Category: 2019

It seems pretty routine for me to think about how “busy” I’m becoming as the semester wears on and time passes. February is the busiest time in University, by a country mile. It’s when the most number of events take place – one after the other. Week after week. I enjoy being involved in all of them, but this year I’ve found another committee to keep me busy while I do bits and pieces of events work and help out where I can. Now, I’m not on the Core of any event that’s happening this semester, so I can’t relate to the stress they must be going through. For me, all these events happening on campus are an excellent opportunity to enjoy good food, one week after another. Especially because there’s always going to be a lot of food trucks who come by. I’m also looking forward to meet some friends who are coming down for these events – which should be super enjoyable.

But having all of this has made me tired. I used the weekend to try recuperating but I woke up on Monday morning feeling sleepy. I can now automatically switch off and zone out of class, falling asleep in an instant. I think that’s a useful skill if I’m trying to make up for lost sleep – which I have in the past. I’d really like to wake up one morning feeling well-rested though.

The other side effect of all of this has been a lot of procrastination. It’s procrastination which hasn’t affected individual tasks and their timelines – most responsiblity I take on is responsibility that can wait, responsibility that has deadlines which aren’t looming on the horizon. None of them overlap either. Which makes them easier to fulfil. But procrastinating them means I find myself waiting till the last moment to even start tasks sometimes – which is getting frustrating.

So I’ve set tonight as a night to catch up on pending work, because otherwise I’ll go down a blackhole of YouTube autoplay videos – which to me, is the point of no return.

Talking to new people is so fascinating. I’m pretty active on messenger applications and really try hard to stay in touch with friends and everything, but sometimes you can get a new contact on your phone – either via a group you’re in, or maybe even an event you’re participating in or helping out with. You’ll even receive personal messages from this unknown number – a “come help out”, or “Hey! Can I send you my attendance exemptions form?”, and naturally, you’re likely to answer only the question you’re asked – and not much more.

But what if you don’t know someone and they send you a message to make sure their friend is hanging with the right kind of crowd from far away, just out of care. And that sparks off conversation which continues on the daily, through periods where you’re each busy and replies are delayed, but somehow, conversation goes on, links are shared – and you learn more about them.

And then you finally get to speak to them – and conversation goes on the way it always has. But all those chats and layers of context finally attach themselves to a voice.

What I find fascinating is that this is how the human brain works – it attaches identity and layers of context to a voice (that you learn how to recognize), and also to an appearance. It attaches emotion to people and memory to conversation.

If all of this isn’t the human experience, I’m not sure what is.

The premise with which arguments start is something I find quite fascinating. Most arguments, for example, begin on contradictions which rely on first principles – a concept we learn while debating at University. Identifying these first principles is a great way to see where two differing sides clash.

But when you read a judgment, or some form of a final decision: whether that’s a review, or an opinion piece – all of these start off with premises. Assumptions they make to be fundamentally correct. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about how these premises also need questioning sometimes, and how sometimes, decision-makers fail to lay out these premises clearly, or fail to offer justification about how their premise is true.

This reading list is a great example: https://www.epw.in/engage/article/why-aadhaar-judgment-flawed-reading-list?0=ip_login_no_cache%3D48e70aea2b0036df81d5e6821b11e4f5

It’s February, woohoo! I think it’s a great sign that the month has started off with a weekend. Hopefully this means the month passes by really quickly. I’m starting to find that there’s a lot less happening in my life that I like reporting on my blog – it’s tough to find content. Which is why I’m very grateful that my grandmother calls me once a week. There’s always some content there.

As a child I fought a lot with my grandmother. I don’t know what it was – I do really love her to bits, but man, my maternal grandmother used to set off something in me that made me fight with her everytime I was on holiday. I think it was largely because she wanted me to stop watching as much TV as I did, or actually wear clothes different to the clothes I was donning at the time. I also fought with her over mundane things that spoilt NRI kids fought about: the curd was sour, the rasam didn’t have floating tomatoes, the water was too hot and not lukewarm for bathing, the toilets were dirty, cockroaches were everywhere, I was scared of the dark, the list is endless.

She once laughed at me when I fell on my butt because I thought there was a chair when I was trying to sit. Turns out, there was no chair, and I went flat onto the ground. Once, I was rocking a Paragon plastic chair back and forth, and fell, hitting my head against the wooden railing of the sofa in the house. Both times, she laughed. I was crying, and amidst my tears, remember yelling “What is there to laugh?” – something both my grandparents sing out everytime I laugh at something.

Man, but each time I yelled at her, she took with some grace. As if she knew all of this was me just being bratty. As I grew up, I stopped fighting with her, and I started using humour as a response to her very mundane questions. Every time we speak for example, she asks me about the weather, and offers a fashion tip based on the weather. So, today, the conversation was:

Is it still cold there?

Yeah, it’s pretty cold. The weather isn’t improving.

Oh, that’s sad. I hope you have enough warm clothes.

Yeah, I do.

Wear those warm clothes okay? Ensure you drink only warm drinks.

No, I’m roaming around in shorts and will drink Coca-Cola, thank you for your blessings.

Why I do this?

I’m uncertain. But it’s largely because she tells me the same thing every single time we talk.

She also enquires about whether I’ve started studying for my midterms, which are one month away. (I have not)

And this gets to me really fast – so I always respond with humour.

But I know she comes from a good place. The concern in her voice and the kindness of her heart is something I’ll admire forever.

Also, get this. She’s been telling my mom to tell me to write about her. Because she’s one of the only relatives who reads this blog religiously who doesn’t have her own post.

Here’s your post, Ajji. Hope you liked it.

I’ll go back to wearing shorts now.

 

This gem:

It’s the end of what’s felt like a very long month. It almost felt longer than 2018 had felt in parts. Which made me wonder, what makes time feel so subjective as an experience to each of us? What makes us experience fast pace, and slow pace?

As I thought this, I was speaking to someone about Padmavat, the movie, and discovered that was released just one year ago – yet somehow, the controversy surrounding the movie feels like it took place way before that.

Today was a ridiculously cold day. I woke up at 6:45AM and felt a blast of chilly wind. It wasn’t pleasant, because I realized my torso was really warm and my legs were ridiculously hot but my face was cold – so I spent the next 15 minutes (till my roommate’s alarm rang) tossing and turning to ensure just the right amount of leg stuck out so it could feel the chilly wind. Then I covered it back because it was too cold and then ended up snuggling into my blanket because my head had no place that it could be at all. It was horribly traumatic as an experience.

But nothing came close to having to put on another layer of clothing. And make the decision to switch over to a sweater rather than a hoodie. That’s when I realized how cold the neck feels.

Obviously I’m making all this sound more dramatic that it really is because my grandmother reads this blog and it’s fun making her think it’s like the Arctic here. Or is the correct expression now that it’s like Chicago (I, of course refer to the polar vortex).

More tomorrow – the last day of the month! Wooohoo!

Today, I read a book that honestly opened up several emotional passages in my heart I did not know existed. I’ve reviewed it on my other blog (here). I’ll be honest, at first, I didn’t think I’d enjoy this book – the plot wasn’t something I thought was gripping. But boy, it took 3 hours of my day and turned them into the fastest three hours I’ve spent in a while. It’s books like these that make you sit up and think about the prejudices you hold toward books, and how although adages tell you not to judge books by covers, you do so sometimes anyways. Or rather that you judge them by the quality of the blurb on the back of the book, or on the basis of some random person’s opinion on the internet. Several of my friends received emotional messages from me describing how much I loved them after I read this book. If you would like one, do text me for compliments. Now is a good time.

The other thing that happened today was a personal failure. I wanted to do two things today. Wanted to solve my first crossword puzzle ever, and run. I missed doing both because I decided to nap in the afternoon – since there was too much wind entering my room and I wasn’t sure how else my body could respond. The sleep was great, but I woke up in the evening thinking I could have finished two goals of mine, and that felt strange. So of course, I bought myself cookies to make up for it. I’m telling you, I need a diet and some real control from sugar – I’m going to do this more strictly starting tomorrow. Let’s see how that plays out.

In other news, I’m waking up earlier than normal. Maybe that explains the afternoon napping as well. But waking up early has been good because I can make myself hot tea, drink it, read something, and go back to sleep feeling warm on the inside. That’s not a feeling I can describe too well, but it’s very, very snug.

I’m hoping I can do that crossword tomorrow. And I definitely need to run.

Off-late, I’ve been reading a lot of good fiction writing and a lot of good non-fiction longform journalism. I’ve also been fortunate to have time on my hands to watch some documentaries and docu-series that have sparked several thoughts in my head. The stand-out theme for me has been how much partisanship actually exists in the media and in literature, and in every piece of art that is created.

It’s got me thinking about whether biases that exist need to be warded off, or whether an attempt to censor using bias would create an outcome that is restrictive of speech. I’m inclined to believe the latter, especially since censoring bias would achieve the same effect that allowing for a dominant ideology to pervade would.

Today was Convocation. Which is an elaborate ceremony where everyone is conferred with the degrees they’ve spent five years earning, and are bestowed with gold medals and words of wisdom from esteemed guests. It’s a pretty great tradition that allows people to celebrate their academic qualifications – which is a unique journey for everybody and sees each person going through times which are turbulent, but times that are extraordinary as well.

But that’s just one aspect of the ceremony. The other thing that happens on days like this is a reunion of an entire batch of people, which is always fun for that batch.

We’re lucky enough to have had two batches come back to campus. This was because Convocation didn’t happen for one full year – so we got to see people who had graduated in 2017, and in 2018 on the same day.

So obviously lots of nostalgia happened. It was great to see everyone. It was also when I realized how familial University bonding actually is. The lack of privacy and the sheer amount of time you spend with each other means that for those 5 years, you’re pretty much siblings. And beyond those 5 years, you’re bonded by the commonality of a ridiculously unique experience.

I miss having these seniors on campus, but it was great talking to everyone and seeing where the last few months have taken them. Oddly enough, it was also an opportunity to self-reflect on where the last few months have taken me. Talking to everyone made me realize the effect ageing, and this University has had on me. My sleep cycle has shifted, a lot of enthusiasm has fallen. Rather, keeping my enthusiasm up is something that needs active effort these days. I need to now remind myself to go to class, to put in the effort class deserves.

It’s tougher, in a lot of ways.

I was also the recipient of words of wisdom from the seniors I met. And you don’t realize this when you enter, but your seniors are ridiculously important to the way your University experience pans out to be. I don’t think you realize this even after you leave.

Seeing people get their degrees made me understand how badly I want mine as well. I think I’m now hitting that phase where I’m still enjoying everyday, but I can see the finish line and see all the avenues the last five years have opened up for me.

Can’t wait to make the most of them.

I slept through most of Republic Day, which I think has been a particular highlight of the day for me.

I responded to several messages that wished me on Republic Day, but as usual, was struck by whether or not our country is truly a “Republic”. I mean this seriously, and not in terms of having a news channel named after the ideology.

But, what does a Republic mean? Are we there? Were we there?

I’ve read a little, and I’m not quite sure. I hope the next one year changes that for me.

There was a McDonald’s that was five minutes away from my house when I was a child. In fact, I think I lived a very privileged childhood in terms of how little I had to travel to have a wholesome childhood experience. School was right across (a fact I will elaborate on below), there was a supermarket in my building, a hypermarket right opposite my school, McDonald’s five minutes away, most of my friends from school lived in the same building as I did, and cricket coaching was a 15 minute drive.

I loved it.

First, let’s get the school story out of the way. It’s by far the dumbest I have been as a child. My grandfather visited us in Dubai a couple of times. And well, him and I were going to the hypermarket (the one opposite my school, remember?). The route to my school was one that my father drove me to and from at the time – because of how nicely his office timings coincided with my school timings. Gave us a lot of father-son bonding time – like experiencing fog in Dubai together, and afternoon sandstorms. Anyway, school was basically 2kms away (I checked Google Maps, it’s 2.4kms). I’m attaching a screenshot for your reference – this is the driving route my dad took daily.

As you can see, there was a very long road to go down, take a U-turn, go back up almost the entire length, and then take a right. So when my grandfather told me we’d go to the hypermarket, I made him walk this entire stretch, in the sweltering UAE heat – instead of cutting right across and walking 1.3km. I was a young fool.

Anyway, the McDonald’s is the main part of this story. This McDonald’s was at Al Bustan (the pink thing you see on the map there), so really, really close by. And my friends used to go there pretty often. My parents though, were really strict when I was growing up – so I didn’t really get fast food as much. This is not to say that I was denied it when I asked. It was more a case of “we can cook you great food at home, are you sure you want the fast food?” And honestly, I loved home food. I always will. So fast food was always a treat, meant for things that deserved celebration.

Something I’m super grateful for was that my parents taught me to celebrate things I had achieved and was happy with. These were usually academic achievements, so I got rewarded with fast food (and often, new stationery/sportsgear) when I did well on tests and such. Exams got bigger prizes – like a camera once. And wildly enough, a computer.

But, McDonald’s was a real treat. Even Pizza Hut. Wow.

I used to be so happy eating these things because of how nicely spaced they were in my diet. Honestly.

Today I went to McDonald’s with friends to do a Secret Santa thing – where I got and gave gifts (my Santa got me an amazing book and a wallet ninja, thank you! I know you read this blog, Santa of mine.)

I saw the Happy Meal – which they’ve called a Kids Meal now for some reason at the McDonald’s I visited. And I loved the gifts the Meal had. So of course, I converted a meal of mine to a Kids Meal to get the cute toys – a toaster and an oven.

All I could think of the entire time I was at McDonald’s was this one instance my mother took me to McDonald’s – and I’m honestly tearing up right now (no jokes). My mom is amazing. She’s done a lot for me over the years.

This one time, my dad was traveling – and I think she was a little tired in the evening, so she called me up before coming home, telling me we’d be going to visit McDonald’s in Bustan in the evening. This was a real treat for me, and I was very excited about what spurned this. It meant I had to do all my homework before going out to play, because I wouldn’t get to finish it between 7pm and 8pm – before sleeping. So I did, diligently.

And I was out playing – I think I was wearing these jeans 3/4ths, as I did, back in the day. She pulled up into the parking spot we had. Her car parked in a very convenient spot. It was right outside our block (“A”-block) gate, and oversaw the sand pit and common playing area. So every evening, I had the delight of seeing my mum see me finish up playing, and go up to the house, where I’d go back in a bit.

Basically, she parked up, and came to the sandpit, ready to take me to McDonald’s. It was pretty late in the evening, okay – like 6:45pm. And I remember, not many kids came out that day, so it was just Aahan and I. My mom came, and I felt really shy about leaving Aahan behind. I think she sensed it, because she asked him to join us, made a call to his mom and quickly, he was with us in the car too. She drove us to McDonald’s and we ate a Happy Meal. I ate this veg one, and Aahan ate a non-veg one. He got nuggets too.

I was unsure how she’d take to it, because it was the first time I had seen her pay for non-vegetarian food. I remember that night asking her if it was okay that he had come also. My memory isn’t too hazy but it feels like it was a self-invite sort of situation. She said it was, because he was my friend, and his mom would’ve taken me too.

All evening today I was thinking about this. And today, I miss eating Happy Meals with my mother. Because the worst part about narrating this story has been that I cannot remember what my mother ate that evening.

The other really sad thing is that I misplaced the Kid’s Meals toys I got today. I’ll get them again the next time I go to McDonald’s.

I’m so glad I video-called my parents today.