Straight Hate

When I was in second grade, we had a disaster in our school. It was an international school, situated in the hills of South India, in a place completely surrounded by forests (and monkeys of course). A boarding school with discipline engraved on its students’ foreheads. But, some new students had joined and through them, new vocabulary words had slowly seeped into the whole school (“like tea from a teabag”). The headmistress had a heart attack everytime someone opened his mouth, teachers screamed much more often and wooden rulers took on their second and more violent nature! What were those very offensive words? Brace yourself- ‘yea’ and ‘like.’ In a world where answers required ‘yes, madam’, these words had quite the need to be censored. And so they were.

Needless to say, the f-word, d-word, s-word and the other list of alphabetical curses were completely absent from my childhood vocabulary. I first realized this lack in fifth grade, my first full year in the United States. My teacher had made me a “Safety” and it was my duty to walk through the lines of kids waiting for the late bus and make sure everyone was good and disciplined (cough, disciple in the RedWhiteandBlue Empire was a joke).

Crack(er) Six (Cheesy Words)

For a change of matter, mood, subject and sanity perhaps, I thought I’d make a quick list of everything that has made me smile, cry, laugh, waste time and absolutely distract myself over the past few days. I mean, of course, AP Chemistry, AP Physics and college application essays work very hard to occupy my time so extremely effectively (in such a way that I want to break the clock by the end of the day). But hey, every girl needs some distractions (and perhaps every boy does too).  So six is the magic number and here  I begin (to affirm my sanity)…

Words on Mute

I have always believed in the power of words. Literature, words, fragments, sentences. No matter what language they’re in, they hold power. With the stroke of a pen,I had argued, the writer takes the reader from a mortal, simplistic world to an elaborate wonderland. Words-a magician’s wand, a king’s bright scepter.

But today, I disagree. Not words but thoughts. Because I can only write words, I lack the ability to speak. Thoughts hold that silent power. I want to yell this out, scream at those deaf ears but my words stop in my throat. Silenced, as though by the bristle of a gun. I am the gun and I am the victim. I am my own worst enemy. I lack the power of words.

Friends and Ships

“Are you mad at her?”

I gave him a look, “yes, I am. How did you know?”
I hadn’t made it THAT explicit. I had dropped very few hints.

“We were talking about it yesterday. Why?” he asked again.

Where crowns lose their sparkle..

So recently, I participated in this Thing (that shall not be named as I do not want this to show up in search results). It was  a multicultural pageant with girls from lots of different nations. Obviously, I represented India and there were twenty-ish other girls. Oddly enough, I was crowned. (To be more detailed, my final question was about who my role model is- Indira Gandhi all the way!)

as she lies There..

Blue. Green. Tubes through flesh. Wires through floors. Rectangular worlds with curtained borders. My first look at the Intensive Care Unit. The nurse was excitedly trying to explain every detail of the ward to me, struggling to tie the few English words she knows with some sign language. She was laughing at her own mistakes and I couldn’t help but smile at her innocent disposition.

She took me near an old man, with a million deep lines in his skin and tons of clear tubes through his body.

A step.. forward?

I put a link to my last post on my facebook (aka under my real name!). It’s a pretty scary thought.. well, not really. I was just trying to make it dramatic. I did delete a few old posts and change up a few others too though. Just in case, you know. With anonymity comes freedom; now, I actually have to think about what I write and how it’ll affect others. Or I could just say ‘who cares?’ and continue in my meaningless muses… but that wouldn’t be me.  I always have to over think everything. It’s what I do best!

(I am sick now. So maybe this is the result of me being a bit delirious. Maybe.)

So just to reiterate, for the millionth time, the name that I used until today wasn’t my name. It’s actually my friend’s name. I borrowed the first half of it. It was OUR identity. And it no longer exists. Now this is mine. No names mentioned. =)

As I sit in class…

Woah! Since when do we get laptops for labs? I stared in awe, and perhaps even drooled a bit, as our physics teacher began to pass out brand new and of course, the fully PERFECT Macbooks to everyone. Sanitize your hands, she was saying, you don’t want to get oil stains on these things. They’re worth a thousand dollars each… The instructions went on but by this point, everyone had already tuned out. After all, the point is- we get a new toy.. Twenty thousand dollars worth of equipments for each department? No wonder school taxes keep going up. And that too, just to save ourselves the two-second walk to the computer lab. Brilliant. Now we can do the calculations for the lab right here in the classroom (and then spend another few thousands on exercise machines.. right in the classroom). Superfluous, much? Of course, of course I’d love to peacefully protest and boycott this infringement of basic financial practicality. But.. seeing that everyone else was already playing around with the webcam and photobooth, just one question- should I make myself fisheyed, pop-arted or bulged? I love you, Steve Jobs (almost as much as Larry Page and Sergey Brin..almost)!

Flying kites

“Failure is not in my dictionary,” I began in a defiant tone, “because I am a  flyer of kites. In my hands, I hold the strings to hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of kites. In all different colors. They dance around in the sky, soaring higher and higher without limits.

Sometimes though, the wind blows too hard, the kite goes the wrong way or perhaps someone cuts the string. That’s what you call ‘failure’. And this kite falls down, slowly. Slowly, ever so slowly, it falls from the sky and comes to rest on a lone tree. More of these ‘failures’ follow. More kites. Blue. Yellow. Orange. Purple. Shiny. Plain. Glittery. Bright. Pale.

Lyrics to Mullulla Murikkinmel

Mullulla murikkinmel, moovanthi padarthiya,

Muthupole thuduthoru panineer..

Panineer..

kaattonu annangiyaal, karalnonthu pidayunnna,

Kannadikavilathu kannuneer..

kannuneer..

(Mullulla..)

Maadathe raavinte manassulla ninte maaril,

Mailanchi chora kondu varanjathaaru? (Maadathe..)

Moncherum chirakkinte thooval nulli eduthittu,

Panchara vishari veeshi thanuthathaaru?

(Mullulla..)

Nenjilu thillakkana sankada kadulumaayi,

Enthinennariyathe vidhumbum penne.. (Nenjilu..)

Maimaayum mizhithumbil nee kolluthum villakkalle,

Nallathe iruttathe vellicham kanne..

(Mullulla..)

Movie: Vilapangalkkappuram (2009)
Director: T V Chandran
Lyrics: Girish Puthencherry
Music: M. Jayachandran
Singer: Manjari
Alt. Spellings: Vilaapangalkku apuram, vilaapangalkapuram, vilapangalkappuram, mulullamurikkinmel, mulullamurikinmel… (and a million and a half others!)

Mullulla murikkinmel, moovanthi padarthiya,

Muthupole thuduthoru panineer..

Panineer..

kaattonu annangiyaal, karalnonthu pidayunnna,

Kannadikavilathu kannuneer..

kannuneer..

എന്നെ എനിക്ക് വേണം

ഞാന്‍ എന്തിന് നിന്നെ പേടിക്കുന്നു?
നീ ഇതു ചോദിച്ച് മടുത്തുക്കാണും
അന്നാല്‍ ഇപ്പോള്‍ ഞാന്‍ പറഞ്ഞേക്കാം
ഒരുപക്ഷെ നാളെ ഉത്തരം മാറി പോയാലൊ

Lyrics to Pularumo

Movie: Rithu (2009)

Director: Shyamaprasad

Music Director: Rahul Raj

Lyrics: Rafeeq Ahmed

Singers: Gayatri, Sujith Suresan

[reey naa.. humming..]

F: Pularumo raavu ozhiyumo, harithalathaavaniyil.. (2)

M:Oru kanal eriyunatho, himakalam aliyunatho,

Athumee kiliyumeeran (really?) nisharam,

Unarvaayi, padarukayaayi ithaa..

[ohh woahh..]

F: Irulaayi pathanju, kadalayi nuranju,

Shashakam kavinja raathri..

Ushase varalle, innuyum nukannu,

Kazhiyaathiripoo njan.

M: Orithal poo choodumee,

Vinninite oram chornuvo,

Vennilav akalunuvo, raavu alineedumo,

Athumee kiliyumeeran (really?) nisharam,

Unarvaayi padarukayaayi ithaa..I

I absolutely love this song. And after watching an interview, I like the singer too (his hair in particular). Of course, Gayatri has always been one of my favorites.

Some of the syllables were really hard to decipher- thus the question marks. Feel free to point out corrections. Also, is there more to the song? This is all I heard in the online versions but I feel it’s incomplete.. just a thought.

Rahul  Raj, keep rocking! =)

.

Movie: Rithu (2009)

Director: Shyamaprasad

Music Director: Rahul Raj

Lyrics: Rafeeq Ahmed

Singers: Gayatri, Sujith Suresan

Alt. spellings: Pularumo raavozhiyumo, raav ozhiyumo, Ritu

[F: reey naa.. humming..]
.
F: Pularumo raavozhiyumo, haritha lathaavaniyil.. (2)

ഓണം ഇല്ലാത്തൊരു ഓണക്കാലം

ഞാന്‍ ഒരിക്കലും ഒരു നാട്ടിന്‍പുറത്ത് പോയിട്ടില്ല. നാട്ടിന്‍പുറത്തെ ഓണങ്ങള്‍ കണ്ടിട്ടില്ല, കളികള്‍ കളിച്ചിട്ടില്ല, പൂക്കളങ്ങള്‍ ഉണ്ടാക്കിയിട്ടില്ല. എന്തിന്, നാട്ടിന്‍പുറം പോയിട്ട് കേരളത്തില്‍ പോലും ഓണം ആഘോഷിചിട്ടില്ല.

Summeritis=Malluwood

dum dum dummm… I haven’t been writing at all recently. My friend termed it ’summeritis’. I concur, I guess. I can’t believe summer’s going to end soon. What happened to July? August always goes by fast so I can’t blame her this time. But July? Et tu, Brute? That’s depressing. I’m scared, excited, nervous and in a peeinthepants mood for this year. But shh, I’m not worrying about it…yet.

I saw half of Manjil Virinja Pookal. It’s funny how Sankar is the hero and Mohanlal is the villain. And today, Sankar is nonexistent and Mohanlal is

Society: The Faceless Culprit

A random thought as I finished hearing a lecture in church. We spend our entire lives blaming society. Society prevents me from doing this. This society is corrupt. This society will not let me live the way I want. This society is wronged. This society is full of evil. And so on goes the drab. But question- who is this society? what is this society? It’s us. Me. You. The lady next to us. The boy across from us. We are the society. Who are we blaming for each mistake we make? Ourselves, of course. So just one quick question. We keep saying that this society should change, so why don’t we?

Dreaming is a privilege

How sad it is to not have ambitions. To not dream. Children, forced to grow up, apparently done with school but with nothing else. Marriage perhaps (for girls that is), failed foreign student visa applications (to ‘greener’ pastures in the USofA, UK, Australia..), nothing more,  nothing less.. Restricted by their nation. Their people. Their surroundings. As Mark Caine once said, “the first step towards success is taken when you refuse to be a captive of the environment in which you first find yourself in.” Abdul Kalam said something too on the likes of dreaming big and getting thoughts transformed into action. Easier said than done.  Perhaps schools should teach dreaming along with learning. Perhaps.

But what about now? What about those brilliant students in my generation, muffled by circumstances? How will they open the windows that have been sealed for generations? It’s not fair.

The Victory of Failure

Have you ever had this feeling.. when you want to do something and that something is what others expect of you, and due to that one reason you don’t want to do anymore? If that makes any sense..  I don’t know why everyone expects great things from me. I’m not such a great person. I consider myself average but seemingly, everyone else doesn’t. And although I want to do this, I want to be here and do well.. I kind of  want to fail, just to prove people wrong. I’m not a genius, I’m not super-talented, I’m not anything special.. I’m just me and I’m normal. End of Story.  Can we just leave it there?

Brownness, Roy, Masjid and Ploy

You’ll never know what it truly feels like to be a minority unless you’re in a country where a five-year old constantly stares at you and tries to figure out what sort of creature you are because she’s never seen a dark-skinned, “big”-eyed person before.  It annoys me, yet at the same time,  I understand it. The eyes that latch on to me as soon as I step out of the house. The drivers that turn to look at me properly as I walk the streets. The way they get excited over my speech. How everyone stands up to greet me. Awkward, painful and at the same time, very humanly. If that makes any sense.

On other news, Arundhati Roy’s new article is up on Outlook India about Democracy’s Failing Light. I live for her essays, you see.  

ആ..(വട്ടായോന്നൊരു തോന്നല്‍)

മലയാളം ഒന്നു ശരിക്കും പടിക്കണം.. എന്താ ഒരു വഴി? ബ്ലോഗ്ഗുകള്‍ വായിച്ച് വായിച്ച് അറിയാവുന്ന മലയാളം കൂടി മറന്നുന്നാ അമ്മയുടെ പക്ഷം. ആര് കണ്ടു? മലയാള ദൈവങ്ങളെ, പൂജെക്ക് ഞാന്‍ റെഡി, ഒന്നു പ്രസാദിക്കൂ പ്ലീസ്സ്..

The Shades of “Liberation”

Islam has always fascinated me. When I was little, I found the muezzin’s calls from the mosque near my house beautiful. I loved to just sit outside, close my eyes and listen. As I grew up, Islam had other significances. Islam was my friend, who happened to have ‘Osama’ as a part of his name and you can imagine the discrimination he has faced. Beat up by mobs, spit at and completely humiliated, he left America last year. Islam was my Hindu friend who found out that she was actually adopted from a Muslim family. She cried more because she had Muslim roots than because she was adopted. I slapped her across the face. My best friend. The poor girl. Islam was the most misstated in that ridiculous History curriculum  I wrote of earlier.  Islam is my friends from Pakistan, Sudan, Iran, Qatar, Bahrain and the list goes on. And of course I have Indian friends from all different religions.  So what’s my point? That Islam didn’t make my first friend a bad person, he endured more than any human being could have and he still didn’t let go of his faith. Islamic roots didn’t hurt that Hindu friend, whose doing fine now and is actually thinking of converting to Islam. And those friends I have, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them. Yea, I just felt the need to affirm their normalness.

I go to the mall once in a while with my friends. We’d be a group of girls just walking in the mall, sometimes loud and sometimes quiet, but no matter our mood or our noise level, we always seem to attract unwanted attraction. “Hey beautiful!” men, or perhaps I should call them boys, would yell and crowd around us, “Wanna come over tonight? I have a king.”