Thursday, July 30, 2009

Anger Management

I can possibly watch any movie with Adam Sandler in it. My all time favorites are: I now pronounce you Chuck and Larry and 50 first dates. I sooo want to watch Funny People..sigh..

Anyway, this post is neither about Adam Sandler (I have an uncanny attraction for the name Adam though) nor is it about his movies or any movie for that matter. It's about the fact that I'm angry. Very very angry.For unmentionable reasons. And I want to control it. Anger management was the first thing that came to my mind and hence Adam Sandler-yeah,it was a good movie too.

Different people resort to different methods to appease their anger. Some people vouch for the effectiveness of deep-breathing, others say counting numbers does the trick for them. One of my school friends had a most singular way to pacify herself. She used to take a mouthful of ice-cold water and didn't gulp it down till she thought she was back to her calmer self. I too tried it once, and it really really works. And then there was one who used to go for long runs or exercised vigorously. Anu deletes her inbox messages to give vent to her fury. Chinky doesn't get angered that easily and when she does she..oh god! I don't know what does she do :o. She gets mad at me a lot many times and that too for just these two reasons - 1. Why can't you ever arrive on time? 2. Why don't you pick up your phone? Of course, I gathered quite recently that these are the things that ALL my friends (without an exception) complain of :P. Anyway, I guess she listens to her collection of melancholy songs from old hindi movies and cooks (god knows what!). Oh, it's about time I wrote a much promised post on Chinkyism. :D
And then some people swear. Oh,yes! All crudeness aside, this works as well.
When I was young I used to paint, and sometimes sketch vigorously to expel the rage trapped within. A very high velocity cycling also helped a lot. Nowadays, I do a lot of stuff. Not all of them at a time, I suit myself. Putting any of these into practice is fine.

Music.First loud. Loud enough to block all the thoughts. And then soothing, to quiet down the mind.

Cleaning. When I say cleaning, it is not the ordinary cleaning. It is 'The Monica' cleaning, with the vacuum cleaner, the duster, the scrub and the cleansing formula. Dusting, brushing,scrubbing,washing- I do it till I drop down tired.

Reading. Old copies of Children's digest, Tinkle, Champak, Billoo, Pinky. Fairy tales-Cinderella, Rapunzel, Emperor's new clothes, Little red riding hood, Snow white and the seven dwarfs or whatever I get. Old Khushwant Singh joke books. Not HP- that is when I'm depressed, not livid. This has had a cent percent success figure. All those people who keep flipping the pages of spiritual books or subscribe to complicated philosophy to seek solace, should lay their hands on the imprints of their childhood instead. Never underestimate Children's books. Its healing power is unparalleled.
Also, thanks to something I now have an easy access to some of the most entertaining passages on random topics.Most delightful !

And the latest addition in this list is the thing that I'm doing right now.
Better. Much better. :)
And now after typing a full length post my anger has not just subsided, in fact it, like its root cause, like a lot of things in life, is gone and forgotten.

Peace out!


"No, no, a little more. Drink just a little more.See, it's steaming hot and I've put a lot of black pepper in it, so you'll feel better."

"Mamma, please. There's no taste in my mouth".

"Why are you not wearing your slippers? Have you ever seen me or your mother without our houseshoes? This is why you fall sick everytime."

"I'm not sick. It's just a little cold. I don't feel sick at all. I'm fine."

All this, just because I and my handkerchief are inseparable at the moment. I'm not quite appreciative of blowing nose but common cold makes you forget all that dignity. I hate catching cold and I hate falling sick :x

The first sign of rhinoviruses getting better of someone is continuous sneezing. The second is running nose , closely followed by headache, throat pain, cough and finally a slight fever.

And yet if you're adamant that you're not sick, try a simple pronunciation check- if your m's sound like b's-you have caught cold big time. I avoid talking to people during this time. It's so embarrassing! It has happened earlier. Something that became a legendary joke amongst the old colony gang-all thanks to Uttara for propagating it (hmph)- "Beri bummy bonday ko bangoes laayegi" :P

I sincerely hope I haven't infected Priyal and Mansi as I as good as spent an entire college-day with them yesterday. Priye's in my batch now-hurray!!! (sorry Bhoomi :D). But I think I have. Because by the end of the day both were sneezing.

I need to get well by today evening. It's my Parents' Twenty-third marriage anniversary :) And of course tomorrow's going to be very hectic, for most of us :)

I guess I'll take a nap now.

PS: I'm frigging tensed. Very very very tensed. :( :( :(

PPS: Why is this post showing the wrong date? Today's 1st august not 30th july. duh! dumb blog calender!

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

workaday life

A few weekly updates/general thoughts :

-The comp screen had gone blank on monday night and so had my mind at the gloomy prospect of not being able to orchestrate a finger tap dance on the keyboard. :( I think it has been established time and again that I have an acute phobia of being disconnected from the cyber world. Almost a nervous breakdown! I yelled at my parents as if it was their fault, threw a lot of tantrums, heatedly asked them to get it fixed-"My results can be declared anytime! Maybe it is being uploaded even as I speak(although shout would have been a more appropriate word)". I refused to utter a word till the problem was solved. I feel very bad,very guilty about my crabby behaviour with my parents when I'm livid with anger. And the worst part is that they try to pacify me instead of shouting back. The first thing that my father told yesterday,when I came back from college-"I tried a lot to contact that computer man, but he says he's busy. It can't happen today, but he'll definitely come tomorrow.OK?" Without replying I silently went inside my room and locked it. Today as I came back from college I found the computer guy mending it. And a few hours later, here I am typing away the shameful details of my obnoxious conduct. I'm a very bad daughter. Very bad one. I sometimes wish I had siblings. It is essential to have sibblings.That way one's tantrums surface a little bit. Maybe because I'm an only child my parents not only put up with my bad behaviour, but also cater to my whims and fancies. No one except the two of them would-I know. Also, I'm so dependent! What will I do when I face the real world?

- I have started travelling in the brts buses. And honestly,there's nothing 'rapid' about it. Slow as a snail if you ask me. The crowds, I gather have liked it but I'm pretty sure no one's going to travel in it once the free test drives are over and they start charging for the tickets. And although I'm very happy about it (better facilities+less walking+more comfort+no smelly,sweaty riffraff of the city to put up with for a little more money) , I do feel bad about the junta who think it's actually a social service program and that they'll never have to pay for tickets from now on! What do they know that after the Independence Day, travelling in these buses would pinch their pockets.

- I hate life's ways of showing me that my demands are irrartional. That I have a much much better life than a majority of the people. I hate it because, life is correct. And everytime I'm shown this with a proof, my head hangs. Life belittled me once more yesterday. I was silently sobbing under my handkerchief all the way to Subhash Bridge, complaining about something that's not under my control, yearning for something I know I can't have. "Why can't I have it? I don't like this life. I can probably swap lives with any person on earth.Honestly,how much worse can it get?" And then I was shown how much worse can it really get.
There's a very old, heavily wrinkled,bespectacled and seemingly fragile old lady in rags who waddles on the streets of Subhash Bridge, begging. I have seen her many times. Whenever she comes to me I give her whatever little change that is in my hands' reach. I don't think I've ever given her more than five rupees at a time. She mumbles something. Blessing, curse, gratitude, or any incoherent gobbledygook-I don't know. I have never seen someone who appears so much dead inside. Whenever I look at her I think she's just an assembly of organs, devoid of any form of human emotions. Someone who mechanically musters money to buy some food, as if waiting despairingly for a torrential rain or maybe a very cold winter to set her free from the plight of a cursed life. I mentioned she's bespectacled, didn't I? Wears very thick glasses, which I doubt are remotely close to her required focal length. And then there's this universal problem with bespectacled people-you can never see any sign of emotions in their eyes. Also the glare of sunlight makes it worse. Major drawback during the lectures of profs with weak eyesight: you have to pay undivided attention as you never know where exactly are they looking!
So anyway, this lady begs for a minute or two, gets exhausted, sits down for another five and then resumes the process. Yesterday I was positioned in a way to see her left profile as she was catching her breath after the Herculean task of moving around for a full minute-and I saw it- trickling slowly, it made visible a relatively cleaner skin in the region from where trail of the drop of pearl had passed. And I was stunned! Oh,my god,she's crying! That's an emotion-she still has it! Oh god, why does the world houses so much misery? Imagine wailing infront of people all your life and they still ignore you! They look at you without noticing you. They shoo you away. Clean the sleeves that your fingers might've brushed.What kind of life is that? Death would be better. Do I really want swap my life with her? With a shudder I breathe-No! no! a thousand times no!
I remember how depressed I got as a child, when I was taken to the Howrah station for the first time. "Mamma Why are they crying?", "Can I give them the money Didun and Dadi gave me? Please mamma". Fifteen years back, for a five year old ten crisp ten-rupee notes was a lot of money.And my mother let me keep it only because I wanted to put something in my newly purchased Shantineiketan string purse. By the time I traversed from gate to train, I'd given away all of it. I wouldn't do it now. I have become more or less stone-hearted with years. A few pennies would suffice, the brain says. And then I actually feel good. At least I'm better than those who take no notice. I 'did' something. I made someone 'happy'. Did I really? Maybe I sympathize, but do I empathize? Do I feel the spasms of their pain? I don't- I'm not five anymore.

-OK, now this is funny and at the same time..well..revolting! This is one tag that I thought I grew out of. That of a mimic. I thought that along with the school life this too has come to an end because I don't mimc my college profs. I can't bear butchering the language I love so much.
What started off as just another conversational topic has taken funnier proportions. And even before I could realize what was happening, I was delivering dialouge after dialouge and graciously obliging to the encores, as my friends roared with laughter. Yeah..apparently I can mimic Rakhi Sawant!! :O :P
Rakhi ka Swayamvar is a comical milestone-honestly! :D Ew! ew! ew! Bunch of maniacs :D
Oh,nevermind I'm not complaining. I love to entertain people. It satiates the attention seeker in me. While amongst a bunch of people, I like to do most of talking-which btw I do and for which I have a well earned notorious reputation :). But full length video recordings of those..ahem.. 'controversial' dialouges ;) Now,Priye, what was that! Oh, I'm gonna be soooo embarrassed if anyone outside the whole lot us ever views those clips :P

- Finally,I ponder over an absolutely irrelevant, none-of-my-concern issue. Can anyone please explain to me the reason behind the feminization of men? Anyone? Please?
It has become such a commonplace sight that it doesn't baffle me anymore. On my way to college, I spot ten of them-on an average. In college, the count goes up to um..well..anywhere between twelve to fifteen. And on my way back again there are a dozen or so, and if I happen to spot those guys who have it as their uniform the final number increases considerably.
I'm talking about guys in pink shirts. PINK shirts. pink SHIRTS. PINK SHIRTS. :O
Starting from strangers, somewhat knowns, classmates and now even teachers-they all wear it!
Now now, it's perfectly OK to have a favorite colour. Everyone is entitled to his own. This is a free country. One can wear what one likes to.Baby pink, bubblegum pink, light pink,shocking pink,salmon pink,rose pink,flamingo pink,dark pink,flashy pink,fluorescent pink-spoilt for choice! Perhaps the next logical step would be teeming these beautiful and petite pink shirts with pink cardigans, pink scarves, pink wallets-no? Oh come on, it will look nice..aaah,pretty pretty boys :) . All thanks to democracy one can stay prejudiced and laugh at this pink parading without raising anyone's eyebrow.Yes, I'm exercising my right of freedom of expression. Call me prejudiced, call me narrow-minded, shallow, opinionated, help yourselves to an avalanche of synonyms. But the fact remains is that I don't like guys in pink shirts. I have no reason for it but this is what I think, take it or leave it.
And yet I can make peace with the pink panthers but guys getting their eyebrows shaped, facials done! A little indigestable. There are two of them in college-two that I know of, ie. Is it some kind of chromosomal mutation that has occured?Mass mutation probably? I think I studied something like that in the Genetics chapter. When an extra X-chromosome gets added up during the meiotic stage making it XXY resulting in development of certain feminine traits in males. What was it? Was it Klienfelter's syndrome? I don't remember :(
Nevermind, I guess I'll get used to this new metrosexual phenomenon of give-a-face-lift dudes.
But I still don't like it. Where have all the men gone? :O

PS: I'm writing very long posts these days, am I not?

Monday, July 20, 2009

beginning of the close & Hema and Kaushik.

All the while I was getting drenched in the heavy downpour, my umbrella handed out to friends who didn't want to get soaked up,I was half thinking about it-thinking how would I put all this up in the blog.These thoughts however were ephemeral. Why? Because I was too busy jumping around splashing water all over my friends,that's why. :D

This is the first time I'm putting a blog title that in fact is a combination of two titles which were meant to be used for two different posts.The reason I'm acting like the public transport system of india-accommodating more than there's place for- is because I'm hell tired today, there are angry red rashes on my palms as a result of being subjected to incessant rains for about two extremely wet hours. And also because I desperately want to write about both of these and know that if I defer either one, it would remain in the drafts indefinitely just like those two unfinished posts that have been housed in there for more than a month. *yes,this post is going to be a painfully long one-long,even by my standards!*

I begin with the first one- beginning of the close.

Now, I really didn't want to grumble about college on the very first day of the last year. But they don't even seem put an effort to placate me,do they? By the time I was in my fourth semester, our department had got a brand new block.We were happy to move out of our old block. The new block was so beautiful that for one full semster we had cut ourselves out from the rest of the college. No frolicking around in the canteen block, no wandering about the rest of the blocks.We just stayed where we were,the place that made us happy! When I was in my fifth semester, one fine day it was declared that the iit-g'nagar would start functioning from our college till their campus gets fully constucted. We were excited.They arrived.We gave them a very warm welcome. All this plummeted when we were forced to give them our beautiful,airy classrooms with a superb view of the surrounds, compromising with our old block.But that was OK,we thought-the proverbial atithi devo bhava being fixated in our minds. But what happened today has led to pure resentment. They have now added up a fresh batch of students for a new academic year. And because it is a-more mouths than you can feed-situation, they've now taken up our old block as well. And we have been shunned to the block that we used when we were freshers. It sucks! Being in that block sucks! I hated first year. I hate every memory attached to it. And being there is evoking that gloomy past. It doesn't affect others much. I'm told they loved the first year. But I feel asphyxiated there. And the fact that ec dept is closer by doesn't raise my spirits either.

Anyway,sitting in that classroom had its instant effects. Like dumb driven cattle-a la first years-we attended each and every lecture, even the bogus ones.Labs of course are the reason we go to college.It's tough.We've been out of practice for two full sems. Bunk the fruitless lectures,go to labs,spend the worthwhile time in doing your sem projects.It was much more filling and self-satisfying. But today, I sat down in the very first lecture trying to drink the words of a veteran who seemed to regard every moment sans questioning students as a moment wasted. And ironically enough discourages wrong answerings! He says wrong answers get him more irked than no answers at all-the only teacher in my hitherto student life to say so. So, with every passing second I felt more and more stupid. Other lectures and lab followed. A few new names in the time-table had me sighing-"yeah right! that's what we need. Some more fresh out of college when-will-they-grow-up lecturers..huh!"Still I didn't open my mouth to complain until I noticed my time-table, carefully for the first time. Only B2 batch- two saturdays a month :x .What in the name of the holy mother of lord am I supposed to have done?? And then the rains. I know I've been cribbing for a month but then nothing in excess is well received-even by people who asked for them. Getting playful for a while in the showers is one thing and- being stranded twenty kilometres away from your home in mud-spattered,waterlogged roads in the unending rains accompanied with the thuderstorms, no mode of transportation in your visual range, with vision that gets increasingly hazy and shivers that the chill rain water brings as an additional obnoxious gift-is quite the other. I don't know how I managed to reach,but I did.Oh, I hope this darned hair gets dried up soon. Oh,dear god four days till the weekend...sigh.

Hema and Kaushik-

When I was reading Unaccustomed Earth, I saw that the last story had an interestingly simple name-Hema and Kaushik. It fascinated me. But I always read books in a serial fashion-unless I'm cramming for uni exams. Within two days I was done with all except this one. And I didn't want to read this anymore. I'd read enough of Jhumpa Lahiri to guess that like all her stories,this too will have a tragic end. Not exactly tragic-but let's just say that she's a very very practical author and consequently all her characters are also very real and have very practical lives. Whatever be the case, I didn't want this one to have a 'practical' ending. I'm not exactly a sucker for romantic novels. To be honest, mushy talks make me very uncomfortable. I've never read a Mills and Boons or a Love Story, I don't intend to read them either. But due to all those fairy tales I read as a child, all those movies I watched as a teenager, one phrase has gotten cemented in my mindset-the one that I've come to regard as axiomatic- 'and they lived happily ever after.' This should not be violated, says my inner self. This condition must be life. Which is why I didn't have enough courage to disagree with myself. I thought it would shatter my inner belief.

How wrong I was.

For some stories need not have a happy ending. They need not have an ending at all. That real life is not quixotic, because it comprises of real people, not the ones who're spun out of the imagination of their creators and who live within the dreamy chapters of frayed old books. Perfect endings, I think are just a state of mind. We never exactly let our desires end,do we? What matters in the end is neither the beginning, nor the ending- only that lies within.

These two names in the book also bring out some of my personal memories out of the book.Very different memories-very different indeed. And yet they are of no consequence to me.

Hema, oops! Hema ma'am was our teacher at school. And she probably is one of the most beautiful woman I know. Tall, svelte with most carefully carved features and a skin that shone. Back then I hoped to grow up pretty like her. I wanted to wear my hair long and straight just like her. I wanted to wear all those lithe and lovely sarees that she wore with matching bindis. She was my first class teacher at school and also the first teacher who told me that my handwriting was very small-like little messed up ants crawling.Of course I improved-and all thanks to her my legible, flowing writing still stays even after the deterioration by the generation of ball pens. She chose me as a house captain for her house, and we won in almost every competition. But as I grew out of primary and secondary my association with her decreased great deal. After a while it was only Goodmorning/afternoon ma'am if I ever bumped into her in the corridors. And no contact after I left school. But I've been told that she no longer nurtures her long tresses which she has cut short like a crop. Nevermind her,I'm growing it. I still want it long and straight.

I met Kaushik on orkut almost three years ago. It was one of those initial phases when people used to accept friend requests from anyone just to increase their friend count. I didn't. I was rude in my 'about me' section. I had written something about how jaded I was with all those frandship requests and that I wouldn't humor any,if sent. He didn't send me any.Eventually of course I did,but after a lot many pleasant conversations. As I said those were the early days when people didn't wish to hide their profile visits. I assume he found me having visited his profile. I must say,I was intrigued-to the point of intimidation. I logged in one day to find his scrap. I replied back,and the conversation started streaming. It didn't take me long to notice that I was talking to a very chivalrous man. Someone who was very generous with his compliments, evidently very knowledgeable, exceptionally insightful and wrote an English of the most refined degree. I was not even eighteen then, already a decade younger than him. What I began to think of's very obvious,isn't it? Oh,how conscious I would get! I would take no less than five minutes to reply to his scraps. I weighed my words, rephrased sentences many times, checked for spelling errors/grammatical errors if any. I just didn't want to be imperfect.It was all meaningless though, because he was someone who would never make fun of anybody's mistakes,nor of their ignorance. He gave me a word called floccinaucinihilipilification(I hope I've got the spelling right) and asked me to find out it's meaning. I did, and asked him in return to find the meaning of supercalifragilisticexpialidocious-and he did. I think the last time we scrapped was on the day of Saraswati puja, two and half years ago. That was also the first time he typed in Bengali instead of English. Something about theism, atheism. he didn't come online a long time after that. Then about a week before my first university exams, one of his friends scrapped to inform about his demise. It was then I came to know that he was battling blood cancer since long and was in his last stage. I was in as much loss of words then as I am now. Never once could I sense a tinge of sorrow-never. I don't visit his profile. I can't. All those R.I.P scraps flooding his scrapbook even now..scare me. I don't know what else to I wished I'd got to know him more.
Hmm..I think my longest post till now.

Friday, July 17, 2009

HBP :)

Just back from the first day-first show of 'Harry Potter and the half blood Prince'. And I'm streaming with opinions. Mixed opinions if I were to call it so.
First opinion is that I liked it- a lot. OK, maybe not a lot but I liked it. Mainly because this is the first Harry movie (I don't like calling it a 'Potter' movie or even 'Harry Potter' movie like most of the people; Simply Harry feels closer and warmer :) ) I've watched on the first day in the first show.
Many things are just as they should be. All details intact.
  • In the beginning of the movie-the dementor attacks in muggle world, the chill, the gloom, the shattering of the bridge are all very subtly depicted.
  • Slughorn's transformation into the fat sofa and back is shown well, so is the seeming ransacking of the house. Although, Slughorn should have been plumper and with a moustache! (What happened to the walrus moustache?)
  • Fred and George's joke shop is more or less the same as I imagined while reading the book.
  • The keeper tryouts, where Hermione confounds McLaggen has been correctly pictured but Cormac in the movie is much more handsome than what he's described in the book, and also much less self-important.
  • Slughorn's first class where Harry wins felix felixes, much to the chagrin of everyone, especially Hermione is totally in agreement with the book and also one of the best scenes of the movie.
  • Dumbledore's memory of his first meeting with Tom, though curtailed is quite digestable.
  • Ron and Lavender's fooling around (read: snogging) is well..hilarious!(:P) And I was pleasantly suprised to see that they did include the scene where Hermione sets a group of twittering, pecking birds on Ron in a fit of rage (Oppugno!). Also, the part where he eats chocolates spilled with love potion that Romilda Vane had gifted Harry and gapes dreamily is ultra superb! Oh, Rupert Grint is such a fine actor!! He brings Ron's character to life. No other actor in the movie has ever been so convincing,except perhaps Hagrid and Malfoy.
  • Malfoy! Man, the genuineness with which Tom Felton gets into the skin of the character! The scenes with the vanishing cabinet are probably the only scenes which are better potrayed in the movie. The experiments with the apple and the bird,which inspite of being concocted by the script-writers are good in attempting to explain how the cabinet works.
  • The cave, the black lake, the chain that materializes from thin air, the boat, Dumbledore's breakdown,his snivels thereafter, the inferi, the fire- positively stick by the book.
  • In fact I found the inferi much spookier in the movie than I'd imagined. Despite having read the book a dozen times I jumped back with shock the instant a dead hand caught Harry's wrist.
  • Ron and Hermione's scenes lend some lighter moments. Ditto with Fred and George's fleeting appearances.
Having highlighted all those things that maintained a consistency in reference to the book and can most likely said to be an almost a replica of the same, I would now jot down the things due to which the movie is likely to draw a lot of flak-and rightly so! We never demanded to watch the nuances of every single occurring, did we? But expecting us to agree with whatever codswallop they show, much in the manner of house elves, is exactly the same as expecting Fred and George to stay indifferent to Percy when he is superciliously flaunting his Head Boy's badge!
So here are some discrepancies that I observed (and some of them were blatant enough to make any Harry fanatic, or even fan for that matter indignant).
  • What the hell was that flirting with the muggle girl in the opening scene all about? Our Harry has never flirted with anyone in the book. He's one of those guys who can't flirt effortlessly, and that's the trait that makes him so much lovable. The scene was plain and simple-silly.
  • The conversation between the muggle prime-minister and Fudge should have been shown.And if not that at least the Daily Prophet that was very much shown flashing the news of Harry being the chosen one should also have carried the news of Rufus Scrimgeour succeeding Fudge as the new Minister for Magic.
  • Why was Kreacher's part ignored?
  • Dumbledore after borrowing the magazine of knitting pattern from Slughorn at the latter's place didn't grab Harry by his arm and announced to leave as shown in the movie. He in fact went to another room in the pretext of reading it while leaving Slughorn in the sole company of Harry.
  • Weasleys were very much expecting Harry for the summer. They only didn't expect him at the dead of the night,they thought he wouldn't turn up until morning.But since Molly Weasley was awaiting her husband she was wide awake anyway and it was she who received Harry, not Ginny. She made Harry some toasts and Onion soup, or did she? I think she did. And yet,the movie shows them to be astonished at the sight of him. Molly Weasley asks Ginny "Harry who?" :O That is so unlike her!
  • And where was Fleur? She was supposed to be at the Burrow,right? So was Bill.
  • In the Spinner's end, at Snape's place it wasn't Bellatrix who suggested an unbreakable vow between Snape and Narcissa. Snape himself suggested it.
  • In the Diagon Alley when everybody was visiting the joke shop, Harry, Ron and Hermione sneaked outside in the invisibility cloak at the sight of Malfoy heading towards Knockturn Alley. They din't stroll in a carefree way without the cloak as they were shown. Also, Malfoy never went to Borgin and Burkes with his mother. On the contrary he went there quite clandestinely,without his mother's knowledge. And the trio definitely did not climb up some terrace to snoop. They used the extendable ears. And Hermione unwisely and unsuccessfully barged inside the shop once Malfoy left to enquire after what he'd ordered.
  • The Hogwarts express is supposed to have compartments. The first 'Slug-club' get-together was held in Slughorn's compartment.
  • Harry used his invisibility cloak,and not Peruvian instant darkness powder to get inside the compartment where Malfoy and his gang were sitting.
  • OK, this one is a HUGE blunder. It was Tonks and not Luna who found Harry locked inside the Slytherin's compartment where Malfoy had petrified Harry, broken his nose and covered him in his own invisibility cloak. And spectrespecs can definitely NOT see through invisibility cloaks. How ridiculous! Also, Tonks and not Luna had fixed Harry's nose (episkey!)
  • Dumbledore never mentioned Tom Riddle in the start of term speech. In fact there were very few who knew Voldemort's real name.
  • Where were Crabbe and Goyle in the movie? They should've shown two scrawny girls holding scales in front of the Room of Requirements.
  • Only two memories have been shown. Where were the other memories? Borgin's memory, Hokey-the house elf's momory, Morfin Gaunt's memory. The deductions about Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, something from Ravenclaw (which later in the seventh part turns out to be the diadem) were certainly missing.
  • And the most censurable thing in the movie was-oh wait..I still can't believe it. Bellatrix Lestrange and her fellow death eaters burn down The Burrow!!! And Harry runs after her. Ginny follows him. They run through the woods and find themselves facing the death eaters. But very soon they're joined by the Weasleys, Lupin and Tonks as a result of which the death eaters flee. Which person? Which abysmally retard person would ever think of such a tampering? Words fail me. I'm appalled beyond measure :X :X :X
  • Ginny never took Harry to the Room of Requirements to hide the Prince's book. And they definitely didn't kiss there. They kissed right after the Quidditch final which Gryffindor won, in which Harry was not allowed to play as a punishment for cursing Malfoy with Sectumsempra and had to do a detention with Snape instead. And that old ugly warlock's stone head on which Harry himself places that tiara should have definitely been shown. It was so vital to the plot of the DH.
  • The potion in the basin at the cave was green in colour. But in the movie it was some murky colour. Now, It's not that I'm being finicky over trivial details. No, I'm not. Because it isn't a trivial detail. It was written that a faint greenish light emanated from the potion. Even the cover of HBP captures this quite visibly. Why would they overlook such a conspicuous detail?
  • The death eaters were shown entering the castle through the vanishing cabinet, but the members of the Order were noticeably missing, let alone the battle between them.
  • Harry was hidden inside the cloak in the tower, he was not concealed under some kind of structure. And Snape never saw him in the book, like he did in the movie.
A few of these may appear to be of no consequence at all. But had it happened in the book just as it happened in the movie, the story would've drifted along a very different path.
All the same, I was very excited to watch this one. And I wouldn't say that it didn't match up to my expectations because it so happens that my expectations of the movies based on books are always as low as Crabbe and Goyle's grades :D Overall, it was good. Totally! I think I might have one more go at the theatre :)
PS: I still wish I'd seen the paid preview yesterday. 16th of July 2005 was when Half Blood Prince got released. It would have been historic to watch it on 16th of July. But for some reason it didn't work out.
PPS: I enjoyed ambling down the road in a slight rain. This is the fourth time in this week when I did that. It is such a beautiful feeling. Chuck the umbrellas, get rid of those clumsy raincoats. Get drenched. Croon a rain song. For monsoon comes only once in a year, and doesn't stay for long. :)

Sunday, July 12, 2009


( I happened to come across a very soothing article written by a certain Mary Theresa Schmich, in a magazine. Even though it is just a bunch of advice, yet it isn't quite the one that comes from fuddy-duddies. It's cool. There's a certain feel good factor about it. Or that's what I thought after finishing it. In hope that it cheers all of you who stumbled upon this blog just the way it cheered me up, I'm reproducing it top to bottom, in here.)

Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis of more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you.
Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember the compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance funny chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the instructions, even if you don't follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but a few precious ones you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps between geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave it before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave it before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept some inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do so, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.
- Mary Theresa Schmich

Thursday, July 9, 2009

I'm lovin' it :)

I've been having soooo much fun since yesterday!! It was after a long long long time I laughed so much that my tummy still hurts :)
I realized two things, things that I knew all along anyway. A.) The spur-of-the-moment meet ups are much better than the pre-planned ones. Nothing in this world can beat spontaneity of actions. And, B.) The reason I keep criticizing the rather repulsive guys back in college is because for twelve long years I've studied and practically grown up with people who can only be described as the height of cool. Now I know, my opinions are obviously going to be biased,but chinky agrees too. She has not studied with us, she is oblivious to the myriad class/school incidents that we reminicse and then laugh our guts out and yet she laughs with us with equal mirth. Not because she's too polite (which btw she is), also not because she'll laugh on absolutely anything but because- they're actually funny, and the ways in which they're narrated are funnier.

The plan yesterday was to meet Debanshu only and that too for a couple of minutes,I didn't know that Hemant and Aniruddh would be accompanying him. Again by a stroke of pure luck Parth happened to be at Vikki as well. As we stood chatting,we didn't know that ten minutes later we'd be speeding down the road zip zap zoom. And there was actually a moment when we thought we were lost,but it turned out that the 'Driver' (:D) was only trying to get us panicky. Which of course we didn't get-we were too busy laughing at Debanshu's regaling medical tales (:P), his digs at the kathiawadi accent( too bad,I think it's sweet!), and not too mention his filthier versions churned outta the devil's mind that he has at my and chinky's rather innocent statements! And just as we were about take a stroll,grab a bite perhaps Shobhit called to inform that Karn was at a'bad. Subsequently we went there and the rapturous hours ticked by. Today again was so much fun. Sanju and Priyanka didi were new additions today.And although today's events were planned, yet they were good. The bowling (in which I miserably lost to Shobhit. The only time I managed to get the ball on target was at the last ball when the guy at the score board took pity at me, grabbed my hand and did it for me :P ), the movie, the lunch, the time spent afterwards chit-chatting, laughing, strolling, laughing.

It amazes me! I remember so much about school even now. And it's not just me, the whole lot of us do. That's all we talk about actually. Just a few regular updates- how's college life?( urrghh..eeeuu..blah blah..urghh) , got lucky or not? ( hey,single and happiest!), a few more boring questions here and there and then- back to school! :) And it isn't as if we talk about a certain bunch of incidents all the time. Every time something different and progressively hilarious comes up. School talks are blissfully inexhaustible. :)

It also amazes me that the things that used to be so ordinary back in those days have now somehow become extraordinary. It's not like I don't have fun in college or I'm subjected to pangs of gloominess. No,none of it. Infact I have met some of the most wonderful people there, who continually keep me in high spirits. It's a different brand of amusement, but that too is good.
Sometimes however, I miss my old life a lot. But the good news is that no matter howsoever far our lives drift apart, no matter if we meet after one day or one year, when we get together we become what we used to be in school- playful, mischievous and extremely talkative school kids :)

It struck me last night that our class reunion last year was also on 8th july!

PS: As I was thinking of a suitable title for this post, this was the first thing that sprang up in my mind ( McD calling? :D) and I'm going to keep it as a respect to spontaneity!

PPS: I'm lovin' it is wrong english. Love as a verb never takes -ing form, also I'm no fan of american english( hypocritically enough I use a lot of it!) but ki fark painda hain :D

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

we are the world,we are the children

I stayed glued to the television set last night till almost the end of the memorial service of Michael Jackson. I say almost the end because as the final song 'we are the world,we are the children was being performed the channel went off :(
After watching the memorial service, after listening to the eulogy speeches did I fully understand what exactly he meant when he said a long time ago -"If you come to the world knowing that you are loved and leave the world knowing the same, anything that happens within can be dealt with".
The first time I read this I was hugely impressed without being quite cognizant of the underlying meaning. Now, I wish to believe that I understand it better.
Not many have such a send off, was the first thought that came to my mind as I stretched out with eyes wide open after switching off the t.v. And then I got penceive about a lot of stuff, mainly on the philosophical domain. There were one or two moments when I thought of getting up keying them down, but for some reason I chose not to. Sometimes, certain things happen that do not really concern you, you're not bothered much and yet they lead you to a state of catharsis. I felt absolutely inane to cry, and yet my pillowcase was wetter than it ever has been. I was no fan, which makes it even more stupid. But it isn't all that stupid. When you watch things like this, you understand the non-biased nature of life and you feel ashamed that you keep cribbing and grumbling for a significant part of your life. You feel ashamed that you blame god for every difference, every distinction that has been incorporated in people's lives. You feel ashamed of the time when you thought-Hey! what a wonderful life that would be, so much better than this one anyway. What is the point of housing such thoughts? Everyone here is heading for the same fate. After close it will matter not. Conglomeration of different persons, we might be but all of us have one thing in common- we are all equally loved , for we are the children of the same parents.

And yet there will be times when I'll forget all of this. All these peaceful thoughts will take a backseat. I'll be too overwhelmed with the trials and tribulations of life,too busy in my little world to spare a thought to humanity. Fortunately life has it's own mysterious ways to slow down the pace when required and buy you some time to reflect. Also, songs with philanthropic lyrics always help. I've always felt so.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

A slab of chocolate and a date with murder

The only thing that eludes the perfect holiday afternoon picture is a heavy downpour. Everything else is at it's place with exactitude. The chocolate bars inside the refrigerator.The coffee ingredients within an easy reach on the kitchen rack-even for a heavy-handed person like me. The devil cell phone placed far away from my sight in a silent mode,which is my best preferred mode. The pillows stacked one after the other on the bed against the wall or the chair in the balcony carefully positioned, whichever suits my mood. And finally, good old Agatha Christie waiting for me along with papa Poirot,the greatest detectives in the world- a fact that he states at least a dozen times in the books without even giving mock-modesty a shot! Good. Modesty is not a virtue. I've always thought so. It only got confirmed when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's legendary character Sherlock Holmes said to his pal Dr. Watson that (Oh no,I'm not quoting him; I wish I could but my memory fails me)- For a logical mind, what matters is only the truth. Modesty is a deviation from truth. I was supremely impressed by this statement. True. If, pompousness,let us call it a positive deviation from truth, is bad then so should be modesty which by definition would become a negative deviation from truth. Which is why I have never been disapproving of brilliant people blowing their own horns,for I never for once thought that they were showing off. They were merely telling the truth.
Anyway, the thing I was driving at- Crime novels. Ever since I picked up one I've been mesmerized. Not only because such fascinating things do not happen to people like me( the only thing close to such exciting affairs that ever happened to me was around five years ago when I came back from school only to discover a broken lock,ransacked house and stolen jewellary-oh,but that is a long,thrilling story which deserves a full post to it), but also because it is nothing short of miraculous to see someone solve a case with such finess and such acumen of grey cells. It would have worth being a character in the books than a real person just to interact with him.
Crime novels,people often feel (just as my mother does,unlike my father though from whom I've inherited my penchant for crime stories) deal with cold bloodedness and brutatily. They couldn't have been more wrong. They deal with the intricacies of every emotion that human mind is liable of being subjected to. Love, greed, possesion, revenge, prejudice, hatred, rage..everything. We, as a human race have no doubt come a long way from being in a primordial soup to our current mode of existence but the basic instincts still remain the same. Fight for food,water,shelter,material possesions,women,men,attention. We are competitive by nature.We don't fancy alikeness much.We like to be different from others,even if it is an iota of difference. This is why various strata of society exist, this is why discrimination exists. Those levelers who are pro-equality should know that equality can never exist, that it would deter the flow of life. As there can be no flow without a level difference.
I'm as much ravenous for such novels as I am for nineteenth century-early twentieth century british english and their social order. Nothing beats it-positively. I get so beguiled by the aristocratic societies of that era.And not just the blue blood,the hoi-polloi too. Their courteous ways of communication,the elegant ladylikeness of the women, the chivalry of the gentlemen- which by the way is one quality that I have accepted with disgruntlement,has died out with that period.And what beautiful plots! What scheming minds! What absolutely unanticipated climaxes! And I absolutely love it when the murderer turns out to be a murderess, unfortunately in a very few cases it has been so. The murderesses have far more interesting characters than their male counterparts, who more often then not are driven by material possesions. Imbeciles! Most men are actually- and the rest are Poirot and Holmes :) .But Murderesses,no..they are different. They are beyond the insignificance of wealth. When they murder-they murder for love, as a consequence of betrayal, for revenge, for pride. Some men do it too,for same reasons. And I opine that, although they are murderers-the 'bad lot',but still are a step above the former bad lot. And now I quote (see? Not that bad a memory :))-
Good men can get ruined by bad women. And the reverse is also true. Bad men can get ruined by good women.
Sigh..books do take one away in a different world altogether,do they not? I read The mystery of the blue train this afternoon. Swell stuff. But yet not as good as some of her works that I appreciate more. My top five still remain- ABC murders, Death on the Nile, The murder of Roger Acroyd ( my father thanked me big time after I suggested him this one), The Orient Express and Five little pigs. It is actually unfair to jot down..because Cards on the table took me by surprise too,so did Hickory,dickory dock. Big four,as an exception was a disappointment. And although Poirot investigates doesn't qualify as a full fledged novel,being a collection short stories-it had some marvelous ones. Some of which,much to the chagrin of A.C and Poirot fans were more or less stolen by a leading detective show on Hindi television. I also liked some of Miss Marple's case- They do it with mirrors. Oh,and another- Sleeping murder. Well,she doesn't have the charm of Poirot, but nevertheless her sweet old grandma type yet guileless style sure is appealing. Honestly I've read just these two, save perhaps a couple of short stories. But I did see a movie on Zee Studio which was an adaptation of A.C's one of Miss Marple's cases. Unfortunately I missed the beginning part, so couldn't see the name of the book that inspired it,for the name on screen was definitely not the name of the book.

Brusque, it might seem but I've got to end this post here. I think I am becoming quite a dab hand at unceremonious endings! :D

Sunday, July 5, 2009

mind games

Sometimes I wish I could perform legilimency (it isn't my fault if you still haven't read the legendary HP-google it up!). It would make social life so much simpler. No speculations even if people choose to bottle up their thoughts, no logical or illogical (odds in favour of this one in my case :D) deductions of their verbal and non-verbal communications, no 'what ifs', no 'could this means'. What's more,you can even pre-empt yourselves from getting lured into false ideas,and be able to judge people for who they actually are. Whenever in doubt,just look into the other person's mind and decipher their outlooks. How unproblematic that would be! And unethical,though it might be, yet I'm tempted to think what Rushdie's booker prize winner protagonist Salim Sinai thought when he discovered his telepathic powers- What peace during exams :D :D. No need to study at all,just scan the answers from within your fellow test takers' heads!!
It would have done my incorrigibly dreamy mind some real good.Unfortunately,I'm not gifted with this superhuman power,and hence my rowdy mind gets the reign. Subsequently driving me to the illusionary,unknown territories.No wonder I get lost-it's unknown after all!
Some people are just like that. It means nothing. "No! don't over analyze, don't over think"- I tell myself. Actually no need for any amount of analysis or thinking at all. Some people just talk that way. And yet, within those nuances of voices do I hear something else?Their behaviours are inherently abstruse. There's nothing suggestive in those periodic flatterings and the deliberate brush-offs (again here...basic instinct says they are deliberate-clumsily deliberate). And yet I wonder..No! No! Here I go again..urghh.. If I had my way I would have sent this over cogitating mind of mine on a long long vacation :x
Stupid, unscientific, quixotic mind- ponder over something constructive,not such worthless stuff!

Oh,I'm so tired today. Who says weekends are meant for fun? They drain me out completely!

PS: I'm amused at how absolutely incoherent this post appears! :D
PPS: But then it is indicative of my state of mind now, which just as this post is all vague.