Bitter chocolate

600 words for 60 days

2008-03-31T03:45:00.003+08:00

At this unbelievably busy time of the semester I am as usual distracting myself with new ideas and irrelevant things.

So in between all the deadlines and madness, I am going to do something that Megan has inspired me to do.

For the next 60 days starting April 1st I am going to write 600 words or less everday. They will usually be assembled to form a short story, though not always. Some will be influenced by events in my life and lives of those close to me , others just fragments of my imagination. I am hoping this will prove useful in clearing my mind and figuring out a few things. If not, it at least seems like fun :)

We just din't want to worry you.

2008-03-14T02:32:00.004+08:00

My mother has a very distinct someone-has-died tone. Twice last year she called and right after hello she asked me where I was and what I was up to. And I knew someone close to me had died. But my mother also is a very good liar. As is my father. And from time to time, to apparently shield me from the heartbreak and the evil in the world they lie. Yes. After looking at a Palestinian refugee camp, living in a Filipino slum, watching lives of war torn refugees disintegrate around me, and knowing that small children I knew and loved the month before had been killed; I surely and totally remain oblivious to the heartbreak and the evils of the world. And I must by all means be lied to so I don't worry myself to sleep, and get gigantic dark circles under my eyes and look into the mirror with a my-life-is-over-no-one-will-marry-me look.

So yes mother, you did the absolute right thing when grandfather died in the morning, and you waited until 2 days after the cremation to tell me that he was dead, so that I didn't worry. And when you didn't tell me that B was dying, you saved me a total of five grey hair. And when I called you on your wedding anniversary few days ago and you told me you were drinking wine at the club, only to tell me three days later that you were actually not getting intoxicated by the club pool; but were in fact at a hospital to which my sister has been admitted for few days, you gifted me with three nights of fantastic and fulfilling sleep.

And if you hadn't pretended our lives were OK for all those years when they clearly were not, those FEW nights that I wasn't being exposed to the evil and sorrowful reality of our lives and slept with comfort and peace, would also have been spent tossing and turning with 'worry.' And to add to it, my already puffy teary eyes would have had dark circles underneath. My god. It makes me shudder just to think how dreadful it would have all been. Thankfully you were just so good with the lying. It saved us all. And now I sleep peacefully, night after night.
Even if, it is, with the light switched on.

2008-02-02T02:11:00.000+08:00

Remember how, you and I, walked down that road over and over again? Each time, we went looking for a part of us that had ceased to exist. But little did we know that it was dead. And we would search and hunt, frantically, walk after walk. We would glance at each other with hopeful and reassuring eyes from time to time. And I would swallow in all the fasle faith you had to offer. After all, you were the better liar.

Gmail account hacked

2008-01-18T12:52:00.001+08:00

While I was flying from HKG to Singapore, some loser hacked into Ap's gmail id and began talking to people. Someone called her and she quickly changed her password. This loser then hacked into my gmail and started chatting as Ap, telling people that he was Ap. Now noone remembered my password and I was on an airplane so nothing could be done.

The hacker changed my password and began talking from my gtalk id to Ap. Meanwhile VC and our dear K's bf P began to talk to this guy from Ap's id, asking him what he wanted. What happened next was almost a 2-3 long conversation with this hacker, where my friends kept asking the hacker to give me the new password to my account, and the hacker insisted on being a perverted, dirty, sickening loser.

Finally he gave me back the password to my account and we logged in to change it. He left us alone. Finally. But he had reset my account. I have lost 3 years worth of emails (around 2000 of them), so many drafts (my drafts folder was a place where I penned down any stray thoughts, lists of things to do, unfinished blog entries, random links and a lot of random ideas and thoughts), my contacts and pretty much everything else. Gmail was a place where all my documents were backed up, where there was just SO much. Its all gone. My orkut account has also been deleted.

Thankfully, the blogs were untouched.

So anyway, I am still trying to come to terms with this whole fiasco. Meanwhile, if you are reading this and are a friend or acquaintance of mine, it would be greatly appreciated if you could drop me an email so I could store your contact again. And it would be great if you could send me contacts of any common friends we might have. thanks :)

2008-01-06T21:24:00.000+08:00

There's been no activity here because I have been furiously writing a travel blog for an NUS travel blog competition.

I will be back soon. I DO for a change have plenty to say :)

Merry Christmas :)

2007-12-25T14:37:00.000+08:00

These are the first December holidays that I am spending in Singapore. As of last week, almost everyone left for home and just myself and N and V are still stuck here. Last evening, we did what I believe every single person in Singapore did. We went to Orchard, where it seemed like the whole country was. We are family less, almost- homeless poor students who were there to get some good food, but why on earth would entire families spend Christmas eve pushing through a sea of people at Orchard?

Anyway no more cribbing. It wasn't a bad evening. and well after all, today is Christmas =)

When I was in that christian school for a few years, Christmas was an integral part of my life too. And I distinctly remember all the carolling, more than anything else. There was one carol that was sung quite frequently in school. It was called 'a great day in Bethlehem.'

14 year old me never for a single second thought that one day she would actually go Bethlehem. She would walk the streets of the city interviewing local people, writing about them, taking photographs of Bethlehem and other cities in Palestine that would get published and give a whole new direction to her life.
It feels so good to know what a long way I've come.

And with that thought I go back to sleep on this lazy christmas day. Wishing for the millionth time this week, that I were home.

Stop AIDS. Keep the Promise.

2007-12-01T21:41:00.000+08:00

I had almost forgotten that while I write exams and crib about them, millions of people worldwide are standing up against AIDS. Awareness, prevention, fighting discrimination are some of the issues being focussed on, while the main theme of this years World AIDS Day, as decided by UNAIDS is 'Stop AIDS in children.'

My friend Thibault reminded me this morning that 33.2 million people worldwide are now living with HIV out of which 2.5 million are children. Half of these people won't live beyond 30 years of age. UNAIDS aims this day to serve as a reminder that HIV is taking life after life and A LOT needs to be done to combat this epidemic.

(Thibault is someone I am very proud of. He is French and was a student in Paris who ended up studying on a year abroad programme in South Africa. In his year abroad he began working with various organisations that stood for AIDS awareness and prevention, something much needed in South Africa where the AIDS epidemic is rampant and almost 6 million citizens are living with HIV. After his exchange programme got over, Thibault decided to stay on in South Africa and work full time with organisations that fought AIDS. He is currently in Stellenbosch working with various HIV outreach programmes and making a difference where it counts.)

xkcd.

2007-11-30T23:57:00.000+08:00

If you can't read the small print, click HERE. XKCD is beyond brilliant :)

heh.

2007-11-28T17:50:00.001+08:00

It just doesn't end..

T: Assuming things leads to assumptions, so never assume.

T: Come thither, Come thither
throw down your hair
I shall walk on them tresses
Want me to kiss your frog?

heh. guess who?

2007-11-28T14:28:00.000+08:00

Looking yearningly at a bottle of Johnson and Johnson baby powder at Georgie's supermarket, Pgp, 'A FRIEND' SAYS ::

"I am going to start using baby products. I have decided since I can't have a baby now, I am going to become a baby."

Who could have had such an unbelievably brilliant idea. Your time starts now...

heh.

2007-11-19T13:27:00.001+08:00

4 am

V: There is a mouse in my room.
Me: wtf!
V: Should I just coexist?

=)

Each one a line or two.

2007-11-19T01:25:00.000+08:00

After a largely unproductive day, a cranky me sat in front of the computer with no purpose in mind, when a friend buzzed.

Within a few seconds of replying to him, he called me on gtalk and there he was at the other end, with a little bit of alcohol in him, and his precious guitar with him; singing to me the same old lovely songs that mean so much.

And I thought of those times when life was rough and he would come over with his guitar and magically fix it all. One chord at a time. But as years passed by I changed and I no longer needed to be saved. And the songs were just songs he sang on lazy rainy days. Until today. For today I listened, silently- laughing, crying, reminiscing and wishing that I was at home in Bombay, next to the window in my room, with the people that matter and the rain falling outside. And today I wished, that from time to time I were weak and in need of someone to come rescue me.

:)
The small things people do, that simply make the life you have lived so worthwhile and the life that is left so welcoming.

Sigh.

2007-11-18T23:52:00.000+08:00

Things you definitely shouldn't be doing just one week before exams-

1. Drinking
2. Running off to orchard to repair ipods and NOT repairing them
3. Sitting in Orchard and judging everybody that passes by (purely superficial judgement based on looks and only looks)
4. Sitting in Orchard and playing the 1-2-3 game (from Gilmore Girls)
5. Buying accessories for your ipod as if you have all the time in the world.
6. Watching ridiculous Bollywood movies (read Om Shanti Om) whilst drinking beer
7. Cooking elaborate Indian Chinese food
8. Reading a hundred blogs a day
9. Reading archives of your own blog (Very very depressing thing- NEVER do it, exam or no exam)
10. Calling your sister repeatedly. Calling her so often that she doesn't answer when she sees your number. Hence calling the land line so she doesn't know whose calling. sigh.
11. Planning the vacation AFTER exams
12. Watching N dance like P.K. Dubey (Monsoon Wedding)
13. Getting into long conversations about Islam with a Muslim
14. Translating entire Punjabi songs into Hindi/English for the benefit of south Indian friends
15. Abandoning all work and running off to meet R and the newly arrived fiance (hers, not mine) for hours together
16. Blogging every damn day.

word of the day

2007-11-18T03:30:00.000+08:00

Black-email [blak ee-meyl]: To blackmail someone using email (refers to emotional blackmail especially)

For example: He lured me back into that horrible relationship with sweet black-emailing which extended to smooth phone conversations.

( This post is all thanks to a friend, who may not want to be mentioned by name-- I read your email and I will reply soon. Couldn't stop laughing when I read this new word that you have coined :p)

a story, a scar and an opinion.

2007-11-17T22:27:00.000+08:00

June 2007

My friend Alice writes after a month in Palestine:

Every time I open my journal I sink into anxiety. How am I ever going to be able to write about this? For every story I tell there are a million more that I am leaving behind. But this is what drew me here in the first place: everyone here has a story to tell, a story, a scar, and an opinion.

I am here because I still want to believe things can be changed. They have to.

In the space of a month, I have argued endlessly over one or two state solutions, I have met a man that was jailed when he was fourteen and released ten years later, for throwing rocks at soldiers, I have walked around the walls, driven up to an Israeli settlement in the middle of the West Bank, I have rallied with a soldier friend at Israel’s gay pride parade, I have seen people shoot in the air at Ramallah’s manar, I have danced at a kibbutz and gotten into an argument even then, and I have listened to the radio as Abu Mazen sacked the government. Every day I have woken up to count the dead in Gaza. Everyday I have been held up at checkpoints, and I have been asked what am I doing here? Why?

In the space of a month, the language I had only distantly grasped from newspapers and academic articles started to make visible, painful sense, and I begun to talk of right to return, and occupation, settlements, illegal detentions, green lines, ‘67 borders, and Oslo mistakes, checkpoints, walls, martyrdom and terrorism, with a physical understanding of what they mean.

I also had my idealism disillusioned in a way I never thought possible. As of today, I do not know if I believe in peace. But I need to believe in something, and I still do not know any better.

My four days in Palestine stirred up so much and gave me so much. But it is not even one tenth of what Alice saw and felt during her stay there. I just wish that someday I am able to do the things she did and experience Palestine the way she did.

p.s.Alice is an Italian Harvard student who interned with the Faculty For Israeli and Palestinian Peace, in the West Bank. I know her from IYVS in Chicago.
Unfortunately she left Ramallah the day I got there, so I couldn't see her. Though my trip couldn't have been organised without her input and help and our wonderful message exchanges on facebook that always ended with 'we shall meet in Palestine. Inshallah.'

Justice? I think NOT.

2007-11-16T23:29:00.000+08:00

BBC reports here

A court in the ultra-conservative kingdom of Saudi Arabia is punishing a female victim of gang rape with 200 lashes and six months in jail.
The 19-year-old woman—whose six armed attackers have been sentenced to jail terms—was initially ordered to undergo 90 lashes for “being in the car of an unrelated male at the time of the rape."

But in a new verdict issued after Saudi Arabia’s Higher Judicial Council ordered a retrial, the court in the eastern town of Al-Qatif more than doubled the number of lashes to 200 and six months in prison.
A court source told the English-language Arab News that the judges had decided to punish the woman further for “her attempt to aggravate and influence the judiciary through the media.”

So she gets raped 14 times by 6 men, and the law subjects her to 90 lashes. She appeals her case, and the law increases the lashes to 200 and jails her for six months.

What kind of laws are these? On what planet is this justice? And why is such atrocity being allowed to exist in the name of religious law? Why can't America see beyond the oil in this kingdom?

It has always angered me that in many cases of rape (even in India), the victim is blamed. She is said to have been provocative by the way she dressed or spoke, or by being in the wrong place and/or the wrong time.

But blame is one sided, and everyone has a choice to reject it, prove it to be ungrounded or at the least ignore it. Punishment on the other hand, is irrefutable, pernicious and absolute.

Every dog has its day.

2007-11-15T21:26:00.000+08:00

The best thing about this world is that People never cease to amuse me. Though plenty of times the amusement is coupled with downright frustration. The night I crossed the border and stepped into Egypt from Israel and after hours of waiting, boarded a 'microbus' to get to Cairo, I was handed a receipt for some sort of arrival tax into Egypt. It said 'Ministry of Sea Transport and Borts.' Yes the Egyptians confuse their P's and B's on a regular basis and an Egyptian saying Bort instead of Port wouldn't have caused a second thought. But to actually see Borts written on an official government receipt that every foreigner entering through the Taba border was handed, was something else. S and I looked at in disbelief and grinned to ourselves. A little while into our long ride to Cairo, we stopped at a gas station. A very nice Egyptian man sitting right in front of S was smoking and decided to throw his still-lit cigarette butt right out of the window. In the middle of a gas station. Again S and I, exhausted by our long journey and by Egypt in general, grinned at each other. But the grin was more like an exasperated, Welcome-to-Egypt kind of grin. Many more of these followed on various occasions.

But that was Egypt. And I quite enjoyed its quirks, if I may call them that. India's quirks are equally amusing but a tad more frustrating. Because after all it is my country and I care about it muchly.

Meet Mr P Selvakumar who killed two dogs 15 years ago and was plagued by bad health for a long time after that. The obvious solution was to find an astrologer who could fix this phase of 'bad luck.' So after much wait, an astrologer decided that the best thing to do for this man, would be to marry a dog (erm, bitch.) And no, not the kind of bitch your ex girl friend was, but a real Canine. So our Mr Selvakumar, bogged down by bad luck and circumstance, regretting his heinous acts of murdering dogs had a grand Indian wedding to a wonderful bitch called Selvi. (Read full article here)

The blushing bride was quiet as a mouse. No barking whatsoever.
A friend of the groom has clarified my biggest concern. He says 'the dog is only for lifting the curse, after that, he plans to get a real bride.' Wow. Who would have thought?

So you see what I mean? Amusing it is. Made me grin, laugh out loud even. But not without a sigh of utter disbelief, dismay and exasperation. With all the talk that goes on about our country and the potential it has. With all the great things that we are doing, our society is still heavily plagued with ignorance and superstition and downright stupidity. And there seems to be no cure to this.

Recently my friend Tom had linked an article about a deformed child born in Bihar who was said to be a reincarnation of Goddess Lakshmi. The girl was born with 4 hand and 4 legs, 2 of each were remnants of an underdeveloped Siamese twin. But of course the people of her village thought her to be holy and went as far as suggesting that no surgery be performed on her, and she keep the extra limbs. Her parents thankfully had more sense and decided to go on with the surgery. She now has the same number of limbs and you and I and will live a normal healthy life. Which seems like a great thing to me. But to the villagers , of course, it was a sin. She has now been reduced to being as ungodly as you and me. And the wrath of the Gods and the planets will soon descend upon her for getting rid of her holy limbs.

And then, to make up for the destroyed limbs, maybe she can marry a spider.

And, she's back.

2007-11-14T19:58:00.000+08:00

So after much wallowing and much laziness, Today was destined to be the day for the comeback. I knew it the minute I opened my eyes. In between cursing myself for sleeping that extra hour, replying to Ap's msg and battling that awful headache, somewhere my mind found that extra neuron for the wonderful thought that was to change my day, my life and existence.
And I mildly exaggerate but Come What May. It was time for war.

And here I am. New template. New links. and finally an update on this blog.

I suppose this is to be one those entries that summarizes what has been happening. Except that really, not much has been happening.
A friend has adopted a new name, one he feels is royal and dignified beyond comparison. Another has found yet another member of the opposite sex to obssess over. Thankfully this time the obsession is being reciprocated and we don't have to witness any fist meets wall situations. A crazy friend has now started rattling off Taoism Mantras as a response to most things said to her. And another was given a bachelorette party to remember. While one is whoring himself to a drug company to make some money, another planned a three phase birthday celebration for himself.
People that had left, returned. Turned out some had just never left. A new person walked in one random day. And is yet to fully leave. Anniversaries happened. People grew older. Diwali was celebrated. Weddings were announced. Things happened. People happened. Moments passed. Time stopped. Time flew.
And at the end of it all, as I said before not much has changed.

bhavya.

2007-10-08T01:33:00.000+08:00

Death can do either of the two- Make you realise how precious life is. Or make you realise how pointless life is.

The last ten days have been different and in many ways difficult. What has been most difficult is the fact that while I have been here, grieving alone, and allowing my imagination to alter the details of it all; my family back home has been living it bit by bit, piece by piece, leaving no room to alteration.
Her last meal was on our dinner table. Her last conversation was with my parents. Her last night was in my house, in my room. My mom was the last one to hug her and hold her right before she went into a coma. Her last non-convulsing, concsious moments were with my family, in our house.

There isn't a day that hasn't gone by without me wondering aloud - how could this happen to an eighteen year old? How could none of us have known? Should we have paid more attention to the headaches? How could she be happy and healthy one day and then slip into a coma and never ever wake up? How did we let this happen to you, bhavya?

You died peacefully in bed 120 of the ICU leaving behind so many people who loved you so much. My parents are obviously broken but when they look at your parents they forget their own pain. My sister is living the same life in the same house in Pune and misses your presence every hour of the day. All the big, funny, strong guys (including the drug dealer :p) wept like babies every single day of that painful week when you wouldn't wake up. And I lost faith in so much because of your death.

It seems like yesterday that you were back from Paris and your big suitcase was lying in my sis' room, getting in the way of everyone; and you were showing me the pretty shoes you bought, while my sister made faces at your choice :P And then we all took off for a wonderful night at Kar's place :)

Will miss your annoying presence.
someday i shall put down in words the 'zenia' story. I promise.

2007-09-20T10:31:00.001+08:00

my parents jus told me. While I leave for cambodia, Bhavya (my sister's roomie and a very common face in our house) lies lifeless in an ICU in Lilavati, Mumbai.
Bhavya, the annoying person that you are, always gettin into my space, making out with tht bf of yours all over our house; I pray u live. I wanna hear more stories of France. I wanna hear more stories of you and my sister painting Pune red. I wanna wake up in the morning seeing you on that couch in our house, stuck to the phone. You are the life and soul of the 'Zenia' story and you need to live. You need to live.

Come on, you can do this. You can beat multiple brain clots and brain hemmoraghes and seizures. You are nineteen years old. You can't bail out on my sister. You can't bail out on that moronic bf of yours. You can't bail out on life as yet. Just can't.

Resignation

2007-09-19T11:52:00.000+08:00

One day you are going to wake up and realise that keeping aside the good that happens in your life, there are bound to be a lot of things that just seem so wrong, so out of place, so immovable.
And the idea isn't to keep trying to move them till every inch of your strength is drained out of you, but to simply sit back, accept their existence, look at the whole picture and chart out a path around them. And you'd be surprised at how easy it is do so.

happy swatantrata divas to all

2007-08-16T22:34:00.000+08:00

15 th AUGUST 2007

Happy independence day to everyone. It feels good to be in India and at home on independence day and actually witness the sudden appearence of flags on every nook and corner, every auto rikshaw and motorcycle. It feels good to switch on television and listen to Jan Gan Man in the voices of all our great singers. It feels great to read all these articles in our newspapers about freedom, struggle, and the continuing struggle for a better India. Though it doesnt feel great that police are swarming the streets and checking every vehicle for bombs. And that I can't take the train to the other end of the city- for My mom thinks a bomb is going to go off in some crowded part of Bombay for sure.

I came across 'The Republic of Apathy' on Amit Varma's blog- India Uncut. It summarises all my thoughts to such great precision that I am having one of those - Hell I can't believe he wrote this first, and now I can't write the same things b'cos he's already written it- moments.

Excerpts follow:

" The story of our freedom struggle was not the story of a Gandhi here or a Nehru there - it was about millions of people who rose up because they wanted to be masters of their own destiny. The British empire was naturally the focus of that struggle, and when we were rid of them in 1947, the relief must have been enormous. The tragedy is that for most Indians, political independence was freedom enough. What else was there to fight for?"

" It is ironic that we celebrate the Dandi March so much. The taxes that weigh us down today are no less unjust that the infamous salt tax being protested then. "

" In some parts of the country, remote from our cities and our consciousness, the government treats the people as the empire once treated us. Do you remember a photograph from three years ago, of a group of Manipuri women outside the entrance of the Kangla Fort, which was occupied by the Indian army? They were protesting the gang rape and murder of a 32-year-old woman named Thangjam Manorama, who had been picked up from her house in the middle of the night by the army. Frustrated that no one cared to listen to them, that the law-and-order mechanism existed only for the rich and powerful, 12 of these women stripped naked, and held in front of them a banner that said, “Indian Army, Rape Us.”

"I suspect had that image been taken in 1930, and had that banner said “British Army, Rape Us,” it would have been one of the defining images of our struggle for freedom. Today, no one cares. Across the country, law and order is a joke, and our government fattens itself on the sweat of a billion people. Free speech is endangered, and censorship thrives. Honest men wishing to start a business that will fulfil the needs of others - as all businesses must in order to survive - find themselves having to deal with licenses and inspectors."

"The price of freedom, it is often said, is eternal vigilance. We let our guard down 60 years ago. Perhaps it’s time to fight back? "

Read the full article here

our India is born. and then sixty years go by.

2007-08-16T21:50:00.000+08:00

15th AUGUST 1947SIXTY YEARS LATER:

The times of India, Lead India campaign.

Have u ever cribbed about the state of our country? I know I have. The roads, the traffic, the shortage of power, of water, the state of politics, the education system, the over crowding of cities, pollution, population, the taxes, the Quota system, Reservations, the caste system, female infanticide, dowry, rape, bureaucracy, corruption, terrorism?

I have asked repeatedly and I ask again- What can we do to change any of this? I know cribbing doesnt help but what do we do? How do we make a difference? How do we begin to realise that we are in no position to crib about the traffic jam, because We Are the traffic jam?

When the stars won't shine, then the story's told

2007-08-14T22:49:00.000+08:00

12th August- Sunday
4 am

M: Marry me?
Me: Very funny!
M: No seriously, you are plannin on coming back to Cairo in 1-2 or maximum 3 years. So it will work out. Marry me? Or marry me as soon as you come back here?
Me: By the time I get back to Cairo you will be married to some nice Egyptian girl, my dear.
M ( with the silliest grin) : Remember, I can have four wives!!
Me (glaring and grinning): Oh yea ?! We'll see about that !! Anyway Your religion does not allow you to marry me.. Remember?
M: I don't care. We'll figure something out. Sha, Will u please just marry me?

about time.

2007-08-14T20:07:00.000+08:00

Aug 11 2007- Saturday - afternoon

After going around everywhere in the country that is EGypt and even managing to cross the border and entering the 'promised land' and getting back to Cairo, it dawned upon me that I was yet to see the wonder that are the Pyramids.
How did that happen? Simple I blame it on Malaria. When all the other summer interns woke up one Saturday and rode camels around the pyramids- I lay in bed, puked my guts out, shivered inconsolably and had a body temperature of a 105 F. And then related the story to every Egyptian who almost fell to the floor when I said I hadnt' been to the pyramids.

So the morning after the I really appreicate your skills party , which btw ended at 6:30 am, I decided to visit the pyramids with Rhia, her brother and Omar.

And well- they ofcourse were bloody awesome. standing beside them, looking at them, I could just ask two questions. First being the frequently asked - HOW??? and second being the question that arose out of thinkin tht why would someone want to move massive stones from far away in a boat and then spend years assembling them to make these. Really Why?

I would have asked more and admired them more. Had it not been so damn hot. So damn sandy and dusty. Had I not been so exhausted and sleep deprived after the party.
And had my mind not bein occupied by a certain event (can it be called that?) that had occured a few hours prior to my visit to the pyramids.

This is a very unecessary post. But I think the ancient Egyptians deserve a special mention on this fucked up blog.