‘Lavanya, you better come out with me tomorrow or else I’ll never talk to you again!’ Persistent little cockatoo of a friend dragged a clueless, guilt- infested me to the city today. While she did justice to the ‘reporting’ that was demanded of us, I trotted along aimlessly humming tunes that helped passers-by term me tone deaf. Guilt, never declining and forever on the rise. So reporting, huh, Lavanya? The filthy little voice in my head whispers. Shadap, I snap back. I swear I heard an unforgiving chuckle.

I haven’t done anything worthwhile after the sem break. Haven’t really started my research, haven’t filed any news report, haven’t studied for any of the class tests, haven’t studied for my PG entrance exams, haven’t even done any assignment on my own. I hear the chuckle again.

So little cockatoo and me, we eat breakfast. As I gobble down a ghee roast and a masala dosa(uncouthly), little cockatoo pecks at her food (lady-like-ly) as I think of ordering a third dosa, a pestered, unwashed waiter drags his feet and walks over to us, points at me indignantly and asks cockatoo,’ Eniyum venama?’ (does she want more?).

The next time I was nudged out of my reverie, I found myself and my friends seated in a psychiatrist’s clinic. Cockatoo needs to interview him, she explains. They discuss teenage and emotional instability. I stop him abruptly and rant away about explosive and implosive anger. He says that implosive anger could be treated by practicing yoga. I tell him that I prefer karate, but I fear if I’d lose my cool and hit someone. My friends nod in unison. They know. They’ve been there. They sympathize. He looks at me and reveals that I might need ‘psychiatric attention’. Eh? BS.

So what did I do? I got out, tried to drown my guilt in food, got told that I need psychiatric help, ate a little more, sat on a friend’s bike ( he enquires if I’m alright after the ride, dude, I’ve sat on Gaurango Banerji’s bike. Thrice. No roller coaster could be scarier. Yes of course I’m alright) and strolled back into the college. What have I actually done today? Nothing.

Filthy voice, stop chuckling, will you?

If truth were a tale...

I live on a tree that kisses the moon in a forest far far away

For my hideous face, none would like, nor man, nor beast nor bird of prey

Five suns past my day of birth mercilessly was I thrashed and thrown,

I cried, I wept, I knelt and begged for mercy to be shown;

They cursed, they kicked, they screamed and said, “To evil you bear semblance!”

The heart I had, it withered and died in this pitch dark forest’s obscene silence

But hither hours turned to days, days to months and those to years

Time reformed all, named pain a companion and dispelled all my fears

Until one day, fate dealt a different card

Disbelief stopped my steps and for once the night seemed starred

For beneath a tree she sat, as if in a trance

At that sight did my wilted heart blossom and enhance

For she looked at me and did not flee

But gifted me a smile filled with glee

‘How did you reach this wretched woods? ‘ spoke I

‘I slipped and fell,’ she sang ‘from the endless deep blue sky.’

For days and days we laughed and danced

Not once my ugly past had I glanced

She said she wouldn’t leave me for the heavens above

And promised that I was the only one she’d love

And I forgot all the injustices fate had washed towards my shore

Who could believe that this was life and not a tale or lore?

To adorn her I wanted gems and to the village we drifted to look for them

As she saw the people, I saw her and on her face did an emotion stem

‘They look like me’ she spoke beneath her breath

‘None as beautiful as thou,’ I said, ‘ in life or death.’

Before I retreated to my sleep, I thanked the heavens for a gift so dear

With whom was entwined my every cheer

And then the sun sprang up and scattered light

I waited to hear the maiden’s hum, that dawned my day and wiped my night

But alas! There was nothing I could hear or see but a broken chain and shattered beads

Why had she left? Had I faltered? Didn’t my love shine through my deeds?

While I searched for her through the jungle, to tame my thirst I bent down

And in the lake I saw my answer, and I decide that my hideous self should drown.

Whispers of death

Twisting, twirling, stunning Flame

Should I let thou feel this corrupt me?

I shall, if thou promises to smother my deception,

Kill my greed, and let me breathe no more

How could it ever be wrong if I let thou feast on me?

For I have had no morals

No ounce of merit

Nor a shred of truth or worth

Bending, curling, coiling gold

I see you thirst for me;

For beneath my skin beats a cruel heart

That pumps vile seeds of evil deeds

My soul seeks thy touch

To free itself,

To put my bleeding conscience to an endless slumber

When I come to thee and seek thy help

Spare not my skin, my voice, my treacherous lies

Swallow my smile, my waist, my haunting eyes

For I demand only what I deserve

And death it is for me

Burn me to my deepest depths

Until to the world I am,

But a fable, a dream, a fading tale.

Vroom Vroom CRASH!

The first day I went to my driving school’s office I was disappointingly nonchalant. You’d expect at least an ounce of emotion- eagerness, happiness, nervousness- anything at all! I guess I had too much on my mind that day owing to a bad experience with a loser. If I ever harboured any shade of sentiment, it had nothing to do with driving. Little did I know that I’d get so puzzled by the whole clutch, gear, accelerator thing that I wouldn’t have much on my mental agenda than to survive the day and not to kill any unlucky person who comes in my way!

The first few days at the institute were hideously boring, it took me all the effort that I could muster from the depths of my snoozing soul to keep my eyes open in an attempt to seem interested, wait a second, whom am I trying to kid? In an attempt to seem awake- now that’s what is even remotely close to true! Thanks to small mercies that got over in a couple of days... and then came along the simulator days! Yea I know a couple of you might be snorting and wondering out loud, “what in the world is that? Military training?” Take a chill pill people; with the kind of driving talent I possess, a simulator is something sent down by the angels. After two days on the simulator dodging(rarely) and killing(often) virtual people who lived in the screen of my simulator and never missed a chance to suicide by running into my virtual car, my could-have-been driving instructor, Praseena ( or was it Praseetha? ) decided that since there was a power cut and the simulator wasn’t functioning she’d let us drive. DRIVE. Wasn’t she happy with the number of reel people I killed? Did she want to see real people disfigured or worse dead?

I nudged my sis into the driver’s seat. Yea big sisters are always there to save the day! She’d drive, the power would be back and I could get back to smashing virtual folks, right? WRONG! She did a decent job and before I knew it was my turn to grab the steering wheel... dude, was I nervous! Praseena sat there smiling like someone had stuffed a scale into her mouth and said ‘start’, I gave her an even wider sheepish smile... what the hell was I supposed to do?

I asked myself to take it cool. No Lavanya, it is no big deal! All the people on the streets, that nut from your 12^th math tuitions, if they can drive, you too can! The key is to relax, remember the key, the key, the key. And before I knew it my left hand turned the key and switched the car on. Now that wasn’t hard, was it Lavanya? In a leap of pride that I can only compare to a parent's whose child just won the final round of the spelling bee comp, I took my legs of the clutch and break, unaware that unlike the simulator the car moved on clutch. That’s when I saw all my ancestors and the 5000 Indian Gods in a flash, the car was moving and it would soon crash into my driving school, how ironic that I would wreck the institute that taught me ( or thought they did) to drive with their very own car. I did I what I thought was most sensible then, I ducked under my steering wheel and screamed ,“AMMAAAAAAAAAAAAA “. God came down in the form of Praseena, the nutter who taught her students zilch and had conveniently ignored the need to let the student know that this car ran on clutch, pressed the break, turned to me and said, “Is there any need to get scared?” Nope, none at alone, I’d crash into the building, ruin the car, kill the tutors and myself. How bad could that be? Naah, nothing to worry about! How bad could the death of around 10 people be? India is an over populated country after all! Frankly I don’t remember what I did after that, but from what I heard from my mum I drove around the building and parked the car in its place.

3 more days in the simulator, 3 more days with us trying to figure how to drive the virtual car by killing just a decent amount of virtual humans while Praseena either flirted with other instructors or whiled her time away, chasing the path of a housefly with her eyes.

And then the big day arrived, since Praseena ‘could’ not ‘teach’ us because of her ‘busy schedule’ we got a new instructor! The new guy actually taught something! Now that we were going to ride on the roads we were in a serious need of a real tutor. My sis drives pretty good, and I haven’t killed anyone yet, touchwood, all thanks to our new instructor.

The first day on the road, I scared a fisherman by driving right at him and stopping just a nanometre away. The power of a smile, I thanked god for making me a girl, if there is one thing that girls can do better than boys it is to smile and stealthily slip out of trouble’s treacherous hands. The fisherman’s expression turned from fear at being almost hit, to anger, to calmess, to delight. Of course he’d forgive the helpless girl who was learning to drive, even if she’d almost squashed him!

The fisherman was followed by a couple of school kids and then a middle aged woman- naah! Smiles don’t work on aunties. Hard luck. Am I the only one who drives backwards without using the reverse gear? I’ve made a lot of embarrassing errors, like getting the engine to switch off in the middle of a(well many) busy junction(s), for starters. But hey, I’m improving! And the next class (9th day) I won’t scare any person off their shoes (hopefully, that is..lol)

After all, tomorrow is another day.

Dirty Game

I recently had a chat with a friend on how Facebook enables everyone of us to look smarter than we actually are (naah, that is not what this blog post is about). We all put up statuses that have been copied and pasted from elsewhere and conveniently forget to thank the source, we click ‘like’ on causes and issues that we don’t understand( or worse, don’t give a darn about) and flaunt quiz results that make us look good, but the feature about Facebook that makes us appear smart effortlessly is the one that lets us choose our stance on politics- political views: liberal, humanitarian, communitarian, Marxist etc etc etc, you name it they’ve got it and thankfully they do not ask for an explanation on why we support that form of government.

I wonder how many of us who have blissfully selected liberal, humanitarian etc know the meaning of it? No, Marxism does not mean Che Guevara and Che Guevara is no fashion icon, trust me when I say that he’d be insulted if he saw the way people of today flashed shirts with his face on them all the while being unaware of the pain and effort he had put into uplifting the lower classes of a neo-colonialism infested Cuba ( naah, I’m no Che Guevara fan, as much as I appreciate his efforts, I can never truly support Marxism). A funny thing about Marxism and people is that if you do not support Marxism or own caps and bags with Che Guevara pictures on them when the fire of youth in you is at its burning best people would think that you are lame and if you still support Marxism once you have entered your middle age people think that you’re downright crazy. Yup, funny.

Probably every country would have to change its regime or mode of political thought every once in a while (20 years or so) as no form of government would be permanently feasible. Politics in itself is dynamic, it changes with culture and with each generation that adds to it as they live. We have moved from a tribal society to monarchy , we have been colonialized, have won freedom some 300 years later and then wondered what form of government would be at least an ounce better than being shepherded by the British, we moved to a socialist democracy and then to one that is trying its best to embrace liberal democracy. We changed because we had no choice or because someone amongst us thought that we needed change just for the sake of trying out something new. Who knows? Maybe it was you and me who sat at the corner of the tribal panchayat or meeting group or whatever they called it 2000 years back and gossiped away on how a tribal form of governance was getting boring and that we’d probably do much better with a new exciting chieftain. Or maybe it was you and me who tricked Mangal Pandey into believing that the cartridges were smeared with pig fat... possibilities are, as always, endless!

Every country should begin with a few years of socialistic rule; just a few... to level differences, remove class differentiation- not that we would be able to do much, but a few years as a token of effort wouldn’t hurt. If socialism is allowed to persist for long the class differences and gaps are only going to widen (ironically), apart from a shift in power there wouldn’t be any change because for the survival of any form of government there needs to be a villain and a hero ( in Marxism, the upper and the lower class). Communitarianism on the other hand is blind, oblivious Pollyanna. Communitarianism or humanitarianism, initiates us to believe that we all live to serve each other, as good as it may sound, it is impossible to believe. And those who cling on to its infallibility are going to learn it the hard way, reality check- not everybody is dying to help you. My Libran optimism fails me. Sometimes it is better to be practical. Communitarianism banks on the absence of a real villain, it sees just heroes. Another flaw.

That is why I like the idea of liberalism, the idea that subtly chides us to believe that the villain and the hero are one and that they both fit quite comfortably into every individual. The idea of liberalism is ability to negotiate, to solve our differences and to live together. To live, to reap, to enjoy and when you do all this you can step over people who come in your way but not on them to get your way. It is a science that asks us to live and let live, a science that does not ask us to live for others but to do our best, the ripple effect would help others too. God helps those who help themselves.

Get lost pied piper!

Yea Ascom when was the last time you received a smirk, or worse, a snort when you told them what you were doing at college? Shouldn’t be in the distant past I suppose. Anything I tell you, anything other than engineering and medicine is looked at with scepticism.
“ Communication? Wow, great scope! You could try doing space resear-“
“ Urm.. Mass Communication not Electronics and Communication”
3 minutes of silence and a couple of disapproving expressions later
“isn’t that like a de.. de.. degree course( read nemesis) , huh?”
SO WHAT? How does that affect them? Some of them look at you as though you just expressed your deep desire to jump off the PETRONAS towers. “Degree course”. B.S.

Why on earth are we Indians so obsessed with engineering? How many of us doing that actually understand it? Let alone like it. in a country like ours “ fitting in “ or rather following the crowd is what is deemed appropriate... bramin- pray , kshatriya-fight , vyshya-business , shudra-the rest.. the new caste system- high-business, engineering, medicine , low- “degree course”.. Follow the pied piper.. join the Indian club of elite engineers! Please don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against engineers, or for that matter anybody else doing what they really like and believe in. It’s just that look of doubt that you get when you tell that u aren’t following the pied piper.

Yes I admit, some of us have taken Mass Communication not for the passion for it, it’s rather a means of staying as far away from equations and sums as possible and a few embarrassed (unnecessarily) because they couldn’t afford the high sums the management quota seats so covetously require. But don’t brand us incapable just yet..there are a substantial number of us who from the very beginning knew that all we ever wanted was to write or report or whatever! And do not underestimate those of us who have strayed into Communication unawares.... it could be love after marriage! Difficult perhaps but not impossible!

What if one mouse decides that this whole following thing isn’t meant for it? That its passion lies elsewhere? Can’t the pied piper just let it be? Can’t the other mice understand? Well, unfortunately they don’t . I desperately wish they would but they don’t. But, naah.. I’m not gonna give in just now.. throw all the looks of distrust and scepticicsm u want at me.. I believe that those of us who have estranged the pied piper will someday.. may be not right now, but some day soon be triumphant.. yea ascom we will..hum honge kamiyab ek din.. :)

Temporary insanity triggers an urge to write :)

This story was written in a fit of anger at 1:00 a.m. during our first semester exams after I fought with my two best friends Fareeda(codnamed the ‘caveman’- owing to her messy hair)and Niranjana(a.k.a . midget ) . Fareeda was someone who read the zodiac sign characteristics religiously, and judged practically everyone based on what she read (i.e. until she read my story- now her zodiac books have been thrown away and forgotten!) in the story her alter ego the caveman does the same. He draws meanings from the positioning of the stars.

Legend of the caveman

The dark clouds whirled and thunder struck, caveman opened his eyes and scowled, he looked out of his once pretty castle, now the castle had changed, creepers had spread and strangled all the sides of the castle giving it a scary satanic appearance. What is most dangerous about the caveman and the castle is that initially they look like a handsome prince and his welcoming palace. For the first six months that you enter the ambience remains the same but, it is after one looses half a year there that one realizes that one has been deceived ... trapped...caged...forever. For Ever. Enslaved in a place where gloom and sarcasm prevails, honesty and warmth cease to exist. The prince will shed his mask of deception one earthly day at a time and when it seeps into you that you had believed and laid trust too soon... you realize that you had been deceived in the worst possible way.
The caveman looked up above at the stars, and he saw not twinkling, sparkling dots but masters providing instructions and guides to knowing the character belonging to a mortal or the future that spreads infinitely beyond our eyes, real yet so unreachable. He drew his opinion looking into the eyes of humans and drawing meanings from what the stars his masters, or so he considered them to be, had taught him.
And then he met the midget.
He liked the midget at once, an incomprehensive feeling of comradeship engulfed him and he decided that his true ally had come. To others when he gave a feeling of non existence, a sort of invisibility, to the midget he gave pride and control.
The midget like the cavemen know did not the meaning of honesty. His life was filled with lies and false flattery for ulterior motives. He betrayed not one but many and even more minds did he cloud with false loyalty. Yes, many had been drowned in the dark waters of treachery.
And the sun arose one day majestically, claiming to rule the world in unexplainable dynamism, moved to the zenith and then declined. As he prepared to be swallowed by the mighty ocean he promised to be back in full power the next day. When he disappeared darkness overpowered the paradise and earth.
The midget yet again displayed his cruelty... and this time none but the caveman did it affect and in the worst possible way. He fell to the ground and ceased to exist, the life in him ebbed away. And before he died he saw the stars and realized that they were nothing but sparkling objects, as he deceived people the heavens deceived him.
And as the sun promised it dawned again and once again a new day was born and those of whom who had been cursed into non existence by the caveman walked on the earth again in flesh and blood.

P.S. I read the story to my caveman and my midget , they loved it. And needless to say we are best friends. 