No more 2 left feet.

I have a confession to make...I've never danced ALL my life. So this time I decided to give it a shot.We have a programme coming up and the dance performance is a part of it. And believe me...it required a lot of courage on my part to go ahead with it. I have spent a lot of days watching people having fun dancing. I've been amazed at how people who don't really have the moves, shed all inhibitions on the dance floor. I thought there could be two reasons for them to do this- 1.They have no idea that they are terrible dancers; 2. They may be aware that they are no good but they don't care what people think as long as they are having fun. Which is very noble. Especially so for me because I was always too conscious of how I would look. For all this while I've been convinced I have 2 left feet. Not anymore. Now I enjoy dancing so much I can't understand what it was that kept me from it all this while. It has also reiterated the fact that when one really wants to do something not much is out of reach. How true! How true! I am now having the time of my life! To anybody and everybody out there, some unsolicited advice- if your convinced you have 2 left feet, just give it a shot. You will be surprised at what you can do.

Great to be back...

I don't suppose it will ever be possible for me to be a constant blogger. I would say persistence is not one of my strengths, but that would be untrue. Writing is something that comes to me with time and season. When I'm not up to it, I'd rather not waste my time trying.
I have received a very poor response to the poll on the author who handles humour best. However there has been a result - P.G. Wodehouse. I'm not entirely surprised.
I believe I'm up to writing again ( as long as Father Time permits it). So here's to another ( undoubtedly one of many more) comeback!
Alright then fellows...I must end with...PIP PIP!!!

Hark! The pitiable, patronizing
And the tortured, tormented
Experience and age
speak not of wisdom
And what of the trappings of faith?
Delivering beliefs,
not rational to begin with,
And expecting complete transedence.
Wanting what's passed
-no room for the future?
Enforcing beliefs,blindly followed
-but not by the unaffected.

POW-WOW IN A MUMBAI LOCAL

I was recently embroiled in what one could call a terrifying experience.On my way home after a long day,at about 7 pm, I had the misfortune of getting into a train headed to Titwala, on the Central railway line. What happened next is a sheer mix of the crazy, the wild, and the humorous. While trying to find a place for my feet, I was obstructed by a woman in her forties who stood at the entrance to the seating area.She cockily told me to keep my leg to myself,while she stood like a pillar,neither here nor there. I asked her why she couldn't make up her mind then. That must have bruised her ego because she may not have expected anyone to react strongly to her complaints which were directed at a couple of people around her.She then shifted in.I desperately needed to place my heavy-as-a-rock rucksack on the luggage rack. As I attempted to do so,horror of horrors,it hit the same woman on the side of her head.I immediately apologised and I sincerely felt it. But what happened next made me wonder why I did'nt actually,purposefully knock her out in the first place. The woman was speaking on the phone and started complaining aloud about the youth of today,how they have lost all sense of respect for elders (she had been complaining to a girl to move,to a woman to move her bag,in no polite tones, just a minute ago).She now turned to me and said that I had been a bother ever since I entered the train and...well , let's not get into that. Soon she told me, 'Why did you hit me with your bag?' And then she HIT ME IN MY FACE. That was it. All hell broke loose.'What did you hit me for ?', I bellowed. All she did was go on about how bad-tempered and ill-mannered the young are and how we are all good for nothing.And she jabbed me in the face.This happened FOUR times.I hit her twice on the arm to push her off. She was all ready for a fight.I did'nt care. She had punched me, jabbed me in the face, and was now announcing her analysis of my behavioural problems to the whole compartment. All I kept saying was, why hit me in the face? She had no right to do that.And the cake- she was receiving support from a few women. Someone told me in marathi (rather shouted out,with the most disgusting expletives interspersed) ,'Why are you hitting an older woman?' I couldn't believe I was expected to shut up and take on a beating I didn't deserve because an older woman was involved. I kept quite for a while on the advice of another woman, because there was really no reasoning with my tormentor. For the next 5 minutes the commuters got a free lecture on the degeneration of the youth.She got the thumbs up from another woman who said this was the only way to teach us people and she was doing the right thing. I just raised an eyebrow. Aah...the icing on the cake...the woman said she hoped I would realize my 'mistake' and feel ashamed, and she would 'pray for the evil to leave my soul' (!) (sic)
There's a lot I've left out here. (And to think,all this happened within a span of 15 minutes).I was definitely in top form and I'm proud of the fact that I did'nt cower and bow out. Because even though I may not be absolutely right, I was definitely not wrong.

THE DEAD BOOK

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you have been so taken in by the appearance of a book jacket or by the sheer number of recommendations and honours awarded to a book, that you have picked it up at the first instance you could and then have been so absolutely disappointed with the content that you have wanted to sue people and get your money back,and then been even more frustrated at the fact that that is not to be? Well,you might think that I have faced this peculiar situation several times considering how I wax not-so-eloquently on it.However, I have been lucky that the books which fall in this category have either been borrowed or issued from the library and have not been paid for from my miniscule pocket. Nonetheless,good,kind soul that I am, I wish to tell you of these literary horrors,to save you the intellectual torture that I went through. I'm not sure of what I would place at the top of the list.Seriously, how do you distinguish between 2 equally dreadful books? Anyways....

1.THE DEAD SCHOOL-PATRICK McCABE
What is this book about? The degeneration of a school. The jacket proclaims something on the lines of - by the author of Butcher Boy-some great masterpiece going by the allusion.A more appropriate title would have been-The Dead Book.

2.THE LITTLE WHITE HORSE-ELIZABETH GOUDGE/GOUD/GOUGE.
The book itself was forgettable.Why bother remembering the name of the author? This sweet-as-sugar saga was actually recommended by J.K.Rowling.I suspect she was blackmailed into commenting on it.

3.THE TRIAL-FRANZ KAFKA
I have already stated exactly what I think of this book.I would rather not remember it.


P.S. I can't seem to remember the others.Perhaps they are truly forgetable.I will make sure I add to the list as soon as my memory discontinues eluding me.

P.S.2. I hit myself on the head on re-reading the prior post, having realised that I had done something close to blasphemous- I had failed to mention the short stories of Isaac Asimov.Asimov,whom I have blogged on before,is a genius in a class of his own.He has covered practically every genre that one can think of ( of course not considering graphic novels or say,poetry). 'MAGIC', a collection of some of his unpublished short stories, circulated posthomously, has several delightful pieces to offer.RECOMMENDED.

SHORT STORIES (TO BEGIN WITH)

I have been wanting to write on books and authors for a really long time, self-confessed bookworm that I am.While thinking of an appropriate idea in this area that I can enjoy blogging on, I have written on this, that and the other.I have now decided to post EVERY ONE of these ideas.Starting with short stories.I confess, initially all I cared about were novels and mini-epics, the thicker the better. But that was before I encountered the works of that crazy,crazy man-ROALD DAHL. This is one author who changed my opinion on short stories forever. Ranging from the smart to the quirky, the strange to the twerpy, his works had me hooked from the word go. Once I started reading his works I could'nt rest until I'd tried them all. Be it the adventures of wild Uncle O or Dahl's perception of the senses, there is always something intriguing and engaging to look forward to. SKIN,TASTE,PIG..... are a few single word titles for his short stories that are thought-inducing on their own. And just when I'd thought I'd seen all there was as far as short stories are concerned, I encountered SAKI. Saki's stories are in a way, quite twisted. There is a more or less persisting undercurrent of horror in most of his stories, if not all. But this horror is subtle and yet chilling. Then again there is the book 'Intepreter of Maladies' by Jhumpa Lahiri. Contrary to my expectations, this book was nothing short of a disappointment. I failed to see what she was trying to get at. ( Perhaps this is a result of my thick-headedness, but most of the award-winning novellas fail to capture my imagination). Another author I can bring up in this regard is Virginia Woolf. My one attempt at a story of hers,titled RAIN, could not impress me. Perhaps I just picked the wrong story. Perhaps I truly am thick-headed. Alright again, I'll give it another shot. Any recommendations?

Here's a really cute strip on Calvin and Hobbes- two people I can truly say I love with all my heart.Enjoy!




(sourced from GoComics)

MY TREK TO VISAPUR

On 29th july,2007, a group of people from our college Microbio Dept. got together for a trek to the Visapur fort ruins in Malavli, beyond Lonavla.After a false start and a late turn up,what we got was a new kind of paradise.I hope I can give you a good picture of what I sensed and perceived.So here goes...

EARLY MORNING BLUES: Got up at 4:20.Kept wondering what to put into my bag.Stared at it for 5 whole minutes.Could not for the life of me think of anything I needed except food and water so picked it up and got it along in any case.

EARLY BUT LATE: I now have one more worthy accomplishment to my credit.A moment unlike too many others because I actually managed to leave on time. Hurrah! But this proved to be of little consequence because the bus did'nt show up.Not for a loooooong time to begin with.So we left off behind schedule,and I can proudly declare...it was NOT because of me!

TAKING A RIDE(THE WHEELS OF THE BUS GO ROUND AND ROUND) : The first years were pestered into introducing themselves but the seniors obliged them too,so fair game I should say. The seniors then proceeded to advertise everything from Nirma detergent to Himesh Reshammiya.

Beyond Khalapur and through Kusgaon,and then on the Expressway,the view morphed as follows;

Rocky hillsides with several waterfalls,ribbons of white cutting through brown; fields of green with patches of dewy,lemony yellow grass neatly arranged in squares,providing a stark contrast to the deeper shades of the leaves of the trees.A few windmills, their arms in rapid rotation thanks to the breeze...speaking of which I am reminded of the weather,charmingly delightful,with overcast skies and a cool breeze and yet no heavy showers to dampen the mood. The white-washed and pale yellow walls of the farmhouses with red rooftops making a pretty picture...

THIS IS IT! : Several people from the group had never been on a trek before and I'm ashamed to say I've never been on a proper hike myself.The initial 15 minutes of the climb were a little disconcerting because of the moss and the slope (I'm sure there are people sniggering saying that was the easiest part) and I pretended I was Maria from the Sound Of Music with the Mother Superior singing to me,'Climb every mountain,cross every stream'...Initially I also got quickly out of breath but the climb did'nt take long to get adjusted to.All such thoughts were dispelled within minutes as we got higher and obtained an increasingly improved view of the surroundings.At the first stop that we made to look around I became pretty much delirious with happiness.There in the distance was a mirror-like lake,it's surface blemishless and silvery.And all around green fields interspersed with man's inventions: rail tracks,vehicles on roads;like a picturesque model of a toy town,complete with a tiny blue and silver train running on the tracks.

FATAL ATTRACTION: As we followed the course of a dried-up waterfall,I soon realized that I was getting quickly and consistently scratched up,there were thorny bushes everywhere,some with small-sized thorns,some with medium-sized thorns,and some with (to me) giant-sized thorns.Hyperbolaically speaking,I managed to prick myself with every one of those.If I tripped I invariably landed in a thorn bush.If I needed support I unwittingly held on to a thorn-covered branch.While still trekking I then proceededto remove tiny splinters from all over my arms.In short,I have a special magnetic property that attracts thorns.Lots of thorns.Perhaps I was a wild rose in my previous birth.

A WATERFALL AND 3 POOLS: We came across a waterfall rushing down an almost- vertical slope into a green pool formed by rocks with another pool below and another below that.The vertical rocky spaces between the pools acted as makeshift slides for all those who cared for a dip and I was one of them.What I'm trying to say is ,I had the time of my life!

FINAL DESTINATION: The final part of the climb involved a waterfall that was rather hard to traverse.With a bit of help we did eventually get to the Visapur fort ruins at the top.Some settled down for lunch while a few went ahead exploring.I could'nt stop myself looking about as much as I could the moment I got there.I can safely say I completely forgot about lunch until I saw people settling down to eat.There were a couple of little ponds,green-brown water bodies randomly distributed over the expanse.Away from everybody,a little in the interior where sound waves did'nt quite reach,I experienced an overwhelming silence.I stood for about 5 minutes all by myself in a little pond with my feet being lapped up against by cool water.A frog hopped in the moment I got there.On the edge of the hill ,at one corner,a saffron flag fluttered,with a rusting cannon by it's side.But what was truly amazing was what we could see.Miles and miles of vast expanse stretching down below,big things appearing as little ones,shades of green and brown merging in,with little pools of green and blue-grey dotting the landscape,and of course the roads and farmhouses and what appeared to be godowns next to cultivated paddy.

Those who stopped earlier for lunch unfortunately could not enjoy the view thanks to the thick,foggy mist that rolled in soon after,making it impossible to see beyond a couple of metres away.The air was bathed in a thick,dull grey.It was soon drizzling again and I kept wishing I had automatic wipers for my glasses.The air also got chillier and the scene seemed straight out of an adventure novel with people roaming around in circles hoping for the mist to lift.But we got through anyhow.

THE DESCENT:On the way down it was suggested we follow a different route.I personally found the descent through the difficult waterfall a lot more challenging than the ascent.There was a spot of confusion on the way down but we managed to find the desired trail leading into the village where our bus was stationed.

All in all a pretty good trek.