Month: April 2019

GloPoWriMo 2019: 18/30

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Today’s prompt asks me to describe loss or grief, as best as I can through poetry.

The Laundry

I give five pieces of clothing,
Reflective of my wardrobe, it’s an eclectic bunch,
That things are about to go wrong,
I have absolutely no hunch.
I’ve heard the horror stories,
The loss of recently purchased clothes,
I’m dismissive, and condescending,
This will never happen to my laundry, I suppose.
Except one week later, when I come back,
There’s five pieces of clothing, but
Two, I don’t recognize, I feel attacked.
There’s a blue one missing,
And a pink one too,
I question the launderer,
He doesn’t have a clue.
There’s no way for him to make good the loss,
Even if he compensates me,
There’s no way to measure the actual cost,
The cost of heartbreak,
And faded memories,
Never again to be worn,
More crucially,
Never to smell like my own cologne.

2019: One Hundred and Eight

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Today, my time as the Secretary of the Debating Society at my University came to an end. I had a stint of a little more than one year, supported by one of my closest friends and two regular readers of this blog. It’s been the wildest ride. I didn’t really anticipate any of what the role would give me when I found out that I had been elected (rather unexpectedly), because honestly, I wasn’t in the country, or in a network zone (I was in the jungle in Kenya) when the elections happened. But I have, honestly, learnt a lot in the last one year: about myself and the way I conduct myself. Moreover, I have learnt where I stand on how to cultivate cultures in spaces. I’m grateful the people I worked with gave me the space and helped me execute what ideas I came up with. I also realize, after typing all this that we came up with more ideas as a collective than I did as an individual, and we all ended up trying to execute these to the best of our ability. Irrespective of whether they worked or not, a new batch of kids seem to care about the activity, which I think is nice.

After elections concluded, I unwinded for the rest of the day by reading, binge-watching FRIENDS, and then watching two movies back-to-back. The second movie I watched was Spotlight, a movie I’ve watched before only on flights. I watched it once on an Emirates flight from Bangalore to Dubai, and then on an Etihad flight from Abu Dhabi to Washington. I know this is an extremely privileged statement.

But watching the movie on my laptop made me realize how related to those flights my memory of the movie had been. All I could think about while watching it this time around was what I experienced on the flight when I was watching the movie for the first and second time. I remember going to pee at a specific time in the movie. I remember my food being served at a particular time. I remember a passenger announcement disrupting one of the most gripping scenes in the movie.

Spotlight is ridiculously good. I’d recommend.

I also found this reading list: https://www.bustle.com/articles/141339-if-you-hope-spotlight-wins-best-picture-here-are-11-books-youll-be-obsessed-with

2019: One Hundred and Six

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My mum’s been away for a while now (I think four days, or five?) – she’s off on a Vipassana course. I don’t think I’ve ever blogged about this before, so bear with me. My mother discovered Vipassana almost one year ago now, and her first course was in May 2018 – it started on my birthday, so she left Bangalore within 1 day of us meeting, last time.

I remember a lot of emotions: I didn’t understand why she had to go away for so long. I didn’t understand why she was starting this thing on my birthday – I felt like there was no need for her to. I also felt like it was unreasonable on me that she was doing this – walking out for 10 days and then walking back in as if she didn’t miss out on anything. These are horrible first reactions, I am well-aware. But she seemed super intent, and also super, duper worried about whether she’d last all 10 days. So I remember telling her before she left home that she needs to take one day at a time, and commend herself for each day that she manages. Especially because this was going to be such a new experience for her, I thought that was absolutely crucial.

A lot of things happened when she was away. My dad and I fought a few times. My grandfather passed away. It was a lot that was happening.

She came back from the entire Vipassana experience having really enjoyed it. Over the last year, several other members of my family, and several of my mothers friends have tried out the experience and enjoyed it. Now, initially she tried asking me to participate as well. I was very closed-minded. Ultimately, I decided that right now I didn’t feel interested enough in the concept, and maybe someday in the future, maybe that interest will grow naturally. It’s something I’d like to be open to later on. Just, not now. Not for me.

Anyway. All those reactions and emotions of her going away were a manifestation I think of the fact that I missed her presence. I’m not entirely sure. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that when she wasn’t there – a lot of other things happened, which are things that happened just as a result of the fact that she was doing her own thing. Something that was important to her.

Now, I feel like if she does these courses, I’ve learnt to just be happy that she’s doing her own thing. Which I think is a change that’s worth acknowledging.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 16/30

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Today’s prompt challenges me to write a list to defamiliarize the mundane.

Writing Instrument

The complexity of what I hold for 5 hours, at minimum, amuses me.
At once, an accessory, and a utility tool,
With the ability to spark a battle, or end a war.
The ability to put people to sleep, and wake people up, unkindly, when used with a bit of saliva in someone’s ear.
With the choice of writing in multiple colours, and multiple tongues.
How does one choose a writing instrument?
How, and who decides when one moves from a younger version of a writing instrument – relying on the natural elements, to a more, artificial, sophisticated, writing instrument?
Why is this decision made?
At once, so expensive and inaffordable
But so necessary.

 

2019: One Hundred and Five

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Today, somebody told me they didn’t read any of the poems I put up on this blog, but they continued to read these daily posts. And I was super conflicted about how this made me feel. On one hand, I was really grateful that somebody was reading the posts. But on the other hand, I felt like they should be reading the poems too. After all, it takes some effort for me to write them. That’s when it hit me – that thinking that way was exactly the opposite of why I started writing in the first place. Whether somebody reads these thoughts of mine or not is something I’d like to remain indifferent to. The engagement is something I enjoy, in terms of having to understand criticism of my writing, or even heading some praise from time to time. However, whether someone is reading or not is not a metric I want to factor in while picking the subject-matter or the style of my writing.

I’d rather just write to improve my own standards of writing through continuous effort. To feel that flow of words come easily and feel satisfied at the end of it. I’d like to do that. It’s something that clearly needs a lot more work. I’m fairly confident I’ll get there one day though.

 

GloPoWriMo 2019: 15/30

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Oho! Halfway. Today’s prompt asks me to write a play, or something that could be performed dramatically. I’ve decided to take a shot at a monologue. The setting for this is voting day.

Choose

Friends, acquaintances, and uncles & aunties,
Hello,
And Good Evening,
You may wonder why I have interrupted your tea,
And why I am speaking,
You may also wonder why my voice is screechy,
And why I am so short,
I am fifteen years old,
An adult I am yet, not.
Your other questions will be answered soon,
Or maybe I’ll leave them unanswered,
Because that seems to be something adults enjoy doing,
So maybe that’s how I’ll get your attention.

Soon you will be given a chance to vote,
On who gets to govern this area, but also, in the grand scheme of things,
The country,
I will not be given this chance,
Because the elders decided that I would not mature till I was 18,
Or 21,
But you,
You have this chance,
So please take it.
Aunty, this isn’t like when nobody at home tells you what they want to eat,
So you choose for them all,
Uncle, here, has to make a decision,
And the decision may not affect you in the long-run,
Because your future is something in your control – in your present,
My future,
Apart from my board exam marks,
Also depends on what the people governing my country choose to do,
So please think of me,
And what’s best for me,
When you choose,
Because tomorrow,
I will have to make a similar choice,
And my experiences now will make my choice in the future.

2019: One Hundred and Four

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I used today to mostly catch up on my reading. Which is when I realized that I had taken a lot of reading projects up for this year. Managing them has gotten tricky, so having days where I can read without any disturbance, I think, is extremely important to me. It makes me realize that I am likely to use libraries, for example, even when I am much older. To escape from other things in my life and just spend an entire day reading.

More than anything, as a completionist, I look forward to finishing things. The rush I get out of finishing things – especially when I’ve enjoyed the process of it all, is a rush that I think is incomparable to much.

Reading today, and finishing the books I had left half-read also reminded me about how much I enjoyed these projects. It gave me time to reflect about what I was reading – and that time has been invaluable because I’ve managed to collect my thoughts and have been able to process the stuff that I’ve been assimilating.

There’s so much to learn out there.

Battle for Bittora | Anuja Chauhan

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Battle for Bittora,
by Anuja Chauhan,
Rating: **** 

This year, I’ve sought to read books I would not ordinarily have read. Largely, this is an attempt to broaden my horizons in terms of the material that I give time to. The Indian authors I read during my teenage years always felt Chetan Bhagat inspired. After I read my first Chetan Bhagat novel, I was certain that his books were written for the big screen. This was a notion that was confirmed really quickly – with movies inspired by his novels becoming box-office blockbusters.

Reading Anuja Chauhan made me feel the same thing. That her book is destined for the big screen. To categorize her with Chetan Bhagat, however, would be misleading. Her brand of humour is unique and far more witty than Bhagat’s, and her characters do not have a comparable level of pretense.

At the book’s center is 25 year old Jinni (Sarojini) who lives and works in Mumbai is perfectly happy with her carefree and happy existence. This is till her grandmother, a veteran politician herself, informs Jinni to drop everything and contest from their hometown Bittora. As a result of this bullying, Jinni’s life turns upside down, moving from Mumbai to campaigning as the Pragati party MP Candidate in Bittora. The book takes us through her campaign trail, as she slowly understands the nuances of politics – right from how her friends become her enemies, to how her campaign is actually funded.

The book gets more fun when her main rival is introduced: a childhood friend Zain Altaf Khan. An ex-Royal of Bittora, Zain is a candidate of IJP, a largely pro-Hindu, extreme party, which by fielding a Muslim candidate is trying to signal a change of its party ideologies. As is predictable, the love story which develops between these two protagonists is what drives the book, around the political drama which transpires as well.

As a light-hearted read, the book is phenomenal. There’s a tinge of political commentary, but that’s not the main feature here. Chauhan is liberal with her use of Hinglish, making the book extremely relatable. The slang is hilarious, with words like “Saakshaat fart” to describe people, and “kitaanu animator” to describe Jinni’s job profile. The jokes are terrible and will inspire a laugh riot, with characters like “our Pappu” being developed purely through jokes. And of course, as with every Indian family, there’s an aunty who tries to get in the way of things – which just adds to the masala.

I’d recommend this book to everybody. I gave it 4-stars because I thought it got a little dry in parts, in terms of the writing. But it’s worth the read, especially if you need some laughter therapy.

2019: One Hundred and Three

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The electricity was shut down on campus for some time this afternoon, which was challenging because it meant there was no fan for a while. When it’s the only cooling device in my room, not having it, and dealing with 42 degrees Celsius of heat, is not exactly the most pleasant thing in the universe.

I was sweating while lying on my bed. It was pretty icky.

Which is when I decided to pass time with a thought experiment. Considering the heat, I asked myself: would I like to have a fridge, or an air-conditioner in my room? Now, the first answer that comes to mind is the air-conditioner. However, I have a fondness for cool liquids which made this a particularly challenging decision to make.

Here’s what I struggled with: would I prefer a cool atmosphere, with regular temperature beverages, or a regular atmosphere with cool beverages? The fridge would also provide the opportunity to get a cool atmosphere/cool down my body temperature because I would have access to ice, and I would be able to open the freezer door and shove my face in it whenever I felt like.

This tilted the balance in favour of the fridge.

However, that’s when it occurred to me that if I had a cool atmosphere, beverages in the room would also be cooler than regular temperatures. Additionally, we already have a fridge in the hostel – which I don’t use for cooling my beverages, or shoving my face in.

Plus, an AC would mean that hot winds would never enter the room – because the windows would have to be shut.

In conclusion, I would pick the air-conditioner.