GloPoWriMo 2019: 27/30

Today, I have to use a Shakespearean sonnet as inspiration.

I’ve picked Sonnet VIII.

Music

“Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?”
Asks Uncle William,
At which point I immediately raise an objection, and ask
“Music to hear, why hear’st though music joyfully?”
To which Uncle William offers no response.

So I must articulate,
Kindly bear with me here,
Because Uncle William appears to dictate how my
Emotions must respond when there is music to hear.

I will hear music exactly how I please, thank you,
Associating symphony, and melody,
With a vivid image of any memory,
Every note, every sound, every tune,
May bring joy to me,
But tears to you.

And indeed Uncle William,
You did nothing wrong by asking,
But this is how sadness is deglorified,
Denormalized, cast away from the spectrum of human emotion,
With society refusing to accept that
Pharrell’s “Happy”, can represent, grief of
Someone lost,
Or even rage at someone who
Played the song far too often.

So Uncle William,
I beg you to reconsider,
“Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?”,
Replace the start of Sonnet eight with
“Music to hear, so hear’st thou the music”,
For the emotion it may evoke is
Not one that requires justification to you.

 

2019: One Hundred and Seventeen

Today was an attempt to get myself back on track, so naturally I found myself on YouTube, getting deep into a wormhole I couldn’t pull myself out of. I did do a couple of productive things though. My parents and I spoke for an extended duration and figured out our summer plans in a pretty detailed way. It’s the first time in a while I’m getting two months off, so we wanted to use it as a family the best way we could – by being in each other’s company. Getting that sorted was nice. Booking tickets was even nicer.

I can’t really remember the first time I booked a ticket for myself. I’ve always been tech-savvy, and have loved airlines, but figuring out flights and doing online bookings was always in my parents’ domain. Especially considering they were the ones with the credit card. If I think really hard, maybe one of my Hyderabad trips was when I did ticket bookings and figuring out without their help.

Actually no, even earlier. I was involved in the process beforehand. But got full version control over the desktop around Grade 10. That was when I learnt how CVV/CCV numbers worked – and the hidden danger of allowing someone to look at both the front and the back of your card. Wow.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 26/30

Today, I’m challenged by a website to write a poem that features repetition.

When

I remember saying that
when I get older,
I would be cool,
That my nerdiness was just a phase
of impermanence that I had to
get through.

I remember saying that
when I get older,
I would eat pizza everyday,
Which would be easy because
nobody would be able to
stop me.

When I get older,
I remember thinking I would be
Freer,
Less dependent.

I’ve gotten older,
But ever since I have,
I’ve realized I’m no longer bound,
By the limits of my
imagination,
But by the damage society has plundered onto
the Earth.

2019: One Hundred and Sixteen

Another day has gone by.

The amount of studying I’ve done today has been less than expected, but more than anticipated. I think that’s the fairest way of putting it. I’m writing now because I’ve got 3 more days before exams start. So that’s 2 days to get my act together and get my sleeping cycle in order, and 1 day to study for the exam which is on Tuesday specifically.

I’m really grateful to be avoiding two things this exam season: Monday exams, and morning exams. A lack of Monday exams means I won’t have to wear formals to the exam hall this exam season, which means I’m going in with my pyjamas. No morning exams means that I can sleep after finishing portion each night, with the comfort of the morning for revision. Till 1pm. Which means a good 5 hours of revision in the day.

I like that.

Also, two weeks to going home. I’m very excited.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 25/30

Today’s prompt is this:

  • Is specific to a season
  • Uses imagery that relates to all five senses (sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell)
  • Includes a rhetorical question, (like Keats’ “where are the songs of spring?”)

Why are these prompts so complicated?

Summer

Salty water lines my brow,
My sight is hazy,
All I can hear is the whirring of a cooler,
I’m definitely going crazy.

Everything smells sweaty,
Sticking to the skin,
The clothes I’m wearing are wet,
I’m crying within.

I cannot wait to see cooler climes,
Although I love summer so,
I wish I was close to a water body, or in Bangalore,
I’m wondering, where did winter go?

 

2019: One Hundred and Fifteen

I haven’t slept very well over the last two days, so this morning when I got out of bed I was rather sick. This meant two things: first, I would be missing a meeting I had really looked forward to attending and contributing to. The second was that I would be missing the organizing of, and attending the seniors farewell. I wasn’t up to it at all.

This meant that I spent a day in my room – attempting to study, but spending a lot more time thinking and reflecting on things gone by.

Time is a good thing.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 24/30

Today, I am challenged to write a poem which is inspired by a reference book of some kind. My first thoughts took me back to this collection set I possessed when I was younger.

Abo to Zul

As a gift, you were the heaviest one I opened,
My curiosity, unbound.
With a regal blue donning your cover,
You were the first ever nine-book set I owned,
Covering Aborigines to Zulus.

I remember thinking aloud,
How does 26 divide by 9?
Every answer drew up a remainder,
Yet you covered every letter of the alphabet,
Without any left-over.

In every project, you were my guide,
To my mind, you were one of a kind,
With knowledge abundant,
And cross-referencing present,
I learnt so much in no time.

Aborigines to Candles,
Cannibalism to Egypt,
Egyptians to Gymnastics,
Gypsies to Medicine,
Medeival Times to Pop & Rock,
Popes to Stars,
Stars to Zulus,
A Bibliography and Index too,
You are the reason the word
“Oxford” is etched in my memory,
And I can carry conversation on
Any topic today.

GloPoWriMo 2019: 22/30

I’m expected today, to write about my relationship with another art form. I know few art things, so I shall attempt this.

It’s Complicated

Your black and white tinge summarizes my feelings for you perfectly,
So grey, I don’t know where to place you.
As a child you enamoured me,
My parents made sacrifices for me to enjoy your cacophony,
And my uncle first placed you in my hands.
I remember the weight of expectation placed upon me,
To make you light up with my fingers and my touch,
I remember the public performances gone awry,
Soon, I knew my talent wasn’t much.
Then we moved cities,
You reappeared in a new avatar,
I learned how to serenade you,
And with each new touch, you played to my tune,
You were my muse, and I, was in love.
Soon, however, I learned that society
Found curves and strings sexy,
You had neither, and I assuaged myself of your beauty.
I longed however, to hold another in my hand,
Whose tune was on the radio, daily.
I must admit to you today, I carried this ambition through,
Found an instrument that appreciated my left-handed dexterity,
He felt different and unique,
But then the strings cut me,
My finger, and my heart,
And I longed for your love once more.
So I sat at my stool,
Crying, like a fool,
Found old classics to win you back.
You relented,
Accepting me once more,
For that I’m eternally grateful.
But today, I long for another’s touch,
Smaller, more portable,
One I can perform with, without much.
And so,
Our relationship will continue to be complicated,
As I discover more on my journey.
Please know, however, you’ve got a special place in my heart,
For piano, you helped me write this story.

2019: One Hundred and Twelve

It’s very heartwarming to see the place I live in give hardworking people opportunities. Actually, scratch that. It’s very heartwarming to see people take opportunities which come their way. I do believe the place I live in and the privilege I live with gives us opportunities, but I don’t think that should take away from the merit of people who make their own opportunities and see them through to fruition. One example of this is my roommate, so today’s marvelous essay goes out to him.

I’d like to acknowledge that this is no way, shape or form, an endorsement of any political ideologies or political parties. I’d also like to acknowledge fully that this comes after my roommate and some friends treated me out to a dinner I will not forget for a very long time.

When I arrived in my first year, I remember being introduced to my roommate by the warden at the time, and shown my room. It was pretty clear that my roommate was happy to have someone to stay and share the space with – his old roommate had moved out (to go to a different University), and I was just glad to have a place at this place, so any room was honestly fine. Over our first interaction, I learnt minimal facts about him: he was from Assam, he was elder than me, and he was in the BSW stream, having switched over from the BA. This was the person I would spend five years in the company of, and at first glance, I couldn’t help but think how different our upbringing must’ve been.

I told my mom that night that I was grateful to have a roommate who wasn’t Bangalorean, because one of the big reasons I stayed back in India was to learn more about it. My roommate was the first person I had spoken to from North-East India, and I was excited to learn more about the place.

Soon I learnt he was very caring, and went out of his way for people he liked. My first night, I needed a mattress and it was pouring. Yet, he ran with me to the multipurpose store and helped me carry my mattress and set up my bed in the room. Shortly after, as we “decorated” our home-to-be, I learnt that he was inclined toward Communism and was incredibly well-read and well-informed about the theory behind the ideology. And so, several Communist posters adorned my walls, and I stared at them daily. I had only used the phrase at MUNs before, and never actually gone on to read about it. His library made sure I did, within 10 days of being on campus.

He subscribed to the newspaper and read it religiously daily. He didn’t have an excellent command over English, and used Norman Lewis every single day. He once even asked me to use slang with him and share memes with him (he soon became dank) so he could pick up on the conversational aspects of the language. The humility of the request was something I won’t forget, and I began to ask him things I knew I could learn from him as well. It made our relationship a lot more open-minded, as we sought to share knowledge and opinions with each other.

He didn’t have a laptop, so all his studying got done through hardcopies or through his mobile phone (which was a Nokia Lumia, and presented it’s own challenges). He didn’t have a mobile data pack, which meant that accessing material in itself was difficult. Yet, he managed. I remember him outscoring me in the first set of midsemesters. That didn’t shock me as much as it made me admire his perseverance. I always knew he was a smart chap. His hardwork was something I hadn’t accounted for.

By the end of first semester, however, he had discovered four loves: Poetry, McDonalds, Amazon, and Coca-Cola. These four ruled his life. Their presence also meant that there was a marked shift in the ideology. Communism ruled his heart, and ruled in theory. But capitalism ruled his stomach, and therefore, ruled in practice. As a result, he spent more time reading about the right-wing and it’s interactions with the left-wing, as well as how the political spectrum in India actually functioned.

In 2016, as a joke, he began to support Donald Trump. I’d yell at him about it every single day, but he looked at America as a country which needed some radical change to make them realize they weren’t really the greatest country in the world in a lot of respects. He saw Trump as this candidate, and supported his victory (alongwith support for some of his policies). When I went to America, I obliged with his request and bought him a Make America Great Again cap. It’s all he wanted.

But, his heart’s strings drew for the left. He began volunteering wherever he could with the Party he identified closest with, in light of his new capitalistic discoveries, and we debated in the room a lot – about scams, corruption, divisive politics, and several other things. I saw an ability in him to defend his Parties’ actions, but also to concede to mistakes – a rarity amongst the politically educated youth, I would think.

Soon his volunteering activities brought him the opportunity to work with and for the Party. In a land that wasn’t his homeland, where he knew none of the Party hierarchy – he saw the opportunity, and seized it. He worked for local elections, worked at local rallies. And the work he did, it paid for itself – meals were paid for, travel costs too. He got a trip across the border to Rajasthan, and soon enough, a trip across several borders to China.

The China trip was a remarkable feat. This was especially because he converted all of his sadness upon being denied the opportunity to visit Germany, into more hard work – and trusting his peers that he would be granted an opportunity someday. He messaged me from China, the homeland of his ruling ideology’s heart in the East. And boy, did he enjoy the trip.

His work didn’t go unnoticed, and the Party’s hierarchy at the Center began to recognize his name. Soon he started researching for them.

And that took him to where he is now. A future Party member, confirmed.

To get the post, he had to lobby a lot  – with people he had interacted with, but people he didn’t share any connection with, apart from the Party ideology and manifesto. It’s rare – he doesn’t have command over the language they speak locally here, he doesn’t share their last name. But the passion he brought to the table was something they were clearly attracted to and wanted to engage with.

To see a Party work on merit and some lobbying is phenomenal and a little rare.

To see a person work for a cause so large is also something I do not relate to, but admire from a distance.

So here’s to my roommate. The guy watching 3 Idiots on his scholarship-won laptop at the moment, sitting less than 2 steps from me. The same guy who erases the exam schedule from my white board as the exams wind down. And the same guy who made me a peanut butter sandwich today. I admire, respect, and stand in awe of you every single day.