I saw three movies in the last four days.

Yesterday night I went up to the terrace to bring down the clothes that were hung out to dry. It’s a nice place, my terrace- has a lovely view of the lake close to my home, and a continuous breeze. It’s most wonderful at night. I was almost done, and suddenly I heard someone singing. It was a beautiful voice; I couldn’t recognize the hindi song- someone’s fingers on the tabla supported the wonderful sound..I was simply rooted at the spot for a whole minute- felt strangely satisfied. I hope it’s not someone from my ‘pichla janam’, calling out to me..! :)

Smitha says she didn’t like staying in the US because the place has no ‘character’. She says that every lane, every block, and every city is the very same! In India, though, things are VERY different. Each Indian city feels, looks, and smells different. Or maybe did.

I hate medicines. I hate having to swallow tablets; I STRONGLY believe in the ability of the human body to repair itself. :)

The basic idea of ISKCON is to try and get all human form to realize its most basic purpose. Now they say that human life goes beyond the ‘circle of life and death’, and the basic aim of life should be the understanding of HOW to get away from this endless cycle. The questions, they say, have to be evoked; and this is not going to happen while we’re busy earning a living. The concept of God, as I understand it, comes only later- that God knows the way out of this cycle, and we should hence worship and love him to be given direction. I wonder if this is the fundamental point of ALL faith. All religion. Darwin’s theory is not too different from the journey of Vishnu and his incarnations on earth- both speak of the evolving form of life. I wonder what will happen if we ‘understand all’. Life won’t be exciting no more, eh? :)

Smitha almost bought me a whole stationary shop back from ammmeeerikaa...Not that those things are GREAT, but that they are not so easily available here. Very small things; new things. It’s very hard to explain to someone WHAT to bring when want ALL stationery- hehehe- but she took it well, and did a wonderful job! :)

My room being on the ground floor is like the worst boon ever. Half the things that fill it up are things that have no specific appointed place in the rest of the house, and conveniently find ‘perfect’ place in my room. Newspaper stacks, extra large and rarely used utensils, the vacuum cleaner, phone directories, guest bed sheets, first aid kit, post office stuff, etc are just some off the list. No wonder all of MY stuff falls off onto the ground!

Pink is officially the colour of the semester. Certainly.

I don’t know what the problem is with being specific. If someone asks me for the time, I like to be accurate. If someone asks me for the dimension of the tile, I like to be specific. ‘How long do you think this rope is?’—‘Hmmm...Maybe one and quarter metre?’. People frown at me when I give them accurate dimensions. For example, this rope- my brain is telling me that it’s longer than a metre, but not long enough to be one and a half times a metre; thus roughly, it should be one and a quarter. Simple. WHY do people look at me like I were a freak when I do that? They say I am ‘too specific’! It’s the ladder case that my mother talks about.

I want to learn the violin all over again. Damn. I wonder why we get these obsessions in cycles- quarterly, monthly, and the like. I guess this is a different form of ‘hype’.

While watching the cricket match yesterday, I realized that a certain patch of grass was tailored to advertise- the amusing part being that these cater to the audiences watching from their homes--The written matter was looking perpendicular to the camera (which made an angle of about 40 degrees with the ground plane). I wonder how they plot these points on the ground before they start painting.

I have to start getting my portfolio together. I know that its going to be last minute again- and I want to avoid that. But somehow, I can see it coming.

The guy behind the counter at the bakery today gave me a look of surprise when I moved back in horror in reaction to sniffing a chicken roll. My egg puff, in the meanwhile, was getting packed. He said, ‘How come u eat and egg and not chicken?’. It took me more than a second to realize that this guy knows both, that- I am vegetarian, AND that I eat egg. And he didn’t have to do anything to learn it. Just do his job. It’s funny, how much people gather about us, just by working for/around/with us. My kaka-angadi uncle at college knows that I stay far away from college, that I play volleyball for the team, and that I love samosa. The guy at the service station knows how much I travel on my bike everyday, what kind of roads I ride on, has my complete address and contact number (voluntarily given, too!). If anyone was to track me down, it would be dead easy, I guess. But then, sometimes, we just lose touch with people we once knew, and cannot trace them later- much like my case- I have continuously been searching for a primary school friend of mine...I have not been able to contact him in the last 10 years.. All I need is ONE number- just those digits- soo easy, yet impossible. We live in a funny world.

I am amused by how differently I have started addressing time- earlier it was about yesterday, last week, a year back or maximum two years back. These days, I refer to and think of the times I have lived a decade ago.

Its funny, really, how much of a surety it is that I am going to die one day; it is something that cannot be changed, modified or re-arranged- it’s THE universal truth. I don’t know why it is a ‘taboo’ topic in a general conversation. Also, talking about the ‘meaning of life’ and the like invite not opinions but frowns- people who talk like that are generally looked at as ‘psychos’. We’re just one weird race. I think someone should tell 'God’. Hehe...

I saw the trailer or ‘taare zameen par’ today. I cannot find a word for it. Probably a mix of genius, perfection and simplicity- yeah, I think that would be it. What a spectacular time it is to live our lives- we are moving, and aamir khan is no longer ‘ahead of his time’- the time is here.

I hate it when I don’t get credit for being good at things- my mom says ‘It’s simply in the genes’. Aarghh. ‘Did u win a debating competition? You had to; of course, your dad was such a natural at it!’ ‘Oh so you won the singing competition? Of course, your dad’s love for music has made your ear sensitive to the sounds-’ ‘Are you the volleyball captain? You simply HAD to be! Your mother was, too!’ ‘Do you stich? Do you knit? Do you apply mehendi? Are you good at studies? Do you have good communication skills? AAARGHH. Same answer. ‘Gift’. ‘Hereditary’. My mom tells me that all that I am is simply a product of her skills and intelligence passed down. That is so depressing! I have not done ANYTHING that my mom hasn’t already excelled at. There is nothing LEFT to, either. Sometimes I think I’m no good. Damn.

I used to think that warming up before actually playing volleyball was a waste of time. It was beyond me, WHY our coach wanted us to simply run around the ground, stretch our limbs and jump as high as we could above the net- only to get exhausted before we even picked up the ball! Having only two hours of practice, I used to hate ‘wasting’ the first hour running in 6 different ways. I used to associate warm-up with those teams which were really ‘good’, and could afford to waste time in walking on their toes around the court. Hehe...I was wrong.

I hate waiting for inspiration to ‘hit’.

Narration is such a skill. It requires such intimate understanding of human psychology! Also, there are types. And kinds.(I never really understood the difference between the two anyway) Narrations meant for kids, I think, have to be most intelligent. Imagine trying to catch the attention of a 6 year old! Although I never read ANY books at that age, I am positive some actually do. Also, it makes for such a wonderful reading when the narration is crisp and witty. And when the narrator uses words in a way to make it seem like they were actually invented for that sentence, it makes for an exceptional experience. Beautiful.

I had an interesting conversation with a stranger today. I heard his voice first, impatiently trying to be calm- and making an effort (in vain, it looked to me-) to make his junior at work understand the importance of time. Smartly dressed and waiting for his turn in the queue to drop off his vehicle for servicing, I gathered that he was having a rough morning. ‘Monday mornings are the worst-’, he said in a very bad attempt at keeping his anger within controllable levels. Poor chap. Looked like he had a LOT of work to finish this morning, and he could NOT accept that he was standing here in the mad queue instead. He could not believe what was happening-did not WANT to believe, actually- when a couple of guys jumped the queue- I could clearly see the disappointment in his voice- ‘What’s the use of having a system, if we don’t follow it??’...This is what happens everywhere; this is India. It is a land where people do not 'succumb' to rules...the average intelligence level of a general citizen is higher- people think it an insult to be told to ‘follow’. Everyone uses his own cunningness to escape/ surpass; everyone finds a way. The ones who wait are the ones who care. I think we should just give it the time.

Yesterday I went to BDA complex in banashankari after a long time. We used to go there as kids- my brother and I used to slide down the thick walls along the steps. Those days the place was very under-developed; much like what the HSR layout complex stands today. We used to walk all the way there -every night- the one hour of load shedding (dunno exact spelling, hehe..) time well spent- looking at the Barbie dolls on the display panels, watching the excited faces of kids on small rides, observing the guy in the flower shop making a bouquet while my parents bought vegetables, trying to get dad to buy us gems without actually saying it- for the fear of being yelled at; and thinking of how to overtake my brother’s walk on the way back home...We celebrated the opening of every new shop in the deserted complex... It was like a victory of a bizarre kind...Small things used to lift our spirits; we didn’t need to watch movies or buy clothes we could not afford. Some things change, some don’t.

I have to learn to ‘let go’. I tend to think and re-think about small matters; things that don’t matter that much- things that some don’t even recognize. Also, I must stop expecting things from people. It will probably take off a LOT of junk from my brain. But then again, I would hate it if people didn’t expect anything from me. I would be dissapointed if people I am close to didn’t care if I was good at something or not- and if I sucked at something or not... I think how much is expected of you is directly proportional to how much you are cared for. Maybe.

The population of china is greater than that of India by an amount (almost) equal to the population of US. Bizarre?

I watched a show called ‘jhalak dikhlaa jaa’ on TV yesterday. Not bad. I was thinking that if I was one of the judges, I wouldn’t be so loose with the words, though. Their comments weren’t specific; they were simply using words like ‘fabulous’, ‘wonderful’, ‘fantastic’- they might as well have read out from a thesaurus. When this program went in for a commercial break, we switched to another program, a singing competition. I realized that the judges there, too, were generalizing their comments- I was disappointed. I watched on, nonetheless. Then came the turn of two guys, and together they sang the old song- ‘Laaga chunari mein daag’...I simply loved the performance. It was beautiful; it was one of the best I have ever heard. When the turn of the comments came, the judges started again- ‘fantastic’, ‘fabulous’, and ‘wonderful’. Such a pity. The words seem so diluted; so shallow. I would really be more careful with my words if I were a judge on that stage.

Sometimes I feel bad for ‘non-sportspersons’-- the ones who miss half the fun in life, and don’t even know it. They don’t know what it is like to play a tournament as a team- how it is to feel thrilled by the first win; how it is to almost lose and emerge victorious... We all watch sports; we enjoy screaming and cheering on. But does everyone know how it feels like to be there on the field, actually playing? I do. It’s brilliant. I know how it feels to lose to a home crowd- I will never forget that moment, never. I will never forget that wave of bursting applause- meant not for us, but them... I will never forget how nothing else matters when you’re on court- the heat, the crowd, the noise, the dust or the hooting; only the volleyball does. I know how it feels to have almost given up playing, and then getting the chance to play once again- once last time..I will not give this up for anything in the world.

At what point in time did advertisements become ‘unreal’? Why do we react to most commercials saying ‘Oh, that’s not how it really looks.’ When advertising started, ages ago, did it mean selling your product under fake/exaggerated characteristics? Let’s look at hair shampoo ads today. Most of them show digital hair moving like a smooth, cascading, shiny mass. We all know it’s fake. Isn’t that irritating? But then again, there are some really good ads. The old complan ad, where a small boy takes his mom as a pillion on his cycle- was one wonderful ad. Then there are ads which are witty; I like the sprite ads...It makes me wonder if we will ever come back to ‘simple’ days.

Every single bone in my body hurts. I am currently moving around the house like a groaning grandma...it’s the volleyball. But then again, I could not feel better. Whatever that means. :)

Does ‘politically correct’ mean having no opinion? Or not saying it?

I cannot stand it when an electrical switch is on in an empty room. It drives my brother mad. It used to irritate me, too, when my dad used to do the same- but now I think I have been bitten, too. once bitten, no cure. :)

My mother just does not realize, I think, that she continuously comments on every perceivable thing in life. It’s not an observation, mind- it’s a comment. Be in driving on the road, watching a movie, or even eating at a restaurant. It’s the WORST when we’re following a match. GOD, her commentating follows the commentators on TV. Sometimes, she is even commenting ON the commentators. It makes for bizarre entertainment combined with periodic bursts of frustration. They make excellent memories, though. Someone once told me, ‘In your life, you will always remember things that you didn’t do, more than the ones u did.’ No connection, but just remembered.

Time is one thing we take for granted in life. We all think we have our ‘entire’ lives left to live still- so what’s the hurry? These thoughts come to my head every time something drastic happens to people around me; its just that every time something like this happens, I realise that we're not spending as much time doing what we really want to do/ what matters more to us...there are stupid things that get in the way and we live by their rules...‘She didn’t call me back, so I am not talking to her’, ‘He insulted me’, and the like. Why do we not live life with the bigger picture? Why are we always fighting and arguing with the ones we love most? Even worse, we never let them know how important they are to us. I think we should be able to take the time to say the words- you don’t want to be too late...And no one knows when it could be too late. Hmm...

I watched ‘sur’ yesterday. Good concept. Terrible acting, though.

I love the Ally Mcbeal show. It’s so wonderfully crazy. I really appreciate the creative forces behind the series; it must take a psycho genius to come up with all that...I used to watch it when I was a kid- I didn’t understand it then- it is only now that I ‘get’ it. Maybe I’ve grown up to be a psycho genius too! :D

Who said only the ‘intelligent’ can be creative? Some of the most desperate and drastic attempts of ‘bad’ students to pass in written exams bring out a spectacular side- I saw some answer scripts that can drive any examiner into a state of continuous fits. Hahaha...real funny, the answers- excessively creative, I can say :)

I think I will go to lalbagh alone this time. I want to go simply for the times that I spent there; I want to go remember the crazy things we did every week- I want to go there and smile to myself; I want to go and sit under the same tree and on the same hillock- and just feel surrounded by those who made a difference to my little life.

I am addicted to this Arabic song that a good friend of mine gifted to me. (Gift for no occasion, but I’m NOT complaining, hehe..) Both of us have NO idea what the song says- but it is immensely soothing. No, not soothing. Maybe ‘passionate’. I don’t seem to be able to give it a word...Every time I try to ‘sing’ the song, what is audible is more a complicated hum- to a stranger it might even sound as a mumble. Should be careful not to sing it in public! Hehe...

Watching a cricket match in India is not only about watching the cricket. It’s the atmosphere it creates- it’s the enjoyment of a range of emotion- right from the maddening frustration when our fielders miss a catch, right up to the one over when our batsman hits six sixes. People aren’t the same when they’re watching a India- Pakistan world cup final. The entire country has bitti advice to give. Everyone thinks they can strategize/bat/bowl/field/jump/catch better. Oh and we’re pessimistic. Extremely. It takes us only a moment to disown the team after Sachin’s dismissal. It doesn’t take us time to write off the team when they’re 35/2, chasing 307 in an ODI. We’re a cricket crazy nation. Also, we’re all mad.

I am a meticulous neat freak. When I draft on my sheets, I cannot stand even one line out of the place; my sheet MUST be clean. Else it drives me crazy. I use 3H pencils for construction lines, and then a 2B for darkening. I don’t think I have ever used a lead softer than that- it just makes both the hand and the sheet greasy. The contours must be accurate; the lines must be parallel, and the desk must be wiped. Doesn’t help too much, this.

“Riding everyday on traffic filled roads can make your life miserable.” Not really. When I am on the road inside my helmet, I form a very comfortable and sealed environment; I feel like I am surrounded not by honking cars, but by my thoughts. I sing loudly inside- makes for a truly entertaining ride- for both stunned onlookers and I. Hehe...It’s even better when it’s raining. I don’t see the point in waiting for the rain to stop- I carry on- the jacket and helmet complete the boundaries of my little world. You can pass by people huddled under a small roof overhang- as if they, not me, were the spectacle! All this, only as long as I am NOT carrying a zillion sheets, my bag, a model or/and drawing instruments. The fun lies in another sphere then. :)

I can’t cook. It drives my mom crazy.

I gave one stack of clothes for stitching recently, but I seemed to have managed to accumulate ANOTHER stack- currently in ‘design stage’. Gee..I am very religiously ‘studying’ the two books on fashion that I bought; they’re so expensive that I MUST. Hehe..

Why do we ‘worship’ God? Is it that we are so in awe of his ‘powers’ that we bow in front of him? Is it that we hope for such a stature in society? Or is it that we are scared of him; afraid that his anger could destroy our earthly lives? Are we trying to keep him pleased? Or is it that we think of him as a source of ‘inhuman’ strength, and ask for favours? Do we ask for things that we cannot mend, understand, or help? What is God’s job description?

All our bollywood movies are in Hindi language; our RASHTRA BHASHA. But then, ALL the titles are in English! It’s a bit incoherent, I think- even the short forms are in English alphabets- DDLJ, K3G, RHTDM...But its not like that in kannada movies. All the titles are in kannada language...‘Mungaaru Male’ in English looks so funny, while ‘Swades’ written in English is normal. Something is wrong.

I love carbon (tracing) paper. I have been using it a lot lately- tracing out contours for my site model. Every time I trace a contour, the lines remain on the tracing paper; there are layers and layers of lines, shapes and forms- they contain so much history...on one particular sheet, I could see the remains of the site boundaries of my fifth and sixth semester work- ready to merge with the lines from my thesis project; the culmination.

“Staring at the blank page before you,
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you,
Only you can let it in..
No one else can speak
The words on your lips-
Drench yourself in words unspoken,
Live your life with arms wide open..
Today is where your book begins-
The rest is still unwritten.”

I went to Deepak (my tailor) today for ‘tailoring class’. I want to learn how to cut cloth- so I went to the one person who I know can. It’s not easy to be around him- it’s like an eternal state of panic; he has submission every hour! In one minute’s time, he cuts the sleeves for a dress that is already into stitching, receives two phone calls- one from angry auntie asking for due date; and the other from anxious auntie asking for her lost material, yells at his assistant for not shrinking the lining cloth, attends to a customer looking for directions, and receives a delivery from the embroidery department. Phew. And this is what he does every minute of the day. Psycho. And I went up to him asking for tailoring ‘lessons’. Hehe...All I could do was to sit in front of him, and somehow, learn something on his way to make ends meet. I learnt a lot, though. Only he’s too fast for me to register everything in just one sitting. I hope to go back- next week. Hard life, it is.

Lot of time on hand these days...somehow when you have plenty of it, time does seem to not accommodate 2000 things; I hardly realize how an entire day goes away in just lounging about in the house. When I think of all that I managed to do in the same time span last year, it amuses me.

I have started posting in my blog every alternate day. But when I write in my diary, I don’t write with the intent of posting it all; I constantly remind myself that it is my diary, and I will write whatever I feel like writing in it- the blog is just a part of the diary. I think that’s why there is no pressure when I am typing; I am still writing with the same ‘innocence’ as before. And also the fact that my blog is not real-time with my diary helps, too.

Some time back, on my way to college, I saw this poster on the rear glass of a car- ‘My wife keeps saying that I never listen to what she says...or something like that.’ Hahaha...I laughed all the way to college that day; felt so cheerful- the traffic didn’t bother me at all. Humor is such a wonderful gift.

I always wanted to be 5’8” tall. Just missed it. One inch. Tch tch. Come to think of it, I don’t remember having too many ‘I want to be’s as a child. Only the height thing. No, not even ‘I want to be rich!’. Not as badly as I wanted to be tall. Hehe...

Back in pre-university, some things about physics used to bug me. I used to hate the fact that when something is unexplainable, it becomes a ‘property’. It felt like an excuse or something. Even now, it’s unsettling. Also, I never really understood the theory behind Avogadro’s number. Really.

Why are some people closer to us than others? Why are we more comfortable with certain friends and not so comfortable with some others? Why do we get excited to speak to some people and try to avoid some others? Why do we wait hours for a moment’s time with some and never even for a moment for some others? What distinguishes our relationships with people? Personality only? What if it’s not about personality alone? Like someone once said, ‘Eighty percent of all that you say isn’t coming out of your mouth.’ What is it that makes us feel warm in a certain friend’s presence? How is ‘attraction’ explained? Why do we love some while dislike others? Is it a human ‘property’?

‘Self sufficiency is economic suicide.’

Indian temple history is so exciting. It’s amazing to read all about the beginnings of imagery; the mask that spirit possessions brought to a village, was in fact the origin of the ‘image’ that a temple houses. How the processional ratha (cart) of the last rites of the dead was the starting point of the shikhara/vimana, and how the temple ritual changed from sacrificed blood drinking to smearing of red powder to an idol. How tribal origins and elements were sanskritised, borrowing from the brahmanical north; how the temple structure was a simple implication of the material in use. Beautiful. It feels good to know more about our temples than just to visit them as tourists.

I hate ‘small talk’. It’s extremely irritating when conversation gets shallow; “Oh hi...are you doing good?” “Yes, yes, I am doing well, thanks.” Grrr...

While writing in slam books, I like to write specific things. I like to remember how I interacted with that person, what we spoke about, and how much it meant to me. And when you write a parting message for someone, I think it is important that you be specific. How else will the person remember you? By saying “I had a great time on this trip, and I hope we keep in touch.” ??? Or by saying “I would like to continue the debate we had of socialism Vs capitalism some day...I had great fun imitating sir- you make a terrific partner-in-crime!” I like it when people write specifics in my memory book- I like the one I made in 2 PUC. All wonderful entries; but I like Sandesh’s the best. Very himself- no pretence; no extra colouring for the sake of it- just very true and in-the-face. Vinay’s entry, too.

Most of my friends are boys. It has always been the case- right from primary school all the way till now. I wonder why.

Capitalism. Hmm...

I miss physics. I love physics. The only subject close to it during my architectural education was ‘structures’. In structures we studied the strength of materials; calculated the load carrying capacities of beams, columns, footings, and the various effects of load. It was interesting, but somehow not my idea of physics. Physics is the basic understanding of our surroundings; it is how we are trying to cope up, understand and classify all that is happening next to us. Wonderful. Physics shouldn’t be a textbook. It’s the physical explanation of life; as simple as that. When I was younger, I used to crib while learning the ‘applications’ of all ‘laws’. I understand it now- without application, we wouldn’t be interested in it in the first place. ‘Laws’ are for us to simplify and rationalize; application is the basic aim of study of the subject. Textbooks should be re-written to help understand this.

This is what I wrote for a psycho friend as a parting-gift on behalf of the lalbagh gang... all fiction, mind-(He was moving to a city an hour’s journey from Bangalore :)

“Varun’s life is an entertaining (not for him, but for us) journey with innumerable ‘avatars’ as we call them- having risen from the streets as a beggar to a waiter, all the way up to the inventor of the ‘all new!- table tennis in a squash court’- Varun has seen and done it all. (We all firmly disagree.) This flight to success has seen unprecedented support from all his friends (we all firmly agree) - “It was all because of my friends that I got this far”, he finally admits at gunpoint. He still owes us approximately 200 billion treats at corner house. His mind blowing success has landed him at the front page of ‘no-time’ magazine, the most prestigious offering yet. And to think that it all began with a simple idea (given by architect amrita kulkarni, which he claims as his own) - buy spiky chappals for a birthday gift! Also, the priceless t shirt painted for a friend is on display at the London museum for ‘crap-from-street’, one of the most celebrated museums in the world. “I knew it would be an instant hit the second I stole...err…made it.” His obsession with the ‘foot’ has led to innumerable discoveries of the pig’s foot- (very moving, indeed) Also, his love for the beach helped him prove that sand, in fact, has life. (Although it comes as no surprise that only the sand believes him). In his college days, he claims to have lived the best days of his life- (thanks to us, cause we didn’t kill him-). A passion for modeling speaks- “I’ve always known that the modeling world would kill for material like me-” (sure. Kill, definitely, after suicide!)”

“I have traveled across the length and breadth of India, and I have not seen one person who is a beggar, who is a thief. Such wealth I have seen in this country, such high moral values, people of such caliber, that I do not think we would ever conquer this country, unless we break the very backbone of this nation, which is her spiritual and cultural heritage, and therefore, I propose that we replace her old and ancient education system, her culture, for if the Indians think that all that is foreign and English is good and greater than their own, they will lose their self esteem, their native self culture, and they will become what we want them, a truly dominated nation”. This was an address delivered to the British parliament by Lord Macaulay in 1835. (Some say the parliament part is made-up). In any case, we know the truth is not too far from it. The question remains- If we were once so rich, why are we now poor?

I just realized that very often, we use the plural of various physical units in our daily lives. “I ran a hundred metres.”, “I am carrying 3 kgs of rice”, “The lizard is only 11cms long!”. From what I remember, I don’t think SI units have plural(s ?). It is 100m, 8kg, and 11cm. Simple mistakes.

I am addicted to Vaseline. Lip balm, rather. Ice cream, too. Food, rather. :)

The best part of the every Sunday lalbagh walk is the 10km ride to the park. I start at 6 in the morning, and it takes me 25min to reach. Lovely. The sun rises on my way. There are hardly any vehicles on the road...all along the way, the streets are deserted; but it is not dismal- there is life. Somehow, you can feel it- that this place is going to come alive in a couple of hour’s time. Wonderful times. I don’t think I have too many of these left on me- must grab them.

I am so sleepy. I was continuously working on the computer all of yesterday, slept for 2 hours last night, went to college for a review today, after which joined friends to watch a movie.(the movie was sooo bad, I cannot begin-). And now, I am finally back home after a not-so-bad ride on hosur road. But I feel strangely cheerful. This has been a busy day after a long time. I am rather jobless these days because of the free time I get outside just two-days-a-week at college. It’s somehow better to have a million things to do, and never the time to finish it all, than to lay around the house with not much to do. No matter what, this free time that I will enjoy for this semester is something that will never be available to me for the rest of my life(unless I become a housewife)- so for the better or worse, this ‘joblessness’ is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Let’s take in as much air as we can gulp.

I have to find new ways of making trees for my models in design. Every time, I do the same thing- parke kaddi(stick) for the trunk, and thick paper cut-outs for the green. The problem with this is that the tree cannot be perceived in an ant’s eye perspective- there is no volume of green! It is only one horizontal plane resting on top of the vertical stick! Although when photographed from the bird’s eye, the model looks good. I have seen good forms of trees with the weirdest of materials; must try this time. ‘Time’...

I bumped into Vinay and Varun at corner house last week. It was awesome; we’ve been planning to meet for the past year, I think- but something or the other came up. Vinay looks very different now; he’s lost lot of weight, and feels like he’s more comfortable with himself now...But otherwise, he’s the SAME! Goodness, the jokes are the same; I spent more time talking to them than eating ice cream!(which is a BIG ask!) remembering Vinay’s side of PUC was unbelievable fun; he has been upto a lot of things unknown to us nerds. Hehe...

I was recently called ‘bizarrely honest’. I LOVE the adjective! :)

There is nowhere left to go on a weekend. Everywhere you go, it’s crowded- there is nowhere you can go without spending money. And lots of it, on a weekend. Even if you want to meet up with friends to just talk, you have to go to a café or something- no place at first, and once you do get place, there is a line waiting for you to leave. Hate it. I heard recently that some people who just want to catch up with friends, go to graveyards. Spooky. Earlier when we hung out in school, we used to go to each other’s places- chat there for hours together- we knew each other’s parents well, too! I don’t ever remember anything involving money at all!

September is here already! Lots of birthdays in September. Once upon a time I used to dread this month- because it meant that lot of money is about to be spent on joint gifts to all the birthday girls/guys. Not anymore. I don’t think I am going to be buying anybody anything, let alone as a combined gift. No more ‘group’ left.

My dad says that if something has to be famous, it has to have something that everyone wants. It cannot be something YOU want, even if it’s yours, but something THEY want. Can nothing be accepted the way it is?

There is a road in Bangalore called Lavelle Road. I wonder which language this is. What if it means ‘death-trap’ road or something like that in swedish? hehe...

I have started understanding cloth and its characteristics- texture, fall, fineness, drape- its wonderful, really- its almost like it were a living thing. Each texture reacts to the human body differently- and differently altogether to a dining table. God, there are sooo many kinds of fabrics around us; each with its own bracket of usability. Cutting cloth is even more exciting- you can go crazy trying to keep it under control.. I must, must learn the art...

Ironing clothes is such a waste. Within twenty minutes of wear, it is going to crease anyway. Specially these days, when you have to travel the world before you reach the destination. What’s the point? Same with making the bed in the morning. Let alone the point, I see no reference axes.

The word document that I am writing in has a black background. Even all my autocad files have a black background. Somehow they’re easier to work on. What is amazing is that there is only one colour which is just as bright on a white background as it is on a black one. RED. I somehow like the colour. It stands for a lot of things- bold, dangerous, blood, scary, rich, luxury. Luxury and blood are very different responses to the same thing, don’t you think?

Oh my poor mom- how she loves to sing! She also has an incredible knowledge on the subject. The saddest thing, though, is that she just CANNOT sing. No, not at all. Nowhere close. If someone put pitch, tone, and melody into a box, juggle it real hard, and force out the contents within human frequency of hearing, that would be it. Yeah. But I really, really appreciate the honesty with which she ignores our pleas to stop. Hehe...If only God would have given her the voice...tch tch...Well in that sense, God is almost great- gave her the interest, the art of appreciation, the sensitivity of the ear, and also the incredible memory. But no, not the voice. pity.