of buses but only one of them was for my home. I walked though the wide road I used to walk daily. I crossed it from the same point I used to cross it. I walked on the same zebra-crossing I always used to take. I looked at the red-signal which could be manually operated to stop the traffic for crossing. When in the middle of the road, I looked at the vehicles that were desperately waiting for the green light, in the same way they used to wait seven years back. I walked past all the shops I used to walk then. I tried to feel something. I searched for it inside me. I wanted to find something touchy. Something. At least a bit of nostalgia. Something emotional. At least a bit of it. There was nothing.

Those were the difficult days. There were struggles. There were a lot of tough learning times. There were financial insecurities. There were friends but never closed ones. I am still in touch with a few now but they have all changed and I don't like it. I, myself, have changed. I like that part. I like this comparatively newer life I am living. I will thank Allah again if I get to thank Him enough. I have no doubt seen and experienced what many have seen. I just have some different perceptions. My priorities are different and straighter.

Every inch I get closer to my friends, I know that very soon I will be thrown miles away from them. I still prefer being closer to them. It's all worth the pain I haven't seen yet but could only imagine. Somehow I still find it unfair that I meet some people, stay with them for a few years, then suddenly get separated from them. It looks so, so unfair. I don't complain. It's just the way Allah wants. I only find it hard to swallow.

Some days a friend told me that being lean is a big turn-off. The turn-off was supposed to be the turn-off on girls. And I replied telling that there were better things to look for. So I first had to myself look for better things in me. I did find some. But they were all relative. I don't really know if I am apparently required to have something as a turn-on. I can as well hold a big piece of near-melting dark chocolate in my hands!

Just some days back I ate a complete pack of chocolate by licking it from its foil open and spread on my palm. I was even using my fingers to have it. It was definitely uncivilized on my part; I enjoyed it. Later it was my kerchief that had to bear the stickiness of my fingers and my fingers were still sticky even after I reached home. I know sometimes I can shed my mask of civilization - sometimes, only with chocolate. And yeah, there's more chocolate in the refrigerator right now!

Searching For A Place

Are you not entertained? ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? Is this not why you are here?
-Maximus, Gladiator

With a friend today I went to an office of DHL. They told us about the huge cost we will have to bear if we use their services to send our applications to the universities in US. It sounded a bit dizzy to me when I had to include another $155 to my initial estimates. Though I already knew about this cost I hadn't included, I wasn't expecting the person there to tell us that he would charge us more than Rs. 1,000 for each packect we send. And he was apparently saying that it was after a 50% discount. I remember my other friend spending around Rs. 900. That looks acceptable. The extra Rs. 100 won't make much difference. But when there are six packets, those Rs. 600 can rather be spent on some lunches or fast-food!

Yesterday after reaching home I was tired and wanted to sleep. But there was this feeling telling me how my time would get wasted if I hit the bed. I turned on the computer for a while before my eyes gave up. I had to crash out and wake up after 10 pm. That short time on the computer was the only time I could use the internet yesterday. Later in the night all my pinging took no replies and the connection was down. Today I called up the person and he sent technicians to repair it. The only thing they did was reconnecting the plug from behind. I wondered why I wasn't instructed on the phone to do it when I called their office.

I have so much to write but so little energy to spend. I know if I start things from Saturday now, it will take at least 30 minutes before I finish and I don't think I will be able to stand it. I am tired again and the only things I can do now are sit, listen and read apart from a little typing to chat with some friends who are online. I have many things pending and incomplete. I can make a list of all that. And I badly need to write about the Saturday I spent going to my school and with my cousins in the evening. Then there was also a gap in time I met with something that's going to continue till eternity. I should inshAllah write all this soon.

Replaceable

He sleeps so well because he is loved.
- Commodus, Gladiator

The only reason I update my blog today is the decreasing number of my postings per week. It’s only two or even less than that per week right now. Though they were many interesting and fascinating things I could have written about, I felt they shouldn’t be documented so openly. I can go on as well typing sentences that are understood only to those who were with me all the time; it would still make no sense that I wrote something intangible to most of the readers! But of course there are things worth mentioning.

Today I found some problem with the editing page on blogger.com. It seems to have something gone wrong with the formatting and it’s giving a lot of space between every sentence. I know I can solve it if I spend time but I am in no mood to use my brains. I used some yesterday and gave a satisfying seminar on a topic named ‘Cryptovirology’. It was unlike the project’s seminar where I was gasping for breath and was unable to speak clearly.

Today I was more fluent and less nervous. Because I was thorough with my topic, I hardly had to look at the slides. I just went past everything I wanted to tell in a confident tone. Though when my teammate for less than 7 minutes and one of the lecturers asked us why we were so short, I spoke for less than 10 minutes. Together, we finished the presentation in 13 minutes! I felt good after read the last words from my mind. I knew I had done it well leaving that lecturer no chance to ask us why we so brief. We were on the point and tried to keep it interesting.

Yesterday we went to Ohri’s again. It was the same yet wonderful ‘bull’s eye’ again but also had some spicy ‘chola batura’. The place was full with Valentine’s Day in swing. I felt uncomfortable when my friends left me alone for a while on the table. Then I called up one who was looking at some pastries and cakes at the counter – I needed some male company to fit myself into my own character! I reached home after 6:30 pm and slept till 9:20 pm after which I had to work for the seminar.

I lost my cool today for a short time when in the college. It was only reflected in my louder voice. I somehow understood I was loosing the grip when a friend told me that my tone was louder than expected. We were talking about our college fest, Cynosure, and I had things to speak up on. We have had many such discussions till now and I know there are more to come. We friends are trying to make the event big but only time will decide what’s more appropriate. There are many people with many suggestions, and I am a part of them.

The Minarets Of Credence

At night, I see their faces. All the men I've killed. They're standing there on the far bank of the river Styx. They're waiting for me. They say, "Welcome, brother."
- Achilles, Troy

Two days back I was thinking of writing about the vehicular traffic in Hyderabad. But today's experience makes it necessary for me to pour out! But I won't do it except for writing this first paragraph. The movement of traffic in this part of the world looks like a cavalcade of warriors moving is every available direction with an aim - the only purpose of being the first to get out of the procession. Everybody tries, some win, the rest loose. Those among the losers are the ones who obey traffic rules, respect the signals and keep their lanes. The winners being the majority, the losers are at the receiving end for only one mistake of theirs - trying to adhere to the rules. Minorities are always at the receiving ends.

It's the most sensitive of the time of the day for me when I go to bed for sleep and try to analyze the spent day or sometimes even ponder upon the life I have lived so far. It's not the fear of sleeping that keeps me awake till early mornings, but it's this sensitive time I have to spend thinking with no prejudice and no insolence. But in a way it always turns out to be harsh on my sleep. I have been having pleasant nights all these days but yesterday it was different. It was that fickle in time in the sequential thoughts of my mind that I imagined about the last moments I would be spending with my friends as a group. It felt painful but I said to myself that this is how I will grow up more matured and emotionally strong. But the next question was even more threatening - "Do I really need such maturity when I don't have my beloved ones close to me? Is that emotional intelligence worth the pain? What's the point in being strong when I am lonely?"

I have spent hours trying to decide the names of the universities I must apply for MS. It hardly gave me success. There are so many where I can apply and even get an admission into, but I don't want to fall into some college which is lesser than my profile. I am finding it difficult to find the right colleges in the city of my choice, with a fee I can afford, and a ranking appropriate to me profile. I am decided on only one university till now. I need to finalize five more. Anybody who knows more on this, knows me, and also my scores, please help me. The only favor I can do in return is pray and say 'JazakAllah Khairan'.

I am in a bit low in spirits right now. There is apparently no reason for me to be like that but there are some worries relating to the coming days. Like all engineering students I have seen the transition from schooling to college but I have never experienced how it feels to go through the transition of 'with them' to 'without them'. I know it's a matter of time and I will get used to everything. Even they will get used to it. We all will move on. Somehow it sounded unfair to me that I move away from these people. We spent so many wonderful times and then suddenly one day it will all be over. That reminds me of a quote "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happens". That hurts more.

I never miss my school days. I don't want to meet any of my friends I had then. I am over them completely. I hardly have attachments to those from pre-university days. I don't like attending any reunion parties, I don't like going back to school to meet anybody; I don't even want to talk to any of those people. I just have some memories of those times, and I have the memories of the times I had with my parents, grandparents and cousins. And then it's all about my present friends. I cannot conceive of not having them around me. I wish the learning could be worth the separation. I wish I could mention some people here.

"People Should Know When They Are Conquered"

You will never be lovelier than you are now. And we will never be here again.
- Achilles, Troy

I was waiting for this day to come when I could with some honor write that when I am thinking of doing MS in US, I am giving something to make that happen. Right now I have all the backing from my parents and an unprecedented appreciation and encouragement from my friends and relatives. I have the financial aspects cleared and everything in order. There are only two things I need to wait for now - I 20 and F 1. Allah decides.

After writing IBSAT, I was sure that I could definitely get into any of the ICFAI colleges in India, but I wanted to see my absolute scores. They sent me a packet inviting me to attend their interview process. They even called me up asking me to come down to their office. They didn't let me know my scores. Then I came to know that they had given similar invitation to many other students who had appeared for IBSAT which was on 16th of December in 2007. Today I tried to check my score again on their website but it says that the combination of my identification number and date of birth is invalid. I find it absurd. I have these things in written and I know they are correct.

I am glad I didn't confirm with them for my interview which was scheduled for February 13th. ICFAI should understand that sending top class merchandise, spending a lot on marketing and promotion, sending free magazines and diaries and showing off their placement records doesn't made them better than low grade institutions. When they ask for Rs. 900,000 for a postgraduate diploma in business management, they need to remember that there are many companies and countries that don't recognize them as an institute for management studies. And it is even more hopeless when they refuse to let me know my scores. It took me Rs. 1,000 to understand all this. They took that money from me just to have me write their entrance test and to send those heavy packets.

XAT was classy. That was expected from the people of XLRI. Their test was of a good standard and could be seen as equal to the stature of CAT. My performance in that made it clear to me that I appeared in that test only because I had applied. The 77.21 percentile which I was made aware of through post on February 5th couldn't intimidate me. I presently have some mails including the rank cards of XAT and CAT spread on my desk. There are some from colleges who want me to apply for an admission. They should be moved and removed as trash.

CAT was still a satisfaction. I could appear ironic that I call it a satisfaction when in no way I am going to use it's 85.7 percentile. There were around 200,000 who appeared the test, there are around 29,000 who performed better than me, there is me who performed better than 170,000, I scored a 90+ percentile in the English section, nobody could tell me that my scores were bad though there was some unhappiness among my cousins and parents, immediate implementations of secondary plans and no regrets for what all I had done make me feel satisfied. And the satisfaction continues.

The day on which I received my XAT's score, February 5th, I went through an experience called GRE. I scored 1210 out of 1600 there with the breakdown as 760 in the quantitative section and 450 in the verbal. The analytical writing section too was good. That was satisfaction again as I am in a position to apply for the universities I was thinking of. There was something I needed and Allah gave it to me. I have all reasons to be satisfied. Of course my needs grow limitlessly.

Then there was today's morning which I was waiting again. I had appeared for TOEFL on January 19th and today, February 8th, was the day I was supposed to receive my score. It was 111 out of 120 with the scores in reading, listening, speaking and writing as 29, 26, 27 and 29 in that order; all of these out of 30 each. All this was more than just satisfaction! That score is accepted by almost all universities in US unlike the 1210 of GRE. All I do is just Allah and hope that I remain on the right paths till the end.

Today I had a pizza at a bakery near my college. It was a luscious chocolate dessert yesterday at Ohri's. It was literally a fiesta - like those I have in my dreams when I am hungry while sleeping. I had a heavy dinner sometime back and just thinking of this 'Bulls Eye' makes my mouth water. It was one of the best desserts I had in recent times. I wanted to have more of it but it was heavy leaving my craving for more but not letting my belly afford it. I wish I can go there right now and eat to my heart.

I can feel pain at multiple locations in my throat. I even had a soft drink in the evening. I have been continuing with ice creams and chocolate for a few weeks now and there seems to be no respite from this untimely temptation which has exploded without a warning. I am not talking any medication and am in no mood for any. The only change I made is the one in which I am not having cold water. The drinks and ice creams of course are cold.

Only Chocolate

After all... I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.
- Anna Scott, Notting Hill

Since the time I had that mango ice cream a few days back, my throat has been a space of irritation for me. After that day till today and now, I had more ice creams and many soft drinks. Two days back with two friends I was at Softy Den for two hours and I cannot recollect the number of cans of '7 Up' we consumed. Then it was more drinks today at the exhibition in the late afternoon. When I inhale and exhale air, it touches some sensitive part just at the end of my tongue and makes me cough. I couldn't sleep properly yesterday because of the same thing.

Just an hour back I was at my aunt's place with my uncle and two cousins sitting right in front of me. They both are doctors and I knew I had to talk to either of them. Some time later I was sitting beside my cousin and he had his arm over my shoulder and I explained him how I was feeilng inside my throat. He gave the perscription verbally and I will probably start that tomorrow. I am on some self-medication already.

I felt great after I wrote my last post. Then later I had some ambivalent thoughts which I had to let go. I am glad I wrote it. And I am very happy that I could speak my mind. It is not the words I wrote there or their timing, it is not the way I wrote it, there is no question about why I wrote it; there is only one thing - it is just the people I had in my heart and mind while writing. I can't help if I feel or think so much. I at least don't think about people who are not near me.

My aunt from Mecca is expected to arrive here next week. Today a cousin also told me about another cousin from Austin arriving someday around 7th. I have been waiting to meet them for so long and I cannot wait before I can talk to them. But when I try to think what exactly I must talk, I find no topic or reason. It's just my fondness of them I appreciate. Having them in front of me would make my eyes feel cool and my lips smile. I find myself experiencing this so often these days!

Suddenly I have stopped watching movies. I watched 'Troy' again for the 'nth' time yesterday but it was not the whole movie I watched; just some favorite scenes. I never miss the starting lines where eternity is mentioned. The first use of sword by Achilies in the movie can never be ignored. Then of course is the conversation between Hector and Paris after Paris shows him the Greek - Helen - onboard their ship. Every part of that movie amuses and inspires me. There is perhaps no other movie I can watch so many times. It's just a matter of tastes and likes. I cannot expect such affinity from anybody else towards this specific movie or any other movie for that matter.

Surreal But True

Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.
- Khalil Gibran

I know there is always something that touches people, makes the right connection, and gets things working. There is something that goes deep inside the heart, tells them what they like to hear, and overwhelms them with bliss. The more I can get to say such words, the better relationships I can have with everybody around me. On contrary to what I wrote yesterday, after talking and thinking, I somehow came to an understanding that there are two friends I think and talk to. I can narrow on these two names not considering several of my friends who are just friends.

I get a lot of time these days to thinking about my friends – each of them in detail - and some in lesser detail because I have already given a lot of thoughts to them. It was today when I was talking to a friend that I realized more on how I can never be same with all those around me. We spoke in great depths. I felt bad about a few things. I felt great about others he said about. I somehow wish I could write everything here but that won’t be a part of my premise. I still wish there could be a source from where I could derive all the wisdom and make more sense out of what all I think.

I know my parents would be with me and for me always, but it’s the friends I am worried about. I sometimes wonder if I could do something for them, something unusual, something immaterial, and something to make them very happy, and let them remember that happiness forever. I know it won’t be possible for them to remember me always, but happiness stays in the heart. I just want to leave a mark before I leave them. We might then never be meeting even after the eternity ends.

I simply can’t believe that these people are not going to be with me a few months from now. It looks like so impossible and unbelievable. It looks like those nightmares our parents told us would never come true. But they are just here around the corner. I love them. I cannot see living through the farewell times. I wish I could tell them I love them. I wish I could prove it; prove it to each of them; then leave. Just the satisfaction I would get after letting them know about my love for them would be an answer to my love. I would need nothing else in return.

But our being of the individuals we are doesn’t help me even a bit. It makes shields and creates limits. I sometimes think if I could be so neutral that I can say what all I have to and keep the goodwill alive. I still cannot believe that there could be some people called as friends who can have sincere concerns for me. Whenever somebody is nice to me, I just feel like crying. Even if it is my parents. Sometimes I get an immeasurable desire to thank all of them. Sometimes I just want to say a sorry to them. I can’t do it because I cannot put the reasons in words.

There is a friend from college who makes me thinks so much. Though we got close enough I always wished we were closer. But that inherently is not possible. If selfishness can indeed be taken as a virtue, I am selfish and for that reason I cannot get much closer. I use this phrase a lot “I wish I had the right words to”. I use it again. I wish I had the right words to let my friend know about the irrefutable respect and regards I have for that friend. I hope I at least give a higher level of happiness to that friend at least once before we take our ways. Perhaps that friend is the only one I can spend any amount of time without speaking a single word. But that is unnecessary.

I had mango ice cream a few hours back and I can feel a mangled throat already. There is a slight pain which I am sure would grow if I don’t take some medication immediately. The picture I have put up here was designed by a classmate of mine for the upcoming technical fest we are planning to organize in our college. We have a long way to go before we can see it come alive. The distance between happiness and reality seems so less that I am worried if I would get used to being happy. Only if I could put the right size of praise for Allah in words; I wish I could hold His hands and let Him take away my life in return of what all He has given me.

A Best Friend!

Feelings are not supposed to be logical. Dangerous is the man who has rationalized his emotions.
- David Borenstein

Yesterday when I thought to myself that it was time to get matured and behave matured, I just knew that there were umpteen number of times I had said that to myself. There are sets of things I tell myself almost daily and only a part of them gets materialised. Then of course there are things I love thinking and imagining! I cannot mention even one of them but I can bet on the fact that everybody enjoys them. No doubt our brain is our best entertainer. This way I never get bored too.

At times I don't get to understand if the conflicts I get within after talking to my friends are justified and rational or just useless. Yesterday, for example, I had two of my friends at my house till 3:30 am and we spoke about some very interesting and important topics. No doubt any person knowing me and those two friends would guess what we must have spoken about. I was perhaps the one doing most of the talking - it has in a way become my expertise. After they left, I had this luxury to tell myself that I must grow. But growing up in the terms I told myself meant that I stopped talking! It goes round and round in circles.

There was a time when I used to think of what my friends would think on anything I would tell. Now sometimes I do and sometimes I don't because that very word, friend, is supposed to give me the freedom of being myself. I am sure by now my friends must have seen the avoidable things in me. I have seen some in them too. And I have loved them more for these rather than the good they possess! And while I write all this, the questions "what am I writing?" and "why am I writing it?" are asking for answers.

Being random and carefree is easy. Nothing I do or write would then ever make any sense and I will not have to answer anybody. But when I start constructing myself and my behavior on a premise, the restlessness starts. The internal conflict, the validity and the necessity of things I speak, the beliefs I share, the things I tell my friends when I am teasing them or perhaps sometimes flirting with them, the limits and boundaries my friends have set before themselves and the ones I have created around me, the desire to be close to them but the differences in ideals that come up, the differences in the very being that comes up, the need to tell them how sacred they are yet the fear of being called dumb and silly or perhaps over-emotional - all this can be left as passing thoughts but when I try to give them time, I end up worrying if all I am being an overly excited dumb who gets too emotional.

But there is of course some happiness of knowing that there are more odds of me being called dumb than being called as a good friend. And when I mention 'friend', it also defines my relations with my brother, cousins and even parents. No doubt it starts with those friends who don't share common DNA patters with mine because they are the ones I talk the most to. I sometimes wonder what they think when they hear me telling them all the weightless things. If I were them, I would laugh at me, ridicule me, and call me a sticky substance that refuses to become smooth. Things circling; I did mention the word 'conflict'. Didn't I?

Criticising myself gives some happiness to me. There, of course, is always a thought that it could bring some sympathy from some corners and create some in some other corners! There is pleasure in calling ones own-self a fool - just because when a person calls himself a fool, nobody does that to him! But I don't know what I can do with sympathy. So, I don't ask for it. I don't even have to do things to impress or please my friends. I feel like shouting it aloud - "I need not do even a bit to impress or please my friends". They are already my friends.

Now, that should be enough of self-talk I can publish here. I woke up after 2 pm today. There was a short 'staying-awake' session around 11 am after which I was again under the blanket. Because I was 'chit-chatting' with my friends till early morning, I went to sleep after 4 am. Yesterday I met a senior with some friends and we were there to discuss a technical festival we are planning at our college in the department. Then later yesterday I spent some good time with two cousins. We were first flying kites, then went to some places on one bike, then took a car and went to meet more cousins! It was all fantastic till I felt tired late in the night. But my enthusiasm to have friends around kept me burning whatever fat I have inside me. Not to mention my weight right now. Though I do not know what exactly it is, I can be sure that it is the lowest I have felt in some years. Obviously I was lighter when I was a kid. That should be it for today!

Not Picturesque

I've been on a diet every day since I was nineteen, which basically means I've been hungry for a decade. I've had a series of not nice boyfriends, one of whom hit me. Ah, and every time I get my heart broken, the newspapers splash it about as though it's entertainment. And it's taken two rather painful operations to get me looking like this.
- Anna Scott, Notting Hill

I remember this picnic with my family and relatives which was probably 8 to 10 years back. We had a medium-sized bus hired for ourselves for the trip and we were on our return journey. Everybody was tired and the music played was shutdown so that they could relax. After laughing and keeping myself animated for several hours I had seated myself at the center of the last seat in the vehicle. I still have the memories of this scene fresh. I was letting my eye sight cut through all the seats and stare at windscreen and the horizon that lay beyond it. There was an orange sun that was not painful on my eyes. The road was straight in the direction of it and there were some shrubs on the left side of the road making up for a boulevard. I cannot recollect what lay on the other line of that road. I wanted that journey to never end. I had all my cousins with me, my parents and many uncles and aunts who didn't stay in India at that time. I was in love with the time I was experiencing. But there was a fear in my heart - I knew the journey was short-lived and it would end in some time.

From that day to today, I have lived many such journeys. Perhaps I have seen such things before that day too, but I don't remember. I fell in love with the journeys time to time until I finally learnt not to get carried away by the journey. The lesson more important than this - I learnt that if I am not in love with the destination, I am bound to find some affection towards the journey. I met quite a few people on the way. There are those who had to leave me. There are those I thought would stay with me - if not all my life, but at least for some more time - but didn't. There are those I desperately wanted to show love towards. Then there are those I never thought would ever be with me and become my loved ones - many of these presently make my life beautiful. I would never keep them as a part of my journey. They are apparently a part of me.

There were several instances today that made me take a pause from apparent visualisations through eyes. The last one was just sometime back when there was music ringing in my ears, I was staring at the surface on my table rubbing my finger on it but none of this was in my mind. I was lost in some thinking, or dreaming - if that describes it better, or perhaps pondering. But I cannot recollect what it was that took me away from reality. At time I can't believe how silent I become given that I don't find many people who talk as much as I do. The whole idea of living satisfied has mesmerised me. These days I am having the best times of my life ever. I had not even remotely imagined that I would be so close and friendly with some people I had only heard of three years back.

When I crossed the 400th mark as the number of posts on this blog, I began wondering if I was random in what I wrote all the time and if I can be good enough if I continue. There was something that made me feel a bit disappointed. On several occasions I was not able to convey the right messages in the right way. This comes as an understanding that there were some posts I wanted to be appreciated for; I wanted to be said that what I had written was good; I wanted to hear some comments on them, if not praise, but at least some critique maybe. But I have never been random with what I wrote all these months. Everything was linked. Perhaps it's only because I have written all of it, it is only I who can understand what it is. I don't know how the readers take it; I cannot see my blogs from any different perspective. Then I realized that I need to be independent - independent of what I am writing, keep things connected, write for my satisfaction and not for comments or appreciation. Perhaps this is understanding of maturity in its lowest form. It also perhaps comes as a part of learning how to become emotionally independent and never have dependency issues. And perhaps it is also an indication of how I need self-appreciation and not affirmations from others. I mean only what I have written here for this moment. There are no hidden meaning to this; I am not asking for comments.

My father today asked me today about making a blog. He said he wanted to write one by himself. I liked the idea but my brother didn't. That was because yesterday my brother looked at some old pictures of my father and said that he appeared like those extra characters who are on villain's side in typical Hindi movies. Some days back my brother said that my father looked like a patient when he was wearing an old night-suit. My father enjoys these discussions and we have a lot of fun talking about them. So my father said he would write a blog and let everybody know. I said I would do the publicity and we can guarantee many visitors.

Somehow

Marriage is the promise of eternal love. As a man of honor I cannot promise eternally what I've never felt momentarily.
- Leopold, Kate And Leopold

There come some occasions when we see that there is no light at the end of the tunnel we are in and that there is no way we could turn around or even light a matchstick. Then without giving us even a second, the whole world suddenly looks illuminated and beautiful. But the darkness doesn't go away without making any change. It leaves it marks, reasons and lessons. Apart from what all we can personally draw from that darkness, there is something explained to us as a whole: nothing lasts forever.

Yesterday we celebrated birthdays of two friends. We have been postponing the celebration for long now and it was time to have some fun finally. It was a 'three-course' celebration - we first met at a mall, then went to a restaurant and to another place where the gifts where handed over. Then later I went to a friend's house and returned home late. That was just to see that none of my parents had arrived. Around 8 pm I went to bed to take a nap. I was bugged by some terrible dream like things! I don't know exactly how I was feeling but it wasn't good. I got out at 9 pm, had my dinner at 10, and slept after 3 am - the routine.

I wanted to finish watching 'Godfather' at the earliest and see 'Just My Luck'. I have already cleared a lot of space after deleting those I have watched last week and I am hoping to get a new 'lot'. I have developed new tastes and likes. In fact I have even found a name which I can say when asked about my favourite actress! I had never imagined myself coming to this kind of liking - I had always felt proud for not having such kind of likes. But I am fine with it now.

One

We are not courting, Kate. If we were, as a man of honour, I would have informed you of my intentions in writing.
-Leopold, Kate And Leopold

It's one year since the death of my grandfather. It was 20th of January, a Saturday. Though we have moved on, there is nothing really that tastes good when I go to his house to meet my grandmother. I might never be able to get over his loss. I might just remain normal. The pain I saw from his death was more than all the pain I saw in my life yet. It was slow and it was terrible. Crying couldn't define it - it's too small an emotion. A few tears moisten the eyes every now-and-then. And things continue. I have no courage and strength to visit his grave.

On Saturday I was at my grandmother's house play cricket with my uncle and brother inside the house's compound when I raised my right hand to throw the ball at my uncle who was batting at the other end of the narrow veranda. I did the raising with considerable force and the old tin sheet sheltering the small room behind the place I was standing chipped of a piece of my skin. I felt immediate pain. The first glance showed only a white but deep spot on my middle finger and I thought it was my bone. Then blood appeared as if seeping out through the spores of a think white paper from beneath; as if writing on that paper that it was not bone; as if the whole was being written at once from below the surface; then, as if the whole paper was blotted in red - a color appearing from beneath.

I ran to the nearby tap and held my hand under a gushing flow of water. My other hand of hitting the air in jerks as if that was going to reduce the pain and burning. My feet were tapping to let the earth know that I was facing all the pain in the world. My brother was laughing at me and my uncle had a bottle of spirit with him by then. I refused the treatment for I knew it would bring tears to my eyes. I considered using some bandage. I reminded myself of the packet of tissues lying on a table back home as I used cotton to wipe of the oozing blood. 10 minutes later I was batting and hitting the ball as hard as possible.

All the while I was batting, I was afraid of getting hurt again. I was turning away from rising balls and moving my head back whenever the ball spun more than expected. The rubber ball touched the wound twice but I was by the used to the sensation. My brother had a mischievous intentioned in his eyes when I saw him telling my mother that I should take a tetanus injection. His face looked concerned but his eyes were laughing at me. I somehow escaped the injection thing.

The movies I watched after the last post were 'A Walk To Remember' and 'Kate And Leopold'. I also watched a part of 'Godfather'. 'A Walk To Remember' made me cry. That was for the first time a movie made me cry. I had tears even after it was over. It always makes me feel refined and mentally clean after I spend time in seriousness and tears and then something enlightens me and makes everything look beautiful. I had a similar thing in the evening too after I reached home from my friends' birthday party. I also wanted to spend some time with my parents, but that didn't happen. I tried to take a nap but that too was disturbed. But there are wonderful people all around me. I just have to talk to them and everything becomes great and back to normal.