Reflections of a restless eccentric

In the midst of one of our midnight conversations,I asked her:"Do you think I'm strong?How do I react in the face of adversity?" I'd like to hear her opinion on this. Here's what she told me. Inner strength is the most important thing in life.It's what defines people.However,just as people are different,the foundations behind their strength also vary. The first kind of inner strength is materialistic in origin.It comes from the feeling of assurance you get from all the comforts of life--money,position,power,wealth.This is the most transient of them all.There will come a time in life, (in fact,many a time),when you're deprived of all this.Immediately,you lose your strength as well.Your problems seem insurmountable because the very source of your strength is part of the problem. The second kind comes from people.The trust you place in someone.The belief that they'll never let you down.There will comes times in life when the people y

I come from a background of working parents.A year after I was born,my mom wanted to get back to work.My parents approached both my maternal and paternal grandparents to take care of me for a year or two,but both sides refused.(When I was told of this as a kid,I felt unloved and abandoned.In retrospect,however,I see it as a big blessing.There's nothing I cherish more than my independence and space.)So,I grew up in solitude.While most other kids were being fed by their mothers,my mom taught me to eat on my own.She taught me everything I needed to carry on my daily activities.At two,I knew how to operate the washing machine,warm up my food and a lot more. I'm setting the stage for the story--I'm giving you an idea of what my life was like so that you understand what I'm going to say better. My mom used to take me to her clinic whenever circumstances permitted,but for most of the day,I'd be alone.Back then,I was an early bird.I used to be the first one awak

Warning:This is rather dark.Read only if you wish to.I write because I need to.It's cathartic.You,on the other hand,have an option not to read:) I was 4 and she was 1.My mom had asked me to take care of her.She lay in the cradle,sound asleep.I sat by her,watching her.Suddenly, she rolled over.The jerkiness of the movement tilted the makeshift cradle and almost overturned it.I realized,in horror,that she would topple to the ground any moment.I tried to hold her,but she was too heavy for me.I frantically called out for my mom,all the while feeling the strain in my arms.She immediately came running and took over the baby from me.She smiled at me."Your sister could have been hurt very badly if it weren't for your presence of mind."I looked at her and smiled.I realised that I loved her.My sister. She has a vacant gaze in her eyes.I hand her a cup of coffee.Her hands shake a lot.She ends up spilling half the coffee.She drinks what's left of it and tries to stand up.

I have to struggle to find my way.Not only outdoors,but also indoors.:P I've long since concluded that my hippocampus doesn't work.Other people seem to put no effort into this:they just walk around and magically find their way.I,on the other hand,literally need a ball of twine to leave behind so that I can come back.I memorize twists and turns,and yet when I try and find my way out,I inevitably get lost.In those initial days,my college was my worst nightmare.Innumerable blocks,with confusing elevator levels and maze-like interconnections.Needless to say,I've gotten lost a lot of times:P However,this isn't about me. I was waiting for someone.On a particular floor in a particular block,which by now, I've forgotten.I see someone I know walking past me.There's a blank wall facing me.Nothing else.He stares hard at the blank wall,as if puzzled by something.I find this weird and therefore interesting,so I stare at the wall too,to see what he's looking for.He tur

We were working on the 7th floor in the Apex Block.Ramya says"You guys continue working.I'll go get the printouts and xeroxes for us." Makes sense.There's no point in three of us going to get the same thing done. She gathers up all the required books and leaves.Two minutes later,she's back.She looks annoyed."The lift isn't working.I had to take the stairs.I forgot my wallet" she says.I'm mildly amused,but given that she's forgotten her bag,this is quite what I expect.She ignores our smiles and walks away. Five minutes later,she's back again.She's panting.Obviously because she's gone up and down the seven flights of stairs twice. I wonder what it is this time! "Your pen drive"She says knowing what I'm about to ask.I can't help but laugh.This time we ensure that she has her wallet,books and pen drive before sending her off. Half an hour later,she's back with an armload of photcopies.She's visibly exh

Vidya has loads of hilarious anecdotes.She used to tell us during free periods and we'd laugh till our eyes stung with tears.I wish I remembered all of them--I actually do but just the outlines.Maybe I'll ask her to narrate them sometime.But this one is really unforgettable! Worth writing about :D Italics for thoughts.I find it annoying to use quotes sometimes. One ordinary day.Vidya had to meet a bunch of her friends at Sankey.She rode her brother's scooter that day.She met her friends and they had a good time.For some reason,she found it annoying to keep her helmet inside,so she just walked around with the helmet all along. It's time to leave.She offers to drop her friend.She puts on her helmet,starts the vehicle and begins her journey.Sometime later,her friend asks her "Why is there a Ganesha photo hanging from the mirror on your vehicle?"She ponders over this. Weird I hadn't noticed.My mom must have put it there ,she concludes.She replies "

If you tell me something funny about someone,the odds are,the next time I see them,that's the first thing I'm going to remember. Sush,Ramya,Sam and I were at the canteen eating ice-cream.(I think ice-cream was what we ate most often from the canteen.Come summer,winter or rainy season.)Ramya had just finished telling us some funny story about a guy(let's call him Y).We were still laughing,when I see him entering the canteen. "I think he's heard your story Ramya.He seems to be heading our way",I joke.She panics and turns around.He notices that.I laugh! And then,horror of horrors, he's actually heading towards our table! I freak out this time.I warn Ramya and tell her not to turn around. He comes to us.He says "Hi.I wanted to ask you about the portions for blah-blah subject." There's nothing funny about that,but I remember the story she's just told me about him.And start laughing.Ramya can't help but join me.Sam and Sush stare at

This was told to me by Sush. Somewhere in the 6th semester,I think.One of these lab internals was going on.She was busy writing when she hears someone calling my name in a hushed whisper. She's puzzled.She very well knows I'm not in their lab batch.She continues writing.She again hears my name.This time,curiosity gets the better of her. She turns around to find that a guy is calling her by my name:D.He's forgotten the circuit or formula and is calling her desperately,hoping that she'll help.He's still confused why she took five minutes to turn around.:D Of course,she's too scared to help and turns back.She told me he kept calling out for another ten minutes before he gave up. She tells me about this the next day in class and we both laugh.The thought that someone could confuse us tickles our funny bones. She says "He's been in our class for 3 years and he still doesn't know our names!" I ask"What's his name?" I'

One afternoon,we were at some workshop/seminar.When it ended,there was a huge crowd trying to leave the hall all at once.I walked ahead reasoning that I'd get past the crowd and then wait for my friends to join me. My strides are quite long(I was called the roadrunner because of this.I'm told I walk quite fast:P),so in a minute I was out of the hall.I hear Ramya calling me,so I turn around and look.What I see is quite-funny.She's holding up the end of my dupatta and running behind me.I really can't fathom why she's doing this.I wait for her to catch up and explain. She comes to me and holds up the dupatta for me to see.Wonder of wonders,there's a pair of spectacles hanging on to the end.She goes "Are these yours?".If they were mine,I'd be blind as a bat and not able to recognize even her.Mine are still perched on the bridge of my nose,I point out to her. "That means you flicked this off some poor guy" she says.I admit,th

I'm a stickler for punctuality.I don't like being late.My problem is that I'm usually too early.So,a few months ago,it was my first day working as a TA.I'd met the teacher a couple of weeks back for about five minutes.The rest of our correspondence had been through mail.Frankly,I just had a vague memory of what she looked like. She asked me to come to class at 10AM.For some reason,I was exceedingly nervous that day.Probably because it was a class of 100.All strange,new faces.How was I ever going to learn their names and faces!I was intimidated by the thought.As always,I was ready a lot earlier.I spent an hour or so pacing about and reassuring myself.Finally at 10,I headed to the class. I checked the room number twice and when I was sure I had the right room,I opened the door.It's a huge classroom.I see people everywhere.There were 5-6 guys standing right near the door.For a moment,I have this paranoid thought that I'm in the wrong class.I ask the one neares

So,this one was actually after college--happened recently.Nevertheless it was funny. When I text,I have this habit of talking about many things simultaneously.I like to talk about multiple things and usually they're totally unrelated.It's up to my poor friends who text me to figure out what I'm currently talking about.Needless to say,it results in a lot of hilarity. I was texting Shaaz.In between classes,I think.I mention that my classmates are going on a trip.I crib about my mom turning 60 and me not being at home.Various other things in between.Then,I say something like "This is where they're going.It's a 20km long trek."And send a link to a mountain in Coorg.After that,I abruptly stop texting. In the evening,I check my phone.Her message reads:"Wow,that's so cool! Are you serious?" I wonder what's so shocking about my classmates trekking and decide that's probably the 20 km distance that amazes her.I say "Yeah".She

I'm someone who types out every word religiously.Even punctuations.Never used short-forms.Never understood them. Meet Ranji.She shortens literally every word.(at least she used to:P)I could count the number of vowels in each sentence she types.That few! We were texting each other like we always do.Our topics of conversation keep changing.They're totally unrelated. Her message reads:"My mom made me wk like a dog."I read it.And then read it again.A visual of her mom walking beside her,with Ranji walking like a dog pops into my head.So hilarious,I know!   I know it can't be that,but I still can't fathom what wk means. "Wk?" I text her.Calmly,she goes:"Work da".She was probably thinking,"What else could it be?Obvious."She had no idea what my weirdly wired brain could come up with. I told her about this and we laughed till we couldn't laugh anymore.I think she doesn't use wk anymore:P

One mundane morning,we were working on our project when this guy approached us.No idea who he was.He goes "Do any of you know this person?(let's call her X)I need to talk to her about so and so.Since X was our friend,Ramya offered to call her up. She says:"Hi,X.Listen.It seems this is the case.There's this person here who wants to talk to you..."At this point,she pauses and looks at him asking for his name.Perfectly natural,since she doesn't know him.What happened next turns this run-of-the-mill event into something hysterically funny. "Shishir" he says in response to her question.The name seemed perfectly clear to me.Sush and Ramya claim otherwise:P Ramya goes:"There's this person called.."She trails off again,coz she didn't get his name the first time.Shishir,he repeats.She still doesn't get it! This time she attempts to say it but it ends up sounding ridiculously funny.Something like "Sheshe". By this time

Another commonplace word that instantly makes me laugh.If anyone's around,I get a weird look.I  can't help laughing though.Once you read this,I hope you feel the same way. Meet Ramya.The most absent-minded person in our group.To do justice to her,she makes every story dramatically interesting and funny. Sometime back,she had this corn on her foot.It so happened that she had to go to the doctor on a day she was furiously studying for exams.Information overload.Saturated.Or so she says! Her dad accompanies her to the doctor.He asks her what's wrong.Never in a million years will you guess what she said! "Doctor,I have a horn!" Seriously,horn.I would have given anything to have seen the doctor's face(not to mention her Dad's) at that moment.The poor guy must have been trying to furtively scan her head for the sight of a horn,all the while wondering if he heard her right! Then,she realised what she said and clarified to the bewildered doctor that it

Most of what I've written so far is abstract.I'd also like this blog to have something fun.Something I can read and laugh about.So,I'm planning to put up stuff I wrote over a period of four years in college.Actual incidents from my life.They all seemed insanely funny at that point,which is why I wrote them to begin with. The aim was to keep it short and humorous--hence a drabble. Here's the first one:D A nut,a earring and insanity! One of those incidents that made us laugh hysterically for days on end.Yours humbly,being the sole cause for laughter. One sleepy,boring afternoon.Listening to advantages of HTML5 over 4,I was probably in some state of REM sleep.Out of the blue,I see the girl in front of me frantically searching for something.Like always,any distraction is welcome during these lectures.I too looked down.Found a nut.Bright and shiny,right next to my foot.I won't try and justify what I did next,because it doesn't make the slightest sense even to

Sure,it takes strength to go through life.But resilience,now that is something special.Something I consider a virtue.There are two kinds of problems in life.(Most people tell me this:I seem to always classify things.That happens automatically:can't help it:P OCD'ed,you think?)The first consists of problems you can solve--maybe it takes effort or intelligence or anything.But,ultimately there is a solution and you can at least try and solve it. The second is the more infuriating class.Often,the harder problems in life fall under this category.There seems to be no solution to these.Or does there exist one?(This reminds of NP hard problems in algo.Sadly,in real life,even if you solve one of these the rest of them won't be solved--unlike algo)All you can do is wait patiently.That's the hardest part coz you desperately want to find a solution.Yet,there's nothing you can do.Your hands are tied.All you can do is forget about the problem and carry on with the rest of your

Numbers are fascinating, don't you think?Each number is like an individual.Unique properties.So much to know about.Take a look at pi.The circumference/diameter itself is astounding.Ignore that for a moment.Look at how many other places this weird number pops up in.It's not even whole.If you weren't told all this in school,you'd look at it as some kind of dark magic in the world of numbers:P.The omnipresent number,eh?(Education makes us immune to wonder.We sort of get accustomed to looking at everything as a fact.Don't question it.Don't ponder over it.)Take the golden ratio.It turns up in the Fibonacci series and in geometry as well.Innumerable places.There are so many numbers like this! It makes me think numbers have a deeper meaning.That everything in the universe that's obscure right now has something to do with numbers.And if you find the right set of numbers,the mist clears and you see the answer staring at you. .When I was around ten or eleven, prime

We all have a routine.A certain pattern that our day follows.And most of us despise that.We struggle to break out of that routine.To find something interesting instead.Because normal is synonymous with mundane.Drudgery.But seldom do we realize that normalcy is something to be happy about. If your day is normal,it means that a million things that could have gone wrong miraculously haven't.Something happens and all of a sudden, your life seems akin to a train-wreck.That's when you look back and desperately wish for those days when nothing used to happen.Ironic,isn't it? Half of life is irony.The other half is a paradox.You understand one half and are stuck between laughter and tears;the other half is like a circular argument. P.S:I'm not really happy writing this--maybe because it's so cliched! But you know what? Most cliches are true. They sound inordinately exaggerated,but sadly enough they're true. P.P.S:I've had a horrible day.One of those

There's an old adage that goes something like this: "Be careful what you wish for,because you just might get it". The first time I read it,it struck me as peculiar.I wondered what could go wrong with a simple wish.Thereafter,I remember reading two short stories hinging upon this theme--one was titled The monkey's paw (don't remember the author) and the other was by Stephen King(Word processor of the Gods if I remember right!).Even then,the stories came across as fanciful. It was much much later that I realized the poignancy and wisdom behind these words.Many a times,I've wished for something without reflecting enough on it's repercussions.And then watched in silent horror as it came true: "What the hell was I thinking when I asked for this!" The most recent of such blunders was asking for independence:D.For a year almost,I fervently wished to be on my own.It seemed so exciting,so adventurous.Green pastures.I got my wish.Only,it came with a

Writing has always been a part of my life.The only stumbling block is this:every time I look back on what I've written, I have an overpowering urge to destroy it.To obliterate all traces of its existence.For nearly two decades I've done exactly that:Write something.The next time I read it,I can guarantee that it's going to end up in shreds.Very little of what I've written has survived my wrath. I write when I feel like it.When an idea keeps eating away at me.An idea is something beautiful.Something powerful.It starts out as a very tiny glimmer.Its identity is almost nothing.The first thoughts that lead to an idea are always priceless.And then if you let it,it grows into something.Feed it with your imagination.Let it run around in your head while you're otherwise occupied.You can see it take shape.After many many iterations it's turned into something concrete.Now it's perfect.It starts gnawing at you.How can you not put something this beautiful into

2:38am October 7th I woke up all of a sudden.Pitch dark.I had no inkling of the time.I groped around for my phone not really awake yet.Couldn't find it.I opened my eyes to look around properly.For a second,I was totally disoriented.Unfamiliar surroundings.Full-fledged panic set in. A moment later,realization sunk in.I was home.My brain belatedly brought up memories of yesterday's journey.I looked around again.This time,the familiarity was reassuring.The same furniture that had graced my room for the better part of two decades.The reliable clock that was comforting in it's steady rhythm.The window was open--a cool breeze wafted in.I stared up the sky in something akin to awe. I felt at peace with the entire world.Serenity enveloped me in its warm soothing embrace.Home. That's when this epiphany hit me. "Home isn't a place,it's a feeling". It's about feeling loved.Feeling cherished.Feeling safe. Morpheus called again,this tim

"Music is to the soul what words are to the mind" Books and music are air and water to me.If either of them were taken away from this world,I shudder to think of what would remain.I shall rave about books someday;this entry is kind of an ode to music. I believe that musicians and singers are more blessed than the rest of us--they bring happiness to innumerable people.There are two kinds of musicians I've seen.The first play perfectly,pitch perfect,never miss a beat.You know it's perfect and appreciate them.The second go beyond perfection.The music comes alive with them.It touches your soul.Magic. It was a quirk of fate that I heard him play(Bless the Lord for that though).I was at the auditorium for entirely different purposes(ironically).Musical performances of the first aforementioned kind were going on.I sat there,not really listening.And then,I heard the first strains of a flute. I can never do justice to that moment in words.A melody so ench

                          3rd September,2016. Exactly four years ago, I stepped into a deserted classroom.(deserted because it was 7.50 and no one in their right mind comes that early to a class, that is except yours truly :p). My mind was as blank as the class. Slowly, people began trickling in. Strange faces. Four years with these people. I'd be lucky to find one good friend, I thought, considering that the friends I had so far amounted to less than a dozen. I fervently prayed. "One friend. Just one. I'll be able to get along with that." Being a pessimist, I didn't even believe I would find that. I was mentally prepared to live as a loner. Me, my novels and the occasional hello. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I'd find 9 such amazing people.People who were prepared to put up with all my eccentricities and still be friends with me. I came to college as a misfit--never been to a mall/movie /wedding, never hung out, never watched anything, n