Hate

I've been told that I have a short temper and I lose it often. And I use the word HATE a lot. Also, I mean it most of the time. 

I'll agree that I have a hot head, and my fury reaches boiling point faster than most people, but I don't lose it until it's really bugging. I might be really angry at something but I really do try not to show it unless the situation demands it. However there are times when I lose that self-control, especially if a number of things are bothering me.

Right now, I hate my net connection.It's annoying, excuse my language, the shit out of me. Almost literally too. Having no internet is the worst possible calamity that can befall you. Not only can you not laze around on Facebook, you actually cannot work. Yes, there are other uses for Internet than just fun and leisure. I've not been able to post everyday because of this infuriating lack of connection. I have paper and project deadlines for my university courses which need net assistance. I've not been able to Skype with my parents because the effing net doesn't work. This has been the norm for the whole of last week. If I don't lose my head at this, I would think I don't have a head. Jeez!

Among other things I hate, dishonesty and untruthfulness top the list. Then come stereotypes and people who stereotype, followed by emotional leeches and attention-mongers. And whiners. Also, classes on weekends and trains running late.

Yet, thankfully, being an inherently detached person, I've found it is possible for me to detach myself from my hate for things. I write about it and swear and get it all out, mostly on paper. I have found my ways to deal with it. It wasn't easy, yes, but it could be done. I'm glad for that, because being angry is tiring.

Hate is quite an active emotion for me. Maybe it's wrong to hate things, but I've always been an opinionated person.

God(dess)

My boyfriend gave me a book as a goodbye gift when I shifted to Hyderabad. It is called My God is a Woman. Honestly the book itself isn't as smart as its title which was the aspect that interested me the most.

Who is God?
Where is God?

Is it god or God?
Is it a 'he' or a 'she'?

As an India and a Hindu by birth, it's difficult for me to grasp the concept of a single masculine god, because for us there isn't one. We have an absolute array of deities (not gods, mind you) both male and female. But this post will not deal with religion per say, as that would be a separate topic altogether.

What I do want to talk about is the concept of GOD, assuming that it a singular entity.

How do you define God? Gamers use phrases like god-of-the-game. We often say an impressionable personality to be god-like. Hotbods become Greek-gods. But who is he/she? What does he/she look like? How old is he/she?

Where does god exist? Is god a concept or a reality? Would he/she continue to exist without the human consciousness? Where is this being, if he/she exists at all? Where do they live? Is it really possible for a single being to create, control and charter the entire universe?

I've always also wondered whether God is male or female. The primary public instinct is to think of this apparently all-powerful being as a man. At least, the newer religions that are primarily monotheistic propagate this viewpoint. I had gone to a Catholic Missionary school all my life. When I was young, I didn't mind the prayer services and attending the masses. Later I started to feel a conflict within me, because, even if my family isn't very religious at all, I had entirely different notions about God and divinity than what we heard in school.

All this questions and queries should suffice to indicate my agnosticism. And these questions stem from a confused childhood. I didn't know what to believe. My parents did not force me to be religious. I'm a non-follower of rituals, idolatry and scriptures. Yet, I'm not entirely decided about God. I don't know if they are real. I don't know what they are. And I like it this way.

But there is something I do know: My god is a woman.

My god is my strength. My god is my will power. My god is my good judgement. My god is my trust. My god is my honesty. My god is my endurance. My god is my gratitude. My god is my generosity. My god is my sense of justice.
No, I haven't met my god yet. I'm in her pursuit.  

Fish

I'm a Bengali. By heredity I love fish. I love eating it. I even love watching it swim around in the glass bowl.

Of all the things I miss from my hometown, fish is right up there on the list. We Bengalis sure know our stuff when it comes to fish. It would probably take me ages to list all the dishes we make with fish - curries, fries, roasts, paturis, ambals, jhols and jhals. We even treat prawns and crabs as fish.

Hilsa, or as we call it, ilish, is one of my favourites. Ma makes an awesome oli-free ilish-bhapa, which is steamed hilsa with mustard and green chilies. The mere thought of the deep aroma of the dish makes my mouth water.

We use up almost everything of a fish - the flesh, the head, the bones - except for the scales and fins, I guess. Murighanta primarily uses the head and bones of a rui or chital (or a similar big fish) and it still remains one of the best delicacies I have ever tasted.

It's kind of sad that I cannot think of fish other than as food. The irony is that one of the things I'm actually scared about happens to be a fish too. Sharks.

Fish can be beautiful too, when I look at them in an aquarium. All multicoloured with intricate designs. I remember I had a fish bowl once. It had two fishes, one black and one orange. Unfortunately we also had a cat, who, god knows how, managed to scoop the orange one out and devour it while we had been away. The other one, I assume, stopped eating the fish-food from the trauma of the whole incident. Also, when I was cleaning the bowl, it took its chance and leaped into the sink and disappeared down the drain. I think it felt the cat would get it too and I won't blame it. I was really sad though.

I also like animated movies about fish - Finding Nemo and Shark Tales always make me smile. And as much as I am scared about sharks, Jaws continued to be a captivating thriller. The music spend a spark dowm my spine.

One of my favourite books is Ernest Hemmingway's The Old Man and the Sea.

I've never been able to try my hand at fishing, but I'd like to do that some day. It ain't easy, with all the lakes and pond disappearing under buildings. My grandma told me stories of her catching fish in pieces of thin cloth in her village when she was a kid.

So, yes, I'm a fish person. And proud of it.

Eternity

Time is considered a dimension. It's one of the most relative things I can think about. 

Eternity is a very weird thing. As humans it's impossible to grasp it's meaning, as the span of our consciousness is limited. However, all of us will vouch that we have felt it at some point or another, in some form or the other.

Time, for me, stretches into eternity when I'm waiting. Wait does seem to stretch itself out, doesn't it? 

Times when I wait for friends to arrive so that we can go shopping or whatever. 

When I wait for the two hour classes to end. 

When I wait for the sun to go down. 

When I wait for that special call. 

When I wait for the washing machine to finish churning my clothes into a soggy mess.

When I wait for the night to break into light.

When I wait for the food to be served while my stomach rumbles and growls.

When I wait for the download to finish.

When I wait for the power to come back on.

When I wait for the vacation to go home.

Even if we say that some of our waits never end, that they are for eternity, they actually do end when we do. It's a good thing that we don't get to experience the real eternity. It would've been mega boring to wait for that long.

Dog Pound

There are a lot of dogs in my University campus. The strangest thing about these canines, and mind you, they ARE a very strange lot, is that they hardly bark.

They're just so used to people petting them, feeding them (from chicken leftovers to curd-rice) and cuddling them, they just don't feel the need to bark at anyone. They know very well that no one's ever going to hurt them. It also probably never occurs to them that some people are actually rather afraid of them. If they recognize you, they will quietly trot up to you and graze their noses against your feet or shins. Sometimes I almost expect them to actually say, "Hello! How are you today?"

Of course like humans, some of the doggies are more popular than others, like Lelu and Tommy. Lelu is your mutt-next-door. He will not mind if you pull his ears or make him wear a paper hat. He will still come wagging after you next day. Tommy, on the other hand, is a regal one. He is definitely well aware of his prowess over the other dogs and is proud of his bushy tail. But you should see him when he stares at your food while you are eating. He can make the saddest puppy-dog eyes you can imagine.

There's another one, we call him Lelo. That one's totally bonkers. He runs aimlessly, then stops  randomly, sleeps on his back with his limbs in the air, lolls his tongue out all the time. Sometimes he will come to you for a cuddle and just refuse to leave. At others, he will not even see you, even though he's looking your way.

Them you will find all over the campus. And when I say all over, I mean ALL over. I've seen Lelu in the corner of my washroom. I've seen Tommy on the first floor of the Men's hostel. They are the cafeteria too. The strangest encounter yet was the time when, in my Twentieth Century American Fiction class, in strolled a dog. No one was much bothered to chase it out. It sat quietly in a corner and listened to the rest of the lecture. And then it came out with us, wearing the expression "what're you looking at?" on it's face.

It's not a dog-eat-dog world out here. We all are living peacefully. Besides, they are really good entertainment.

Co-ordination

Clumsy. Klutz. Uncoordinated. That's me.

Sometimes I have trouble coordinating my left and right feet to go the same way. When I was younger, I frequently tripped over my own feet, without any apparent reason. I have a number of scars on my legs (and some also on my arms) to prove that.

At others, I have trouble coordinating my eyes and hands. My eyes are probably seeing that the object is coming towards me from my right, while my arms, with a mind completely of their own, make a grab either diametrically to the left, or on better occasions a little towards the center. No wonder I didn't make it any organized sports teams.

But I can live with that.

What really bothers me is that at times I cannot seem to coordinate my thoughts and my speech. I know what you're thinking. What a retard, right? Well let me explain briefly that it is not so. I have no problems getting my thoughts down on paper. But you ask me a question and I fumble. It's not that I don't know what to say. Usually I know exactly what I want to say. But my tongue too seems to have a separate brain from my thoughts-brain. And they just don't like each other. Often I get this feeling that even while I'm saying something, out loud that is, my brain has already thought twenty steps ahead, and I lose track of what I am currently saying. Which is definitely weird, I admit.

Talking too needs practice, like catching a ball and dancing to steps. I'm afraid I've never had much of that. Most of my conversations have been ones with myself. I know people who do not like IMs and texting. They would rather have a face to face encounter. I, on the other hand, feel comfortable with written words. Probably that's why I'm also a fast reader.

Not talking often enough might have made me an uncoordinated speaker, but that is also the reason I can write, the little whatever I can.

Best Friend

Whenever I come across posts and comments like "A good friend will ask you to share your lunch, a best friend will have eaten it already", I do wonder if that's what a best friend is all about.

We've all had "best friends" back in school. We'd always stick together, eat lunch together, walk home together, spend hours on the phone talking and giggling nonsensically. All those slumber parties, all those little notes passed in class. Our birthday parties would be incomplete without the best friend. We'd wait till they arrived before cutting the cake and blowing out the candles. They'd understand us like no one else.

As we get older, it starts to change. It would become about secrets. Trust. They'd be the first to know about our crushes. We'd spend hours talking about how cute the crush was and why they didn't like us back. Later when we'd get into relationships, all the boyfriend troubles would be whined about to the best friend. That's how it's always been.

It's sort of sad that I cannot remember having someone like that until a long time. I never left completely understood by another individual. No one seemed to share my interests. Also, I never really felt the need for a so-called best friend.

Yet, I've found some truly valuable friends in the most surprising ways. They have changed the entire definition of "best friends" for me. Now I know it's not about being similar, or even sharing similar interest. It's more about how much you can count on the other person. It's about how much you can be at peace with them. It's about how silences are no longer awkward. How you cannot stay mad at them even if they are annoying your guts out. They've taught me that girls and boys can be friends, and stay at that. They've taught me that age and sex don't matter.

I call them my precious friends.

P.S. This also includes my mother. And also my boyfriend.

Amateur

If I was asked to list things I'm good at, I'd be lost. It's easier to list things I can do. I can certainly do a lot of things, but I don't know if I'm good at any of those.

I write.
I sing.
I paint.
I'm into art and craft.
I can dance if I want to.
I collect stamps.
I read.

But I wouldn't call myself an expert in any of these fields. Maybe I have low self esteem, but it's true. At best, I am an amateur.

I like it though. I like thinking of myself as an amateur rather than an expert, because it keeps my options of improving and learning new things open. I like not being satiated with what I am. This way I can pardon myself more easily, can start again without embarrassment or shame. It wouldn't worry me much if I sucked at something, because I would always know that I would be starting as a novice.

I like being amateur at this.

Creative Challenge

My, my! What creative brains all around me!

My long time friend and fellow blogger Pigeonheadophobia has come up with a blogging challenge all on her own - the A-Z challenge. And like countless other times, she's inspired me to take this up and write. Here are the rules:-

1. You have to write everyday for 26 days2. On the first day your post should start from the letter a, the second day it should start with b and so on; till you reach z.3. You can pass on this challenge to anyone you want.

The rules are pretty simple, but the challenge is not. Then again, if it was, it wouldn't be a challenge, would it? I'm starting tomorrow, with Day A. And I'm nervously excited! It's a good feeling to have though.

Pigeonhedophobia is one of the sleekest, perkiest and in a word, smartest blogs I've ever read. Sharing so that others can feel the pleasure too. Thank you!

The Blackbird

Okay, so it was just a crow. But it is worth writing about.

Today I saw a crow outside my hostel room window. And this is significant because there are NO birds in the campus. With the number of trees here, the lack of aviary life is unpleasantly surprising.

I was very excited to see my campus full of large trees. I was sure there would be like a zillion type of birds here. It's appalling that I've seem no, I repeat, NO birds other than some incessantly cooing pigeons. I think it is the lack of birds that makes the campus so eerily quiet once the dusk sets in.

However, there are a lot of butterflies. Apart from the fact that they don't sing, or make any kind of noise at all, their sheer variety almost makes up for the scarcity of the twittering, chirping and yes, sometimes cawing things.

There are two Flame trees right outside my window and if I get up early in the morning, I can be witness to this spectacular, multicoloured swarm of butterflies among the leaves. There are all possible colours imaginable, and many that aren't imaginable. Blue, red, pink, yellow, mauve, bottle green, vermilion and god knows what.

It sure is a pretty sight. But I still miss the birds.

Two Thousand and Five Hundred Miles Away From Home

I’ve spent over a month in the new city, in the new campus, in the new university and things could not have been more different. This might be a good time to confess that I’ve never been away from home for this long before.

Overwhelmed. That is the first feeling I could sift out of an entirely disarrayed mind. How was to fend for myself here?

Then came the familiar feeling of wanting to withdraw into my turtle shell and escape. But turtles are also known for their grit, so I stayed on.

Problems loomed large before me and I felt like an ant before a sand dune. Dear Lord! They assigned me a room on the fifth floor? And there’s no lift? How was I to survive climbing up and down this real-life sand dune for umpteen numbers of times every day for the rest of the semester? Why weren’t there any water dispensers on my floor? Do I really have to go all the way down to second floor to get drinking water? Oh why does my cupboard not close precisely?

For a few days i didn’t know what to eat and where to get it. The food was so alien to my taste buds that a just lived off bread and cheese for a few days. Then there was the indigestion. How my alimentary tract burned!

And I haven’t even started on the language yet. It is astonishing how narrowly regional we are. The only word I understand in Telegu is ‘Amma’. It was scary to think that I will not be able to communicate my needs, and my Hindi abysmal.

I have to do my own laundry, iron my clothes myself, and make breakfast on my own. Apart from that, I have to do the shopping, fixing, cleaning by myself as well. Did I mention the lessons and assignments and deadlines? I guess you would have got the drift by now.

But I’m not going to crib about this. I’m going to put all of it in a box and seal it up with tape, because I’ve begun learning a precious few things that home couldn’t teach me all this while.

Que sera sera.