Stupid Songs and Stupider Lyrics

The whole of yesterday and today I have been listening to my music player on random, and one after the other all that is playing is some sad, mopey romantic song or the other. I don’t WANT to hear any of that, because it is jarring my mission of not thinking, but every time I press ‘next’ another stupid song starts playing.

Why does every song nowadays have to have some deep intellectual lyrics with soothing romantic music that make you think and be philosophical man? Tejas says that when people are in a particular mood, they want to listen to music that reflects the mood they’re in. I think he’s wrong. When I was walking the long distance from my house to my friend Lara’s house, no doubt I was sad and hurting and moping, but I did not want to listen to Joshua Radin and Schuyler Fisk singing “Play me a song, your newest one/Please leave your taste on my tongue”, or friggin John Mayer (I love him with all I’ve got but COME ON!) singing a love song for no one about how half of his damn heart’s got a grip on some situation while he’s slow dancing in a burning room. I did not want to know that all Martina Mcbride needs is her love, her valentine. And then there was Jack Johnson with his combination of words that he can’t put on the back of a postcard and asking me if I remembered the first time we met because he sure did. Colbie Caillat was falling and dropping so quickly for some guy, that she probably should have kept it to herself until she knew me better and Owl City was obsessing about his fireflies. Of course he’s not weird because he hates goodbyes, no one LIKES them. He really should think before he writes these goddamned lyrics. Even the Weepies - while they are an awesome band, I didn’t want to hear them talk about waking up and wishing they were dead as the world continued to spin madly on.

Whatever happened to the songs that make no sense when I needed them? – The songs that have lyrics like they were written just for fun, not for the real love of music or out of a real need to express. I didn’t have most of them on my play list, I realized. Because, I mean, they’re so silly and stupid right? I obviously gave preference to the “good” songs when I was putting them onto my player. Bad move. Because while I was walking for over an hour, I was stuck with the good, even great songs, when all I wanted to listen to was Metrostation asking me if I would do it like this if she does it like that. I wanted to listen to Robyn describe her style as “the bom-diddi-bom di-dang di-dang diggi-diggi”. I wanted Soulja Boy to crank that and Sean Kingston to call 911. I wanted to know all that Scotty didn't. I missed Kesha singing about how she woke up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy and I missed Alexandra Burke singing about the bad boys that catch her eye. I even missed Akon singing about that sexy bitch, a song that I cannot STAND otherwise.

SHIT. What is this world coming to?

Bittersweet weirdness

Three hours. That’s how long the no-crying promise lasted. It can’t be helped; it’s something I have to do. The pain is too much. It’s a dull constant pain, not the screaming throbbing kind. It went away for a little while, lost among unrelated conversations about Joey and his nonchalance, hunger strikes, “basically lots of”, doing things WITH people or FOR, figuring out the best time in the year, trying to describe a philosophical self with words so apt that they wouldn't come easily, trying to lie straight facedly like Harry, chocolate wrappers in pockets or dustbins, pearls of "advice" and building shrines in memory of the other. Laughter pushed it out – inappropriate laughter for the moment we were in, yet so appropriate because of who we are. I see that now, vaguely. But now it’s back, that pain. It hurts. It’s bound to, but it shouldn’t be so awful. It wasn’t that bad really, today. It was strangely NICE. And the pain is bittersweet. It has to be – it’s born out of complete agreement and yet, utter lack of understanding. Why is it so half and half?

Chocolate is not helping. There is already too much in my system from the past week, for it to satisfy any sort of craving. Stupid bags of chocolate from the last night out shopping in Edinburgh. Breathing helps, but it’s coming out in rasps because of the crying. Which is fine, because trying to control it gives me something to do. Typing helps, especially LOUDLY while banging on the keyboard. Hitting him and calling him names helped too, but then that may have to do with the inevitable laughter that followed. Is it weird, that laughter? It didn’t feel all that weird, and that felt weirder. Light-hearted, nonsensical banter – that was the essence wasn’t it? Hell yeah, it was. It was the friggin definition. It had vanished for a while, but now it’s back. Yay. But is it weird that it returned in such a twisted situation?

Diaryface was right, as she always is – it IS a rite of passage. It happened to me just today, and I really didn’t expect it to happen so soon after that particular mail she sent – like an omen, almost. Sshh, I’m not supposed to talk like that. But then, I’m cheating on the no-crying promise, why not on this one too?

I can’t concentrate. I think I’m rambling, but I can’t be sure because I can’t concentrate. This is it. What? I said, this is it. WHAT is it? THIS, yes, this is it. It doesn’t have to be, but it is. And, strangely enough, it feels like even before the beginning. That IS weird, isn’t it? But it doesn’t FEEL weird. It feels so right and so horribly wrong. I don’t know how and what to feel. GO. I’m sick of you. Yet, you’re right, I’m not. How CAN I be, you semi-good looking North Carolinian Gulfy asshole? “HEY! Watch it. You’re not allowed to say asshole anymore.”

For a comfort level that is one of it’s kind, for crying as an energy releaser, for the best conversation we've had in over a month, for random statements filled with utter time-pass, for rumbling tummies, for something that I knew I could never live up to, for excessive drinking of water, for a confused secret that will be safe no matter what the bribe or bet – I will remember today.

Bonnie ol' Scotland

Hello to you, hello to you.
I know, I know. Everyone was expecting at least one blog post for every day that I was away on holiday. I was one of the people who thought that would be the case. After all, it was supposed to be my happy snowy Christmas getaway. And it was! The last three weeks of my life have been brilliant. Don’t let the lack of posts make you think otherwise. It’s just that while I was there, all my spare internet time and writing prowess got spent on writing super long mails to my super awesome Diaryface and my equally awesome hoity-toity baby boy T. (Teehee. I have never called him that, ever. I totally just came up with it right now while typing. Not the term ‘baby boy T’, the hoity-toity prefix. I think I’ll keep it.) So then I thought I’d do one big post about the whole holiday once I’m back – which is what I’m doing.

My holiday was superb in the sense that I couldn’t have asked for anything more to happen. I had a white Christmas for the first time, complete with stockings over the fireplace and a ceiling to floor tree with the biggest pile of presents under it that I have ever seen. New years too was awesome with the fireworks display at midnight and the champagne induced giggliness after, but later I saw pictures on Facebook of the party my friends had and I got so homesick that I was physically ill! However, other than that, the vacation consisted of lots of sightseeing, snow angels, sampling of new things, traveling, shopping, movie watching and picture taking. My camera Rose Red was most excited and went clickety-click at everything in sight.

I met some really nice people, with whom I had some really nice conversations. I found the yummiest cutest baby whom I wanted to put in my big bag and bring back with me. I saw some marvelous buildings which quite literally took my breath away. I sampled things that I had never before, like Haggis (YUCK). I shopped like I have never done before and bought clothes like never before. I went off on my own for a day, which for someone like me is a huge thing. I don’t like doing things alone and I need company in everything I do – someone to pass comments to, to experience with. The only thing I can do on my own and enjoy it thoroughly is WALK, and even for that I need music to accompany me. I made snowmen and snowangels. I cut a lot of vegetables. I watched a lot of movies. I went for a cruise around the Loch Ness. I ice skated and fell flat on me arse, but it was worth every minute!

The holiday gave me a lot of things. It gave me exposure to a different country and a different type of people. It also truly made me believe that I should take up landscape photography seriously because, at the risk of sounding vain, I think I’m really good at it. This opinion is shared by my event manager cum photographer best friend, David “giggling idiot” Selvam, so I know I’m not imagining it. Maybe as a profession, maybe not. But I think I should hone the skill. The holiday has no doubt given me a lot more than what I have mentioned – the effects of which I may not feel immediately and will probably feel as more time goes by. But even then, it has been an experience like none other.

PS. The accompanying picture is a view from the ferris wheel at the Edinburgh Winter Wonderland. On the right, it captures one of the main streets of Edinburgh, the Prince’s Street. But the picture was mainly taken for Kyra and her fascination with twinkly lights in trees.

The Little Things

“The little things? The little moments? They aren’t little.” – Jon Kabat-Zinn


Stolen glances that offer soundless reassurance, quick nods that convey more than words can, soft touches to let you know something's wrong, hushed sighs that imply not all is right, half smiles that imply contentment, winks to express amusement, a squeeze of the hand to comfort the restless and disgruntled mind.

They say these little silent means of communication are worth much more than any spoken/written word. They convey all the right things, and their application eliminates all need for verbal communication. “Actions speak louder than words”. And they aren’t wrong.

But sometimes, in addition to the silent gestures, one NEEDS to state in so many words what it is that they are going through, without having to be asked. One needs to share the little things that are on one’s mind. One needs to express what it is that is disgruntling them so much, what it is that is amusing them. The people who like and love us and care about us are not mind readers; nor do they have some insane sixth sense. They are, however, around to listen to all the things we have to say. And more often than not, they want to know what is on our minds.

So for god’s sake, tell them whatever it is that you are feeling. Vent at your close ones if you’re frustrated after a bad day. Feel like you’ve accomplished something at work? – celebrate it with them. Bored out of your mind? - let them know. Sad about something that happened at home? – cry on their shoulder in their arms. Got an incredulous life-altering, earth-shattering idea that'll probably never work? - let them in on the secret. Craving for a food item? - inform them, they'll be happy to accompany you in your quest for it. Happy because, well, JUST? – tell them you are.

Because that’s what they’re here for. Really. And don’t say “No, they’re here for more important things” – because while that may be true, they are also here for the little things. They are here to experience your little moments with you. Because those are what truly matter.

Remember that.

Radio Ga-ga? More like Radio Goo.

A = guy, B = ex-wife, C = some girl.

A is hurt and tormented by his divorce with B and can never fall in love again, or so he claims. C is in love with A, and B misses A and wants him back. C thinks love is all about sacrifice and stuff, so she tries getting them back together. B is aware that C is in love with A, and that A is also in love with C, only he doesn’t know it yet. And she also, to some extent, tries to pair them up. A knows C is in love with him. But because of the previously mentioned hurt and torment, he ignores it. Oh! And then in the midst of all this, C’s entire family believes A is C’s boyfriend and is arranging for them to be married soon, because of some misunderstanding that occurred a while ago and no one had the guts to rectify it.

Confused? Yeah, so were we. And we were actually watching it unfold before our eyes, without any analogy of this kind that I presented to you. THIS, ladies and gentlemen, in a nutshell is the absolutely messed up plotline of what has to be one of the most ridiculous movies I have seen EVER. There are bad movies, and then there is Himesh Reshammiya’s “Radio”. Not that I went in expecting any better, but it was so bad, it needs an entire post to trash.

Before I begin and before you guys ask me what possessed me to go for the movie in the first place, I’d like to say this – one advantage of dating a radio jockey is that almost every week we watch a movie first day-first show free of cost, so that he can review it on his show. Of course, this works as a disadvantage too, when he absolutely HAS to watch even the worst ones as part of his job. I realize that I am not obliged to go with the boy on such occasions, and that I am perfectly free to stay home. But then I’m a nice person and besides, we don’t get too much of free time to just chill and be anymore. So, I go along to spend some time with him and to give him company (misery loves that, apparently).

From the very first scene of the movie, we looked at each other with an “oh-my-god-what-IS-this?” expression. It starts with a ridiculous “it’s complicated” stamp like thing and a caption thing – “Chapter 1: Divorce aur Ganpati Bappa”. Yeah, the entire movie is told over many such chapters, with equally ridiculous names. The whole “it’s complicated” stamp made no sense to us at all, and neither did the problems faced by the characters. They weren’t real or big enough to actually be considered at all. The biggest drawback of Shanaya Dhingra (Shehnaz Treasurywala), according to the narrator (RJ Vivaan, played by Himesh Reshammiya himself) is that she’s a Facebook addict. Not her psychotic family, coupled with the fact that she has the ability to annoy you with the mere sound of her voice. Oh and the second biggest drawback? The fact that she says “bhot” instead of “bahut”.

Another thing totally pissing off about the whole thing? (Well, not so much to me since radio is not my industry. But it was still appaling to know how underhanded and cheap it was) – The fact that Ghanta Singh of Radio One was totally ripped off in Paresh Rawal’s Jhandu Lal Tyaagi. My boy was indignant - he was cursing loudly and calling everyone at work to let them know what had been done!

Acting is horrible by EVERYBODY, there is not a single saving grace. And brand placements are as forced and disconnected as they get.

RJ Shanaya (on air): ‘Love karo bhai, aur kuch nahi toh Kurkure khao’. Ex wife sitting in car listening to radio: ‘Gadi roko. Mujhe Kurkure khaana hai!’

Vivaan: ‘Yeh dish antenna badal dalo yaar! Paise main deta hoon! I’m not a dish antenna mechanic, I am a radio jockey!’


UGH.

Of strange moods and good souls who got me out of the same

So, I spent a major part of the last ten days feeling a host of emotions. Strangely, I don’t quite know why I felt half of them, but I did. There were many and none of them GOOD. They were as negative as can be and I did not feel like myself at all. I felt uninspired, bland, weak, neglected, unloved (even by me – which is saying something because no one loves me as much as I love myself), frustrated and alone.

The only ones from the above list that made any kind of sense to me are weak and frustrated. Weak – because I leave early without breakfast, get really tired by the end of the day and when I get home I’m too tired to eat. Frustrated – because really, running all around town trying to organize documents for my visa can hardly be considered fun. The lack of inspiration, blandness, neglect, unloved-ness, and loneliness were feelings that stemmed from seemingly nowhere. They were just THERE. And they refused to go away.

I wish I could say I did everything possible to make them go away, but I didn’t. Because I couldn’t – I had NO TIME. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to say that. Today, a friend asked me since when I rescheduled everything around Eid, that I was doing it this year. And she answered her own question – I JUST HAVEN’T HAD ANYTHING TO RESCHEDULE. Not since school got over at least.

Getting back to these strange emotions of mine, I did nothing to make them go away. I did not go for a bleeding long walk, I did not watch a feel-good movie, I did not reread Love Story (which, for those not in the know, is my feel-good book, even though I cry a little at the end every single time that I have read it), I did not listen to ‘Are you gonna be my girl?’ and dance around the room till I was gasping for air, I did not meet Tejas to vent my frustrations and get the hug only he can manage to give (really, that boy gives the best hugs) because the poor soul was super unwell and delirious. I did not even buy a bar of chocolate to provide myself with a pick-me-up (yes, it’s quite hard to believe, I know. I can’t believe it either!)

How did I snap out of it, then? Well, I’m still not sure I managed to completely do that. I’m still feeling traces of it. I wonder why it’s lasting so long. But today, at this moment that I write this post, I feel much better. For one, the visa papers are finally in order. Secondly, I got a tiny inkling of the aforementioned hug. Other than that, however, I have three people to thank, people who over the last few days have given me some form of inspiration and pick-me-ups in their own special ways. They are all, at some level I’m sure, already aware of what they have done.

• To Louane – For being there when I lose my mind and laugh insanely. For aching and paining after sweating it out at the gym, but always meeting me in my lunch break. For looking out for me at every step I take. For being one of the very few who manage to catch the sexual innuendos in conversations (intentional and unintentional). For knowing something’s wrong – at times before I know it myself. For very sweetly kissing my shoulder and saying “I’m so glad we’re friends again”. For being the only one, of the three people thanked, who will probably never read this post.


• To Sonali – For being my second mother. For being the calming factor in my terribly frustrating day. For being there always, even last year, when she was in far away London. For having amazingly long, intellectually stimulating conversations with me, ones that always leave me with a burning desire to DO SOMETHING. For being the person I can always share my food with. For stating quite plainly and simply, “I love reading what you write”. For being the one who, I know, is going to appreciate the picture accompanying this post.


• To Kyra – For Mappings. For writing the way she does. For being the kindred spirit that she is. For all the random ramblings back and forth. For being bossy, even though we’ve never met (‘this is for your own good’, she said). For forgiving my using her "you-know-who-you-are" trick. For her last post, which helped me recover from the writer’s block a little and type out a nice, long, necessary (?) mail to someone. For just being so yay.



To you-know-who-you-are: I’d like a reply or acknowledgement, please.

The Many Joys of Walking

Walking – isn’t there something in this act that gives a strange rush unlike any other? It’s not something you feel when you’re speeding on the bike or cruising in the car with the top (in my case, windows) down. Although, there is truly a fair level of rush available in both of the above. It is, after all, a personal favorite of mine to speed my beautiful Sleek Bleek when I’m angry or frustrated. Only, don’t tell my mom. Actually, you can tell her – because, really, who am I kidding? My concept of “speed” is not the same as everyone else. I’m actually mortally afraid of it. I am known to have scratched out skin from David’s sides, out of sheer fear, every time he speeds. So when I use the word, I’m talking roughly about 55-60km/hr and not more. That’s not TOO bad, I feel. But there are many of you who will laugh at me. Well, boo you. And driving has ALWAYS been my all time favorite thing to do – if not driving, at least going for a drive.

But, walking? That’s a whole different thing altogether. Plug in your earphones, put on some favorite music and WALK. To where, doesn’t matter! It could be to somewhere, it could be to absolutely nowhere. Of course, walking with a purpose always seems more worthwhile, but then again, not always. Sometimes, you just need to BE and not have a destination. Because then, when you REACH your destination, you have nowhere else to reach. But, without a destination, you have a whole world to explore. And exploring is always more fun on foot.

I must confess, I had forgotten the sheer joys of (and my own love for) walking places until very recently. I was reminded by a friend what it meant. I had forgotten that walking was my way of blowing off some steam, before I owned a vehicle. It was what I relied on to take me from one point to the next, especially on days when I did not have enough dough for a rickshaw but enough laziness to not want to take a bus. And on days when I had no one to hang with, and no book to give me company, I’d WALK. But then, distances became larger and procuring a bike was important, because there were classes in far off places to be attended, and parties and dinners at odd hours to be present at. And walking took a back seat. I mean, why use the power of foot when I have the power of fuel, right?

I was WRONG. Walking rules all. Firstly, when I walk, I manage to get so much more accomplished on the way. Things I would normally avoid doing, for fear of not finding parking. Secondly, I save A LOT of money that would normally be spent on fuel/rickshaw – because it’s free, get it? Thirdly, it gives me this sweet, throbbing muscle pain in my lower legs, typical of physical triumph and adrenalin pumping. And lastly, it gives me a sense of calm and purpose.