We are approaching the end of a cataclysmic decade. And i have a feeling the next one will leave us as dazed as this one did. Perhaps. Weirdly, this decade seems to have everything except a name. What should I call it… The 2Ks? You could look at it like a series of catastrophes – terror attacks, tsunamis, our democracy beginning to run under a Mario Puzo-esqe family. But there’s also been good stuff, though it doesn’t come to mind immediately! And so stuff from the ages gone by have gotten old and wrinkled and are becoming quaint. Take Friends for instance. Or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I remember drooling over Angel, watching him creep about in the darkness on Star World. And now it’s Twilight. Bye bye MJ, hello Jay-Z; so long Princess Di, greetings Mrs Bruni-Sarkozy?
We are in an age when things pretty much fly past us without us even realising. Then we wake up and we’re 25 or 35 or 50 or 70 and think, Christopher Columbus, where the hell did all the years go? (yes, there are people who say Christopher Columbus; come home and meet my witty grandaunt.) But even if it whizzed by, the first decade of the millennium will be one my generation will remember.
9/11, the exodus to countries like America and Australia, and now the exodus from those countries back to the “Far East”, iPods, ahem George Bush, Harry Potter, swine flu and SARS, Facebook and Twitter and Blackberry… the list is endless. I remember saying a quick thank you as we counted down the last few seconds of the previous millennium. I haven’t the faintest idea what I thanked the powers-that-be for but I foggily remember Nancy Drew making the list. This time, it has to be for all the lessons I’ve learnt in the past decade; for growing up and not turning into the crazy-ass kid who is a drug abuser and skids smoothly out of jail every few months because his daddy owns an MNC or runs a political party. I turned out fairly normal, even though the world around me was pretty insane. And it is insane for everybody now, regardless of their backgrounds.
Happy 2Kteens, everybody (clinks beer mug) and see you soon, hopefully!
Friday, 13 November 2009
Monday, 2 November 2009
young and restless
Adventure. Hmm. It seems that my life seriously lacks any adventure at the moment. But someone very close to me is embarking on what is possibly life’s biggest adventure – marriage.
Yup, my sister is getting married this month. Which is why I’ve decided not to indulge in any Nanowrimo or anything of the sort, because it’s quite possible she might disown me if I pay my writing more attention than her wedding. Fair enough. People get married only once. Erm. Well, most people. And I’m hoping my sister is one among the ‘most’. I’m sure the lovely couple will run into enough hurdles [they already have!] but well, nobody ever said marriage was easy. Hence I say… adventure.
As for why my life lacks any adventure… I’m not quite sure. I’m working myself to the bone but for some reason it’s no enough. And it’s not even “work” per say. I “work” only three days a week. The rest of the week has gone in attending Odissi class or reading [I’m reading a lot of late] or shopping for the wedding, or something of the sort. But for the past few months, something has been missing. I’m in cynical overdrive and there are a few moments of light, but otherwise I’m just plain bored or pondering over extremely philosophical things.
I need change. I know it won’t happen soon. A couple of years perhaps. But I need a different city, a change in lifestyle… something or the other. A change of friends maybe? I really don’t know. I love Chennai. The culture, the beaches, the people [well, most of them at least], the food, my friends, my home and whatnot. But I’m getting seriously restless, and I don’t know why. I need some adventure. Ahem some non-opposite sex-related adventure. A new phone, new dog or new job will just not do. I was thinking I’d save up and go do that masters in Creative Writing that I’ve been dreaming of for a while now. That would also take another couple of years though. Maybe I’ll just have to wait. After all, it’s not like adventure will drop into my lap. I’m going to have to find it on my own. But, in Chennai?! Where?!
For now it’ll have to be my sister’s wedding and the giant lot of relatives and friends my mother and I will be meeting after many, many moons. Family reunions can be fun, right? I hear snorts. It was a rhetorical question; please try to be a tad supportive. Sigh.
Yup, my sister is getting married this month. Which is why I’ve decided not to indulge in any Nanowrimo or anything of the sort, because it’s quite possible she might disown me if I pay my writing more attention than her wedding. Fair enough. People get married only once. Erm. Well, most people. And I’m hoping my sister is one among the ‘most’. I’m sure the lovely couple will run into enough hurdles [they already have!] but well, nobody ever said marriage was easy. Hence I say… adventure.
As for why my life lacks any adventure… I’m not quite sure. I’m working myself to the bone but for some reason it’s no enough. And it’s not even “work” per say. I “work” only three days a week. The rest of the week has gone in attending Odissi class or reading [I’m reading a lot of late] or shopping for the wedding, or something of the sort. But for the past few months, something has been missing. I’m in cynical overdrive and there are a few moments of light, but otherwise I’m just plain bored or pondering over extremely philosophical things.
I need change. I know it won’t happen soon. A couple of years perhaps. But I need a different city, a change in lifestyle… something or the other. A change of friends maybe? I really don’t know. I love Chennai. The culture, the beaches, the people [well, most of them at least], the food, my friends, my home and whatnot. But I’m getting seriously restless, and I don’t know why. I need some adventure. Ahem some non-opposite sex-related adventure. A new phone, new dog or new job will just not do. I was thinking I’d save up and go do that masters in Creative Writing that I’ve been dreaming of for a while now. That would also take another couple of years though. Maybe I’ll just have to wait. After all, it’s not like adventure will drop into my lap. I’m going to have to find it on my own. But, in Chennai?! Where?!
For now it’ll have to be my sister’s wedding and the giant lot of relatives and friends my mother and I will be meeting after many, many moons. Family reunions can be fun, right? I hear snorts. It was a rhetorical question; please try to be a tad supportive. Sigh.
Friday, 4 September 2009
the date
There’s only one thing running through my head. Like a chant. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh God. I’ve almost entirely convinced myself that you are the key. To it all.
Do you see it? While you’re sitting across the table from me trying to decide what to order, do you see it? Do you see anything bubbling beneath my surface?
No, of course you don’t. I haven’t told you yet. Because you may not be the key at all. All those books on meditation tell me I have the key, that I’ve always had it. So why should I believe that you could give me any joy which I cannot find for myself?
What if I tell you, and you turn out not to be a key at all? Or what if you don’t fit? Because I’ve obviously built you up way too much in my head. Given you too much credit, dreamt of you too much. Of your stupid voice which is far from perfect but gives me goosebumps, and your long, pale fingers, your pretty face and the shock of black hair.
See what I mean?
So maybe you’re the key to everything. Maybe you’re not. But how would I know unless you get your nose out of the menu and allowed me to make the mini-speech I’ve practiced so many times while lying on my bed?
You look up from the menu and catch me staring at you. Those pretty eyes under that pretty hair. Now you’re staring at me half-nervously, half-expectantly. Like you know what I’m thinking.
It’s time for the practiced speech.
Oh God oh God oh God.
Do you see it? While you’re sitting across the table from me trying to decide what to order, do you see it? Do you see anything bubbling beneath my surface?
No, of course you don’t. I haven’t told you yet. Because you may not be the key at all. All those books on meditation tell me I have the key, that I’ve always had it. So why should I believe that you could give me any joy which I cannot find for myself?
What if I tell you, and you turn out not to be a key at all? Or what if you don’t fit? Because I’ve obviously built you up way too much in my head. Given you too much credit, dreamt of you too much. Of your stupid voice which is far from perfect but gives me goosebumps, and your long, pale fingers, your pretty face and the shock of black hair.
See what I mean?
So maybe you’re the key to everything. Maybe you’re not. But how would I know unless you get your nose out of the menu and allowed me to make the mini-speech I’ve practiced so many times while lying on my bed?
You look up from the menu and catch me staring at you. Those pretty eyes under that pretty hair. Now you’re staring at me half-nervously, half-expectantly. Like you know what I’m thinking.
It’s time for the practiced speech.
Oh God oh God oh God.
the date
There’s only one thing running through my head. Like a chant. Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God oh God. I’ve almost entirely convinced myself that you are the key. To it all.
Do you see it? While you’re sitting across the table from me trying to decide what to order, do you see it? Do you see anything bubbling beneath my surface?
No, of course you don’t. I haven’t told you yet. Because you may not be the key at all. All those books on meditation tell me I have the key, that I’ve always had it. So why should I believe that you could give me any joy which I cannot find for myself?
What if I tell you, and you turn out not to be a key at all? Or what if you don’t fit? Because I’ve obviously built you up way too much in my head. Given you too much credit, dreamt of you too much. Of your stupid voice which is far from perfect but gives me goosebumps, and your long, pale fingers, your pretty face and the shock of black hair.
See what I mean?
So maybe you’re the key to everything. Maybe you’re not. But how would I know unless you get your nose out of the menu and allowed me to make the mini-speech I’ve practiced so many times while lying on my bed?
You look up from the menu and catch me staring at you. Those pretty eyes under that pretty hair. Now you’re staring at me half-nervously, half-expectantly. Like you know what I’m thinking.
It’s time for the practiced speech.
Oh God oh God oh God.
Do you see it? While you’re sitting across the table from me trying to decide what to order, do you see it? Do you see anything bubbling beneath my surface?
No, of course you don’t. I haven’t told you yet. Because you may not be the key at all. All those books on meditation tell me I have the key, that I’ve always had it. So why should I believe that you could give me any joy which I cannot find for myself?
What if I tell you, and you turn out not to be a key at all? Or what if you don’t fit? Because I’ve obviously built you up way too much in my head. Given you too much credit, dreamt of you too much. Of your stupid voice which is far from perfect but gives me goosebumps, and your long, pale fingers, your pretty face and the shock of black hair.
See what I mean?
So maybe you’re the key to everything. Maybe you’re not. But how would I know unless you get your nose out of the menu and allowed me to make the mini-speech I’ve practiced so many times while lying on my bed?
You look up from the menu and catch me staring at you. Those pretty eyes under that pretty hair. Now you’re staring at me half-nervously, half-expectantly. Like you know what I’m thinking.
It’s time for the practiced speech.
Oh God oh God oh God.
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