post-weekend pictures for poor bleady

Monday.

Walking to the bus stop. Early morning in cloudy weather; oh, nothing like it in the world.

(did i mention i hate overhead telephone lines? or cable. or electricity. paris sewers, man.)




Empty streets oh my!



































Once we were underway, ACCIDENT!!!!!!
Poor girl. Our bus actually turned off into the side road so that the driver could chew her out. All us long-suffering students were bundled into another passing college bus. That is one thing endearing - the way all the drivers stick together.







There is, after all, that memorable story of how three college buses blocked Mysore Road just so a fourth could execute a U-turn; at one point standing perpendicular to the flow of traffic and also scratching a couple of cars in the process.
Unfortunately, all my knowledge of that incident comes from hearsay. *sigh* It would have made a good post.





Tuesday.








Malleshwaram is incredibly beautiful. However, witness more annoying wires. Why o why!!

And now for absolutely the most disturbing set of pictures I have ever taken in my life.
(also the most fun)

....
....
....
...
...
...
.........
....
.
.

drum roll, please....



TA-DA!!!!!

poor dead rat



poor dead rat's face




And for the climax...

poor dead rat's highly disturbing mouth.



OK, I feel a little guilty now. Anyone want me to remove this picture?
I mean, but COME ON. It is the effin coolest grossest puke-inducingest thing ever.
Two days? Just two days. I'll remove it after that, I swear.
Please?
*sigh*

How about a moon blur?

Wednesday.

On to more pleasant things.
Clouds at Kempegowda bus terminal.







Oh, but what did we humans ever do to deserve the sky?

T and the super 'venturesome weekend

I do believe the crux of my super 'venturous life is transport.

Let us begin with a little introduction. We were to have our final submission in Planning on Saturday, viz. 27 May 2006. Our lecturer (who is an extremely hard-working lady who expects a lot of work; which my class, being my class, never manages to come up with) wanted the following things:
* all the old sheets, comprising the slum studies; in both maps (location map, plot coverage, land use, social infrastructure etc) and charts (family income, sex ratio, age division etc)
* a proposal for the upliftment of our slum; in plans, sections and elevations. sketches optional.

The planning submission is done in groups. There are two batches which the class proper is divided into; one being under our lecturer and the other under another lecturer (wish I could have done something about the framing of that sentence, but eh meh) In our half of the class, we've been separated (notice how I avoid all names, now) into five groups, each of four or five people. Except ours, which is six girls. Let's call them A, B, C, D, E, T. T is me, in case you were wondering.

Well, anyway. The deal was that I would go over to A's house on Thursday. I conveniently forgot, and hence offered to go over early Friday morning. We had a design review scheduled that day for the first half of the class, which included C and E, so they wouldn't be back till late. A was to go out of town later on Friday to attend a wedding in her village. We were thus supposed to finish all work by Friday evening. Didn't happen. I left the house at six forty five, promptly got stuck behind a long line of HAL and Pushpak buses, and ended up taking half an hour for a usually ten-minute journey. We did a little work, discovered it was ten o' clock, decided to move to C and D's place, because they had two computeres we could work on. Naturally, we didn't leave until eleven.

We then shifted house (that is, D, B and I, T) to Banashankari. To show off my driving prowess, I proceeded to first miss the turn they had pointed out to me, then run slam bang into oncoming traffic (which was, by the grace of God, at a stop signal) when I turned into a one-way the wrong way on an attempt to get back to the right road, then execute some extra special deadly maneuvers, almost get lost, travel in a jolly circle, and then get stuck in bone-jarringly aggravating traffic. blah blah did work through the night in shifts, went out for icecream, yelled at people, walked in the rain in umbrellas, shawls, jackets and a skirt (that was me, yes i wore a skirt, my friends said i looked nice, so there.)

The next morning, C and I went out to print the first set of sheets. I dropped her off, went to fill petrol, got a little lost, cursed like a bargee, and finally got to the petrol pump where the attendant procceded to flirt with me *sigh*. Once printed, we got back to discover that the work on the next set of sheets was still not done. I promptly went into cranky high-strung snappy mode and barked at everyone, while they kept telling me to chill (one thing that all the others have that I lack, by the way, is an utter disregard for punctuality. so frustrating!) I then spent my time wisely; by fixing up plans to meet someone for a movie, messaging this new friend I'd made on orkut, daydreaming, etc. To make a long story short, I managed to chivvy them enough so that we were only an hour late instead of two.

Anyhoooo. After a lukewarm review, I left college. Called V and told her I'd meet her at Barista again. Then two of my classmates wanted rides. Luckily for me, it turned out to be a day when I was to have my fortitude stretched to breaking point. We got stuck in the mother of all traffic jams on Mysore Road, and I had to painfully inch my way upslope while having to endure the two girls in the car. Even the memory makes me cringe. I tried hinting, suggesting, asking outright, even snapping; and they still wouldn't shut up!!!!! Dahlins please. when someone can't handle up-slope in her 14-year-old Maruti, please be so kind as to defer discussions till later.

I reached M.G. Road at four, after an hour and a half of torture. Then more torture finding a place to park, followed by some mad attempts at parallel parking (someone needs to effing teach me 'ow to effing parallel park) and ignoring old men in parking lots.

Met my friend and a friend, and suddenly I was happy. We made a last minute plan (and I love those. I love last-minute-unexpected-sudden-death-lets-do-sumpn-crazy-right-now kind of plans), I made a call, and suddenly we were off!!!! I drove to Malleshwaram while we all sang in the car. I was happy, happy, happy!!!!!!!! Which also, incidentally, means uber crazy energizer bunny kind of exuberant. I haven't felt that way in a long time. Witness the excessive use of !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I love how my days always switch and change on me without the slightest hint :)

We then proceeded to another friend's house, where I was my crazy bunny self till they challenged me to stay silent. They begged me to speak after a mere minute :O What joy to be wooed, darling. Simple joys of life are the most special.

Then back to her house, a walk in the nighttime, a smoke and a CD store. I love night walks. Around home it's not safe any longer... *heap big sigh* I need a watchdog.

I woke up at seven this morning. I left her house at ten thirty. What can I say? I was writing letters.
I know not the way, quoth I.
hmm. do you know the way from windsor manor? how about mount carmel? cunningham road? she said. ok why don't you blah blah then just go on straight blah blah you don't really have a choice it'll take you straight to M.G. road blah the end.
Yes, I said.
I furnished myself with a map. It was not to scale. Then I put the map in the bag and got in the car. The car started without much trouble. The choke is my friend. I proceeded straight. I missed the right I was supposed to take, ended up at a dead end and was forced to go left. I then executed a circle and arrived at the point of distraction. Went straight. Reached a major intersection and went left. Then tried to find the map. It was not in my bag. Had a brief moment of panic where I thought I'd left it at her house. Then bethought myself (help. i don't know the construction and i'm too lazy to check it. free juicy fruit chewing gum to them as sets it right.) of the other bag containing the clothes. Ta-da! There was the map. Turns out that I needed to have gone straight and not left. So I took the next right. Took some snaps through the dirty windshield. Almost hit a scooter. Just kept going and going. Felt that little thrill of excitement I used to get at the beginning of adventures. Suddenly found I was at Mekhri circle. Followed random vehicles for awhile. Left, right, right, left, straight. la la la la la.
Suddenly I was near Windsor Manor. I know this place, I cried. How do I go from here? No idea, I sang out. I followed some more vehicles.
Saw an empty road and thought it was a one-way. Ended up with a new NDE to add to my set when a slew of vehicles hove directly into my path and I swerved crazily in front of some tanker type thing. I reached a crossroad with three options. I really really wanted to go left. I'm not sure why. I just really did. But then I went straight. All of a sudden, bang boom - huge circle and too many choices!!!! Before I could scream with frustration, I realized that I had unwittingly reached Ulsoor Lake. How uber cool is that. The universe loves me.

I love the universe.


Some pictures, just because:






terraces at nighttime. wish i'd had a couple of special people up there with me.

Windshield picture!!!! Actually came out looking not bad.








p.s. i don't smoke. y'all know all about that.
p.s.s. if i'd gotten to shivajinagar, someone would've totally gotten eggs. dang.

night at café, again

How is my life always filled with these amazing adventures? For those who have read the first installment (and for those who haven't, the link is in the post title ya loobies) this is nothing like it at all. It is so much more amazingly fabulous. It is so incredibly unbelievable I am running out of words...

OK!!
So.






This evening was a pineapple evening. It was so achingly lovely that I just had to get out of the house.
(<--- not my house) No, no, nothing like that, all parental units were informed as to my potential whereabouts, viz, the Cafe Coffee Day near my old school (yeah, yeah.. so there are four CCDs near my house. so all my more questionable adventures happen at aformentioned CCDs. not necessarily a bad thing. the only bad thing is the hot chocolate, be warned).
My dad did say, as I left, "You're going to sit at a coffee parlour alone? That's not safe..."
And when I'd asked him what he meant, i.e. belligerently grumbled, "God, Dad! What's the worst that could happen?" he said, ominously, "Any fellow can come and hassle you..."
Ah, dads, I thought. Promptly dismissed his antedeluvian ideas and sauntered out.







True to form, the day gave me the usual plethora of little joys - meeting old classmate I hadn't seen in years, meeting senior I hadn't seen in months, gorgeous sunset. (i hate telephone wires)



















I got to the CCD in one piece, albeit more grimy than I would have liked, thanks to all the traffic and the dust swirling around in pre-rain clouds. The place was packed. CCDs, let me tell you are not the best place to go to be alone with your journal and onion paper that you've brought in order to write a real live letter to a certain someone in foreign lands hint hint. It is yuppie central, and how. After running into (yet another) acquaintance, this time a junior from school (aren't my adventures so delightfully unbiased??), I settled down, at last, to my letter writing. It was pleasant to sit by myself and not feel self conscious that I was by myself, unlike the - erm - time before, and I occupied myself in aimless mindless scribbles, with a ear turned occasionally to the conversations at surrounding tables. ("no I don't want that lesbians' phone number you asshole." "what do i look like a nigger?" *sigh* how can you not love people) Soon, though, the threatening clouds made good their promise by opening up spectacularly over our heads, promptly engulfing all the outdoor patrons in a deluge that somehow found its way through the faded plastic umbrellas. So we all moved inside.
As I looked around for a spot to sit, I noticed a young woman sitting by herself with a cold coffee in front of her, and three empty chairs by her side. Hence, after a polite request, I settled myself in one of the chairs and got back to my writing.
"Are you waiting for someone?" she asked me.
"No", I replied. After another minute of writing, I felt I had not fulfilled my obligations. "Are you?" I inquired politely.
"Not exactly", quoth she.
Now, if I'd been as alert to tone as I usually am, I would have picked up on that right off the bat. As it was, it took me a little while, but I suddenly figured it out.
I do believe I am acting chaperone! I wrote. It is a deliciously irresponsible feeling, chick. Now why the idea of playing duenna to a complete stranger should make me feel so delightfully wicked eludes me...
Turns out I was playing the part of good Samaritan more than third wheel.

So here's the setup:

• she - HR consultant
  
• he - guy from accenture with a eye on IBM
• premise for meeting - doubts he had for an interview the next day which he wanted to discuss over coffee

And the situation existing:

• she - bravely attempting to bring topic back to the subject of the premise for meeting, dropping very unveiled hints regarding her need to go home soon, the imminent arrival and subsequent worry of parents, sister, brother-in-law; alluding to me as a close friend with whom she would be leaving.
• he - tendency to start saying things like: hey i just wanted to meet you, yaar. vapid smile.
• me - writing and writing and smiling and smiling. occasional nodding at appropriate intervals. random-moment checking out of cute guys on the other side of the room.

The long and short of it is, that I bravely came to the rescue of my new friend, lying through my teeth when Mr. Despo Creepy Guy offered us both a lift home (let some random creep know where I live? oh hell no) and calling my poor father from the house to drop her home.
It is good to learn lessons through hard knocks. It is sometimes better to learn them when no one comes to any harm.

I learnt a few things today:

• Bangalore is no longer safe.
• My instincts are fine.
• Women of the world should stick together.
• And finally: family. Nothing compares to family.

(Here is a line appreciating all the people in my heart. You all know who you are, hopefully. Love and jugs, my darlings.)


Also. Next time I am going to the temple.

how does it get that bad

A student killed herself two days ago. Why do they do it, these young kids? What in your life can be so bad that you would want to end it all? I think and think and in the end I realize that a few years ago I wouldn't have been a very bad candidate for the suicide wagon myself. Sometimes the smallest of things gets magnified out of proportion, true, but the most terrible feeling of all is the incredible loneliness of having nobody to talk to. I got lucky. Very lucky. Some others didn't. This is why they have those helplines, isn't it? Reach out and touch someone.
Reach out and touch someone.

slum baby
Look at that face. Doesn't she make you cry?






















And him? I cry every time he comes to our door. When they can smile, I guess it shouldn't be that hard to remind myself to, too.









And, in lighter news:



"displaey and sale in passage leading to M/s Woodworld there goods merchants and peacefull possesion is permited by oreder additional city civil & sessions court mayo all bangalore in o/s no 10478/92 c.c.h. 22 in 27-6-1992"

Yes.











Also






!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Do I really need more NDEs. I ask you.





























*sigh*
The world is always worth it. Always.

matrimonial.

overdue. overlong. don't read it if you don't want to.


I was trolling blogland as usual one day when I came across this guy. (whose page i then promptly forgot because, well, just. google rocks.) Also another day this girl. Suddenly everyone my age and thereabouts is thinking of marriage. And, as is my wont, being the impressionable soul that I am, I began thinking too. Well, in the case of this particular topic, just more than usual. I thought about it for a week before I felt I had enough material to make a good post, which is not something I usually do, as my - ahem - regular readers may have noticed.
But, you see, these are not the kind of topics I'm comfortable spewing about until I know exactly what I think about them myself. Having opinions you no longer hold(what to do? it was either hold or have) held against you is not fun. And not everyone understands that opinions change.

I used to disapprove of arranged marriages on the principle of the thing. In my clueless romantic teenage years, I used to dream about the kind of love you read about - one person for everyone, forever and ever world without end. And a life interspersed with tragic separations and tearful reunions. Arranged marriages were for wimps.
And then I grew up. Suddenly I could understand what an arranged marriage was all about. Marriage, see, it's not about love. It's about companionship. Sharing.
I have five cousins who are married, two of them found their soulmates themselves, and the other three settled for arranged marriages. Now either it's luck, or my aunts know their children better than they know themselves, because no one can tell which of these is which.
When my absolute favourite cousin in the world got married three years ago, I was the only sister availabe to tie the thali (ummm. could not find a suitable link. so...explanation below) I spent the night before the wedding talking to my aunt and uncle (his mother and father) about how they found the perfect (and, by God, i mean perfect) brides for both their sons.
Finding a person to marry is hard enough without trying it all on your own, isn't it? I know I would never trust myself to choose my husband on my own. I feel I lack the perspective to find a person who would be the perfect foil to all my foibles. We all tend to gravitate towards people who are like us. At least, I do. And every time I actually think sensibly, I realise the folly (foil folly foible :) ) of having two of me anywhere, let alone the same house for the rest of our natural lives.

Back to the first topic. This is going to be a messy post. What I've found is that many guys are afraid of arranged marriage because they think the girl is only going to choose them for their credentials. IIT, IIM, Big-Shot-Guy-In-Big-Shot-Firm. Seriously, folks. Do you think any girl who dates you is going to go for anything but your credentials?? That's the whole point of impressing chicks in bars, isn't it? I'm from yada yada; working at blah blah; see my suit, see my car, see my phone. I mean, in what fantasy world do you actually know that someone isn't just pretending to love you?
hmmm. Sounding cynical, much?
That's the gist of my argument for arranged marriages, then.
Safety.
George Joseph Smith and the brides in the bath.
Isn't it so much better in this day and age of greed and crime and fear and evil to choose someone who is vouched for? Family. Good family is not a joke, you know. Scientifically, it makes sense to sift throught till you have someone with good upbringing, with no history of mental illness, with good genes. In fact, it makes more sense now than ever before. Because we're not talking about love. We are talking about MARRIAGE. and possibly, KIDS. You have a responsibility to the FUTURE!

And then there is my cousin who defied custom and married a Christian because he fell in love. And they are so cute together it gives me toothache. I think my aunt is fonder of her daughter-in-law than her daughter! So there goes my theory out the window.

There are tags doing the rounds - eight points you expect from your perfect match or whatever the correct phrasing is. I really don't have any idea what I want from the future Mr. Me, except for a capacity to understand me. (which doesn't sound like much, except when you realize most people arent' close to understanding themselves, let alone others)
See, I can't say much about my qualifications as an eligible bride. Well, OK, I can. My marketability is above average, and my marketing skills a little better. But every time I think of my 'achievements' as dressing on a package that I'll be using to attract potential suitors, I end up feeling distinctly nauseous. Hypocrite, much?
I did make a list, though. One in my own head. Which I will now endeavour to share.
Here's what I have to offer: eternal optimism, a thirst for knowledge, and a heart full of hopes and faith and champagne dreams. a mind that abhors the hypocritical, the fake, the bigoted, the prejudiced, the cruel. a capacity for infinite love. A crazy unpredictable sense of humour, manic, mood swings. a tendency to overact and hyperventilate; a love for theatrics. Killer smile. Fabulous eyes.
What say? Will you have me as I am?
I can promise no more than did Barkiss, but, by God, I will offer no less.
Be that enough for ye? Catch me, then. Here I is.


And then there's the other way out - stay single forever! Which I did consider for a brief time...
The exciting life of the free singleton.
*Sigh* So CONFLICTED.


Fine. Here's my middle path ruling. Whatever works for you, bub.
See...
At the end of the day?
Marriage.
One life. One bed. One toilet.
Can you handle it?











and the es'planashun:
At the climax of a marriage ceremony, in the typical South Indian ceremonies, the mangalyam or thali (the auspicious and sacred thread) is tied around the neck of the bride. This is done by the groom. The sister of the groom (the naathanaar) ties the second knot (there are three) to show that the new bride is welcomed into the family. blah blah blah. As the naathanaar for my cousin I got Rs. 500 and some material for a dress. It was pink.
the end

clementine

you know the song

running away - unformatted

ohhhh i ran out of the house today it was cool let me tell you all about it.
parents are so overprotective! i wanted to get out of the house, and they said: no! too late! too dangerous! if i hadn't wanted to get out so bad i would have seen their point but i was so frustrated. the house was getting so oppressive. sometimes too much pleasantness gets on my head. sometimes i just need to get miserable.
At eight thirty, I was feeling completely pissed off about the world in general and architecture in particular and also about how i was soooooo bad with crowds and how i would never ever be a party person, so SAD. so i thought: dammit i gotta get outta here.
i announce to the house in general: I'm going out. then mom goes: where are you going? i say: out. she says: where?
then i throw a right royal tantrum about how i'm 21 and i can go out for a walk if i want to and they don't always need to know where i am at all times. and i ask her: why do i always have to have a destination (which i thought was sooo profound, by the way) and she says: that's the way we've been brought up. i scoff at her and then i stalk out of the house with the camera and my journal and phone etc etc
then i go back to get a jacket.

now comes the wonderful part. i was going to walk up to the CCD in Indranagar so I could sit by myself and just listen to what was going on in my head. i was just walking along, musing, with a wary eye out for lecherous roadside romeos, when i spotted two of my juniors from school out for a joy-ride - sweet boys; a lot of fun, very bright, very funny (by the way, i have noticed that i get along really well with boys who are younger than me or with older guys. hmm. why now? dunno why theories later) SO, anyway. i was pleasantly surprised and they stopped to chat, and we had a minor skirmish with some passing buffaloes. then we talked about deep things like the future and the past and how Tanay lost his cellphone in the sea while saving his beer. Moving on...
I continued on my path when I found I was near the house of one of my old classmates and i bethought myself of pa's sound advice and i thought I would just drop in and say hi.
his mom fed me payasam made with poppy seeds. then we went for a walk to buy bread and talked of friends and family and odds and ends then i went home. but i was still unbelievably restless, so more tantrums, because i hadn't had a chance to write anything.
but this time, the pater and mater put their collective feet down very firm so i got the key to the terrace from our neighbour and went up and lay flat on the ground and watched the sky and i wondered what would happen if i were lying there in my underwear and i dozed off under clouds flashing lightning and woke up covered in mosquito bites when my sister came to wake me up at midnight the end!

mango jam, traffic jam

I was cat-napping at a friend's place yesterday afternoon prior to beginning our groupwork for planning. Her mother was watching 'Karpagam' in the living room, and my other three classmates were talking in the dining room; and from where I lay dropping off, I could hear the characteristic Tamil movie dialogue replete with ominous and joyous playback music, interspersed with the dull hum of conversation and laughter. Do you want to know about missing things? Clenching stomach and beating heart and such a sense of loss. All of a sudden I was transported to my summer vacations in Chennai. Sleeping in the most comfortable bed in the house while everyone else pretended to watch the Gemini Ganeshan movie of the day; waking up to succulent mangoes that the entire family relished with a fervour I have never seen anywhere else. Reading by myself in the anteroom, accompanied by a little whirring table fan. Walking in the crystal Madras evenings around Besant Nagar and Annanagar and Choolaimedu. Beach visits by night.
Always getting my way in everything; petted, pampered, spoilt brat that I was. And the teasing - merciless, continuous teasing - that I got so used to that I subconciously expect that loving service from all friends. My favourite cousins and aunts and uncles. All the hugs. All the love.
*sigh*
Bangalore is home, but oh. Madras is family.

Meanwhile, I find I have become confident enough at driving that many things go on autopilot. I cannot make up my mind if this is necessarily a good thing. Airport Road was chock a block with traffic and I was caught at the same signal three times running. If anyone cares to know, it is the same signal.
Bangalore winds were blowing yesterday - blowsy blowing hair every which way and snatching umbrellas from hands of clueless pedestrians ha! The sky was dusky purple haze, and everything smelled of rain, and I sat out on my friend's balcony enjoying it. Extra fun was her neighbour three floors down walking around his apartment in nothing more than a pair of striped briefs and flip-flops. Wish someone could have been there.
Did anyone see the moon and Venus last night? I was on the fifth floor of Manipal centre, that maddeningly badly designed edifice, and the view just took my breath away. Driving in B'lore post-midnight is not as wonderful as it used to be. I remember drives in the car with the family on our way home after a night show, when everyone stared out the window thinking their own little pearls of thoughts. Now it's dead streets and mad roads. It gets incredibly overwhelming sometimes.
And then the smell and the wind and the sky and the trees and the velvet night say, look, see. And I think again, Oh, but I love this city.

And Fiona
And you can use my skin
To bury your secrets in
And I will settle you down

three men in a cup

sugar. ginger. honey.
what better way to have T?

more rainy rides

Today started out as such an ornery day. I caught the college bus. I chatted with friends. I wasted time in class. I left early because of 'scruciating back pains. You know, the usual.
I was supposed to meet a friend - a very old and very close friend - in Corner House on Residency Road. Because of the rains, we decided to meet in Indranagar instead. So I went to pick her up, with my sister attendant. After almost missing her turn and subsequently holding up traffic in both directions executing a crazy u-turn on Old Madras Road, she was successfully picked up. We then proceeded homeward with no greater incident than me nearly running into some parked vehicles in my excitement.
We then went out cruising Tippasandra Main Road for accessories for her cousin's wedding next week. Oh, but I've missed walking in the rain with a friend to talk to.
After hot coffee and cold (no more hot chocolate for me, thanks) at CCD, accompanied by talks of people and things, we walked back home to penne with both white and red sauce courtesy my sister the chef. Books and music and mayur bhatnagar, followed by a drive to her house where we spent another half-hour talking.
Then a drive back home made interesting by pouring rain; the car stuck in the middle of Suranjan Das Road in a puddle; frantic call to parents returning home in the other car from a wedding; liberal splashing of self through appropriately opened window. Miraculous recovery of said car after a minute of determined forcing while simultaneously ignoring all the frenetic honking from all directions; and smooth journey thence once I thought of switching to petrol and opening the choke (car-related jargon, oh my! i feel like such a man.)
woot.
Life is spectacular sometimes.

I wish I had pictures.




4:45 a.m. on Thursday
I do believe I wasn't the unloved creature I always insisted on believing I was. People don't call you a sweetheart if they don't like you more than a little, do they? do they?? ahem.
I do believe I was always easily distracted.
Nothing really changes, does it?

oh. yes. finally.

It rained today. Oh, but it rained. I had to drive home on the Kinetic sans helmet, and I got caught good and proper. I was wearing this flimsy (but very pretty; I got five compliments today) sheer cream kurta (what was I thinking??) over black -ahem- innerwear. When I actually left the bus stop, there were these huge, grey, ominous looking clouds hanging over my head. Within a minute, a light drizzle had started. Because I was carrying my sheets and model and other numerous bags (but one short, because I forgot my lunch today. I also missed the bus in the morning, but that's neither here nor there) I decided to take a chance with the rain. Big mistake. When I got to 80ft road, out of nowhere, I was suddenly blasted with a deluge of water that soaked me to the bone and almost blew me off the scooter. I then proceeded to ride inspite of aforementioned deluge, and also despite winds that blew the rain horizontally any which way.

Got home soaked, sopping, sore and safe.

What a rush.

notes
pa, 'polgies. it was just way too blogworthy
hv, i am not...what you said

changes

Lookit

Then lookit

God, but it breaks my heart.

isn't she beautiful?

always and always and always

surrendering to the inevitable

Fine. I accept.
I cannot write a single post on my hatred of the IT boom. Why? I have no idea. Instead, I'm going to stick to what I find the easiest - descriptions.
here's one i started a week and a day ago and only finished today. BUT! it has my first uploaded pictures!!! so check it out.
here's one i began yesterday and shelved because of my sudden need to write a scintillating post that would set others thinking blah blah blah but nothing happened. it is a little boring, but what the heck.

Someday, I tell you! Someday I'll write that post. As a civic conscious citizen and a lover of the environment, I owe it to my city to write about how I abhor what's happening to it. Unfortunately, my previous attempts have gone something like this:

I asked a person I met what he did for a living.
"Currently rating tier 2 and 3 Indian cities on their suitability for IT devopment", he told me.
"Dammit!" I said, "I hate unbridled IT development."
Then I had to leave for college, so I wasn't able to propound my profound views on the subject.
Thus, I try to dredge up all those witty and valid and well constructed points supporting my argument which I came up with during conversations (both real and imaginary) over the past few days.

The reasons I hate unbridled IT development in my city

Before I begin, two points:
a. Read the topic very carefully. It is a specific rant. Very specific.
b. I'm really hoping this post doesn't turn into a general rant about all the things I hate; because, frankly, when I start grousing, I find it hard to stop. Hence, I am going to restrict myself through the simple expedient of topics.

1. The construction
Perhaps it's strange for a student of architecture to say she hates construction. The way builders in Bangalore are going about it, however, just pisses me off. Every construction company worth its salt is offering up little

1. People
2. Money
3. People with money
4. Stupid people with money
Hmm. That is far too narrow minded. Let's stick to what I do know - construction (hey. no cracks from the hijackers. i know more than the average ranganath out there, so there's glory for you)

The main areas where construction has seen a boom are residential layouts and office construction. (guh. and malls, but don't get me friggin' started on friggin' malls) The so-called development of the city has seen a burgeoning urbamnm sprawl that is headed straight for disaster. The amount of money the average IT employee makes allows him/her (hmm. to be generic, and also for some fun, I will be using 'it' in place of him/her from this point on) to take out enormous loans and purchase cars and homes at a really early stage in life.

In fact, if I may say it, bleagh. I can't seem to string two coherent thoughts together to come up with one seamless point. Well. As my sister says, W. Enjoy the design adventures.

and the dead bird.

relapse

oh fack

when did this happen

I'm fine.
I'm back.
Crazy ol' silly optimistic naïve hopeful me of the starry hopes and shining eyes.
Sometimes all you need is a shoulder to cry on.

playing hooky

One of my favourite moments in all the movies I've seen is the one in Sabrina (the version with the exquisite Julia Ormond and the heartbreaking Harrison Ford) -

"There are 43 bridges in Paris. You find one that you love, and you come everyday with your coffee and your journal, and you listen to the river."
"And what does the river tell you?"
"That's between you and the river."

I've always loved that scene. I've always loved that movie.
*heap big sigh*


I played truant yesterday. I drove aimlessly around Bangalore and ended up at the Barista outside Barton Center. I sat there for an hour, every moment expecting someone to walk up to me and ask me to order or get out. I sat there for an hour watching MG Road slowly come to life (it was eight in the morning) and tried to write in my journal; and all I could think of was all the work I wasn't doing.
It's gone past addiction. Now it's an emotional crutch.
Let's see how long I can hold up.

While I was driving aimlessly around, I fell in love with my city all over again.
I've always loved Bangalore. I only knew my part of it, and I loved that. When we did our study of Bangalore culture we discovered what makes this city so unique - her ability to absorb whoever lands up here. They say that of Mumbai too, and it's true; but where Mumbai is like a big brother who grabs you into his wild world of frenetic activity with one aggressive sweep, Bangalore is the kindly grandmother, who welcomes you with open arms and never judges anything you do; she gives you your space, and lets you find your place.

What went wrong, then?
People. The booming IT industry has had so many problems laid at its feet, and one of the biggest has been the people it brought in. People for whom this city meant nothing more than a workplace.
And with the people came money. And as far as I'm concerned, this was the bigger crime.
As a student of architecture, I have seen what the so-called progress of our city has led to. A multitude of mindless monstrosities that call themselves "paradise homes"; devoid of character and charm. Meaningless glass-, steel- and aluminium-clad faceless structures that pepper the city-scape. This rash of building is a direct consequence of the money that is pouring into the city from all over the world. As one of my classmates once put it, "If the client is willing to pay, why should we object?"
Insensitivity characterizes our government. The narrow minded view of the quick buck. I don't pretend to know much about politics - frankly, I don't know much about anything - but I cannot respect an administration that seems to have no scruples and less foresight.
"Long term" is a phrase that doesn't seem to mean anything to Indians anymore.

today i let others speak for me part two

Every day
Keep making the same mistakes
Once again
I find myself in the same old place
And I'm wandering
Wondering
Where to turn
There's a dead end
Straight ahead
Won't you take me home?

And you said
There's nothing you wouldn't do
And I answered
There's nothing in this world I need you to do
Just hold me
In your arms
I feel so cold
There are dark clouds
Gathering
Won't you take me home?

Oh, won't you take me home?

Got me wandering
Wondering
Where to turn
There are dark clouds
Gathering
Won't you take me home?

Oh please, won't you take me home?
Oh, won't you take me home?

Aqualung - Take me home

today i let others speak for me part one

I've been a bad, bad girl
I've been careless with a delicate man
And it's a sad, sad world
When a girl will break a boy just because she can

Don't you tell me to deny it
I've done wrong and I want to suffer for my sins
I've come to you 'cause I need guidance to be true
And I just don't know where I can begin

What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love

Heaven help me for the way I am
Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done
I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand
But I keep living this day like the next will never come

Oh help me but don't tell me to deny it
I've got to cleanse myself of all these lies 'till I'm good enough for him
I've got a lot to lose and I'm bettin' high so I'm begging you
Before it ends just tell me where to begin

Let me know the way
Before there's hell to pay
Give me room to lay the law and let me go
I've got to make a play
To make my lover stay
So what would an angel say the devil wants to know

What I need is a good defense
'Cause I'm feeling like a criminal
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I've sinned against
Because he's all I ever knew of love

Fiona Apple - Criminal