What's Worse?

Pain is inevitable. Whatever the form. Be it physical, mental, emotional [which some will argue is also mental, but never mind] or just pain. When I talk of pain, the word pain is usually associated with some sort of violence, or some sort of medical procedure. And more often than not, its the latter, considering I haven't had a good fight in a while [not to worry, there is no hidden demon waiting to be unleashed.]

Its funny how certain times, certain things are supposed to hurt more than others. For some, its painful to receive a physical blow, while others seem to hate the violence of emotional conflict, leaving them scarred for life. One would assume that when I got my tattoo done [to refresh your memory, its a 1" by 1" Yin Yang a little lower than the nape of my neck] , it hurt like crazy! Its quite the first question that someone asked me when I told them about this development, "Did it hurt?/How badly did it hurt?" Disappointingly for most, it didn't hurt at all. I felt only an initial pang of nerves, but then it was smooth-sailing. There could be reasons for that - 1. The tattoo artist was extra careful [which he totally was =)] 2. The area isn't that sensitive 3. I was strong enough to bear it. Coolly enough, they're all true to a very large extent. So basically that expectation of pain, that anticipation, was shattered for most, including me!

Even funnier than that is that time where things cause way more pain that they intend to or that they are expected to cause. Like the day before yesterday. I was scheduled for a blood test early in the morning and the person was to come home for collection, and so she did. When she yanked the needle out of the sterilized covering it was packed in, I was mortified. Not scared, not nervous, but mortified. My mother turns to me, and asks - "why are you so scared? you got a tattoo done didn't you? and you're scared of a 5 second poke of a needle?!!" I only said "yes." Purely because there's a vast difference in being drawn on by a continuously rotating needle and being poked by a needle which is held there with a tremendous amount of pressure.

Therefore, at the end of the day, no matter how many tough things one may do, no matter how many hard fights one may have, even the smallest things can put the fear of i-don't-know-what into everyone. And funnily, at the end of the day, fear can be inspiring, as it has been for me - to start writing again. Good bye writer's block and hello life!

=D

Books and Movies, I and Why...

I'm an avid reader, or at least I like calling myself that. I've read a lot and have been reading since forever. The same can be said for movies in my context. If there were ever and exam on movies, according to my mum, I'd ace it. At least the Hindi movies section. Anyhow, there are times when these two loves of mine come together and create something. Something known as book-inspired movies. Notable examples that I have watched - P.S. I Love You, the Harry Potter Series, Princess Diaries, Memoirs of a Geisha, The Namesake, 127 Hours, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and many more.

For a while now, there has been a steady argument that floats around as to why a filmmaker must take up a book or its story and, more often than not, RUIN IT??? *attach agonized expression here*

For years I have heard friends and others ran about the terrifying brutality with which the book has been stripped of its original charm and how badly represented, made and cast it is. For years I have either remained unavailable for comment or voiced a minor "yeah, i think so". But now, it seems to have hit me that I actually enjoy the movie versions of books and also don't mind them being different from their parent books.

The primary reason to any of this has to be the fact that we don't read illustrated books. Our mind's eye must visualise each detail to imbibe the true flavour of the book and each scene or chapter. When this very book, whether easy or hard to picturise, when turned into a movie, is a representation of a universal visualisation. I like being able to look at a scene in a movie and go "thats exactly how I imagined it'd look!" The vastness of the description by authors like Roald Dahl and JK Rowling, among others, after a point in time needs a visual representation that one can look at and marvel at.

The second reason being that some times, when there are certain details that have been introduced, they add a fresh flavour to the original plot. It makes me go "wow" instead of "yeah, its exactly like that. *yawn* " Case in point - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
When certain details are removed or changed around for audience appeal, I'm one of those audiences that it ends up appealing to because its a fresh take on what exists and probably gets rid of unnecessary details. Also, for people who've not bothered to read the book, its a relief really. Case in point - P.S. I Love You.

And finally, why I actually enjoy these movies. That's purely because I've acquired the ability to be able to detach myself from the meaning of the book to me and look at the movie as a spin on the book, which still is a separate work of art. I don't need a replica of the book at all stages because I'd rather just read the book again and again for that. And if I constantly liken the book to its movie, I risk being disappointed. I don't like that option, because then it puts me off movies, which is not cool [extremist that I am].

Case in Point - HP Series, and the Princess Diaries series.

Books have their own charm at the end of the day. A movie doesn't really help vocabulary, or give you a good smell from every frame [for those who smell books, you know what I'm talking about ;) ]. Movies have the ability of superior visual appeal and that works for someone with the hunger for an audio/visual depiction of creative excellence. Owing to the fact that they are two separate disciplines, they are as equal to me as two eyes of mine

=)

(Untitled)

I want to be loved because of anything,

but I want to love despite everything.

I want to run, skip, jump and fly

but I want my love forever nigh.

I want to feel the waves of air

Fleeing from above me, from everywhere,

but I want to hold on to every breath,

even as I swim to the deepest of depths.

I want to soar, to break out

but as I do, I want to yell, scream and shout.

I want to be engulfed by silence

Shut out by every full-feeling sense.

I want to keep, to possess, to own

I want no time to bemuse and bemoan.

yet I want to let go, be free

Have nothing to grasp, nothing restraining me.

I want to feel real for as long as I can

yet live in far off fairy-lands

I want to be loved, for anything that may be

So I may want to love the one who loves me...

=D

A Bond I Cherish...

As girls in general go, stereotypically speaking, I don't qualify as an out-and-out girl. And as the process of making close friends goes, my friends usually lie on the other side of the gender fence. I've always found it a easier task, and hence a choice, to find lasting friends in the male race, as it were. This probably owing to two facts - one, that I've always studied in a co-ed set up so far, and two, that I'm the only girl and the youngest child in my family, thus making it mandatory that I mingle with boys, men and the like.

This major part of my characteristic behaviour contributes to both harm and good in this department. I've ended up being confronted with the dividing line between "friends" and "something else" quite a few times. I dealt with it foully a few times, and a few cherished falls later, I've risen above to a different understanding. One of those times has been now, and his level of understanding has only made me wiser, if nothing else.

He's a friend, and something else, but he's a friend and nothing else. We've only really gotten to know each other through the last two years, being in the same school and having been thrown into situations with ease. At first glance, he's in-your-face, serious, confident, unconcerned and at times, annoying. It took me three long months to realise that I was judging him based on an exterior created by circumstance, experience, intelligence and practicality. He still can come across as he did at first glance, but he's mostly funny, smart, understanding and downright honest! He can't mince his words even if he tried, because he likes to keep it simple.

We've fought tonnes, even tried not talking to each other. But I guess sometimes, you need a few time tested trials to ascertain that this friend and/or something else is for keeps. But there again was that dividing line, that question - is he just a friend? can he be more? do I want him to be more than he is? does he want me to be more than I am?

Knowing his honesty and [mostly] non-judgmental air, I told him about what I was thinking. We hypothesized tonnes and finally reached a conclusion that pretty much altered my perception of anything like this in the future, and anything like this that is in the past. We're friends for each other, and can be more, and will be if there is a time that warrants that, but for now, we'd rather have this happy place where we feel pure admiration for each other, without having to label it as a relationship. We're both smart enough to understand that time where neither or both of us would feel the need to expand into a whole new domain. And neither would sever ties as friends even if we fell out of love, as it were, because, like he says [and I quote] "a friendship not strong enough to stand the fact that one has started liking the other isn't worth having in the first place."

He's just the same each day, I remain the same each day, with only a tad bit more respect for him and myself. Our friendship has remained, if not grown stronger. He's still special to me. I still mean something to him. And that's how it stands. He has taught me a few things, he learns a few here and there from me, and that's how we want it, for now. Whether we go anywhere from here or not doesn't tickle me, because this point where we're at right now is rare and something that I'd be a fool to mess up!

They say that two people of the opposite sex find it hard to be friends for long. If confronted with this a few years ago, I'd agree. Wholeheartedly. At that point, my own experience convinced me that the grey area cannot exist. Life is wholly black and white. Today, after a few years of learning, living and loving, I couldn't disagree more.

=D

Culinary Love!

I love to experiment! Be it with a new look, a new type of book or even cooking! And evidently, today's successful experiment was cookery-based.

Being a 17 yr old, who is about to turn 18, I believed that it was imperative to be able to sustain myself on things beyond maggi and toast and the likes. So I set myself the challenge that I'd cook a whole meal for the family.

Now, bear in mind, my family isn't just me and the parents. My family is my parents, my brother, my pilot cousin, my house helps and me, with my mum's mum in tow for the while. So cooking for 8 people was the task and despite the fact that there was dissuasion from every corner, I stuck to my gut and decided that this had to be done. I couldn't turn back at the point when I'd promised myself, and I was intent on dazzling.

After rigorous searching online, I was able to zero down to 3 basic recipes - dahi ke kebab for starters and avial and dal with raw mango. These required intense preparation and after printing my recipes and getting the ingredients, the evening was mine to use!

Cooking, I admit, is tough. I wonder how our moms and their moms and absolutely anyone who cooks on a regular is able to manage and multi-task. I had to chop, check, stir, mix, knead, and god knows what else. Luckily my househelp was an utter darling and helped me through it all, but I think I tired her out too, considering she's never cooked any of what I'd planned!

My mum constantly checked in - "can I help?" "need me to do something?" "are you sure you need no rest?" My grandmother also needed to be told to stay out while I toiled and trudged. Too much care and love makes one nearly blind to the concept of committment and loyalty to the cause. Even if the cause is to merely cook, not save the world.

It was time for dish one - the kebabs. We'd already faced major disaster with that considering I messed up the proportions of the curd needed and didn't let it leave enough water, which disabled it from being bound easily. The besan was our saving grace, but 9 on 10 isn't a bad score, nay? My father kept gushing his approval and I'm superiorly glad he liked it!

Next was the turn for the mains. The dishes turned out exactly how I needed them to be, except that I couldn't put my yellow chilli powder into the dal, which was an essential ingredient to lend it colour and flavour. Working around the incompetence of the groceries to be able to give me my condiment, I concentrated on the avial. I've seen it at restaurants and eaten it with pleasure, so I was capable of understanding the flavour, body, texture and look the dish needed. Gladly I can accept that it turned out to be the dish of my dreams! It worked perfectly and I've never seen my family eat that fast!

The reason why I'm sitting and describing this whole episode as it were is because I've never been so proud of myself before! I've never done something so huge before and I'm still overwhelmed by this whole episode. I'm glad I made my family happy and did something to prove that I can survive wherever I go now, that I'm ready. Ready for a life without any hunger or any dependence on anyone to set a plate for me to eat on.

Modesty, very honestly, isn't my style. And for once, I take pride in being slightly boastful about having accomplished something that a lot of people my age cannot do. And this is an open invite - you're welcome to come and demand me to cook something for you, provided you give me at least a day's notice =)

I Win =) I Lose =(

I'll begin with the simple and blatant admission that Monopoly is my favourite game. I may not be money-minded in general but I cannot resist the charm of the game made of money and everything to do with the art and war that is business. I can play the game day in and day out, and I even play with myself, using two separate counters and money stashes, just as one would play chess by themselves, being both the black as well as the white army. When I do that, I win and I lose. I find pleasure in beating myself, as much as I enjoy beating others at the game, as I seldom lose. Seldom here entails a 1 in 15 chance.

I'll go ahead with another simple and blatant admission that I'm not a gracious loser, but this is restricted only to monopoly. The rationale I follow there is, why should I lose at a game that I love and that I'm the best at? Its like Charlie Chaplin losing a Chaplin look-alike contest, which has happened. If I lose the game, or begin to see signs of losing, I'm immediately put off. It becomes worse because I'm the banker by default and its crushing to see the other person rake in the moolah, while I sit there with bare necessities in hand, sometimes not even that.

As luck would have it, the last few games I've played, I've not won. Not even close. For me, even second place by a margin of $500 doesn't cut it. Even when I've played the game against myself, I haven't rejoiced at the fact that I won part of it, but I've reflected on the fact that I've lost the other part. I guess its probably because I've begun to realise what its like being on the other side of the fence. Not like I put the person in a pathetic, pitiable state when I win against them, but I realise that there is another side. I can lose. And by large margin or small, I can be defeated at my own game.

I don't play a shrewd game. I'm not a ruthless businessperson who can do anything to win and I play fair. Somehow, I think I'd begun to think that since its only a game, everyone roundabout uses that ideology when playing and doesn't play a mastermind-type strategy and totally kill me. Regardless of the fact that everyone plays fair [considering I'm the banker, money doesn't escape my eyes], there's no accounting for how going-for-the-kill and shrewd another person can be and how a game can transform them. Which is really what makes me feel bad when I lose is that someone else didn't play as casually or graciously as I did, though we both had equal chances of really making the other person beg. Point being, they took their go, I didn't.

Funnily, this only makes me understand that the game, if it can change anyone else, it changes me too. Instead of being a gracious loser, a good sport, a kind person with no hard feelings, I become a sore loser, a spoilsport and I even get cranky and irritable. Not cool and awesome things to admit on the worldwideweb, but its something I have to get out into the open, so that when I read this again after the passage of some time [considering the first draft is what I publish, always], it'll only make me a more rounded and mature individual and drill into me that people are different, even if the battle field is even at all ends.

So there it is, my admission of my love for Monopoly and the even larger possessiveness for the top spot in the game. I may change post this, I mayn't. This may ward people off and I may have to play Monopoly by myself forevermore, but at least I don't have to live with a pent-up flaw that I refused to acknowledge just because I could hide it.

=)

[the board is always laid for anyone who cares to join me. 5 more players only, no teaming up.]

That’s my friend Mudit Ganguly. He’s as crazy about Lady Gaga as the country is about Sachin Tendulkar. and then a little more crazy. and he loves her style, her music and her sensibility and knows every single published detail about her!

this is his entry to the virgin mobile local blogger contest so that he can meet Lady Gaga and her team at the Monster Ball in New York!

And, this is me promoting him! =) please watch and vote! it is the want for a journey, as part of a journey of love, talent and life!

to vote, go to this website http://www.talenthouse.com/creativeinvites/preview/a28ea26abe4f57b78153be5d2b7a23f5/192

=D