Countdown begins?

Its Day 10 at work and now,officially,drama style, the countdown for me, truly begins. It sinks in, ever so slowly, as I say goodbye to a friend after friend..as I count the days left of the life I've known and grown so comfortable in.

Its slightly mind boggling to think how desperately I wanted a change in my life roughly a year ago and now when its knocking on my door, I'm scared to even walk up to it. You'd think that a decade of moving cities should've trained me better,no?

The funny thing is I don't want the break I'm in for. I want to jump from here onto Ann Arbor and just start school like thats what I've been doing all my life. Makes the transition easier,you know?




Argh I sound so lame.

The weekend was amazing. I’m back, tired and tanned. Yeah I know holidays are supposed to make you feel all rejuvenated but I was looking at the pictures last night and in one of them, I look either drugged or extremely pooped. Obviously, it was the latter (we remember that I played elder sister on the trip, dont we? ) but I’m guessing the exhaustion was of the sort that leaves you feeling happy- because I felt happy.

Its with a bit of astonishment that it I realize that its been three weeks since I quit at work. That reduces my time left to (60-21) days = 39 days = less than 6 weeks. Which means, that in less than 6 weeks, all that has been familiar for more than 2 years ends, literally, and I officially make way to new shores and newer things. Its exciting sometimes, when I think of the freedom that I can enjoy being in school. Its also a little depressing thinking I will have to move..again. (UGH. Warning to no one in particular: Amreeka had better treat me good.)

I catch myself reminiscing old times a lot these days. I have the Scarlett-O’Hara-esque capability of “ I wont think about it today, I’ll think about it tomorrow” and I still remember how I felt the very first time I noticed that trait in me; it was a great survival tactic but it made me feel shallow. I am not the types to collect old letters..hell,I don’t collect anything for that matter. I have tried,yes I have, but only to abandon it eventually. Having realized this, I only limit myself to picking up books now and I’d not call it a collection- not because there are few- but because its not done in that spirit.

It makes me wonder if I collect memories. I know I cherish them. But for the most part they lie in near forgotten segment of my brain that I embark upon very very rarely. Almost close to never. Only today, while talking to a friend I remembered that time in Delhi when Shivanker and I drove around town ALL NIGHT LONG to pass time- I had a 5 am flight to catch- and went to random spots, bought random things and generally had a time that definitely hung over in my mind- it was so placid, so lasting, so lovely. Yet, I had forgotten about it till it came to my mind this afternoon in a rather off handed fashion..like an after thought.

One sure mustn’t live in one’s past but why should the past not give you company, all the time, if it can make you happy? I wish I hadn't begun to forget so easily.

I've realized that I'm generally mildly worried if I will ever love again. Not love people but love someone romantically- you know,the types that makes you think and swoon in your own solitude,oddly filling you with happiness. That is the kind of love I'm think I'm almost scared of feeling now.

Its the weekend of a holiday and there will an enveloping,overwhelming nostalgia when I go to Manipal and then to Gokarna. I'm only glad I get to take my brother to Gokarna, the enshrined junkie spot, with great hopes that it gives him no ideas.. erm,I'm known for vastly under-estimating him,but lets be elder-sisterly here,okay?

Did I tell you how badly I miss not having a care in the world? The days when I literally ALL I bothered about was protecting my parents from getting wind of what shenanigans I was upto- all the time.

Yeah,those were the days.

When things change

Soon,much will change.

I will soon go to grad school. I still have to pinch myself to believe that its actually happening . I have wanted this for so long now that its unnerving to think that soon its going to be a breathing reality- slightly daunting, slightly exciting.

Now though,these changes are taking physical form-one by one. I quit last week. For two and a half years, the life I've known is soon going to be a thing of the past. Familiarity builds a sort of comfort and you don't always want to let that go.

I'm hooked on KT Tunstall,just so you know, and going through the vicissitudes of life as I seem to, always, I quite love a few of her songs. You should hear "paper aeroplane"..its particularly haunting in places -

And you're like a paper aeroplane
That never seems to land
Flying blind through anything
Straight into the hand that chokes you
Each time you try to live

And the earth will turn below you
The pressure is building
And something has to give
Oh something has to give


Isnt it a little numbing, the loss of hope?


Anyhoo ( Oh btw,this is my latest talent, I can now oscillate between feeling deflated and bouncy in a matter of seconds,yeah); on a happy note, I just remembered this morning how my all of my little cousins would wish me on my birthday back in college. It would seem like they were all standing in a queue of sorts and the cellphone would go from to another,each of them shouting "Happy budday Rukkudee" in various tones and styles, each filling my heart with a warmth thats was so fulfilling I wish I could record to play back to me whenever I need to feel loved.

Its so magical, the memory of moments. It can sometimes give you a reason to just be.

Amidst feeling loser-like, idiotically, desperately frantic and angst ridden ( only to realise later,however, that it was either futile or loser-like or both), it is a happy day. A weekend is like a bag full of goodies,lots of promise of "good" things, a shocking lot of laziness and a lot of time to just muse over nothing in particular. In my case,it also means that I've plenty of time to finish my sodding applications which to say the least,is reassuring.

Right this minute, I sit blessedly, in my empty hall,on the floor on a duree and Norah Jones is echoing in the background. Its 5 PM but its the most amazing late afternoon in a long time.

I got introduced to the interpretation of dreams tonight in really no Freudian way. It was Alaap essentially trying to substantiate his opinion of someone by talking of a dream he had of her. He says his dreams never lie. I’d believe it because of the conviction in his voice. His dreams sure never lie to him.

There was a time in my life when I thought a rosy life meant rosy dreams. Scientifically, essentially, dreams are a reflection of what one thinks during the hours one isn’t asleep. I wasn’t really plagued by dreams but I distinctly remember having an absurd one in class 8 where I saw myself married to a guy in my class I barely knew and who stammered. I thought it was rather odd, because it actually elicited an interest in me towards knowing this guy but what struck me was its absurdity. I know this because I finally never really did get around to knowing him. I discarded it like a freak situation, allowing myself to believe my brain was hallucinating in the dream.

In the years since, I’ve had many dreams that I couldn’t shake off and a fair share of really happy ones. I also have had really perplexing dreams which often make me want to worry about which I’m direction heading towards because they are so devoid of meaning. However, now, I don’t think I could allow myself to discard a dream like the way I did before. I will have to dig for a deeper meaning in an effort to understand my own situation and considering the way things are going, I certainly could do with that. Like Alaap says, dreams never lie. When you dream something, you learn a real lesson because you feel it. You merely haven’t imagined it, you’ve actually lived it. Interpretation of dreams sounds like a skill but since I’m hardly close to learning it yet, I think I’ll need to go to someone :)

My almost erratic fascination with the facets of the weather sometimes really mesmerises me. Growing up in Rajasthan and moving to Delhi,I was barely conscious of my surroundings and don't recall any particular moment where I felt like the weather had fascinated me. I only recall one solitary incident when I had gone to the Bala Qila in Alwar and was completely bewitched by the beauty of my own city, seen from a height of 100 ft. I almost didnt have that side to myself when I would think of beautiful surroundings or the rain or even the heat. I probably was too self indulgent to bother..or perhaps too intellectually challenged to find crude,natural beauty something worth musing over.

It only took a trip down south,to Manipal on the marvellous Konkan Railway with my dad to actually see the beauty of nature and the mountains. My dad stood near the train entrance,almost entranced,throughout our journey with an odd,almost content smile on his face. When I'd go over to ask what he was upto, he would point out something passing by from the speeding train and muse about the sheer beauty of the fresh new railway line which was hauled as the dream project of the Indian Railways. Konkan Railway has one line so whenever there is one train passing another, one has to stop to let the other go. I dont really know what decides which one is to be allowed to pass before but looking at the heirchical structure of most things that function in India, I'd think that a Rajdhani Express would be allowed to pass before a passenger train. My mother is generally impatient so the fact that our train would stop every so often would have unsettled her..for my dad,however, it was sheer bliss. He would linger around in the spotless train stations(yes,spotless and yes, railway stations ) and peer around the place almost looking into the faraway places and relishing it, just by himself. Considering a beginning such as this, I now feel that the infatuation I was to feel in Manipal, with the beauty of the skies and the mountains and the seas was almost pre-destined. Though my father missed out on noticing much of the Manipal beauty, he initiated me into being sensitive to it and I would forever remain grateful. I've so many memories of the times I'd open my eyes before sunrise and there would be an evanescent blue hue in the room..I could almost reach out and touch it. Like I could almost feel the red,yellow and violet on my skin before sundown.

Manipal's startling beauty is perhaps the one reason I could never remove myself from it.And in many ways, the experience significantly changed me. After hating rains nearly all my life, I now cherish the touch of cold cold raindrops on my skin and the feeling in my heart,welcoming it.