The art of telling the viewers what they can already see, but doing it loudly, and with disorienting persistence, whilst mentioning as many sponsors as scientifically possible using a human voice-box. Aimed to assault rather than inform, to overwhelm rather than illuminate. In the old days of televised Test cricket, an entire 20 overs could pass without any commentator saying anything (in fact, during some lulls in play, the only discernible sign that the BBC commentary box was still populated was the gentle snoring of Tom Graveney). In the IPL, two seconds of dead air will result in multiple sackings.
The Textbook
About a week ago, I was looking for a book in my (rather dusty) cupboard when I found myself staring at a thick blue book. Pulling it out, I realised it was a Political Science text book I had bought in the 11th grade.
I didn’t need to flip through it to remember what I learnt. Political Science was quite simply one of my favourite subjects in school, one that I looked forward to quite eagerly. Initially, it was a bit draggish with learning about Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau (the “project” which divided the class into three groups – we still look at each other and say “hey, where you Hobbes or Rousseau?”), but then once I reached 12th grade, it was the subject that got me thinking about an issue throughout the day.
When I was younger, I sincerely believed all politicians studied Political Science before they became politicians. I imagined them all going to Politician College, their uniform being white kurta-dhoti, carrying thick politician text books. I believed they studied how to run the my country.
Today, I know better. I know that there is no Politician College. There are no thick politician books, and there definitely is no studying going on. Yet, today I went out and voted. Why?
Well there’s the usual argument – if you don’t vote, you don’t have the right to complain about the government. Also, what if I didn’t live in a democratic country? What if I lived somewhere where I had no *option* to vote for someone?
It’s a sad thought when I think about the number of eligible voters who have left the country to study/live somewhere else. Some of these people will never have the opportunity to vote in India, some might. But the point is, when I’m here, why shouldn’t I vote? Sure, getting hold of my Voters ID card was an exercise on its own, and it’s filled with mistakes (something I hope to get rectified before the next election) but after that, all I needed to do was walk over to the next street, show my ID, get my finger dabbed with ink and press a blue button.
Back to the Political Science book. I remember thinking this book was a god send during the boards, as it pretty much listed out everything I need from the exam point of view. But now I realise, those exam questions aren’t just exam questions do deal with once and forget about later. They reappear again and again, as questions voiced all over the country – What is democracy, why is it important? What are the basic duties of a political representative? What is a party manifesto, why is it necessary? What is secularism? What are vote bank politics?
I answered these questions on paper, and I learnt about fair and unfair election practices in a classroom, but I still see unfair practices around. I still see people asking for schools, electricity, employment oppurtunites, good roads and a decent sanitation system – things that I, and the rest of the world, deem as important to a citizen. So since I have one vote, and the opportunity to cast it independently, I vote in favour of these things.
The Betches and I
A relaxed afternoon, six girls in an almost empty restaurant, and literal pages of memories. Catching up has never been more fun. Did I ever imagine I would be where I am today, a year ago? It’s been a year since I finished school, a year since those dreaded board exams, and a year of college.
Woah.
The Duchess and Virgin Territory
I’d been meaning to watch ‘The Duchess’ for a while now, and I finally watched it today and I loved it! I think Keira Knightley is a very, very talented actress – she’s put up a stellar performance in all the movies I’ve seen of hers right from ‘Bend It Like Beckham’, the POTC series, ‘Pride and Prejudice’ to this one.
The movie is based on the life of 18th-century English aristocrat Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire. There’s actually a book about this lady, written by Amanda Foreman, which I must get my hands on now. I love the costumes, I love the music, I love the actors ( Ralph Fiennes in a totally detestable role but very well enacted!).
I seem to have a fascination for these eighteenth century type things..
Also this afternoon I watched ‘Virgin Territory’ starring Mischa Barton and (drool) Hayden Christensen, which caused me to fall in love with him all over again after Star Wars. This one’s a romantic comedy, a bit on the American Pie side but in a more medieval setting, I guess. It was funny, Hayden was hot as usual, so I had fun.
Next on the my list is ‘Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist’ which I am solely watching because it has Paulie Bleeker (Micheal Cera) from Juno!
The Missed Train
there is this version for him and
another, and the other will
be this version, for her
the insurgence of now
no matter, the fire where it
burned, the embers remain
of a long pause and now
breathe.
wisdom, I laugh
no pain, no gain
and I lie here when I say
there is a another train to catch
I will never reach
the same place
I will never know the place again
when it is bathed in us
Drainage
Were there promises of love?
Of children, and houses
“Just come with me”
Did he say it, or plead?
Shall I believe them, she asks
what can I say, but look
a watery smile :
“He’s the One”
And then she’s gone,
Swept away, sunshine
and then
torrents
here they come,
wailing and sobbing
“All wrong, all wrong!”
Those dreams, they gurgle down
the dirty drains where soggy
tossed out fantasies go
washed down by downpours
of Heartbreak and Sadness
(always in season)
Flying, in a sense
I love airports. It might have to do with the fact that I love flying, but I really do love airports.
I love sitting outside the ‘Arrival’ area, watching people. I know it’s creepy, in fact a lot of people could be wondering ‘Ok who is this creepy girl and why is she watching me’, but I really can’t help myself. I smile when I watch the two little hyper boys run towards their grinning grandparents, each little boy attempting to push the heavy baggage carts. I tear up (just a little) as I watch aging parents embrace the son they probably haven’t seen for while as he walks out, probably just off a flight from the US. I scoff at the all white netas, the ones nobody knows, as they walk out with folded hands looking for the garlands that wont greet them, hoping that somebody will notice the useless posse of harried looking PA’s around them, and maybe give them some importance.
But of all the things the scene that I love most to watch are the ones which involve the shy married/engaged couple, probably a husband returning from a business trip, as he catches sight of his wife, the self-conscious smiles, the words of greeting, and then surprising both of them, the arm slung across her shoulders pulling her into his embrace, as they make their way home.
Advice to Women
Advice to Women
Keep cats
if you want to learn to cope with
the otherness of lovers.
Otherness is not always neglect –
Cats return to their litter trays
when they need to.
Don’t cuss out of the window
at their enemies.
That stare of perpetual surprise
in those great green eyes
will teach you
to die alone.
Poem found on this blog
Prep : An opinion
Ok, so I admit I tend to judge a book by it’s cover! It definitely is one of the factors that leads me to picking up a book, so when I first saw Prep, I thought “Ok, it looks light”, which was what I was looking for at the particular point in time.
Prep turned out to be the total opposite! With a faint Catcher In The Rye quality to it, the book is certainly not gripping in that “oh my god I can’t put it down for even a second” kind of way, but it definitely had me interested throughout. Some people might get bored, or annoyed, or pissed off with the main character’s constant under-playing, undermining of herself, but quite honestly I related to almost everything she felt in a guilty sort of way. As Curtis Sittenfeld’s Wikipedia page says :
[Prep] concerns a girl from South Bend, Indiana, who goes to an elite boarding school near Boston, Massachusetts. The plot deals with coming of age and class distinctions in the preppy and competitive atmosphere of the school.
Lee Fiora, the main character, is someone you’re not likely to spot first in a crowd. And she is well aware of that. It’s not that she’s awkward, a freak, a geek, or humorless. In her eyes, and probably the rest of her peers’, she is ordinary. Lee joins the elite Ault boarding school, but can never explain why. But as a reader, you don’t find the need to question it, just as Lee doesn’t find the need to explain why. Perhaps she wanted to be something special, maybe feel ordinary in “snob school”, but still Lee joins, as one of the few scholarship students. The book was refreshing in the sense that Lee doesn’t do something grand and spectacular that spirals her into the glowing warm spotlight. She doesn’t “find” herself, or end up with the perfect romance. She just emerges probably as real as she was at the start of the story. And, as everybody at Ault School loves to say, “therein lies the paradox”.
This book didn’t change my life. I didn’t fall for the male character. I don’t come out admiring Lee for any of her traits. because I already know those traits, some that I have hidden, some that I have tried to hide and failed, and some that I have allowed to emerge and I’m damn proud that I did.
After all, I did have my own Ault School.
backtrack
the platform
eternal pausing, the shells
of smoked peanuts
scattered
drips of tea on the stone bench
cold, now
and as I watch the train pull away
dragging a bit of my heart
with each chug
across the littered tracks
there are questions
answers I don’t need
for now, I’m a blur
a thing-of-the-past
yours, a moment ago
when you ran your fingers
through my hair
as always, your fingers caught
in the tangled ends
and just like always
you left them like they were