I am a water girl, as anyone who as seen me anywhere close to water will readily tell you. I love being in water, splashing in water, sitting in water, lying in water... I love water. Get me next to a river, pond, sea, bathtub, and you will see this little child who has been in water enough times to not be afraid, and not enough times to have got used to it all. What completes the illusion is "mommies and aunties" still telling me not to go in too far. I believe I've actually heard myself say my dream is to be a buffalo, sitting in water all day long, doing nothing, doing everything...

All this gushing about water because I've finally come to terms with the huge dent it will cause in my fortune and joined the swimming pool here. And even though the thought of me in a swim suit brings a big smile to many-a-faces, the thought of me in water brings a bigger smile to mine.

You thought you could be one of those people? Them with the shining eyes, the wide smiles, the faraway look on their faces. With senses that are lost to the world. Who think nothing of screaming to the wind - "I'm going home!"

Hah! Think again.

Here I am, finally having a home that I can go back to, and how do I spend my holidays? In an empty hostel, with a thesis, a couple of term papers and some assignments for company. Happy holidays? Good joke!

It didn't turn out to be all that bad, though. It started off with a one day trip to Agra, where we judiciously skipped the mental hospital in case any of the inmates recognized people of their kind. Took a couple of days off to take care of the strain from the trip. And overcompensated for all the misery by sleeping and watching movies when awake.

Its almost the end of the holidays and here I am. With almost as much baggage as I had at the beginning, only, facing a much steeper climb.

Closed eyes, clenched fists. A racing heart, pumping excitement and fear.
Leap!
Don't think, don't look. Just let go.
Maybe you'd fall. Bruised for life and forever afraid.
But maybe, just maybe, you'll fly!

This post is one such leap. Our trip to Agra tomorrow is another.

(The reader may be forgiven for thinking the writer has lept, fallen and incurred major brain damages)

There he stood, tense, alert for the slightest sign of weakness. It was as much a matter of will power as anything else. But even the strong walls of determination could not stop the picture from creeping in. A picture of him, far far away from this maddening civilization, him in an isolated, idyllic place, living life as it is supposed to be lived. Eyes shut tight, he shook his head and hoped the picture would disappear. It was a weakness he could not permit. Had he not been taught the difference between right and wrong? Had he not learnt? Had not the beliefs of generations before him passed on to him? Dangerous things to be passed on - beliefs, he thought. They make you do things without the whys. Shaking that thought away, he plunged into the battleground before anything else could distract him.
He emerged victorious, triumphant, a better person. As he celebrated his victory, a small voice within him said - its not over yet. There's always tomorrow.

Why do we have to bathe everyday?

The only way to learn it all is to learn it all before you learn to ask why

I have developed a newfound respect for Hindi teachers these past few months. How do they ever manage to explain why a pencil is a female but a rubber is a male? I've had to face many such whys here, there being an abundance of Begalis and Andhrites most of whom are deficient in Hindi and are trying their best to make up. A few snippets of conversation will give you an idea of what i'm up against.

Late for class, i'm desperately looking for a bucket to have a bath. I ask my friend who had beat me to the bathroom whether she is done with her's.
V: Becket Milega ?
F: Haan, i'm almost done.
(F is handing V the bucket over the door)
F: Hold on, bucket is male ??
V: Hmm, good question. Ya, it probably is.
F: (Shocked) Are you sure?
V: Well, i know balti is female. We can use that if it makes you feel better. Bucket, i'm not so sure.
F: How can you not be sure?
All this and lots more, with the bucket hanging patiently over the door. The class, do you even need to ask?


F: Main kitna achcha Hindi keh rahi hoon
V: Hindi is female, and it should be bol, not keh
F: (All worked up) Whats the big difference between kehna and bolna ?
V was speechless. V should have said its the same difference between saying and talking. But of course, it didn't strike V then. Strange though, convert the problem to a familiar domain and it doesn't remain a problem anymore. Maybe its not all that illogical. Or maybe, they're all illogical.


Everyone is desperately studying for this horror of an exam. Of course all exams are horrors, but this one is in a class of its own.
F: Main sab bhool gaya
V: Come on, dont say that. You know it's not right. You should say main sab bhool gayi
F of course doesn't see the humour and throws whatever she can lay her hands on at V.


Fed up of being wrong and being corrected, and having lost all hopes of finding logical answers to their whys, they come up with a brilliant strategy. They'll all talk in plural from now. No more gender problems!

Main aur bucket nahane gaye the !