OF HOT CROSS BUNS AND DOOMSDAY

There are those songs we listened to as kids and grew up to find them completely not the hot cross buns sorts(hahahahahaa) that we should have linked to childhood. I find myself confused as to why and how did my parents not revolt to my obviously promiscuous taste in music even as I was all of 25 inches( i know what you're thinking). Then there was the cartoon network and that episode on power puff girls when everyone turned into cats and finally when they save the world by turning everyone back to humans the mayor is licking a cat's kitty. The more I think back the more I find content that could have been hilarious if I was an adult but I wasn't- and I never thought the mayor was a horny guy. Now I'm all of 68 inches(now you know better) and my brain finds amusement in innocuous men holding hands on the pavement. Dirty is the new favorite word in my brain and mostly everything makes sense with that being the logic. Maybe the origin to this development stems from these affectations that I was afflicted with as a kid but that's a discussion for another time. I'm going to post my musical timeline that are identifiers to the different times I was a part of and you can laugh with me if you felt the same damn way.  In fact, post your favorite tunes and obviously corresponding inches in case you want to feel stupid happy.

Infancy
Ya of course I remember that song. Mama's loudest decibel point and it was the same with you. I am surprised we  mostly come out with decent hearing. Hmmm actually maybe we all had that expendable ears range but that screaming deafened us and leaves us as mere mortals :( Now we can't be Goerge or Fred Weasley.

25 inches
Boom Boom Boom,
I want you in my room
gonna spend the night together
together in my room.
Don't you lie to me, I know you loved that one too. I still don't know what to say. I loved everything sweet, boys traded scratches with me and I thought one day i'd fly on a cow to Pluto.

40 inches
Backstreet Boys. Blue eyes was my drug then and I dreamt of shipping off to the U.S. and marrying Nick. I can't believe i'm owning up to it. But well, every other boy smelled strange, I wore two plaids and my favorite instrument was my cool merry- go- round sharpener.

58 inches
Now it was time to finally grow up and I certainly did. System of a down and Slipknot teamed with some harmless vandalism helped make me feel normal and calmed me down. I could rap to Chopsuey with a sort of vigour the bloody nazis would never know since they already were grown men and I bet they had a nagging suspicion about Hitler( I'm guessing because of his choice of moustache and general fashion sense)

68 inches
This is Class 10 by the way-and i haven't grown since :/ I remember watching my juniors in school singing Avril's girlfriend tune to death and I was a little obsessed with mass murders due to this. Think about it- What is the most creative way to kill 10 or 12 class 6 girls and be called generous. I never found the answer- i mostly thought of stilettos but that's coz i couldn't walk in them without feeling slightly suicidal. Anyway I already had a couple of crushes, I belonged to ze coolest band- Deranged Angst and I wondered what my identity was and if this life meant anything- yup teens! I guess i am a late bloomer. Evanescence rocked my world and I could fake sing in my Amy Lee falsetto pretty well.

68 inches, 50 kgs
This is college and Stephens allowed me to sink my teeth into the world music scene and suddenly Porcupine Tree, Brahms, Jacqueline du pre, Sigur Ros, and the like became my retreat from bad days and that was mostly everyday. I had realized that now you had to study to score a 70  percent and that never sat too well on me. So I found my space, the delhi free bird. That entailed being a slacker; albeit a bindi wearing, cool music peddling, Murakami reading snob.

Now i'm 58 kgs and well I listen to all music including Katy Perry on that day when I know there will be more days. Right now i'm wondering about the future of mankind and that's why i went back to my childhood and the answer was clear- it's Rebecca Black and her groupies taking it over- Doomsday is close. We had Vengaboys and well ignore the lyrics but they had a good tune. Now it's hot problems (people please listen to it if you haven't because education is best off google- it's free!) and most music involves no real instrument (read edm, trance, dark dub step- dammit there are too many genres).
What I wonder is that will my kids be singing to 99 different orgy styles and will their Prince Charming be a Delhi boy. Oh I hate those deodrant stinking amplifier listening tight tee wearing breed. But that's coz I grooved to Celine Dion too.

I think my father did it for me with his Deep Purple records and evening guitar strumming sessions.  Now I breathe air and I listen to music. What am i listening to right now?
Zara Zara Behekta Hain from RHTDM but in my defense that's not an everyday thing- I'm feeling sentimental and i don't trust men.

THE CONSTIPATION REMEDY

Hola,

I saw my friend looking up the astrology section of the sunday newspaper hoping to find a divine solution to her love-woes-Domestic disputes are likely to afflict you and tact and calm can help you tide through these times. Well, I think it makes for a good joke and i'm sure Ganesha and venus and Madonna would enjoy this over some green tea. Most of us like to imagine that there is an external explanation to the shit we are in and sometimes you might be right but the truth I believe is that you brought it on yourself. You decided to join a medical school, go for auditions everyday, sleepwalk to the nearest garbage truck and maybe, god forbid, make choices to be happy. The What to do to be happy being the most difficult decision. Now that road is filled with unpaid bills, cheap food, and unemployment. We are here this one time for sure and you don't know if you're coming back-maybe as an Antelope but that doesn't count ever. You never chose your parents, sure you raced but that race was rigged and you made it through your pushy/sweet/understanding/cruel/bad-breathed/awesome mother with your father looking down at your closed eyes deciding where would she/he fit. Indeed your infant bones show promise so you become a cricketer or your head is slightly larger so you're obviously finding the 4th law of motion.  Whatever is your deformity is your parent's hope for a slightly better future for you. But have we once sat and thought about who do we want to be exactly and found the answer? Mostly we know what we don't want to be but beyond that it's a nice cozy hole reserved for your dreams and you forget all about it when you wake up to your alarm to rush to college.

Now this is what I think is important.

Smiling a lot. And cracking bad jokes. Chances are your jokes will get better and more people will smile.
Do what you like. If you like writing then write. If not a 1000 page novel then at least a damn blog and don't write once a year. That doesn't count(yep that's for me)
Make some good friends who'll keep you sane through the race that never ended.
Don't hurt other people-you'll only hurt yourself-if you manage to live beyond 50. Regrets stem from decisions you made and not the ones others made for you.
Don't hurt yourself.
And those choices to be successful/rich/famous, throw them out the window wrapped in expensive toilet paper.

Now you think you don't really know what you want but the truth is there is something you always enjoyed doing and chances you'd have been damn good at it but you never tried. Now you're stuck in college doing a course in advanced zoology but for you these guys look best on a plate dead. You're in for a bad year so you go to that store and buy yourself a guitar and strum your hunger away. Whatever it is you like invest some time in them. You definitely won't regret it and maybe you'll even make the G3 tour. But if you don't it still doesn't matter.

I'm not preaching. I have friends who told me to drink water since i'm always constipated and it worked. So i'm telling you what I know. I have my guitar, I sing loudly in the shower, paint my walls and write my blog every two weeks. And I know what I want most-   giddy lightness.

who we are and why we are

Are you a boy and you wonder why women are strange?
what are our motivations, when are we being honest and why do we automatically hate most women without even having a chat with them to figure that they wear the wrong kind of shoes?

Women we are- tempestuous we are, beautiful we are, mysterious we are, neurotic we are but more than anything else- we are confused.

 In a time when the glass ceiling has been shattered, unisex is fashionable and the kitchen is frowned upon where do we fit in? What is our identity?
 Am i the Crippled Housewife or am i the Corporate Hedgehog?
 In a time when we compete with men, when reservations in one prestigious institution (st. stephens college, new delhi) are seemingly for men and when women choose lesser children and a bigger paycheque what exactly are we?
Are we the evolved?

Is this the identity of evolution? buying into the world of consumerism and fueling an ever more disillusioned middle class and finding yourself questioning empathy and companionship. It isn't discriminatory of me to state the fact that good looks are an important determinant in your job chances or that uniqueness is a successful stamp on your resume. But what of identity? Does Simone De Beauvoir boast of the second sex as coming of age now or is she worried she may have pointed all our dreams into a sort of competitive nightmare. Competition has crippled us! The need to be the best, this theory extends to all realms of a philosophy that doesn't soothe or satiate irritable questions. It is merely a way to build a bridge over our own mind's abyss- one fueled with meaningless conquests and noise.

Medusa was punished for loving the wrong man and who did we err against? is it our own nature? What is the truth to us and our essence? I believe the answer in a round-about way would be to gauge our faculty of precocious-ness! where do we triumph and where do we falter? We are mothers, lovers, sisters, friends, daughters, goddesses. we aren't machines, and we aren't workers or owners, we are more. And in this time of misplaced greed we are lost to a world hoping to find us our true place.

 Just because plants can't scream are vegetarians to feel more humane? As a girl becoming a woman i find it easy to make friends, easy to love others, but i also find it easy to bitch. and its too much fun. What i don't consider in my attitude is this branding, this judgement has painted that person's personality for A VERY LONG TIME because it isn't hard to find someone like me- i am you and so many more around. Unity is a troublesome word- the nazis used it to bring about death and misery, countries use it to resolve threats against sovereignty and us the women we mostly lack it. We are our vaginas, we are our breasts and we are our minds and hearts. However we mostly see all of these elements are somewhat disaggregated and separate units and that is the failing is it? If so lets see each other for all of that and then see the clothes on our naked bodies. Lets just try and get along together because i'm tired of pretending that i enjoy my independence. I need love. I want to grow to become a human being- not just a consumer, not just successful, but a less confused woman.

And i don't have the answers, just too many questions.

Pappa and me

                                                                                                                            

Living away from home in some fancy metropolitan city can have its share of promises and disappointments but most evident in this experience is the universal phenomenon of citing allowance requirements at the beginning of the month. Well, if you are a student or a struggling writer- director- actor- scientist- humanitarian- freedom fighter- barber.

This phenomenon is best related to a sort of timeline whereby your relationship with your dad changes with the number of days closing in on payday.  Since I’ll be providing my own views w.r.t. the subject matter you could choose to ignore the incongruities and make a nice little chart for yourself. The idea behind this exercise is to ascertain what you consider your dad to be from the folllowing:

1)     1)   An A.T.M.

2)     2)   An A.T.M. and idiot.

3)     3)   An A.T.M. and friend.

4)     4)   An A.T.M.  and inarticulate detective- of- sorts (if you’re a daughter).

5)      5)  A reluctant A.T.M. and mentor.

6)     6)    A mentor. ( I don’t believe you)

1^st   2^nd 3^rd 4^th or 5^th day of month

You call you father and

1)      1) Tell him directly that it’s payday.

2)      2) Tell him you love him and that it’s payday.

3)      3) Tell him you’re sorry for last month’s expenses and some more and that it’s payday.

4)      4)  He asks you about what you did last night.

5)      5) Tell him that it’s payday and listen for a while about how consumerism is the enemy.

6)      6) Tell him you love him. ( I don’t believe you)

6^th 7^th 8^th 9^th 10^th day of month

He calls you and

1)      1)   You don’t pick up.

2)      2)   You don’t pick up.

3)      3)   You pick up and tell him about how you couldn’t wake up for class ad if he could wake you up tomorrow.

4)      4)   Asks you about your friends w ho you mention are all girls and he tries to ask if you still don’t have any boyfriend.

5)      5)   Tells you how advertising is the enemy.

6)      6)   You tell him about how you are so close to finding a formula for eradicating poverty. ( see that’s why I do NOT believe you)

11^th - 20^th days of the month

He calls you and

1)      1)  You tell him you’re going for a trip to Goa and so it’s time for that travel allowance.

2)      2)  You tell him you love him and that the educational trip this month is to Goa so you need money.

3)      3)  You chat about the dog and how your college professors are incompetent idiots.

4)      4)   He tries to ask you if it’s safe outside at night and you tell him you wouldn’t know.

5)      5)  Tells you how the middle class suffers under the burden of capitalism.

6)      6)   I don’t care.

20^th -25^th days of the month

He calls you and

1)      1)  You tell him there are sales in Zara and its perfect time to use the credit card cashback schemes.

2)      2)   You tell him someone stole a suitcase filled with your clothes while you were washing dishes and so you         need money to buy a camera to make sure it doesn’t happen again.

3)      3)  You chat about the dog and you ask him if he can send some money since there’s sale going on.

4)      4)  You dodge questions barely managing to ask him if he could send some money since there’s sale going on.

5)      5)  You decide not to mention the sale.

25^th – 30^th the month is ending!!

You call him and

1)      1)   Tell him you’re broke.

2)      2)   Tell him how much you miss him all the time and that you are broke.

3)      3)    Tell him you are short on attendance so he has to hide the letter from college so that mom doesn’t see it.

4)      4)   Tell him you are a lesbian just to fuck with his head.

5)      5)   Tell him to read Ayn Rand.

I’ m pretty sure -if you aren’t a complete idiot that is- you’ve figured out exactly what you consider  your dad to be. Don’t get me wrong- I completely believe in the relationship a child shares with their father to be full of love and fond memories but it is one of a long duration. Complacency and convenient arrangements are always more realistic in the long way.  And don’t forget the argument for altruism- personally  I don’t fancy old age homes much.

schadenfreude

No I am not exactly fond of largely misunderstood words or worse, obscure words… I just realized why I never read newspapers and therefore I decided to write this entry. Do you realize why yellow journalism arrived? It’s simple really– there was a demand for it. People relied on the cable t.v. to wash over their hapless existence in a largely consumerist world, people then saw some people reaching those heights– Their homes and their world became our Elysian fields. What did participation in capitalism guarantee? A beautiful home, well educated meritocratic friends, a host of likeable hobbies, a short marriage but more importantly a dull rage aimed at those Elysian heroes. Do you think you are exempted from this behavior– most likely not! When you read your morning newspaper do people interest pieces draw your attention along with the usual slew of murders, government budget shortcomings and industrial scams– do you like to flip through the Delhi times? Soon this habit becomes more than curiosity and you become an avid reader of gossip articles (well if you don’t I congratulate you sincerely but I suppose you don’t go to the movies either) and well a sort of semi celebrity stalker. I do it in a modest capacity simply because I chose to completely forgo of the newspaper in its entirety. It isn’t exactly an achievement since my unlimited internet connection necessitates virtual stalking opportunities every time I log in and well I am guilty of the charge. People follow celebrities and their lives, become their biggest fans and for what? Well among other reasons there is the phenomenon of schadenfreude. It is that feeling that we indulge in when we take pleasure in someone else’s pain; it is almost subconsciously driven. It is only appropriate that the Germans invented the word and they did! Schadenfreude isn’t a terrible phenomenon in the sense that you do not glom onto others’ misfortunes but that it perversely fuels the oxytocin hormone which provides pleasant reception. The perfect example is a person’s reaction to pathos– listening to Beethoven or reading Romeo and Juliet or watching Titanic… after the initial tears there is an overwhelming intensity that fills any person which is pleasant. That is schadenfreude at work. Now what do newspapers have in common with this word? Celebrities and their misfortunes either through a break up or court cases found on the infamous page 3! I figured out that we engage in schadenfreude most frequently with regard to celebrities mainly because they are those Elysian heroes we fear, envy, despise and need. They are that dream every middle class family, every slumlord, every barber ascribe to– they fill that neat hole in a life made comfortable with machinations but missing meaning. Do I really care that this is absolutely belittling?

                                                                                                                           

dejavu

Did this word sound magical to you?
Mysterious much?
It did to me before I looked it up in Google. Now I know it’s just an undesirable electrical discharge from our brain. There are several explanations as to why this phenomenon occurs- leave it to us Homo sapiens to find reason- and all of them concur on it being SOME sort of mental anomaly purely related to our bodily functions. I have had several experiences of déjà vu and each time, the uncanny nature of it has propelled me towards a sort of hope. This hope springs from the disappointment of my ephemeral lack of faith in the mystic. This condition is disturbing since it manifests itself in oscillating periods of supernatural strength and alternately despair and a deep dark festering sore( add as many more synonyms as you can) of cynicism. Every time I experienced déjà vu, my companions and I felt a mutual tug of hope, a surrender of rationality, a transient hope- at least I like to think that-that maybe there is something more to our existence than science that perpetuates a comfort; something mysterious and something more beautiful than the sky; a collection of consciousness, the possibility of afterlife. The possibility of heaven. I just found the roots of the word déjà vu and am once again thwarted in my quest of finding meaning. I would like to believe that déjà vu means divine intervention or the hidden path BUT just as I know today that Jesus was an extraordinarily great man and not THE only son of god, déjà-vu means already seen. This is especially annoying to my sensibility since I liken already seen as the typical condescending attitude we Homo sapiens would hold up to any word of mystical dimensions by withholding the right of any mysticism to its credit. Giving it the garb of the most scientific and simple word doesn’t however take anything away from its mysticism. My only consolations to the Frenchwoman who can never confuse déjà vu with mysticism; to the rest of us déjà vu still holds a special place. Today I hope to find an unexplainable coincidence which I would call a miracle. What do you hold dear? Your life and its comfort or its meaning?

Today I choose sentimentality