You Need Me, I Don't Need You...

About two weeks back our house was broken into. Preethy and I were at our home towns for the weekend. She was the first to come home. The main door was smashed, the whole house was a mess. Clothes from our cupboard were strewn everywhere. Poor girl had to sit in the house alone for 3 hours before anyone else came. My train also decided to be 2 hours late. She called me to ask when I'll be reaching. She was pissed and had been crying, her personal laptop was stolen. We all know how we feel about our own laptops. Most of us buy it during our MBAs. From notes to movies to all our memories in photos and videos and endless songs... Sure you may have created backups, but unfortunately you can't make backups to your relationship with your first laptop, it knows all your secrets.

There are a lot of times where I can use the word 'nightmare' to describe that day. But the biggest was entering our room to see Preethy sitting at the edge of the bed looking at the all the clothes piled at the floor. She looked helpless, angry and scared all at the same time. All our drawers had been opened. It felt like a form of violation. I could only remember this strip from Calvin and Hobbes.

Anyways, it has been two weeks since that incident. We went to the police station to file an FIR, but there has been no leads. They were sympathetic, but not too hopeful. Preethy has gone home again this weekend and I'm alone for the first time since that incident. Its not like I haven't lived alone before. I pride myself to be independent and love the times when I can just kick back with a book and not have to feel obligated to entertain anyone. But in times like these you come to realise how much you reach out to people around you. When you feel scared of opening the door at night after office, or take a sigh of relief just to see everything locked as I had left it. Even during a coffee break in the evening, my mind was constantly trying to remember whether I had locked everything proper or not.

In these times you sometimes lose the independent streak and want to hold on to someone. Doesn't matter if they are family, a friend or a boyfriend/girlfriend. Doesn't even matter whether they are physically strong or braver than you or not. Just somebody who you could wait outside their office to go home together. Someone who agrees to keep watch with you at night and ends up falling asleep holding you so you know you are not alone. Even though, at a sound of anything creepy at night, would scream the shrillest.

Its funny when you pursue your adult life trying to stand on your feet, only to fall towards someone at the first glance of trouble.

Losing my religion

Being an atheist in India is not easy as it looks. In a country where wars are raged on religion, region, it’s harder to be an atheist. You are born into a family, with a mom and dad (hopefully) who got married with religion being the first on the check list of selection by their families. So it is obvious what you are going to be ingrained in it right from the start.

I know a lot of highly religious and conservative families with their kids being made to blindly follow the same. It’s hard to leave something like that, consciously, when you had been easily accepting the same faith, no questions asked. The few who questioned (including me) were quickly told that that is how everyone behaves in this world, the society, the country, your neighbor etc, etc. Losing your faith, becoming a nasstik, more than shocking, disappoints your parents. They wonder where they went wrong, maybe they should’ve pushed you more, made you attend more poojas instead of letting you watch Hollywood movies and songs, which they believe is where we got the idea from. Worse, they are petrified that you just might get lured by the devious set of fanatics who try and push every person they meet to convert to their faith.
Faith, it’s funny how we keep it synonym to religion. When you lose your religion, people believe that you have really lost your faith in the world. Depressed, angry at humanity, you are just moving around from moment to moment with no purpose whatsoever. Which is amusing, since I have asked on a number of occasions to religious people what is the purpose of life and have only received either vague short answers, or long lectures…which are vague too.

I believe, and I may be wrong since I haven’t really researched on this much yet, that faith is what you expect out of everyone else. Your faith on a higher being, therefore, is your belief that every good is rewarded and every bad punished. Your duty therefore is to be good and good things would happen to you. But what is good?

What is defined as good in this world? Now this is when it gets confusing. Is it what is taught by our parents? Or written in your religions scriptures? Or something that is a part of you already?
You see, since I was young I get this really bad scare inside, muscles freezing, sleepless nights, when I would do something that I think was wrong. Sometimes I would ignore it, and sometimes, I would try to rectify it (and that is another story!). I would think that it is because of what was taught to me what my parents have ingrained in my mind since childhood that creates such panic. It’s funny that I would be made to question this while reading a Ken Follet novel.

‘The Third Twin’ is based on a very common argument which has been ongoing for years, nature vs. nurture. Two people (or rather eight in this novel) with the same looks, same DNA by the same biological parents but with different parents teaching them about life become different people. But when the good guy is given temptation that with no hang-ups, no strings attached, no one to know, would he still be good? And if yes, what made him so? His upbringing, the DNA in his body, God, or himself?

The thought is still scary. Try an imagine a 24-year-old, who has lived her entire life believing that someone is watching over me, someone who would give me back for all the good deeds I have done in my life, and the so called karma would bite people’s ass who did wrong. Imagine telling that person that there is none looking, no one keeping tabs. The good deeds that you did were just good deeds, and the bad things that happened, there will be no respite, no judgment day to punish the wrongdoers in this world. You decide, as an individual how you want to carry on.

Most people can’t pin point where the good comes from, in the same way, no one can detect the bad qualities. Yeah we can point it to our past bad experiences, family struggles, evil deeds shoved on you that makes you a lot of person that you are. But what about the rest?

In this deeply religious country, it is even more difficult to work and not cringe when every time your part of job is delayed because so-and-so person was off for a religious retreat. I remember during my first fairly important and big project, there were about thirty activity reports to be taken by my administration girl. It’s an extremely difficult job, but has to be done every day as the clients need to stay updated about it. In the middle of all the work, she declares that she needs an off for 8 days for Ganesh pujan. Now, I don’t have anything against people’s religion, but at the same time wonder how much work and productivity we lose everyday due to it.

Funny thing is, I always liked to be different from everyone else. Whether it was my rock music fixation in school, rebellion in college, or choosing advertising as my profession, I always wanted to be different from my peers. This is one time when I have all the facts to choose otherwise, my hands tremble at the thought of letting go of the last string of any religious belief that I have in me. I would rather proclaim myself a lazy agnostic, or a humanist (it is also a religion, Google it), than announce my lack of belief in religion, especially to my parents. To think I’d disappoint them, after all these years of heartbreak… more than that, to realize that everything that happens to me is by my own deeds and how it fits within the universe that would be responsible for my future. No wait for karma, or any knight in shining armor to save me, except myself.

An Ode to my Flip Phone...

My dear flip phone,

You were my punishment, I think you know. When I had lost my sister’s ‘super cool’ phone in my second year, you were a no-songs no-camera punishment for me. I hated you so much, with the stupid ‘polyphonic’ ringtones and message tones. I was embarrassed by you. You were practically on silent mode for the past 3 years.

This Diwali I got my new phone and you are quickly forgotten. I still know you are lying somewhere in my bag, SIM changed, all quite. You won’t embarrass me again. Your screen is so broken down that I had to squint to see what I had typed on the sides. And don’t get me started on your buttons.

All these years when you embarrassed me...I would hide you from everyone. People used to laugh when they would see my ‘old, battered’ phone. I would cringe inwardly when they would play with you, flip on-flip off, but secretly, I hated you.

I won’t remember the days, during my non-existent social life in Delhi, when I would spend the entire nights on your radio. And it wasn’t just those nights. The commute, the college in Delhi, whenever I would want to save myself from embarrassing looks and stares, I would find a corner of the college and hide in the songs that you played.

I would also not remember ‘Bubble Smile’ that I played endlessly when trying to study, and my roommate would think I’m messaging. All the papers, the nights when I couldn’t sleep, my low-point-messaging to people... you probably know more secrets than most people in my life. But I won’t remember anymore.

I won’t remember the day I got so angry, I threw you across my bed, not realising that it’s a single bed... in the middle of the room. You didn’t get a chance, slid right off the bed, and broke apart. Didn’t even bother for about 30 minutes. After which I arranged you again and you were again happily beeping off one of you own ‘tunes’.

I got a new phone, the one that I paid for, with the ringtones that I love and all the features that I always dreamed of. It’s been three days, and you are easily forgotten. I don’t remember you anymore...

Everyday is exactly the same...

Since there is no easy (read ‘untwisted’) way to tell this story, I’ll try to make it as easy and non-boring as possible. So last Friday, Neha and I were ushered to the boss’s cabin. We were informed that we had to do research in a couple of villages. Cool, I thought, we’ll be going to places around Delhi, should be interesting. Then comes bomb numero uno, we were going to Bihar, specifically to Munger city which is Neha’s native and from there we would be visiting two villages each. Then bomb number two, we would be leaving the day itself for this task. And finally, we would have no return tickets booked until they are satisfied that they get all the answers that this research is supposed to answer. If you have a problem imagining the shock, try hitting yourself with boulders again and again, I think you’ll get there.

Anyways, skipping the details again, the tickets got postponed till Monday, Rajdhani Express Second AC. Since I’ve spent most of my student life travelling in sleeper class, I was actually looking forward to the journey and was kinda disappointed that it would only last for 12 hours. So we finally reach the train, sitting across from us are two uncles, my bet is they were some high officials from the government (based on the fact that they were discussing putting 90 crores in one account and 20 crores in another). Neha had warned me that people tend to look at you like freaks, but I was no way prepared for all the psychos I met during all our train journeys. Funny thing was, we were videotaped in three different occasions. First we avoided the guy, but the next two times it was so irritating that I ended up fighting with them (Warning: It’s never a good idea to fight with people going towards UP or Bihar).

So after changing another train, we reach Munger. Neha’s dad picked us from the station

(Jamalpur). We reach her place and I actually stopped and looked around for a second. The house was built a little less than a hundred years before. Imagine the house with a living room that opens up to a verandah with a tulsi plant and everything and rooms built are the sides (reminded me of endless Hindi movies sets). Her family is the sweetest, most down to earth people I’ve ever met. Her mom informed me that Munger hadn’t seen running electricity or water for the past 3 months. Considering the heat at the place I knew it was going to be difficult. I was also greeted by Neha’s hyper, doesn’t-know-he-weighs-a-ton dog, Noody. After his few attempts at trying to jump on my lap, he settled sitting near me, provided that I made fuss of him every 5 minutes. (Okay the last bit is a lie; he would not stop jumping over me, Neha, her mom and anyone who would come inside the house)

The next two days we spent roaming around in villages from 8 AM till 3 PM, going to aanganwadis, schools, doctors, retails shops and talking to anyone and everyone that we could. We went to Tikarampur, where houses were made entirely of hay, as they would be burned down almost every year, we went to Taufir, where police had been raiding recently as the natives were making illegal arms (yeah, I did not dare to go inside this village. We just spoke a couple of people and ran like hell.)

Every day when we would reach back, Neha’s mom would feed us with the most delicious food, and Uncle would tell us interesting stories about the place we’ve visited. Evening we would sit at the verandah and talk about everyday things. Nights were a bit tough because of the heat. Time moved real slow in Munger and yet when it was time for us to leave, it seem

ed as though the entire week had passed in a blur. I’ve always found it really hard to show affection towards people who have been extremely nice to me. Most times I end up blabbering inconsequential things, nowhere near to what I actually want to say. But before I could begin fumbling with words, Neha’s mom hugged me and told me to take care. I wish I had taken their photos. Two people I would remember for the rest of my life. And Noody decided that if he bites off my right leg, I won’t be going anywhere!

After a back breaking nine-hours late journey, six days later, I’m back to reality. I’m sunburned and half of my hair has decided to fall out. A bit wiser I guess, but two days was not enough for us to know much reality than what we were allowed to see.

Here we go again...

Today I took out my bulky suitcase, dusted the two years of stagnation from it, and opened it to start packing my things... again. It's amazing, I was just rereading my blog, and read all my posts that I wrote before coming to SIMC, my fears, hopes and anxieties. And the present is what it has all boiled down to, another suitcase packed and another journey ended.

I have always been complimented to be a light packer. Even now, I came with three parts, an old brown suitcase that my mom had brought to her new family in her marriage, and I use it to 'run away from home', an orange cloth bag in which I dump everything that doesn't fit anywhere else, like my brain! and a brown air bag that carries my most prized luggage, my books, certificates and likes.

And now after two years I'm still able to fit in my entire possessions in these three pieces. Everything falls in, except the memories that I got from this place. My first project interview and the so called 'party' after that. My first friend here, Lini, who I love with all my heart. My chatty roommate, Preeti. My highly intelligent and serious friend, Neha. And the none stop talker and adviser, Preethy.

My huge room, even bigger than my own room back home, the balcony view from my floor, my first internship and the love I got. Footprints and the hope of maybe being with a 'normal' guy for a change. My second internship and the respect I got. My birthday surprise, cake and gifts. All the nights spent laughing and sharing hopes and dreams. My loss of friend and the part of me that lost with it. A long period of depression. The quieter next birthday. The bo

uts of insomnia and sleeping in class, scratch that, endlessly sleeping in class. The first internals when I scored the highest, my design technology test when I barely passed...

I can't pack it all. It is spilling from my suitcase and unwilling to stay inside the

airbag. I can't carry it all. It's too many memories. I guess I'm not a light packer anymore...

The moment I have been waiting for...

This is it. This is the moment. Look around you, remember this day. Remember the people who were with you when you witnessed history.

I never thought India could win this, and I admit it with shame. Right from the beginning, I kept thinking, except for Sachin, no one else seems to want this enough... But when the last six was hit by Dhoni, and Yuvraj embraced him with tears in his eyes, I knew we deserved every minute of it. We showed what we were made of whenever the opposition threw us off. More than being talented, I believe we were always talented, we were mentally willing to win the game.

I still cannot believe it. My fingers shake while typing this post, my face is still unable to stop smiling. The look on everyone's face when we won. Especially Sachin... Virat Kohli summed it up when Manjarekar asked him the reason for carrying him "He has been carrying the country's dreams for all these years, I thought this is the time we carried him!'

I have always been proud of this country, today my heart swells with pride even more. And as Lini Antony (my friend) said rightly, "Even if the world ends in 2012, I can die knowing that we won the last World Cup!"

Yes, that pretty much sums it up, I guess.

SCORN

Eyes open. He looks around. The stench of blood all around. Corpses lying everywhere. He breathes, heavy…

“I DIDN’T DO THIS!” screamed. He looks around, searching for recognizable faces. There are none. He doesn’t know them anymore. It’s not…

He crashes on his hands, turns and is faced by them, now bloodied. “WHAT IS THE PRICE, TELL ME!!!!”

There is no life, no death, no love or care. You promised before sending me here, you promised that ultimately one would know the consequences. There is none. Nothing but the endless shallow spokes of words, movements and expressions. For what, for who?

Nothing.

He wipes his hand and screams in pain. He or someone had cut his hand. They drop and become a part of the pool below. The stench is fresh now. He gets up, he runs. Away from life, away from it all….

Damn right I'm angry!!!

Angry at the world, and the people in it. The rage has no ends today and there is no outlet. I'm supposed to stay to the orders of the society that doesn't allow outbursts unless you're senile. I'm supposed to keep quite and smile in this godforsaken place, to most people I don't give shit about. And worst of all, I'm supposed to be all calm and composed for tomorrow for the first and I'm pretty sure, not the last interview for my campus placement.

You know what the worst part is, you have these people in your lives that tell you they love you and everything. You never gave them a chance to show. And when you need them to understand, for a moment, for a day, you open up a crack to let them see the darkness inside, they just shut up. And even though you never expected them to understand, it pushes you down even more.

I hate this world today. I hate people in this world who do bad things and get away with it. Bad things to people who you love and care about and feel protective towards. It makes my rage take over me to the point that I can actually feel the blood in my veins burning. I hate the feeling of being hopeless and unable to do anything about it. And then I'm supposed to sit with the general 'normal' crowd and act like everything is fine.

AND YES I'M BLABBERING!! IT'S MY BLOG AND I GET TO DO WHATEVER I WANT WITH IT. YOU HAVE A PROBLEM, GO JUMP OFF A CLIFF!!

Coz I was bored and there was nothing on TV... :P

Okay, so what I'm about to write down might sound extremely shallow to people, but I really feel that there might be many people who agree to me on this one...

Remember when you were a kid and you were always forced to meet these kids of friends of your parents, who were too cool, or too good looking or too rich and so forth... and they even though they would not make fun of you outright, you knew that they were laughing at you??? okay, so maybe that was only me who felt it(I was a freaky child, what can I say?)

Anyways, so it may happen that you grow up, and you haven't met them for a long time, and then when finally meet them, you are so much more cooler than them!! And then they know it, and you know it, but obviously you don't say anything (coz you're so cool and stuff!) and on the inside you're all like... YEA!!!!!

Okay, that's it, I need a job now...

In the memory of...

I remember the day I heard about you, for the last time. There were tears of course, you must be laughing about them I know, but I couldn't help it. But it wasn't the tears because you left, it was my regret tears. Regret about never trying to keep in touch with you, never trying to hold you back from everything wrong that you did, of never holding you together, even with words, the way you did.

I felt like I used you, and then discarded and moved on to a life that I always wanted to live. Leaving you behind, even though you never asked for it. I know you were proud, so was I. But that doesn't make any of us more sensible.

I miss you sometimes. Sometimes, days go by and I never think about you. And some days I cannot stop thinking about you. I wish you were here, and this stupid thing never happened. Not with me, but just here, in this universe. I wish someday I would wake up and my best friend would call me and tell me another stupid thing you're doing in our hometown.

That's another thing, because of you, I'm scared to go back now. I'm scared that you're memory will suddenly jump up from somewhere; the bus stop, the lake, my terrace, my stairs. It would hit me and I wouldn't be able to stop myself from drowning. That would make you laugh, wouldn't it? That would make you say, Nishtha, you little girly girl!

I wish I could see your smile again. The way you hated being photographed, remember how I ran behind you, around and around for a stupid video clip until you finally bowed? You never got angry, no matter what I would tell you.

You hurt me so much, but I miss that too, because at that time I could at least feel it.

I hope you found all your answers now, Rest In Peace (30 April 1988- 26 July 2010)

Thoughts keep me up at night...

So yesterday the final verdict of Bhopal Gas Tragedy came in. The media went crazy (as usual) saying a lot of gibberish that didn't make any sense. I don't want to make any comments about what was right or what was wrong. I've not been familiar with the entire score of the happenings, nor do I want to pretend that I know. My family came to Bhopal about six years after the mishap, and therefore it never really touched me.

But something about all the proceedings that went on yesterday made me sad. I started to read a bit about it, some people were crying foul, some said the case wasn't strong enough, blah blah blah. But nothing made that feeling any better.

The thing is this, how much do you pay for your life? What do your lungs cost? Have we ever thought about it? The newspapers said that 470 million dollars have been paid for damages. The number of people affected is approximately around 5.72 lakhs. I'm not even assuming that the actual victims will get the money, or if the number of them is higher or not. Even with the same number, it's somewhere around forty thousand rupees per person. Forty thousand for your eyes, your kidneys...your organs.

If that still means nothing, think of the people who are still suffering from the side effects. What do they consider as a punishment for people responsible for it? Do parents who see their children suffer every single day consider two years (and actually just 2 hours, they got out by bail) enough for them?

Again I have to say that I'm not pin pointing on anything, not the judiciary, not the system or the case or whatever. I consider these discussions endless and nothing ever comes out of it. I'm just feeling sad and trying to get this out of me.

I love this place... I don't love this place... I love this place...

Nine months down the line... or I can say a small string that I have to constantly walk on... and I'm confused. This place has given me so many things, taught me so much, well... maybe more than I wanted to know. I agree that it's better than getting depressed and obese in Bhopal, or job hunting in Delhi, definitely better than doing nothing, but I'm not sure doing EVERYTHING was what I had in mind when I joined SIMC. As I've mentioned before, I was warned about it. Sometimes it just feels that whatever I'm doing... will it actually help?

So here's counting down 5 best and worst things that I face everyday

BADS

5. The food: It's good, it's okay, it's horrible

4. People: Aside from seeing them everyday, now new problem... 'jhelo' them everyday too!

3. Bangalore: I'm pretty sure I'm never going to live here after this gets over. (Although I said the same about Delhi!!)

2. The 'ASSIGNMENTS': Some are okay, most don't make sense, almost all we copy paste

1. The BAD Faculty: Most of this sem, I've only attended the lectures for the attendance, and the entire time I think, I could've done this so much better. We have it all, the PHDs who have never seen a world outside books, the so called know-it-alls, the ppt readers, the monotoners etc etc. (Advice to them: Please get laid!! FAST!!!)

GOODS

5. Advertising- Not something that was like my childhood dream or anything, but I like it!

4. Friends- They are the perfect combination for me. I love you guys!!!

3. Meeting- I never thought it would happen to me. Me, of all the people in the world who've spent their entire lives looking for this. (Not gonna explain any further ;))

2. First Internship- It was the best thing that has happened to me till now. When people tell you that whatever work you've done has been invaluable, and when you see the results of your hard work, it's worth all the shit that you have done.

1. Knowledge- Okay, may sound cliched, but that why I'm here.

Some days I wanna kill myself. Like literally tear my heart out and eat it up!! And some days, I wonder what kind of a person I'll become at the end of two years. And the there are days, when your efforts are appreciated, you ask the right question, or give the right answer, you make something that you know is AWESOME!! It's for those days that I'm still here.

And I'm still here...

Cricket... What can I say???

The reason why I'm writing this post, is bcoz almost everyone in my family has written about it. My sis runs a pretty famous website www.sillymaidon.com (do need to check, unless you already have or... well, u R my sis!!) One of the best, and my cousin, who writes an even famous one. Then dad got into it, and its now a thing... that does not include me... that makes me mad!!!(oh I was a pampered child, screw u!!!)

Neways, I'm here to write what cricket has been for me. See, I've been watching it since I can remember. There would be hardly any India match that I've missed, especially when I'm at home. When I was young, frankly I never enjoyed them much, they seemed slow, and I preferred tennis over it. They bored me a bit, well a lot at times.

So why did I watch it?? I loved the look on dad's and di's face when they were watching it. Whenever there used to be a wicket or a six, I would turn and look at them smile. I loooved the conversations, the stories dad would tell that he'd experienced when he was a teenager watching cricket.

I loved the fact that for that 6 hours, I was absolutely in sync with my family. I would feel a different kind of bond with them, something that is harder to explain but seems like a flow when I feel it.

Now, cricket is a remembrance of that, when I'm not at home. I love it whenever there is a match going on and di's first msg on chat is, 'Score dekha kya?'. Of course, it is also about the spirit of the game, coz according to me, there is no other team that has the same spirit as the Indian team!!

Go Blues Go!!!

Didnt see this coming!!!

So, I was talking to this guy from school the other day, and he asked me whether I was in touch with anyone from school anymore. I said except for Shilpa and Abhishek, who are still like my best frnds ever, noone. And he was VERY shocked. That got me thinking to all the times of my school life, and grads and then now, doing MBA.

Believe it or not, I feel that school was the worst time of my life. Coz except for my 2 bffs, around everyone else, I pretended to be someone I wasnt. This geek of a girl, waiting for someone to notice me, trying to be nice all the time. Shilpa left school after 10th grade for kota, and abhishek... well, we used to fight more and talk less! Even he would agree that I'm anything but the girl from school.

I hated school, where I was constantly trying to get attention of people towards me, so pretending to be this really sweet and nice girl. I'm not saying I'm evil or something, but honestly, I don't always think pleasant thoughts about people in my mind!!

Grads was bad coz of... well reasons! I was still hiding sooo much there about me. But with my pg frnds, they knew me, and liked me for who i was!!! And we had loadssss of fun! And I had therefore promised myself, that I'm not going to pretend to be anyone but myself here. Coz it'll be so hard, living like someone else 24*7. And till now, it has worked out fine!

The funny thing is, this 'I Hated School' thing, didnt hit me until tonight!!mmmmm

Miss Techno Queen!!!

I hate computers, calculators, pretty much anything that says, 'Leave all your work to me!!!' Don't get me wrong, I'm not exactly the hardworking kinds... It's just that, I've never trusted computers(and everything related to it) in my life. Any story, any part of novel, I would first write in my diary, spoil a hundred pages on editing and re-editing, and then type it(maybe).

But here, with a personal laptop, and absolutely no time, one has to give in. The notes, assignments, ppts to study, ebooks, movies... all the solutions were in it. I've started to spend so much time with it, it feels as though I'm dating my laptop now.(Ohh!!! Acer darling! I love your pretty blue cover...*blush!!)

So imagine my sense of loss, when yesterday afternoon, my internet goes *BOINK!! 'I burn, I perish!' I'm using other people's computer for, well, checking mails, facebooking and writing about this incident on my blog... phew!!! How hard is life!!

And life sucks....

I miss my pg. I really do... I miss the dirty room, which I never cleaned, I miss the cockroaches, the mice crawling around. And I miss the fights, Oh! how I miss the fights!!!!

So the other day, my ex-roomie called and told me that they had a fight over a plate... a PLATE!!! That's what girls do, they want to feel liked and loved and bitched about, coz if people bitch about them, that means that others are jealous. They like to take sides, form 'groups', that's what they do, to feel good about themselves.

I miss the fights, people don't fight here. They act like adults, when they don't like people, they ignore...IGNORE!!!! That's right, they stop talking. Dude, we can do better than that. Life is boring, and confusing and I have too much time to think... I hate this place!!!!!

P.S.- I started on this new hobby of mine... Cribbing!!!!

My quote!!! Copyright :P

'Looking at my shadow I realized that is how we remember our memories, either black or white'

I see you!!

The turn able seats around me make noise. I look up, it's them, again. All of them... when they catch your eye, they smile or wave. And you can't ignore them, you have to respond. And no, you can't show the finger to them... even on your 'off' days.

Don't worry, I haven't been sent to jail yet (really???). This is my life, a complete contrast to what I was for the last three years. Then it used to be, go to college, avoid eye contact with everyone, meet your friends, spend some time, go back. And in the pg, sit and watch TV, or go out...whatever. We used to bitch, or people did that to us, and those years were my crash course to 'how to deal with people who are hopeless!!!' (I know I still have lots more to learn!)

And somehow, I had become this completely cold indifferent person who would'nt give a damn to what anyone thought about me. I was proud of the fact that I thought I can now handle any type of person now.

I was sooo wrong.

What I didn't plan on was to meet people here who were nice! Like really nice! And I feel I'm again back to square one. Coz I don't remeber how to be around them anymore. They help, take care of each other and are always always there. Breakfast, 9 hours of class, lunch, dinner... we spend sooo much time together, all of us. And with group assignments it gets worse.

And you can't have bad days, you can't go grumpy. I do sometimes, and people come up to me and ask what's the problem, try and make me laugh and all... It is sooo DAMN irritating.

I know I'm complaining for nothing, and yeah they'll probably change after a couple of months, but I had to write about my experience of living in a residential campus with SIMC being a small community of 51. It's tiring, its exciting, I'm sleepy all the time, for the first time I feel I'm doing something worthwile... two years are gonna pass without even knowing...!!!!

Will I survive tommorow?

A couple of days back I cried. I don't remember the last time I had done that. Not when I didn't get through SIMC Pune, not for TISS, not even Christ. The feeling of being useless was worse than anything that I have experienced yet. The late mornings, endless TV and Internet, novels read the nth time... somewhere it got me. And I cried. For whole two minutes.

It''s not like people don't take breaks after school or graduation. It's just that I had not expected it at all. Somehow I felt I would get in somewhere. And the idea of going to a small city for MBA after living in Delhi for three years made it worse(sorry di!).

So when I got a chance to come to SIMC Bangalore, I jumped. Well, not exactly. I discussed and thought and discussed some more. But in the end what was I to do? Yeah it'll be the first year for the Bangalore campus, yeah the fees amount made me a bit queasy, yeah I did not have a very pleasant experience at the interview. But I want to be in Advertising, and it's Symbi. So, my dad worked endlessly, got everything ready for me in five days, and came with me on a two day train journey of hell to Bangalore.

We knew that this college makes you work really hard. They told us this at the GD/PI itself. But it's worse, much worse. The day of Orientation we got an assignment that is worth 20 per cent of one of our subjects. We need to finish three books on our own for tests. There are three internships and ten projects to be completed. My classes last for four hours at a stretch. My head is spinning. In just two days. I don't know how others are managing but I'm scared. Actually I'm terrified.

I still want to do this. I'm just scared of not doing it well. People here know more about things that I've just started working on. Sometimes I wonder, as much as I want to do this, will I be able to handle the pressure? Not just the next two years, but the rest of my career span. Will I be able to survive in the big bad world? Will I have to compromise on the things I believe in? And if I do, will my conscious haunt me?

Anyway, out of the sombre mood, on to my happy place. The campus is really cool. My room is sooo big and clean. No more waiting in line in the morning outside the washroom. The food is clean and decent and somehow South Indians make North Indian food better. Less oil and all. I have a laptop, the single most expensive thing I've owned in my life. And I'm learning a lot, everyday. I know some people are better, but I'm gonna get there soon. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. I can either worry, or I can do my best. I've made my choice.

Goodbye IPL, Bonjour French Open...

Thank God IPL is over. It seemed less about cricket and more about Lalit Modi instructing the camera to focus towards him. Every five minutes and his monkey-face would appear where he would be pretending to talk to some bigshot. Talk about narcissism! Anyway, even though I saw all the matches (on the background while reading Mansfield Park) I did not find them interesting at all. I think I spent more time listening to my mom and masi gossip about people than take care about who will reach the semis and etc...

Anyways, it is over now, and tennis is back. My Nadal is back! Wearing (ugh!) bright pink tee and blinding yellow head and wristband. I mean, seriously. What happened to earthy tones and sleeveless tees so that i can ogle at his muscles and...sigh!!! give me a minute to daydream!

I still remember the night when he was playing against Federer in the epic Wimbledon final. One of the moments that are stuck with you for the rest of your life. I had bribed my roommate with momos to cheer for Nadal, which she did with full enthusiasm. Poor girl, she stayed up till 4 in the morning with me till he won.

Please Rafa.. don't ruin the fantasies for me. Colours like green and black look so good on you. Please leave baby pink to someone who could actually carry it off!

You know you love me! (XOXO)

PS: Yeah that was me doing a Gossip Girl!