..damn! I rant!

...so I wish I knew how to read time better. the months and dates. From the blocks on my fingers that i need to touch to tick off the maybes from the must-be's. For the time that I want to spend. together. From "last week of Aug, or wait, maybe first week of Sept."

Grrr..for not wanting to be brave.

Grrrr...for all the restlessness that makes me go from book to celluloid to upside down on sofas. and ...for the season finale of Grey's Anatomy. ..for not being judgmental. and..for limbo even though say it isn't so...for justifying to the self...for an insanely high telephone bill...for all the men on two-wheelers on Delhi roads...for all the men who decided to rant and slam at the auditorium gate for not being let in at a sufi concert. Grrr..to bimbette TV channel crews who thought that made a news-story...to birthdays, i've never liked them...for i-wish-i-knew-why. Grrr..for 8 hours everyday...for not being able to say no.

As they say...

In an sms from M:

Calvin to Hobbes (one sunday afternoon on the topic of new year resolutions):

I'm fine just the way I am. Why should I change? In fact, I think it's high
time the world started changing to suit me! I don't see why I should do all the
changing around here. I don't need to improve. Everyone Else Does.

Of a democratic polity. and me.

I participated in an “alternate” space, which for a while, I have called my own. With sub-sets of spaces of inspirational people and spaces that looked beyond binaries.

Sometimes, the alternate falls into the same rut as the 'mainstream'. Politics is about the personal. And sometimes, collective politics becomes exclusionary. Replete with unmistakable hints of incestuous alliances, and “part of the movement” also embraces egos, alter-egos and super-egos.

The politics discourse is often partitioned into that for the classes and the masses. Here, language, for me, posited as within or without. My ghost for the day was having to communicate something that I believed so strongly about, in Hindi. I had psyched myself into believing that my inability to communicate would be seen as clinching the suspicion that my involvement was superficial. I apparently am the urban “Pepsi-Cola” peoples, and will allegedly fly the patriotic coup. I felt strangely like an outsider. Of course, I rationalize it by thinking that it was my own sense of insecurity or some sort of complex that cropped up.

If you’re part of the same space, do you still have to gloat? Are new members in a collective supposed to “fit in” to the uniform? Doesn’t inclusively also mean that those from the 'mainstream' are also welcome; after all, isn’t that a sign of the success of the alternative? Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe, to fight to larger battle, one cannot afford to laud the exceptions. The larger space continues to exist without them.

Precipitation Perspectives

For all the green earth. spray and muddy puddles. for redder red. and squelchy shoes.
I may be fired for blogging from office. But — and it has to be said with all the melodramatic hysterical gaiety i can muster — my world's a better place when it's raining.

inebriated inconsequential rambling

I have lost faith in my ability to communicate in English. generally. Just one of those things that popped into my head as i was drying my hands. I have started emailing bullet points to my closest friend. Punctuation, i've discovered, (especially commas) are not my forte. But dry research papers and annual reports aside, bullet points are fun. Especially when you trust the other person to fill in the right words at the right places — replete with anticipating your change in expression! (me to G: Bullet points let us talk about totally disconnected ideas in two successive sentences..and cover so much about our lives, physical spaces, and the weather!)

***

I've been rolling along from one day to the next. Not drenched in monotony or anything dramatic. Just. Dumbing down the introspection process? Playing ostrich to the world at large? Is it the heat? Today was particularly the worst. It seemed like the world was playing itself out in slow motion. (me to P: i've been sleepwalking through a lot of things..conversations..emotions..premonitions..)

***

Oh and also, not quite related but..I've figured that hospital waiting rooms provide the perfect context for a sociological study on "Patriarchy, the Indian middle class and their sleep patterns."

***

Premonitions are draining.

***

And I've rediscovered Skype and Scrabble!

pfft..

Can all questions, posed to the self, be answered?