It has been a while since I have blogged, and for once, the lack of a good topic was not the reason. It was more due to the research all those topics entailed. I finally decided to bow down to my lazy side, and write about something silly, again. It was time to put pen to paper (virtually), when I realised I have not written for three months now. (On the other hand, I have been reading a lot, which I think is justification enough for not writing!)
Anyway, so since July this year, I have been taking my health and fitness pretty seriously, and to the same effect and more, I decided that (finally) it was time for me to learn to swim, with it being a necessary life-saving skill and all that jazz. And to avoid future potentially embarrassing moments of me yelling, "Help, help, I'm drowning", even when I could pretty much feel the bottom of the river bed. If my memory serves me right, my mother did try to coerce me into learning to swim when I was about five. That episode didn't end too well. From what I remember, I didn't take too kindly to the instructor yelling, "This is the best way to learn to swim", while picking me up and throwing me into the swimming pool I wonder why. Agreed, that may be a technique that has been proven right more than once, but what ever happened to the concept of learning at your own pace?
That was followed by another incident, which my cousins still think was extremely hilarious (no, I am not laughing), where they took me to the deep end of the pool, on the pretext of teaching the twelve year old me to swim, and left me there. (I would add 'to drown', to up the melodrama, but I refrain.) To their credit, they reacted fairly quickly when I started sinking like a stone (no allusion to my weight), and no permanent damage was done, apart from the fact that I gave up any effort to learn to swim. (This does not include amateurish attempts to be be "coached" by my friends, and believe me, I use the term 'coached' very loosely!)
When I turned twenty-five this year (urgh!), I decided I needed to do something remotely risky, and hence signed up for swimming classes at the local Y. (Don't snigger, all you Michael Phelpss out there.) To be stupidly honest, I had always harbored this dream that I'd be a natural swimmer, and it was just a matter of time, and that I just needed to learn how to swim and then I'd be unstoppable. My mom did giggle (quite uncontrollably at that) when she heard this. (On the other hand, the thought that if I WAS a natural, I'd take to swimming like a fish in water, quite literally, didn't really strike me.)
So, I turned up for the first class, armed with brand new gear, all set to conquer this seemingly insurmountable task. To be honest, I am not really scared of water, well, at least not when I am three and half feet deep in it, so to start with I was quite comfortable. Task one was learning to kick, with the help of a kick-stick, which again I did fairly easily. Class one went by in a breeze, lots of kicking and paddling, to acquaint us with the feeling of "being in water", according to my instructor. I went home feeling quite proud of how well I'd done, and reinforcing the fact that it was a matter of weeks, nay, days, and I'd be unstoppable.
I went to class the next week feeling quite confident about my capability to learn to swim. One look at my instructor's grin (it must be my imagination, but it looked quite evil!) and I felt that fading away. The kicksticks were nowhere in sight, and frantic visual searching didn't help in finding them either. The instructor rattled on about muscle memory and breathing techniques, while I silently prayed to the swimming gods to not let me drown. The first half of the class wasn't too bad. Although I didn't think I could, I could breathe underwater quite easily and that helped regain some of my lost confidence. The battle was half won, perhaps? But when that evil man told us we'd have to try "swimming" (sans any floatation device), I felt the knot settle in the pit of my stomach again. While the others tried, and I waited my turn, I mentally practiced everything I'd learnt. When he pointed at me, for few seconds I pretended that I couldn't see him do so. When it didn't work, I took a deep breath and plunged in and started flapping like a maniac. I think I made it half way across (mostly due to the momentum of kicking off from the wall) before I felt my body sinking, along with my Michael Phelps-esque hopes. I somehow remembered to continue breathing out and tried to recollect concepts of buoyancy from Physics lectures attended long, long ago, but couldn't. I felt my foot touch the bottom of the three and half foot deep pool and remembered that I wasn't in the middle of the ocean, and stood up with alarming speed, even as I could hear my instructor telling me not to stop. I walked back to my starting position, and my instructor assured me that everything was fine, and that everyone learnt at their own pace. And so ended class two of my endeavor to learn to swim.
Week three and four weren't too bad, with my beloved kickstick making appearances again, giving me some relief. By week 5, I could actually make it half way across the pool, without any fear of dying. It was quite exhilarating to know that all the distance covered was actually due to my effort and not the kickstick just floating and hence pulling me along. I understood, partially, why people who love swimming love it so. I still haven't developed any real love for it, but I think I am getting there. The progress, albeit slow, encouraged me to sign up for another 6 weeks of training. I am on week two now (which I'll have to miss due to a sprained shoulder), and I am quite psyched about it. I can't wait to learn to swim like a pro. All my scuba-diving and snorkeling plans are already being chalked out. I'll keep you posted...
PS: Next week we progress to the actual lap-lanes from the kiddie pools. Boy, am I excited! Maybe...
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Nokia 1100, who?
Time: 3:30 a.m.
State of mind: I'm awake!
Reason: The guy in the apartment above mine thinks its a good idea to stomp his feet while getting around his apartment.
I rub my eyes groggily, and realise I could do with a drink of water. After some more eye-rubbing, the first thing I do is involuntarily reach for my iPhone, and check each notification, and all this is before one actual coherent thought has passed through my mind. As my mind wakes up, I process each displayed message, and I reply as I sleepily shuffle to the kitchen. Sound familiar? Welcome to the age of smartphones.
Time: 10 a.m.
State of mind: Busy. Very busy.
As I sit at my office desk, with an Excel sheet filled with numbers that will take forever to analyse, I sneak a peak at my iPhone. Zero notifications. I sigh and shift my attention back to the numbers. Two minutes pass. I sneak another peak...you know, just in case. Absolutely nothing has changed. Just to make sure, I open all the individual apps, thinking how come no one has messaged me in over an hour. And, now that I am anyway distracted might as well try beating my high score at Temple Run. Before I know it, I have failed unsuccessfully multiple times, and it is 11 a.m. What? Where did that one hour go?
Time: 2 p.m.
State of mind: Bored enough to start knitting a quilt.
The numbers have been analysed, and I tap impatiently wondering what is taking everyone so long to reply to messages sent hours ago. The screen lights up, and my fingers won't fly fast enough on the tiny touchscreen keyboard of my iPhone to keep up with the multiple message threads on various apps, iMessage, Whatsapp, Facebook, Gtalk, you name it. And of course, playing some random games as I wait for the next reply. Post-lunch is the best time to catch up with people, all over the world. Soon, it's time to head home, and I have had a relatively unproductive day at work, save those two hours I spent working...the bane of the smartphone age.
Time: 7:30 p.m.
I finally use my phone for the reason it was invented, as a phone, talking to my mum, and as she goes off on a tangent, I plug in my headphones, and continue my hmms, and quickly delete the emails I don't need, play Temple Run one more time, reply to a couple of messages, 'Instagram' a few photos, and download a few apps I have been meaning to...and then she wonders why I sound distracted.
Time: Who cares? It's sleep time!
I quickly reply to a few more messages, a quick round of Fruit Ninja, set multiple alarms, set a few reminders about people I need to call, calculate money spent this week, make a list of things to get from Walmart, scour Amazon to see if the lens I want is back in stock and finally set the iPhone aside. I switch off the lights and lay in bed, trying to will myself to sleep. But then, I can't help but sneak a look at my iPhone, just to see if anything new happened on one of the groups on Whatsapp. A few more quick replies, and I chide myself on my obsession and keep it aside again, only to know that the vicious cycle is unending. Sigh.
So, there is an insight into a typical (and unproductive) day of someone who is a "smartphone addict". And, I haven't even mentioned all the other times I use my iPhone to browse the Internet, randomly check the weather, catch up on the news headlines on CNN, stalk someone on Facebook, look up a few good deals, and other such idiosyncratic instances.
When Vivek suggested writing about the smartphone addiction that seems to be taking over the world, I scratched my head at first, thinking about the actual statistics. A quick Google search (yes, I am crippled without technology!) told me what I wanted to know. Only 20% of all the phones in the world are smartphones (about 30 percent of all phones are smartphones in the US), or at least classified as "smartphones", but the more interesting statistic is that 89% of smartphone users admit to using their phones throughout the day. That gives me some relief; I am not completely alone! Sometimes, I wonder what we did when texts were limited to 140 characters (for the fear of overage...no one wanted to pay the extra 25 paise for just one word!), smileys were weird combinations of symbols and letters, and the only music your phone could play were irritating 'filmy' monotone ring tones, and when the only real purpose of a cell phone was to call and text (oh, and play Snake!). I remember being jealous when a friend bought a new Nokia phone with a color display! And although, some times I miss having a good ol' sturdy Nokia, using which I could text blindfolded, I know how incomplete I'd feel without my iPhone. My phone doubles up as a music player, a GPS, a camera, my weatherman, restaurant finder, alarm clock, apart from countless other uses. The irony is I used to scoff at people who spent half their waking time looking at their smartphones. The dark side beckoned and I am one of them now! But it's true...as technology progresses, with better user interfaces, newer apps, smaller, sleeker phones being introduced, it is a little difficult to escape the glitz of the smartphone world.
So, how do you recognize one of us? It really isn't that difficult. Does the person in question:
1. Look randomly at his/her phone even if the screen is still dark, every ten minutes or less?
2. Invent and use verbs like instagrammed, whatsapped, yelped, four-squared, in everyday talk
3. Seem to look down at his/her hands (especially when at a table) even when you are talking? (Another possibility here is that you are plain boring. I'll give you the benefit of doubt)
4. Smile for no apparent reason, especially while looking at their hands? (trust me, they are laughing at message/joke they just received)
5. Use trains/buses/cars instead of travelling by air to avoid the time his/her phone needs to be switched off?
6. Seem beady-eyed and distant, when they switch off their cell phones, if traveling by air?
7. Reply to your messages even when you know they are in the bathroom?
8. Check their phone as they brush their teeth, comb their hair, and maybe even as they have a bath?
9. Justify their checking their phone so often by claiming they are expecting "important, work related e-mails", even though they are a part of the lowest tier of their organization's hierarchy?
10. Carry their phone charger wherever they go, even if just to the grocery store, just to be sure their phone doesn't die on them?
If you answered yes to 7 or more of these questions then the person in question is most definitely addicted to his/her smartphone. (Also, you can tell me if it's you, I promise not to tell anyone!).
I wish I could say it's all good. There are definite pitfalls of the speed at which this smartphone fever is spreading. Earlier, a smart ass could be just that...a smart ass; random comments that sound mildly intelligent, and no one would call him on it. Now, after even a slightly dubious sounding statement, you have someone ready to prove him wrong, courtesy mobile wikipedia! Earlier, you could convince your friends to go to your favorite restaurant even if you were the only people who would be eating there. Now, no one steps into a restaurant before thoroughly researching reviews and menus on Yelp, Four Square and other such apps. Earlier, on a car trip, the person with the lone iPod was king. Now, everyone thinks they are A.R. Rahman, and have their own exclusive playlists that they want to listen to. (believe me, this leads to a lot of disagreements!)
Statistics show that people use their smartphones the most for texting. I can see how that is true, proven easily by the sheer volume of messages I have exchanged with friends. And, now that I think about it, more than a smartphone addiction, it's a cell phone addiction. Very often I see teens, not more than 16 years of age, furiously texting on a phone that looks like it survived the apocalypse. As long as it serves its purpose, they are content. Not a care in the world, they text as they walk, as they drive, as they eat, even as they (almost) sleep. (Again, I am one to talk!) Technology truly is taking over the world. I was shocked when a friend mentioned that his three year old nephew wants an iPad. When I was three, I was content with some huge plastic building blocks. But then, I also see my friends stare at me like I'm insane, when I laugh out loud on seeing a text, or exclaim loudly on losing a point, not really caring for social manners. So, whether you own a smartphone or not, whether you are an addict or not, we are soon coming to get you. It's inevitable.
P.S: Interesting set of statistics... [http://ansonalex.com/infographics/smartphone-usage-statistics-2012-infographic/]
State of mind: I'm awake!
Reason: The guy in the apartment above mine thinks its a good idea to stomp his feet while getting around his apartment.
I rub my eyes groggily, and realise I could do with a drink of water. After some more eye-rubbing, the first thing I do is involuntarily reach for my iPhone, and check each notification, and all this is before one actual coherent thought has passed through my mind. As my mind wakes up, I process each displayed message, and I reply as I sleepily shuffle to the kitchen. Sound familiar? Welcome to the age of smartphones.
Time: 10 a.m.
State of mind: Busy. Very busy.
As I sit at my office desk, with an Excel sheet filled with numbers that will take forever to analyse, I sneak a peak at my iPhone. Zero notifications. I sigh and shift my attention back to the numbers. Two minutes pass. I sneak another peak...you know, just in case. Absolutely nothing has changed. Just to make sure, I open all the individual apps, thinking how come no one has messaged me in over an hour. And, now that I am anyway distracted might as well try beating my high score at Temple Run. Before I know it, I have failed unsuccessfully multiple times, and it is 11 a.m. What? Where did that one hour go?
Time: 2 p.m.
State of mind: Bored enough to start knitting a quilt.
The numbers have been analysed, and I tap impatiently wondering what is taking everyone so long to reply to messages sent hours ago. The screen lights up, and my fingers won't fly fast enough on the tiny touchscreen keyboard of my iPhone to keep up with the multiple message threads on various apps, iMessage, Whatsapp, Facebook, Gtalk, you name it. And of course, playing some random games as I wait for the next reply. Post-lunch is the best time to catch up with people, all over the world. Soon, it's time to head home, and I have had a relatively unproductive day at work, save those two hours I spent working...the bane of the smartphone age.
Time: 7:30 p.m.
I finally use my phone for the reason it was invented, as a phone, talking to my mum, and as she goes off on a tangent, I plug in my headphones, and continue my hmms, and quickly delete the emails I don't need, play Temple Run one more time, reply to a couple of messages, 'Instagram' a few photos, and download a few apps I have been meaning to...and then she wonders why I sound distracted.
Time: Who cares? It's sleep time!
I quickly reply to a few more messages, a quick round of Fruit Ninja, set multiple alarms, set a few reminders about people I need to call, calculate money spent this week, make a list of things to get from Walmart, scour Amazon to see if the lens I want is back in stock and finally set the iPhone aside. I switch off the lights and lay in bed, trying to will myself to sleep. But then, I can't help but sneak a look at my iPhone, just to see if anything new happened on one of the groups on Whatsapp. A few more quick replies, and I chide myself on my obsession and keep it aside again, only to know that the vicious cycle is unending. Sigh.
So, there is an insight into a typical (and unproductive) day of someone who is a "smartphone addict". And, I haven't even mentioned all the other times I use my iPhone to browse the Internet, randomly check the weather, catch up on the news headlines on CNN, stalk someone on Facebook, look up a few good deals, and other such idiosyncratic instances.
When Vivek suggested writing about the smartphone addiction that seems to be taking over the world, I scratched my head at first, thinking about the actual statistics. A quick Google search (yes, I am crippled without technology!) told me what I wanted to know. Only 20% of all the phones in the world are smartphones (about 30 percent of all phones are smartphones in the US), or at least classified as "smartphones", but the more interesting statistic is that 89% of smartphone users admit to using their phones throughout the day. That gives me some relief; I am not completely alone! Sometimes, I wonder what we did when texts were limited to 140 characters (for the fear of overage...no one wanted to pay the extra 25 paise for just one word!), smileys were weird combinations of symbols and letters, and the only music your phone could play were irritating 'filmy' monotone ring tones, and when the only real purpose of a cell phone was to call and text (oh, and play Snake!). I remember being jealous when a friend bought a new Nokia phone with a color display! And although, some times I miss having a good ol' sturdy Nokia, using which I could text blindfolded, I know how incomplete I'd feel without my iPhone. My phone doubles up as a music player, a GPS, a camera, my weatherman, restaurant finder, alarm clock, apart from countless other uses. The irony is I used to scoff at people who spent half their waking time looking at their smartphones. The dark side beckoned and I am one of them now! But it's true...as technology progresses, with better user interfaces, newer apps, smaller, sleeker phones being introduced, it is a little difficult to escape the glitz of the smartphone world.
So, how do you recognize one of us? It really isn't that difficult. Does the person in question:
1. Look randomly at his/her phone even if the screen is still dark, every ten minutes or less?
2. Invent and use verbs like instagrammed, whatsapped, yelped, four-squared, in everyday talk
3. Seem to look down at his/her hands (especially when at a table) even when you are talking? (Another possibility here is that you are plain boring. I'll give you the benefit of doubt)
4. Smile for no apparent reason, especially while looking at their hands? (trust me, they are laughing at message/joke they just received)
5. Use trains/buses/cars instead of travelling by air to avoid the time his/her phone needs to be switched off?
6. Seem beady-eyed and distant, when they switch off their cell phones, if traveling by air?
7. Reply to your messages even when you know they are in the bathroom?
8. Check their phone as they brush their teeth, comb their hair, and maybe even as they have a bath?
9. Justify their checking their phone so often by claiming they are expecting "important, work related e-mails", even though they are a part of the lowest tier of their organization's hierarchy?
10. Carry their phone charger wherever they go, even if just to the grocery store, just to be sure their phone doesn't die on them?
If you answered yes to 7 or more of these questions then the person in question is most definitely addicted to his/her smartphone. (Also, you can tell me if it's you, I promise not to tell anyone!).
I wish I could say it's all good. There are definite pitfalls of the speed at which this smartphone fever is spreading. Earlier, a smart ass could be just that...a smart ass; random comments that sound mildly intelligent, and no one would call him on it. Now, after even a slightly dubious sounding statement, you have someone ready to prove him wrong, courtesy mobile wikipedia! Earlier, you could convince your friends to go to your favorite restaurant even if you were the only people who would be eating there. Now, no one steps into a restaurant before thoroughly researching reviews and menus on Yelp, Four Square and other such apps. Earlier, on a car trip, the person with the lone iPod was king. Now, everyone thinks they are A.R. Rahman, and have their own exclusive playlists that they want to listen to. (believe me, this leads to a lot of disagreements!)
Statistics show that people use their smartphones the most for texting. I can see how that is true, proven easily by the sheer volume of messages I have exchanged with friends. And, now that I think about it, more than a smartphone addiction, it's a cell phone addiction. Very often I see teens, not more than 16 years of age, furiously texting on a phone that looks like it survived the apocalypse. As long as it serves its purpose, they are content. Not a care in the world, they text as they walk, as they drive, as they eat, even as they (almost) sleep. (Again, I am one to talk!) Technology truly is taking over the world. I was shocked when a friend mentioned that his three year old nephew wants an iPad. When I was three, I was content with some huge plastic building blocks. But then, I also see my friends stare at me like I'm insane, when I laugh out loud on seeing a text, or exclaim loudly on losing a point, not really caring for social manners. So, whether you own a smartphone or not, whether you are an addict or not, we are soon coming to get you. It's inevitable.
P.S: Interesting set of statistics... [http://ansonalex.com/infographics/smartphone-usage-statistics-2012-infographic/]
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
An open letter to Bill Watterson
Disclaimer: All views in this letter are solely mine. Mr. Watterson might have influenced each of you in a different way, and I'd love to hear how! This is something I have been meaning to write about for a while, but never really got around to doing. I hope I do justice to my favorite comic strip of all time! I would have liked to write more, but words were hard to find to describe the wonderful strip that he created.
Dear Mr. Watterson,
I don't profess to be your greatest fan, nor do I claim that, like some, I can recite each and every Calvin strip from memory. I can't even say that I have read the entire collection tens of thousands of times, or that your strip changed my life irrevocably. What I can say is this; 'Calvin and Hobbes' makes my life a little brighter each day. What I can claim is that I have read the whole collection at least once, if not multiple times, and some strips made me laugh more than the others, and those are the ones I can recite from memory. This letter serves no purpose, other than to affirm my profound respect for you and your genius.
'Genius?', you may ask. To you genius may be the simply drawn lines of Charles Schultz's 'Peanuts', admiration of which you have oft admitted to, or the humor in Walt Kelly's 'Pogo', but to me, any person who can make both a child of six and a grandmother, all of eighty, and anyone in between those two age groups laugh, has to be a genius, and for that I admire you. Many people I know, and many cartoonists, whose interviews I have read, do not agree with your licensing principles. At first, I thought it would be nice to own a cuddly stuffed Hobbes too, but on reading the foreword to the 'Complete collection', I came to realise why you did what you did. I understood that you felt that if you could not control what your own work stood for, it was not worth it. You could have minted money by licensing 'Calvin and Hobbes' merchandise, but the fact that you didn't, only out of love and respect for your characters and what they stood for, is admirable. And for that, I respect you. Today, many comic strips have been going on for decades, long after the original cartoonist has retired, drawn and colored by nameless assistants. The fact that you wrote every word and drew every line, and stopped when you did, when 'Calvin and Hobbes' was a runaway hit and on an unbeatable high, only to make sure your characters didn't get repetitive, or get stuck in the rut of churning out daily comic strips, shows the dedication and love you have for your art, and for that I salute you.
More life lessons have been learnt through Calvin and Hobbes's "wisdomous" conversations, than from any philosophy book. Who knew that a hyperactive, over-imaginative six year old and his sarcastic, but wise, stuffed tiger would have the answers to all of life's questions? You were right. It IS the comics' "lack of pretension" that makes them fun! I have never seen any other comic strip that absolutely anybody can relate to, anybody! Every person I know who has read the strip even once, has gotten hooked onto it. Each person tries to see a little of themselves in Calvin, or sometimes Hobbes. (I like to think I'm more like Hobbes, than Calvin!) You have to admit, although many readers miss it, Hobbes always walks away with the best lines! I will never forget the look Hobbes has as he utters "Words fail me", on seeing the transmogrified Calvin. One word; priceless.
Calvin's conversations and interactions with his parents is something each one us, as kids, have had with our respective parents; be it trying to slyly and stealthily steal cookies, or refusing to eat green gooey lumps that parents assured us would taste good, or making the most imaginative excuses we could come up with to get out of doing homework or going to school, or being forced to complete tasks that would "build character"! Calvin reinstated the fact that there is an inverse proportion between "how good something is for you and how much fun it is"! Calvin is also the source of the main principle that I, as a kid, led all my interactions with my parents with, "If you can't win by reason, go for volume!"
All the other characters, minor as they were, left a lasting impression too; Susie Derkins, and her love-hate relationship with Calvin, and Hobbes's infatuation with her, Rosalyn, and how she was the only person who could terrorize the little terrors, Moe, a typical school bully anyone could attest to having encountered at least once in their school life, Calvin's parents, Ms. Wormwood, Mr. Spittle...everyone has their own special place in the world belonging to Calvin and Hobbes. Calvin's uncontrollable imagination has inspired more kids than you know, with his alter-egos, from Spaceman Spiff, to Tracer Bullet, to Stupendous Man, and his destructive and maniacal snowman landscapes, and the various forms he takes, giant or little, invisible or invincible, dinosaur or elephant. Calvin and Hobbes, together, have inspired children, and adults alike, to think out of the box, and to let their imagination run amok! For that, I can vouch for any one of them, they will be eternally grateful.
And of course, this letter cannot be complete without a mention of the camaraderie between Calvin and Hobbes. The excitement as they sled down the snow laced slopes is almost palpable, as is their rivalry as they have fiercely competitive snow fights. The summer vacations are spent in reckless abandon, with Hobbes excitement being out of bounds, as his little friend gets to stay home from school. Their trysts with the drooling monsters under their bed makes one reach for their own baseball bat, you know, just in case, and their attempts to lie and "fool" the same monsters leaves one laughing, all fears forgotten. ('They lie, I lie!') Hobbes's relentless teasing of Calvin and Susie reminds me of the times in school when similar things happened to me, and I can almost feel Calvin's irritation, and at the same time his jealousy when Susie showers Hobbes with affection. Hobbes's distrust of Calvin's "ideas" ('It's cool to bump into things?'), but at the same time playing along, leaves you with a heart warming feeling. Hobbes is quite the charmer, even with his infatuations, his 'sissyness', demanding good night kisses from Calvin's mom; his simplistic tastes reflected when he says all he wants is a 'big, sunny field to lie in', and is perfectly content with it. His over-enthusiastic greeting when Calvin comes home from school always left me wishing I had a pet too, and Calvin's insistence on taking him everywhere, including restaurants and camping trips makes you smile fondly at the attachment a child feels with a prized toy, or as they see it, their only real friend.
Everyone wishes for a friend like Hobbes, everyone wishes for someone to go on the same kind of "adventures" with, sledding down slopes at high speeds, not a care in the world, playing 'Calvinball', making up rules as you go, forming secret clubs like G.R.O.S.S, and providing help during tough homework assignments, urm, well, kind of! (Calvin: 7 + 3 = ?, Hobbes: 73). As the only person (yes, Hobbes is as much a real person as any!) Calvin loves, Hobbes is the best friend one could ask for, frequently questioning Calvin's choices and nudging him in the right direction, encouraging him to do the right thing, giving him company in being "cool", making the password of the tree house an elaborate song praising tigers, providing all the 'wise' answers, but never, ever judging Calvin. One of my all-time favorite strips are the ones where they exchange hugs as Christmas presents; Hobbes the ever-forgiving, in spite of Calvin not getting him a gift and Calvin, trying to be macho, although he can't help but tear up for having such a wonderful partner-in-crime ("Not so hard, you big sissy. You squeezed my tears out").
So, thank you sir, for making my life so much brighter, for infusing laughter into dreary days, for inspiring me to imagine, and for asserting that nothing can be too imaginative. Even today, over fifteen years since I started reading Calvin and Hobbes, no other comic strip or book can make me as happy as Calvin, Hobbes and their (mis)adventures do. Thank you for teaching me that the only way to learn to write (or draw) is by writing (or drawing). Thank you for the sunshine that Calvin and Hobbes brings into my life, even when I am at my lowest, and thank you for making me believe "it is a magical world"!
With all the respect in my heart,
A fan for life.
Dear Mr. Watterson,
I don't profess to be your greatest fan, nor do I claim that, like some, I can recite each and every Calvin strip from memory. I can't even say that I have read the entire collection tens of thousands of times, or that your strip changed my life irrevocably. What I can say is this; 'Calvin and Hobbes' makes my life a little brighter each day. What I can claim is that I have read the whole collection at least once, if not multiple times, and some strips made me laugh more than the others, and those are the ones I can recite from memory. This letter serves no purpose, other than to affirm my profound respect for you and your genius.
'Genius?', you may ask. To you genius may be the simply drawn lines of Charles Schultz's 'Peanuts', admiration of which you have oft admitted to, or the humor in Walt Kelly's 'Pogo', but to me, any person who can make both a child of six and a grandmother, all of eighty, and anyone in between those two age groups laugh, has to be a genius, and for that I admire you. Many people I know, and many cartoonists, whose interviews I have read, do not agree with your licensing principles. At first, I thought it would be nice to own a cuddly stuffed Hobbes too, but on reading the foreword to the 'Complete collection', I came to realise why you did what you did. I understood that you felt that if you could not control what your own work stood for, it was not worth it. You could have minted money by licensing 'Calvin and Hobbes' merchandise, but the fact that you didn't, only out of love and respect for your characters and what they stood for, is admirable. And for that, I respect you. Today, many comic strips have been going on for decades, long after the original cartoonist has retired, drawn and colored by nameless assistants. The fact that you wrote every word and drew every line, and stopped when you did, when 'Calvin and Hobbes' was a runaway hit and on an unbeatable high, only to make sure your characters didn't get repetitive, or get stuck in the rut of churning out daily comic strips, shows the dedication and love you have for your art, and for that I salute you.
More life lessons have been learnt through Calvin and Hobbes's "wisdomous" conversations, than from any philosophy book. Who knew that a hyperactive, over-imaginative six year old and his sarcastic, but wise, stuffed tiger would have the answers to all of life's questions? You were right. It IS the comics' "lack of pretension" that makes them fun! I have never seen any other comic strip that absolutely anybody can relate to, anybody! Every person I know who has read the strip even once, has gotten hooked onto it. Each person tries to see a little of themselves in Calvin, or sometimes Hobbes. (I like to think I'm more like Hobbes, than Calvin!) You have to admit, although many readers miss it, Hobbes always walks away with the best lines! I will never forget the look Hobbes has as he utters "Words fail me", on seeing the transmogrified Calvin. One word; priceless.
Calvin's conversations and interactions with his parents is something each one us, as kids, have had with our respective parents; be it trying to slyly and stealthily steal cookies, or refusing to eat green gooey lumps that parents assured us would taste good, or making the most imaginative excuses we could come up with to get out of doing homework or going to school, or being forced to complete tasks that would "build character"! Calvin reinstated the fact that there is an inverse proportion between "how good something is for you and how much fun it is"! Calvin is also the source of the main principle that I, as a kid, led all my interactions with my parents with, "If you can't win by reason, go for volume!"
All the other characters, minor as they were, left a lasting impression too; Susie Derkins, and her love-hate relationship with Calvin, and Hobbes's infatuation with her, Rosalyn, and how she was the only person who could terrorize the little terrors, Moe, a typical school bully anyone could attest to having encountered at least once in their school life, Calvin's parents, Ms. Wormwood, Mr. Spittle...everyone has their own special place in the world belonging to Calvin and Hobbes. Calvin's uncontrollable imagination has inspired more kids than you know, with his alter-egos, from Spaceman Spiff, to Tracer Bullet, to Stupendous Man, and his destructive and maniacal snowman landscapes, and the various forms he takes, giant or little, invisible or invincible, dinosaur or elephant. Calvin and Hobbes, together, have inspired children, and adults alike, to think out of the box, and to let their imagination run amok! For that, I can vouch for any one of them, they will be eternally grateful.
And of course, this letter cannot be complete without a mention of the camaraderie between Calvin and Hobbes. The excitement as they sled down the snow laced slopes is almost palpable, as is their rivalry as they have fiercely competitive snow fights. The summer vacations are spent in reckless abandon, with Hobbes excitement being out of bounds, as his little friend gets to stay home from school. Their trysts with the drooling monsters under their bed makes one reach for their own baseball bat, you know, just in case, and their attempts to lie and "fool" the same monsters leaves one laughing, all fears forgotten. ('They lie, I lie!') Hobbes's relentless teasing of Calvin and Susie reminds me of the times in school when similar things happened to me, and I can almost feel Calvin's irritation, and at the same time his jealousy when Susie showers Hobbes with affection. Hobbes's distrust of Calvin's "ideas" ('It's cool to bump into things?'), but at the same time playing along, leaves you with a heart warming feeling. Hobbes is quite the charmer, even with his infatuations, his 'sissyness', demanding good night kisses from Calvin's mom; his simplistic tastes reflected when he says all he wants is a 'big, sunny field to lie in', and is perfectly content with it. His over-enthusiastic greeting when Calvin comes home from school always left me wishing I had a pet too, and Calvin's insistence on taking him everywhere, including restaurants and camping trips makes you smile fondly at the attachment a child feels with a prized toy, or as they see it, their only real friend.
Everyone wishes for a friend like Hobbes, everyone wishes for someone to go on the same kind of "adventures" with, sledding down slopes at high speeds, not a care in the world, playing 'Calvinball', making up rules as you go, forming secret clubs like G.R.O.S.S, and providing help during tough homework assignments, urm, well, kind of! (Calvin: 7 + 3 = ?, Hobbes: 73). As the only person (yes, Hobbes is as much a real person as any!) Calvin loves, Hobbes is the best friend one could ask for, frequently questioning Calvin's choices and nudging him in the right direction, encouraging him to do the right thing, giving him company in being "cool", making the password of the tree house an elaborate song praising tigers, providing all the 'wise' answers, but never, ever judging Calvin. One of my all-time favorite strips are the ones where they exchange hugs as Christmas presents; Hobbes the ever-forgiving, in spite of Calvin not getting him a gift and Calvin, trying to be macho, although he can't help but tear up for having such a wonderful partner-in-crime ("Not so hard, you big sissy. You squeezed my tears out").
So, thank you sir, for making my life so much brighter, for infusing laughter into dreary days, for inspiring me to imagine, and for asserting that nothing can be too imaginative. Even today, over fifteen years since I started reading Calvin and Hobbes, no other comic strip or book can make me as happy as Calvin, Hobbes and their (mis)adventures do. Thank you for teaching me that the only way to learn to write (or draw) is by writing (or drawing). Thank you for the sunshine that Calvin and Hobbes brings into my life, even when I am at my lowest, and thank you for making me believe "it is a magical world"!
With all the respect in my heart,
A fan for life.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Cuppa Kaapi...
So, for those who are unfamiliar with the importance of filter coffee in the life of a Tamilian, here is a brief overview. We do not, as a rule, drink instant coffee. Instant coffee is for losers; the ones who do not know how to make a good cup of filter coffee, or worse yet, have not experienced the heavenly taste of it, because believe me, once you taste it, you are hooked! Also, the poor souls who are 'in foreign' abhor the coffee that the coffee percolator makes; too much water, not strong enough coffee. So, as far as we can, we will only drink filter coffee. What is filter coffee you ask? Well, it is the most heavenly cup of coffee, made with just the right proportions of the aforementioned deconcoction, sugar and milk. Now, what defines this cup is this deconcoction, which, in my house is made from ground coffee powder consisting of the right combination of two different types of coffee beans, Peaberry and Plantation, and some chicory! The coffee powder will come from one shop, and one shop only, the same shop that your family has been visiting for decades, maybe more. My aunt who lives in Bombay still gets her coffee from Bangalore, and that is how crazy we are about our kaapi! The coffee is always served in dawara-tumbler, the purpose of two dishes being to cool the coffee, to a drinkable temperature, effectively and quickly. Genius, I say! Mugs? 'Aiyo, we will not drink kaapi in mugs. The taste is spoiled in mugs!'
This aroma of filter coffee brings back the most wonderful memories! It brings back memories of teen-patti and rummy played with my cousins, while the aunt's whose house we'd crashed served us with steaming hot filter coffee and chiwda and biscuits. It brings back memories of coming home drenched and pissed off by a freak rain shower, and having a cup of kaapi to sooth the seething anger, followed by another cup, which is had standing in the balcony, now appreciating the same rain! Memories of annual poojas held at my grandmother's house, where the kids would huddle up in a bedroom, sipping cup after cup of coffee, smuggled from the kitchen, while it was actually being prepared for other guests, and of pre-exam nights spent cramming my pea-sized brain with more information it could handle, only fuelled by the cups of coffee I made on my own, all the while cursing my inability to make a cup of coffee that tasted like my mum's! It also brings back memories of over-night train rides, where the coffee-filled thermos was the most vied item, so much so that bets and dares were placed to win each other's assigned cups, and of pre-wedding ceremonies, coffee coupled with the smell of the chemical laden mehendi; the most fun part being when someone else performed the davara-tumbler-davara-tumbler routine to cool it for you, and fed it to you. Memories of my first cup of coffee, which was basically a cup of milk, with a few drops of the deconcoction (well, because, 'Kids should not be drinking coffee at such a young age!'), memories of idlis and dosas and vadas, each meal incomplete until the inevitable cup of filter kaapi is served, and memories of early Sunday mornings and the fights to divy up the newspaper in a manner suitable to everyone and then poring over it with a cup of coffee in my hand. It brings back memories of visits to my grandmother's house, and the expectant waiting until those two magical words are spoken, 'Kaapi venama?' (Do you want coffee?), and the enthusiastic nod, and then the look towards my mother, to see if she thinks I am 'old enough' to drink this evil, evil drink and the elation when she gives a tiny nod too! Ah, such wonderful memories!
Every time I drink a cup of coffee with its feeble taste and diluted consistency, I miss home and my strong cuppa kaapi! I know what will the first thing I will demand when I land in India, and I know what will be the first thing I pack when I leave, a brand new filter and packets of 'Mysore Concerns' coffee. Then maybe I can teach the 'uneducated' who marvel at Nescafe instant coffee what a cup of coffee is actually supposed to taste like. Until then...
PS: (There is a wiki entry for 'Indian filter coffee', you MUST see it once you are done here!)
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
"So, who got the toothpaste?"
DISCLAIMER: Everything mentioned here is very true and related to extremely alive people. If you recognise a touch of yourself somewhere, be honored. Do not come after me with a baseball bat! (All in good humor!)
Whew! It's been a month since I last wrote. Mind you, not because I didn't want to, but more because I just didn't have anything to write about. I have been uninspired for the better part of the month that has passed. I was brainstorming with Vivek (read: me nagging him to suggest a good topic I could right about), and he suggested I write about the trips we have taken together and my post-trip revelations . I sarcastically retorted with a "what would I write about?", followed with a couple of funny and cynical take-aways from the trips, and realised that it might not be such a bad idea after all! So, Vivek, thank you! Next step, deciding what constitutes a trip! Distance, duration, or something else? I considered my trips to St Louis from Rolla (a mere 100 mile drive) a 'trip', merely because they were fun, and well, burnt holes through my pockets! Nevertheless, excluding those one day outings, I have been on (*gears in motion*) five trips, to Texas, Georgia, Florida, the East coast (NYC, Buffalo, Atlantic City and DC), Colorado and Texas again (albeit different cities) respectively. (I, again, exclude my Chicago sightseeing, since I now live 70 miles from it. I have sightseen on multiple occassions!) None of these trips feature the same company (well, except Ritu!) and perhaps, that is what has made each trip unique and memorable in its own way. If I went into details about each trip, I would need bugles to wake you up from your deep slumber, so I decided to stick with what Vivek suggested; revelations!
To be honest, revelations is too strong a word. (For the most part, at least. There were some revelations!) So, it's more like take-aways from these trips. So, what have I learned? Hmm, for starters, as much fun as road trips are, your circulation system begs to differ, especially when its function is grossly restricted by the back-most seat of the seven-seater you are travelling in. You soon know the gas prices in every city you pass by, and are shocked if it is lower than the city of origin, and "top-up" the fuel tank, even if it is nowhere close to being empty. Sometimes, the only other person you see for hours is the gas station manager! (That's probably more true the more south you go!). You are forced to listen to the songs that are on the iPod of the only person who remembered to get an iPod (and its charger!), and more likely than not, after hearing those same songs throughout the trip, when you are nearing home, you know all those songs by rote and probably sing along too! (you know, memories of the trip. You will probably associate some of the songs to that trip for life!) You try your best to not be the first person to fall asleep, and consume cans of red bull/ gatorade just to prove that you can stay awake (the absolute worst is if you have to drive, or give the driver company, when everyone else is asleep! In this case, by the end of the driving turn, you probably know the names of each other's nieces and nephews!)
So, you have now completed the first leg of the trip, which was just reaching the destination. Now starts the actual 'fun'. Or so you would think. Here starts the endless discussions of how to schedule the next day in the best possible way, to see everything that everyone wants. If anybody involved has a friend/relative they just HAVE to visit, you are screwed! More likely than not, they live in a suburb at least 50 miles out of the way. So, you finally decide on a schedule that satisfies the majority! Believe me, the saying 'you can't please everybody', never applies more than on a trip. So the happy ones fall asleep satisfied, and the disgruntled ones murmur angrily till they are appeased. The following morning always brings a flurry of activity. More so, because, due to financial constraints we have always had 6-7 people in a room meant for 3-4 people. The first revelation is always that no one had the foresight to get a tube of toothpaste (the habitual, 'if not me, someone else will get it' mentatility, which, well, is always true. Someone does get it along). And obviously, there is a schedule in place that details the exact second you are expected to be awake and in the bathroom, so as to not fall behind schedule (again, there is one person, who just does NOT wake up. No, tolerance of five minutes is not tolerated!) So after a lot of rummaging and scurrying, everyone is finally ready to leave (even with the stringest of planning, we are always atleast an hour behind schedule!)
Well, the sight seeing is always fun. I love it! Even if it is something silly like sitting on a carousel (yes, although we were at least three times the age of the average rider, we did that because Sadekar claimed he'd never sat on one before), or clicking crazy snaps, or getting into the ice cold waters of the Florida beach, or simply eating ice-cream while waiting our turn to plummet head first into the Royal gorge! But then, of course, there is always one unhappy person, who didn't get an equal amount of 'personal' snaps, or wanted to see some obscure monument (yes, that is me!), or is hungry and hence grumpy, or simply is pissed, because, well, not everyone can be pleased, remember? So, you get past these initial hurdles, and unfathomably someone gets upset or pissed off about something no one else knows. So, there's one person consoling him/her and the rest discuss in a detached group as to what could have triggered the reaction!
Okay, as I re-read this, I realise I sound like a cynic; a big one! Yes, I have mentioned all the negative (albeit, slightly funny) parts, but believe me, I have enjoyed each of these trips more than I thought I could. Right from the carousel and ferris wheel in Houston, to the beaches of Florida and the shops of Panama City Beach; from the Statue of Liberty to the Atlantic City boardwalk to the chicken and rice from the streets of New York; from the unbelieveble view from Pike's Peak to the pizza on 6th street in Austin to the crazy, crazy New year's eve table dancing! These are memories forged for life. These are friends made for life. No amount of squabbling during these trips can take away from the laughter, the fun, the shared tequilla shots, the sometimes hysterical, sometimes emabrrassing photo-viewing sessions, the discussions about one insane incident that apart from you and your group no one else finds funny, or the post-mortem of every single moment so that everyone knows everything (just in case they missed something!) There is so much more than I can add, but I fear it may piss off people I don't mean to piss off! Also, I do not want to make this longer than necessary. So I end here, in peace. The good parts would constitute a different blog entry altogether. We'll get there, in time...
Cheers to each of these trips and all the moments spent in the company of some of the most wonderful people I know!
PS: I just realised I missed my Vegas trip...but well, it's Vegas. there's not much that can be said, right? ( I resisted the urge to add the cliche, 'what happens in Vegas...')
Whew! It's been a month since I last wrote. Mind you, not because I didn't want to, but more because I just didn't have anything to write about. I have been uninspired for the better part of the month that has passed. I was brainstorming with Vivek (read: me nagging him to suggest a good topic I could right about), and he suggested I write about the trips we have taken together and my post-trip revelations . I sarcastically retorted with a "what would I write about?", followed with a couple of funny and cynical take-aways from the trips, and realised that it might not be such a bad idea after all! So, Vivek, thank you! Next step, deciding what constitutes a trip! Distance, duration, or something else? I considered my trips to St Louis from Rolla (a mere 100 mile drive) a 'trip', merely because they were fun, and well, burnt holes through my pockets! Nevertheless, excluding those one day outings, I have been on (*gears in motion*) five trips, to Texas, Georgia, Florida, the East coast (NYC, Buffalo, Atlantic City and DC), Colorado and Texas again (albeit different cities) respectively. (I, again, exclude my Chicago sightseeing, since I now live 70 miles from it. I have sightseen on multiple occassions!) None of these trips feature the same company (well, except Ritu!) and perhaps, that is what has made each trip unique and memorable in its own way. If I went into details about each trip, I would need bugles to wake you up from your deep slumber, so I decided to stick with what Vivek suggested; revelations!
To be honest, revelations is too strong a word. (For the most part, at least. There were some revelations!) So, it's more like take-aways from these trips. So, what have I learned? Hmm, for starters, as much fun as road trips are, your circulation system begs to differ, especially when its function is grossly restricted by the back-most seat of the seven-seater you are travelling in. You soon know the gas prices in every city you pass by, and are shocked if it is lower than the city of origin, and "top-up" the fuel tank, even if it is nowhere close to being empty. Sometimes, the only other person you see for hours is the gas station manager! (That's probably more true the more south you go!). You are forced to listen to the songs that are on the iPod of the only person who remembered to get an iPod (and its charger!), and more likely than not, after hearing those same songs throughout the trip, when you are nearing home, you know all those songs by rote and probably sing along too! (you know, memories of the trip. You will probably associate some of the songs to that trip for life!) You try your best to not be the first person to fall asleep, and consume cans of red bull/ gatorade just to prove that you can stay awake (the absolute worst is if you have to drive, or give the driver company, when everyone else is asleep! In this case, by the end of the driving turn, you probably know the names of each other's nieces and nephews!)
So, you have now completed the first leg of the trip, which was just reaching the destination. Now starts the actual 'fun'. Or so you would think. Here starts the endless discussions of how to schedule the next day in the best possible way, to see everything that everyone wants. If anybody involved has a friend/relative they just HAVE to visit, you are screwed! More likely than not, they live in a suburb at least 50 miles out of the way. So, you finally decide on a schedule that satisfies the majority! Believe me, the saying 'you can't please everybody', never applies more than on a trip. So the happy ones fall asleep satisfied, and the disgruntled ones murmur angrily till they are appeased. The following morning always brings a flurry of activity. More so, because, due to financial constraints we have always had 6-7 people in a room meant for 3-4 people. The first revelation is always that no one had the foresight to get a tube of toothpaste (the habitual, 'if not me, someone else will get it' mentatility, which, well, is always true. Someone does get it along). And obviously, there is a schedule in place that details the exact second you are expected to be awake and in the bathroom, so as to not fall behind schedule (again, there is one person, who just does NOT wake up. No, tolerance of five minutes is not tolerated!) So after a lot of rummaging and scurrying, everyone is finally ready to leave (even with the stringest of planning, we are always atleast an hour behind schedule!)
Well, the sight seeing is always fun. I love it! Even if it is something silly like sitting on a carousel (yes, although we were at least three times the age of the average rider, we did that because Sadekar claimed he'd never sat on one before), or clicking crazy snaps, or getting into the ice cold waters of the Florida beach, or simply eating ice-cream while waiting our turn to plummet head first into the Royal gorge! But then, of course, there is always one unhappy person, who didn't get an equal amount of 'personal' snaps, or wanted to see some obscure monument (yes, that is me!), or is hungry and hence grumpy, or simply is pissed, because, well, not everyone can be pleased, remember? So, you get past these initial hurdles, and unfathomably someone gets upset or pissed off about something no one else knows. So, there's one person consoling him/her and the rest discuss in a detached group as to what could have triggered the reaction!
Okay, as I re-read this, I realise I sound like a cynic; a big one! Yes, I have mentioned all the negative (albeit, slightly funny) parts, but believe me, I have enjoyed each of these trips more than I thought I could. Right from the carousel and ferris wheel in Houston, to the beaches of Florida and the shops of Panama City Beach; from the Statue of Liberty to the Atlantic City boardwalk to the chicken and rice from the streets of New York; from the unbelieveble view from Pike's Peak to the pizza on 6th street in Austin to the crazy, crazy New year's eve table dancing! These are memories forged for life. These are friends made for life. No amount of squabbling during these trips can take away from the laughter, the fun, the shared tequilla shots, the sometimes hysterical, sometimes emabrrassing photo-viewing sessions, the discussions about one insane incident that apart from you and your group no one else finds funny, or the post-mortem of every single moment so that everyone knows everything (just in case they missed something!) There is so much more than I can add, but I fear it may piss off people I don't mean to piss off! Also, I do not want to make this longer than necessary. So I end here, in peace. The good parts would constitute a different blog entry altogether. We'll get there, in time...
Cheers to each of these trips and all the moments spent in the company of some of the most wonderful people I know!
PS: I just realised I missed my Vegas trip...but well, it's Vegas. there's not much that can be said, right? ( I resisted the urge to add the cliche, 'what happens in Vegas...')
Monday, January 30, 2012
a mis amigos...
I don't know what prompted this blog entry. I meant to write a poem, to be honest. But I sat and twiddled my thumbs, trying to think of two good lines that would count as the start to a fantabulous poem, and I was lost. When I couldn't come up two meaningfully poetic lines, even after looking at the beautiful snow covered land just outside my window, I gave up. I've probably lost my poetic flair, at least temporarily, if not forever. So I shall stick to prose for the time being (Oh the reason I wanted to write a poem was to challenge myself to use fewer words than I normally do. When writing prose, I just go on and on. Like just now!) I digress. Nothing new there. So, as I was saying, I am not exactly sure what prompted this entry. Probably the fact that I just spent one of the most awesome weekends with friends. It got me thinking of all the other awesome moments with friends and how things change.
I celebrated the past weekend, birthdays of not one, but two of my closest friends. It was a weekend I didn't want to see the end of. The weekend passed by way too quickly, filled with unbelievable amounts of laughter, truckloads of fun, seemingly endless conversation and lots of memorable moments! And as it ended and we dispersed to continue with our routine, mundane lives, I realised that this is what I wanted for the rest of my life. I wanted moments like these, interspaced as they may be, to jolt me out of my everyday mundaneness and induce some spark into the dullness that comes with routine. But more importantly, I want friends like these for the rest of my life. Friends who I know I can count on to be there, to travel for insane hours to spend few good hours together, to incite the neverending laughter, to share joy as well as wipe away the tears, and to accept each other's idiosyncracies and to work around the inevitable conflicts.
I know, as I write, that I haven't been the best friend I could have been. There are moments that I wish I'd picked up the phone and made that call that might have saved a friendship from going sour, or written that letter that would have kept me in touch with the people I grew up with. I regret those moments the most, I regret telling myself I'd do it 'tomorrow', I regret not calling, not writing, not keeping in touch. But as I turn 25 (almost), I realise it's a little late to try and mend some of those relationships. Some of my closest friends (at some point) are now the people I exchange pleasantries with twice a year, on each others' birthdays, and though I regret it, I have come to accept that it is probably time to let it go.
But, I have also come to realise that my best friends are the people, who regardless of the number of years we have not spoken to each other, resume our conversation from where we last left off, the people, who make an effort to keep in touch with me, because they know i suck at it, the people who when we talk even after a year, first blast me for not calling ever, but then proceed to tell me about their whole year, month by month! These are the people I cherish the most, and I have to admit, take advantage of the most as well! These are the people I want to keep in touch with, and these are the kind of friends I want to have. The '4am' kind of friends, the kind of friends for whom time and place doesnt matter, the kind who don't keep count of who called how many times, or who wrote how many times, all that matters is that one call, that one mail, that one card that reminds them that we are bound by a relationship that will last for the rest of our lives. And this blog entry serves as a very small yet very heartfelt tribute to them.
Each time I moved and shifted base (which I have done 6 times now!), and changed schools and cities, I always thought I'd never find another person who I could be friends with, and each time I was proven wrong, and boy, am I glad for that! I may not be in touch with all of my friends, but each of them holds a very special place in the shoebox of my memories. The ones I am in touch with are the ones who never gave up on me, and they are the ones I love with all my heart and soul; Rohini, Aru, Anjana, Ritu, Mikhil, Prajakta, Sadekar, Praveen, Vinay, Vivek, Prasad, Phalgun, to you I say, thank you for never giving up, and for always being there. Then there are some people I respect more than anyone else, second only to my family; Sagar, Dhiru, Bhatia, thank you for giving us a home away from home. I have also read this quote about how you can't choose family and hence you have friends, and I am so thankful I didn't get to choose my family, because I couldn't have chosen better family than the family I have. I consider myself extremely lucky that my cousins are amongst my closest friends. They know my whole life history, all my flaws, all my highs and all my lows, and the fact that we are bound by blood just makes these bonds even harder to break. Neha, Kritika, Roshan and Anuj, to you all I have to say is I love you from the very bottom of my heart! :)
As I think about all the happy times spent with all my friends, I realise how blessed I have been to always have someone I could lean on through each step of my life. And as these days grow into years and the distance grows into miles, all I hope is I can be as good a friend as I have been fortunate to have. I truly love you all!
I celebrated the past weekend, birthdays of not one, but two of my closest friends. It was a weekend I didn't want to see the end of. The weekend passed by way too quickly, filled with unbelievable amounts of laughter, truckloads of fun, seemingly endless conversation and lots of memorable moments! And as it ended and we dispersed to continue with our routine, mundane lives, I realised that this is what I wanted for the rest of my life. I wanted moments like these, interspaced as they may be, to jolt me out of my everyday mundaneness and induce some spark into the dullness that comes with routine. But more importantly, I want friends like these for the rest of my life. Friends who I know I can count on to be there, to travel for insane hours to spend few good hours together, to incite the neverending laughter, to share joy as well as wipe away the tears, and to accept each other's idiosyncracies and to work around the inevitable conflicts.
I know, as I write, that I haven't been the best friend I could have been. There are moments that I wish I'd picked up the phone and made that call that might have saved a friendship from going sour, or written that letter that would have kept me in touch with the people I grew up with. I regret those moments the most, I regret telling myself I'd do it 'tomorrow', I regret not calling, not writing, not keeping in touch. But as I turn 25 (almost), I realise it's a little late to try and mend some of those relationships. Some of my closest friends (at some point) are now the people I exchange pleasantries with twice a year, on each others' birthdays, and though I regret it, I have come to accept that it is probably time to let it go.
But, I have also come to realise that my best friends are the people, who regardless of the number of years we have not spoken to each other, resume our conversation from where we last left off, the people, who make an effort to keep in touch with me, because they know i suck at it, the people who when we talk even after a year, first blast me for not calling ever, but then proceed to tell me about their whole year, month by month! These are the people I cherish the most, and I have to admit, take advantage of the most as well! These are the people I want to keep in touch with, and these are the kind of friends I want to have. The '4am' kind of friends, the kind of friends for whom time and place doesnt matter, the kind who don't keep count of who called how many times, or who wrote how many times, all that matters is that one call, that one mail, that one card that reminds them that we are bound by a relationship that will last for the rest of our lives. And this blog entry serves as a very small yet very heartfelt tribute to them.
Each time I moved and shifted base (which I have done 6 times now!), and changed schools and cities, I always thought I'd never find another person who I could be friends with, and each time I was proven wrong, and boy, am I glad for that! I may not be in touch with all of my friends, but each of them holds a very special place in the shoebox of my memories. The ones I am in touch with are the ones who never gave up on me, and they are the ones I love with all my heart and soul; Rohini, Aru, Anjana, Ritu, Mikhil, Prajakta, Sadekar, Praveen, Vinay, Vivek, Prasad, Phalgun, to you I say, thank you for never giving up, and for always being there. Then there are some people I respect more than anyone else, second only to my family; Sagar, Dhiru, Bhatia, thank you for giving us a home away from home. I have also read this quote about how you can't choose family and hence you have friends, and I am so thankful I didn't get to choose my family, because I couldn't have chosen better family than the family I have. I consider myself extremely lucky that my cousins are amongst my closest friends. They know my whole life history, all my flaws, all my highs and all my lows, and the fact that we are bound by blood just makes these bonds even harder to break. Neha, Kritika, Roshan and Anuj, to you all I have to say is I love you from the very bottom of my heart! :)
As I think about all the happy times spent with all my friends, I realise how blessed I have been to always have someone I could lean on through each step of my life. And as these days grow into years and the distance grows into miles, all I hope is I can be as good a friend as I have been fortunate to have. I truly love you all!
Friday, January 6, 2012
"Miser of my memories"
I used to watch 'The Wonder Years' as a kid and a line from the show stuck with me. "Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose". As time goes by, I realise how true this is; how true it has always been. Some memories are vague, some vivid and some are unforgettable. The kind of memories you think of once every day, maybe more. Everyone has, at the very least, one such memory. For me, it is the memory of my elder brother, who passed away in a train accident eight and half years ago. Today would have been his 28th birthday, and although this in no way does justice to his life or his memory, it serves as a small way to pay tribute to one of the most influential people in my life. For a change, I am at an absolute loss for words. Where do you begin, I wonder, to talk about 16 years of togetherness that ended in a way I never envisioned?I wish I could say I remember every single detail of those 16 years; but I don't. There are snatches of memories that my brain has held on to long enough for me to rehash them every day and keep them alive. Small but vivid memories of little things like playing cricket in our back alley, eating ice cream at Baskin Robbins almost every Friday, with me eating ONLY Vanilla and him trying each of the 31 flavors in succession, of watching a lame Mithun (or Jeetendra) movie every Thursday (that was the weekend in Dubai, and the only day the Arabic channel would broadcast ONE hindi movie. We lived for those days) and eating a burger from KFC or a pizza from Pizza Hut, while my parents went out for some peace away from two squabbling kids, kicking each other in the back seat of the car, even though there was enough space to fit at least two more people, me being the target for every WWF move possible (Yes, I have been chokeslamed more than once!), but at the same time fighting when a local rowdy ran over my leg with his bicycle (That is the moment I cherish the most. Through all the pain, I still remember, the rowdy, at least twice the size of my brother, asking him on being shoved "What do you care?" and my brother saying, "She's my sister. Apologize or I'll hit you with my cricket bat"!), of me weeping while my Barbie dolls got tied to the fan and de-limbed (cruel, cruel boys *sob*), the songs he listened to and I copied (he introduced me to Bryan Adams and Bon Jovi among others) and those little quiz cards we owned, where I always lost when we competed; always! These are my most cherished memories.
He was brilliant; really. Although I always outperformed him academically, he was way smarter than I was or am. I was always jealous and my marks were the easiest thing to throw in his face. What infuriated me more was that he didn't care, and ended up making me cry. My verbal comebacks were never more than an unintelligent "shut up!" when he used words I didn't understand (until I looked them up in the dictionary!) Quizzes and debates were his forte, along with chess and the piano and karate. I have learnt more words from him than I did in my English classes. He ignited the never-ending curiosity that still plagues me at times, when I just HAVE to know about the specifics of something, with his endless questions and quizzing! I remember one of my last conversations with him too. My tenth board results came out on 19 may, 2003, three days before the fateful day he met with a train accident in the Bombay locals. And he'd bet I won't score more than he did in his boards. And I did. Comfortably. He didn't pay up, and dismissed me with irritation, while I laughed at him. We didn't speak at all that day. I learnt much later that the next day he bragged to his closest friends as to how I'd scored so well and how proud he was. Much, much later, my extended family sat together and discussed small anecdotes and incidents of their interactions with him, and I was so proud of the person he was. He inspired me. He knew from the time he was 12 he wanted to conduct research in the field of genetics. He would speak to me for hours about genetics, stem cell research and other such things, without me getting a word, but still nodding, pretending to be interested. He followed that dream, pursuing B.Sc, and was all set to pursue his M.Sc from MSU, Baroda, followed by a Ph.D in the States. He had it all figured out. He had a ten year plan when he was 19. I’m 25 and I don't know what I want to be doing next year.
I wonder how different things would have been if he was still around. Just, hypothetically. And I can't put a finger on it. It would have been very, very different. I paint these rosy pictures sometimes in my imagination, of me taking his advice while coming to the States, of visiting him, of him getting married and me dancing, of becoming an aunt and pampering his kids. Then it all shatters and everything stands still. I grew up much faster than I would have liked to. At 16, I barely had firm footing and I had to step up and assume responsibility for my family too. I lost faith in God for a very long time. I didn't think this was His way of dishing out justice. I wept silently and alone, because I was instructed by my extended family to never cry in front of my parents, lest their healing process get affected. Naive at 16, I believed that and I never spoke to anyone about how I felt. I resisted forming close bonds with anybody I met. I never healed. I still haven't. But the difference is, now I have learnt to accept that. I wish I could say I have moved on, but I haven't. But I have made my peace with the fact that I haven't, rather than forcing myself to move on.
My biggest fear? That soon, not long from now, my memories will begin to fade. I will forget his voice, his laughter, his smile (photographs never do justice), the distinctive smell of his Davidoff perfume, the movies we watched together, the songs he introduced me to and the other small tiny details that keep me linked to him in a way only I can explain and that cannot be put into words. And hence, this is my small way of keeping him alive, for my sake at least, and I hope this serves, albeit in a small way, as a form of catharsis.
Happy 28th birthday Ashwin. I wish you were here. Every single day...
"I am a miser of my memories of you
And will not spend them."~Witter Bynner, "Coins"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)