Lessons to unlearn the past

1. Movies do not grow on tress. Neither do TV series.
2. Every hour of the day its own purpose. They are not interchangable.
7 A.M. != 8 P.M. != 2 A.M.
Which means, you cannot start work at 8 P.M., you cannot go for a walk at 2 A.M. and you cannot get home at 7 A.M.
3. Yellow smiley balls are for kids. You are not one anymore.
4. If you want exercise, you have to make yourself do it. There is no coach expecting you to turn up. No conditioning camp instructors threatening to throw you out of the skiing trip if you dont show up. No classmates for company. Its either you by yourself or nothing at all.
5. You cannot go around from desk to desk, bugging people just because you are bored. One, they are all working. Two, you dont know most of them.
6. Afternoon sleep is not a constitutional right. It is grave injustice, but until you become the puppet-master of the country's ruling parties and the constitution your personal diary, you will just have to learn to live without it.
7. All the sporting action you are going to get is likely to be televised. It is not possible to get 4 people together for baddy, leave alone 6 for basky. (It is 6, isnt it?) Or TT. Or tennis. Or Phatta. Unless you can convince yourself that foosball is a sport. You suck at it, but when has that been a problem?

Misery loves company

And mine is so happy right now, it is throwing a party! All of you reading this are invited, yes, all three of you.

There are few things in this world that cause me as much misery as having to wear a saree does. Not that i've had to on too many occasions, but i live in mortal dread of some such occasion popping up and me having to put up another fight of my life. And it is just impossible to make people understand that i genuinely dont like the garment. I would dearly love to punch the next person who says - you cannot look bad in a saree. Really??? That is your argument? That i should wear something i dont like, am extremely uncomfortable and totally self-conscious in, just because i look good in it? Really??? And a smaller punch for the person who tries cultural blackmail. There are thousands of women who gladly wear sarees, let them preserve this part of our culture. I'll find some other part to preserve. Like... err... i'm sure i'll find something, considering the alternative!
(Yes, that is an actual argument. You cant throw "but what if everyone thinks like that" at me. Everyone does not think like that.)
My misery is pouring out like this because suddenly and most unexpectedly, it has company! One of Bhai's closest friends is getting married and he has been asked to be a groomsman. And do you know what groomsmen wear? Suits!!!! And, suits are to him what sarees are to me. (You can tell we are related, cant you?) I dont think i have ever been so happy in such a twisted way! While he continues to fight the groom for his right to wear black (jeans and t-shirt, of course), my misery is enjoying the company! And irrespective of the outcome, i know i have found one person who understands.

P.S. If he loses the fight, my plan is to beg the groom to let me into the wedding so that i can..well, i dont really have to do anything. I just have to be there. My misery will have the time of my life.

Dream of a dream

As I watch Chak De second hand (second hand viewing is what happens when someone else is watching a movie, generally on a PC, generally with headphones, and you looking at the screen is only incidental) it hits me again. If there is something i can see myself happily do for a living for a long long time, it is playing some sport. I know, i know, i probably know nothing about that life or what it takes from you, but i can dream cant i? And as long as i am dreaming, i'd like to dream about a team sport. Not that an individual sports are not fun. They have their perfect moments where your eyes see the right thing, your brain makes the right decision, your body executes the decision beautifully and you feel like ONE being. Now imagine this perfection extended to include other people and suddenly, you are no longer limited to yourself. You are part of a much bigger whole.
All right, i'll stop drooling. But i now get why parents sometimes want their kids to fulfill their dreams. Its not the dream they want to pass on, its the fulfillment they imagine their dream would have bought. But it doesnt work like that, does it? The best you can hope for is that your kid finds his dream before its too late.

Not moving on

A few weeks ago, life took me back to my college. I was going back after 5 long years and was pretty sure no one would remember me. It wasnt as bad as i'd expected. My name didnt ring a bell but my face certainly did! As they were trying to place me in a batch, one of the teachers asked me who my BE project guide was. And i went blank. My recovery went something like this - - B.E project? Did I do a BE project? I would certainly have remembered if i'd done one. But it must have been part of the course or she wouldnt have asked. So we had a guide? How i can i not remember my guide? My M Tech thesis guide still haunts me sometimes, how could i have forgotten my B.E project guide? And more importantly, how could i have forgotten my B.E project?? Took 5 minutes and a lot of prodding from those present, but i got to the answer. Fortunately, my guide was not among those present. I was still quite embarrassed and by way of apology said something like - the stack's grown too deep. I have to pop out a lot of stuff to get to that information. (She taught us Data Structures. That much i remember) And she laughed and said - Dont worry, i understand. Our stacks run deeper than yours.

This fading out has already reached my M Tech memories now. A few nights ago, i couldnt remember the name of a professor and it kept me awake for a long long time. This other time i couldnt remember the name of the ONE multiplex in Kanpur. And i still cant remember the name of the ridiculously expensive restaurant on the second floor of that multiplex. Dabba and batti have gone back to their usual meanings. (Technical question, can a macbook be called a dabba? I've been trying to come up with a common name for all the computers in at home.)

I know its not a catastrophe. I know the old has to make way for the new. But until some exciting new comes along, i'd rather hold on to the old.

Blogging in my sleep

I do not talk in my sleep. It is one of those tiny, insignificant things about me that i wish was otherwise. I simply love to hear people talk in their sleep and only superstitions ingrained into near and dear ones stop me from holding full fledged conversations with sleep talkers. The whole thing is so amazing, they are right there in front of you and at the same time also in some alternate reality. My favourite part is telling the sleep talker what he/she talked about next morning and watching them being amazed at the idea of having been somewhere they have no recollection of being!
Since i cant have what i dont have, I am going to be very mature and celebrate what i do have. I cannot answer the phone when i am asleep. That, lads and ladies, is the nearest i get to being abnormal in my sleep. The following sequence of events which explain the phenomenon have been put together after careful post-postmortem of several such occurrences.
I am asleep.
The phone rings.
I hear it.
I open my eyes.
I squint at the display, trying to identify the caller.
My brain tells my hands to answer. But someone somewhere messes up and I end up pressing the wrong key. Aah, but not just any wrong key, (this is where you see the brilliance of my postmortem) i press the key that is supposed to shut off the alarm.
I wonder why the damn thing wont stop ringing.
I talk into a ringing phone.
I wonder why the idiot at the other end doesn't answer.
Somewhere in all this confusion, i go back to sleep.

(This post is what i have come up with after about 3 weeks of wondering what to write. I gotta get me a life. Seriously.)