Fallawwed aar naat?!! This was, i think, the most contraversial of questions; as it was not in reality a question at all- it was more like mi's way of pronouncing that she has said all tht she knew of the topic, and she's about to yell at someone next to the window for no reason at all... i remember one distinct class of hers when i almost gave up on finding her brain for her- in one of the reactions, the catalyst being molybdenum oxide, on hearing the sound 'moo' echoing in class, she asked us who the buffalo in class was!! Imagine, if she were a cow, she'd be the most illiterate of her generation...

I’m a complete movie buff. I love watching movies. Of course I hate the stupid ones, but I love the good ones almost as much as I hate the idiotic ones. I watch movies over and over again. I tend to repeat things that I like to do- almost qualifying as hype; and then I get enough of them for a good ten years...not a very good habit, is it?! For example, eating fruit with custard after I return from college. It was thrilling in the beginning; I insisted on continuing it. Then it didn’t seem as exciting, and now I don’t feel like eating it more than once a month. Same with curd rice. Same with movie songs. Hmm...

Response. Responsible. Responsibility. Three words. Don’t they seem like they belong to the same parent? Yet each word brings an entirely different pre-defined meaning to my mind. Strange. This came to my mind when I was riding to college today. I think a lot when I’m riding. Not intentionally. Thoughts seem to just keep popping up in my brain. One by one, the most unrelated of things seem to be linked together by a chain of subtle, common factors. It’s a continuous line of continuous entertainment. Maybe that’s why I don’t realize the distance. Its greater now than it was to kumarans. I remember telling a ‘fan’ that riding is not stressful to me- the road keeps unfolding, and I keep riding. I sound so good. Hehe...

Vaastu, for the common man, is beyond reasoning. For him its simple faith, its something he believes in, and is afraid to violate- pretty much like religion. For us architects, of course, its utter rubbish- vaastu started as common sense, which, i think, was pretty relevant then. Today, of course, its outdated, and it will take us more than convincing to show the layman the light.

I was generally thinkin of indian hindu temples in today's context..You know, if i was asked to design a Hindu temple today, wht am i expected to do? Redefine its function keeping in mind the 'time' of our lives, or modify the legacy, the tradition. Should i purposefully make dark interiors for the feeling for sacredness or should i bring in the light because i CAN? Should i have carved ornamentation or a blank stonewall? Which is more appropriate? Which is more Indian? Which answers time's call? Should we continue to build domes- not of elaborately carved stone, but of concrete? Or should we define today's temples to have pergolas?

In the old times, the sole authority was the king; he was learned, wise and understood the society- he gave the right patronage; chose the right people to do the right job. Even builders had generational history. Do u think the king would have allowed a rajasthani palace to have open screens on the west? The use of wind was understood; the use of the court was understood.
Yet, today, we do not understand it. Democracy has in a way failed us; the right and wrong is lost- wht i like and wht i dont like is more important.
B.arch is a way to make us understand. And once we have understood, it is for us to direct architecture forwards; it would be a complete failure if we decide to build rajasthani palace facades for our offices.

What makes a space Indian? We keep talking about Indian architecture, Indian spaces, Indian feel, and indianness. Wht quality of the space do u think makes it Indian? What do we choose to identify as 'indian'? Are they the colours? Or the rough textures? Mud plaster? Small size? Dark interiors of temples? Can a steel building not be Indian? Somehow i think the process of making a space indian goes deeper than its percievable characteristics- the social that an indian is, or the warm welcome we give to the sun, or the value that we associate with our living spaces- is all reflected in our spaces, in very, very subtle ways. In the architecture of the past, we have identified and praised them; i am in search for a contemporary vocabulary for 'indianness'. Sangath, or even the tube house by correa is deeply Indian. Wht say? 'The fact that it still exists today is indian'...it clearly identifies the amount of importance we associate with our structures, rather we used to. The program for the design of a building in the past, i think, has been to create a masterpiece; not to have a thicker wall than the previous. Today, we seem to ignore the fact that a building is a functional element first, then a bait for comparison/superiority.i also understand the line of indian architecture is 'beyond beauty'; i find 'beautiful' a very, very incomplete description of indian architecture- it is soo beyond it. Im thrilled that someone finally understands it; u have to be able to look beyond the skin.

Naveen says im strongly driven by logic. Does that mean im less human and more machine like? Something like doing the ‘right’ thing, and losing the fun of life? Hmm... I don’t bitch, I don’t gossip. And the like. Does that make me less fun? Im bursting with positive fun- people have awesome times with me. It’s not abt being modest. I’m tryin to understand myself. Im sure of one thing- I am great fun. Maybe other people’s fun includes gossiping about other people’s business. Mine doesn’t. Simple. I cannot even force people to have my kind of fun. It’s ok.

I have been wearing beads woven on a thread at my right ankle. It looks soo pretty. Only my feet aren’t clean. Sheesh.

I own at least seven types of glue. And at least five types of tape. Feviquick, fevibond, fevicol, superglue, something, something. Scotch tape, abro tape, cello tape, insulation tape, sales tape, brown packing tape, and double sided tape. Im crazy.

Ive stopped using floppy discs. I used to use them earlier for presentation purposes. These days pen-drives owned by others are sufficiently convienient. I have one re-writable cd that I carry around in which I store everything I need. ‘Everything’ can sound far fetching- I need mostly one autocad file and in rare cases, a power point presentation. I must seem a guggu to high tech information transfers. Who cares?

I cleaned out my wardrobe drawers yesterday. I took all the time I could- it was like re-living the past couple of years...i found plenty of stuff, ranging from stamp papers to chits written in class, from marbles to mosquito mats, from a pair of brand new chappals to circle templates, from old phone lists to greeting cards. I love exercises of this kind; I don’t know exactly why. They give me a sense of peace. Like I kno times wont come again, but im satisfied the way I lived it. I don’t know why im such a memory freak. I found my high school house badge. I can never, never get myself to throw it. Or even give it away. Just like my school uniform.

I read anoop’s blog today. Felt really, really, warm. I don’t know wht it is abt his writing, but it seemed so innocent. So truthful. Nice guy, anoop. He has written a bit about patriotism. He’s the typical gen-x Indian. So am i. There seem to be plenty of others. But it does not seem to be making any difference at all. Not to the world of corruption, not to the humanity. Maybe we’re too few. Yet for the past few months I have come across lots of people who know wht indianism means to them, wht India means to them. Wht it actually means is different; the very fact that they know and recognize it is good enough for me. Maybe we need to get further.

Avoiding work. It’s a universally occurring phenomenon. Every normal human being practices it. I think I have a masters in it. I don’t want to. Books inspire, people advice, we experience. Yet, somehow, the big boulder of laziness comes and flattens out all the courage. Its easy to say, “shake it off, just do it”...maybe its easy to do. I don’t seem to be able to think so, though. The aim is there, but the drive isn’t. Maybe wrong interpretation. Who cares? Work must get done, though.

I was going through orkut profiles at random. It’s very, very rare to find something interesting. I don’t get it. Some people I know ARE actually interesting, but their profiles make sure that noone else gets the idea. Its weird- being smart and not coming across as smart. Like for example, I know that most of the sensible cream of the youth today likes only select movies, movies with sensibility, a storyline. But noone seems to write it. Is it tht they don’t like to disclose it? Is it tht they don’t want to show it? Wht are they afraid of? U should be proud of being sensible! I don’t get it- maybe they want to, but cant. Hmmmphhhahaha...sounds rather funny.

What is a concept? In design, practically everyone seems to start with a ‘concept’...that’s first thing we say when we start explaining the creases we’ve made on the paper. “My concept is to continue the greenery...”, “basically im trying to realize the movement patterns of the people inhabiting the area...”, “ the main idea behind my design is that im placing this in the rural context and reacting to the temple...”. To any ordinary person, would it not sound like an excuse to justify the design? Why would anybody possibly pick one of the ten thousand and three implications of the site/climate/function? Why single out one thing?

I like reading the harry potter books. And so do twenty five million people in the world. I don’t know if the reasons of liking are the same. They couldn’t possibly be. People are different, u see. Somehow I feel that these set of books have so many layers above the primary understanding of ‘children’s fantasy books’. I love the way she writes, the commas, semi colons, the capitals. Im in love with the way she has realized emotions and reactions by alphabets. I love the idea of someone not knowing anything whatsoever about his own world, and the entire thing unfolding to him. Same here. Noone told me what architecture is. Nobody can. I didn’t know what topics I would study in my third semester. I don’t know what subjects I will be studying in my seventh semester. In the harry potter books, I can see that rowling is trying to make us understand life’s choices; they cannot be made for you, they have to be made by you. Even if you are the chosen one. Being famous is one thing, but coping with it is another. People think that if they’re famous, their life is made. With great power comes great responsibility. Not everybody can handle it. I understand that now.

I must make a new phone number list. That would be the third, if I made it. It is becoming less and less important, the telephone, what with all the electronic substitutes. I don’t call everyone who pictures on the list. There are plenty of additions to the list in the informal way, in colour pencil, pen, sketch-pen, et al. I do use a wide variety of markers.

Paper. Pencil. Pen.
The sound of a pencil scratching a hand-made paper, the thinness of paper- its two-dimensional existence, the random scribbles of pen on a butter paper, the deep scratches made by a three-h pencil on board, the non straightness of lines in a sketch, the sounds of a pencil turning inside a sharpner, the beauty of holding a pencil- bending it to ur mind...
i cannot live without these.
They are my vocabulary.
They give me my most unique identity.

I’m the spontaneous kind; I do things that sound completely mad, and I love myself for it. It is the only thing in life that is exciting. People tend to give in to the rush hour and lose themselves in the hurry of making it on time. Suddenly no one seems to think it great to have friends from school; it is greater to stay up months together for gre. It’s cool to be too busy to care; too busy borrowing books heavier than themselves to spend time with their friends on their birthday. We’re heading towards mumbai, I think. Wonder if we can find a way to keep in mind what matters to us more than green notes.

I’ve always thought it stupid to write a diary. I don’t remember exactly why. Quite an interesting hobby it is, though, to read what you’ve written earlier. It sounds mad- being excited about reading your own story, written by- again- yourself. Diaries give us a sense of time more than anything else, I think, because otherwise time is just trying its hardest to slip away, unnoticed. Wonder what it is that we celebrate on birthdays, the passing of time or the closeness of death?

I don’t like to feel fear; I would know it is fear that I am feeling and I hate it. I hate getting scared by the test tomorrow; the presence of something unexplainable; the idea of walking in the dark on the streets. It is quite unlike me to get scared of something simple like the prospect of taking a tablet, but I do. I hate the sensation of ‘swallowing’. I hate feeling scared of a huge dog, hoping that it just wouldn’t jump...i am quite uncomfortable with the idea of unforgiveness, even though I must never have gotten any close to pinching anyone. I am scared of not aiming high enough; that is the one thing that could destroy you...i must learn. What exactly, I do not know.

I think I have fairly good communication skills. But of late, I have realized that I do get stuck up a lot of times. I say ‘umm..’ and ‘er..’ more often than I would like to say them. My vocabulary consists of no more than twenty words. I dare not write; my spellings could kill- literally. Wonder if reading might help. Most people say it does. How the hell did I get this far without reading then?! It must be talent, just the beginning. I must put in more effort. I care, but I don’t understand what exactly im waiting for.