the angst of someone who is understood

i'm being understood.

curiously enough, i do not like it. at all.

it is not nice being understood by a class-full of 10 year olds. to them, i wish to appear mysterious, benevolent and unpredictable. most of all, unpredictable. i seem to be losing the unpredictability. so much so, that now they have started completing my sentences. like a long-married couple.

i begin, "my dear friends...." and they complete "life is not fair."

i begin, "this is...." and they complete "RIDICULOUS!!"

i begin, "you better come with your homework done or else....." and they complete "i'll skin you alive and hang your pelts on the wall."

i barely begin, "how...." and they chorus "STUPID!!"

i try to growl, "i suggest you stop that right now or else...." and they helpfully complete "i'll assassinate you personally."

all this is most depressing. i shall have to think up some new threats. they are beginning to think i am cute. that will definitely not do. i must not lose my fangs. the fangs are essential tools of the trade.

ah well.

at least it is better than the first week, when i would ask for silence, and the class would obligingly erupt in 24 people yelling "keep quiet, stop talking, look at madam" simultaneously. now i can achieve instant silence of the pin-drop variety by just throwing them a glance with a glint in it.

all in a day's work

my class has a severe problem with writing. they whine more plaintively than a galley-full of ill-treated slaves when faced with a writing assignment of any sort. which means that my brain is constantly addled with all the thinking i have to do to disguise writing in sheep's clothing.

today i decided to introduce some dirty competition into the academic equation. poster-making - topic of choice; individual or pairs; tone-persuasion/awareness/warning; 30 minutes.

Jehan's poster. most people liked it for its striking use of color and graphics and the catchy slogan. the poacher looks rather woebegone though.

Appy and Dhruvin's poster. i liked the symbolism of the graphics and the artwork in general. nice and pessimistic, that is us.

hitarth's broken arm proved to be pure serendipity. he left the writing monochromatic because he could not finish coloring it in time, but the audience liked how the no-smoking sign stood out against all the white and black of the rest of the space.

Meet's work. i like the spotlight effect created by the two circles. a rather glamorous family - everyone is very cosmopolitan and smokes! i especially liked the copious amounts of tears the rest of the family is shedding. enough to drown them all. the dead body looks on quite cheerfully from the pyre.

These and two more went as prizes. on-the-spot artwork by the teacher. perhaps there is something wrong with me. everything i draw turns out to be wide-eyed. something freudian perhaps.

day one of the new term

can't say i'v not been warned.

in my inbox - "i hope you have enjoyed yourself in the vacation. from tomorrow we are coming back to harruss you. my dear." followed by a very malignant looking smiley.

well, well, well.

sunday philosophy

A promise made is a debt unpaid.

discoveries

today is a day of discoveries and introspection.

discovery number one: my heart is made of india rubber.

inevitable perhaps, me being the granddaughter of a smallish rubber plantation owner. break-resistant and flexible, it insists on bouncing back. i have no future as a wilting violet, alas.

discovery number two: there is distress and i am (so far) a damsel, but i'm not in it.

no wonder i'd been scaring off all the knights in shining armor waiting for me to fall into distress. it is more entertaining causing the distress than being in it. i cannot ride horseback and i think horses stink, anyway. perhaps the knights stink as well.

discovery number three: i am not built to be a saint.

ahhh.. the bliss of being able to tell idiots that they are idiots. nothing compares. ultimate bliss. all the strain of trying to keep a stiff upper lip and behaving in a suitably dignified, ladylike fashion that is expected of a spinster lady in her mid-twenties was too much.

discovery number four: being a bitch comes naturally to me.

my dear well-meaning teachers at the convent would be shocked. despite being a 'fair, convent educated, homely girl from a good family' i excel at pithy one-liners and crushing sarcasm. sometimes i think i could very well be the reincarnation of that mightiest of super-bitches - the great Groucho Marx.

the weight of all these ponderous revelations has given me something to chew on. i think i'll now go and bite someone or something.

april girl, thats me

now this guy had taste.


Always Marry An April Girl

Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.

- Ogden Nash


but of course, we april girls are no wall-flowers. we have alternatives. namely;

If No One Ever Marries Me

If no one ever marries me -

And I don't see why they should,

For nurse says I'm not pretty,

And I'm seldom very good

If no one ever marries me I shan't mind very much,

I shall buy a squirrel in a cage

And a little rabbit-hutch;

I shall have a cottage near a wood,

And a pony all my own

And a little lamb, quite clean and tame,

That I can take to town.

And when I'm getting really old -

At twenty-eight or nine

I shall buy a little orphan girl

And bring her up as mine.

- Laurence Alma-Tadema

so there!

.....on the verge

to begin a day with the bitter taste of disappointment...fruitless, meaningless waiting....my spirit does not bend to my will. i find haughty indifference alien. my happiness effervescent and all pervading like the dawn fog misting my window as i wait; it too, goes the same way. melted away in the heat of a rash word.

what is all this making of me - a bitter, twisted non-believer?

daily dose of tragedy - starcrossed

seen in passing -

a young couple being forcefully parted and handed over to their respective families. the guy was slapped for good measure by indulgent 'older and wiser' people, and the girl admonished for doing something so silly as attempt to escape the folds of her family for the circle of her lover's arms.

they boy tried pathetically to hold on to his cockiness. to be a man for the still-watching girl; in the end only to watch helplessly as she, head bowed and cowed, was driven away.

they were but kids, both of them somewhere in their late teens.

who decides what is love and what is not? perhaps the fact that being near that one person can make one feel invincible and immortal is enough for it be named love. perhaps it is the dawning incoherent realization that we are but cosmic flotsam on an endless trajectory - some fated to find kindred spirits, some not so blessed. so what if this search for meaning and belonging can sometimes end in sadness and litter the floor with broken hearts? one has to close one's eyes against the yawning deep and just leap off, trusting to god that one learns to soar and won't drop as dead weight into the chasm.

as we grow older, this courage to trust another person with the strings to one's sanity wears thin. we get pragmatic and watchful and ration our affections against guaranteed returns. we seek minimum collateral damage.

we call it the dawning of wisdom. funny.

being young and vulnerable is the worst state to be in, perhaps.

daily dose of tragedy - not mine this time

the worst tragedy that befell me happened on the 19th of february in the year 1989. the pest was born.

i tried the best i could to persuade my parents to donate him to charity, but they adamantly refused to listen to reason. since that terrible day, he has made it the chief purpose of his life to bug me to distraction.

now to my joy, the hateful little neighbor has a little brother too. i don't mind having a little brother if everyone else has one as well. misery loses its edge when distributed evenly and fairly. and by all that is holy, if anyone on this wide earth deserved such a punishment, it is she. i'd like to see how long she can call her famous red tricycle her own and for how long her favorite toys remain saliva-free. hahaha. pride comes before a fall.

the neighborhood baby brother is a dangerous person in the offing, one can tell. his optimistic parents have gone and named him Harsh and he quite lives up to the name. perhaps they forgot to tell him they meant it with the Hindi connotation and not the English one. he glares at passersby in a harsh manner and dribbles saliva all over his chin in a harsh manner too. his harshness reaches new peaks when he is wet, and we are all treated to the sound of him protesting very harshly indeed.

perhaps he feels that

A bit of talcum
Is always walcum.

- Ogden Nash (Reflection on Babies)

Diwali

there are crackers going off incessantly outside, and the sky is lit by flares and fountains of light. old age must be catching up with me. spent the entire day reading in bed. it is celebration of a sort, i guess.

at any rate, i am not all dolled up like amitabh bachchan on the Big Boss show in something pink, emboidered and feminine. perhaps the dress was generously lent to him by that doyen of high fashion faux pas, the newest addition to the family, mrs. rai-bachchan.

i don't understand men who wear pink, much less geriatric men who wear embroidered pink - with a matching pink embroidered stole! that is taking metrosexuality a bit too far, in my opinion.

he is going batty in his dotage. i took a poll. the family and i much rather prefer shilpa shetty and her marvelous curves gracing the Big Boss screen.

randomness

Solo songbird's song

sunk in secret sadness

secure.

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

Mornings mourning

momentary madnesses -

madcap machinations

masterfully mowed down.

(t)horn of plenty

i am now faced with three bottles of home-made wine, two bottles of honey - one the wild variety and the other the refined variety, three huge cakes, 20 kilos of plantains, fried fish, prawns, smoked beef and many many many coconuts. all of which i am expected to down in the short span of 15 days.

families. out to kill one.

another installment of the make-twiggy-fat project.

illumination

seemingly lasting things erode away so very quickly. nothing lasts in this constant flux. fragile things constructed out of prayers, leaps of faith, half-hopes, daydreams and wishful thinking are so easy to dismantle. so very easy. set on collision course from the moment of inception. on impact, nothing is left, but fast disappearing mockeries.

not every toad turns into a prince.

is it just me, or is the world really out to get me?

last day of term.

true to the frighteningly efficient form the H.R. had been exhibiting throughout the first half of the year, we got this form to be filled in at the most urgent, a generous 10 minutes before pack up. one more form to fill in is indeed my idea of a fun way to spend a few minutes, compared to totally fruitless activities like getting a drink of water or going to the loo. forms, they are something.

this one was extra special. it requested exciting details like the date of birth of one's mom, and sex (where one has to work hard to squash one's desire to write a truthful 'never had' )

hennyway,,trouble is, it required one to fill in one's details IN BLOCH LETTERS and no less. now i have had as substantial a general education as the next person, but i'v never been taught to write in BLOCH letters, much to my shame, so i gave in, and just filled it in in humble block letters.

and the evening held a few more revealing glimpses into my total lack of in-with-it-ness.

this sign for example, in the friendly neighborhood mall which commanded in no uncertain terms - LADIES DRESSES AVAILABLE HEAR!