merit. yay!

I got my provisional exam result for LLM a few days back. To my surprise I scored a neat Merit in all subjects barring one. I am happy the dissertations have been all given merit and even some other papers where I wasn't sure I had performed well. Though marks are no hallmark of excellence to me, there is no reason why one must not be happy at having scored well. So yeah, I am happy with my performance though I also know I could have done heaps better - might have still scored the same - but still could have learned more had I put in more effort and not wasted time in everyday things.

-----

I will be travelling much the next few days. I will try to post from these places but I cannot promise. I don't even know if I will carry the laptop.

-----

The silence continues even as I speak. But I continue to make the hopeless effort by coming to the blog and posting. Some rituals must be observed.. even if for no reason at all.

lonely!

Now I know why people turn to music. Since the time I have returned, I am feeling more lonely than ever. That's strange because it's lonely thats happening - not missing, not wishing, not longing. It could also be the fact that i don't realize i'm missing - from which there is no running away. I have a nice room which opens up into the balcony, my laptop, my books, my stuff and I do have my work too. There is much to be done which I am doing - but when its not work, there is nothing else. Suddenly there is so much time on my hands and nothing much to do. Time difference should have taken away 5 hours or so. Not really.

I have more energy that I can possibly put to use. But there's simply no one around. And so, to keep sane i'm turning to music and loud music at that, to beat the loneliness.

I SOOOOOOOOO wanna get drunk tonight!

Loud writing

Delhi it is. The confusion and chaos outside seems minuscule when compared to that inside. Love and longing have taken a backseat. It is work that is on my mind. A lot of deadlines are hovering and I am trying to meet them all. My tickets for Palampur and Goa are done and I am looking forward to both the places and the occasions. Writing still comes out sparingly, perhaps because the same is with reading. A few more days and I will start going out daily. That should add some flavor to my book-less world.

Yesterday I was about to buy Narcopolis from Kashmiri Gate metro station on my way back home. Though the covers looked interesting but the prologue gave it away for me. It says in not so many words, that, "Bombay.... is the hero or heroine of this story". I have nothing against Bombay yet the place tires me. I have been there once and if possible would never want to go back again. I know it is a place that consumes you, makes you its own as you live there longer, the rubbing shoulders becomes a way of life and the lights at the glittering malls and the freedom that one can feel there is addictive. Yet, I have a mental block when it comes to Bombay. Except for the name I don't like much else and yes, I may have the naiveté of someone who has only known Delhi to be her home (and quite recently a bit of London). So well, I don't want to read of Bombay. Somewhat similarly I gave up reading Shantaram even as the plot had begin to thicken; the way I never liked Slumdog Millionaire despite the hoopla. My disenchantment with the city that never sleeps is illogical but firm. Ironically, one exception that I can think of is the very movie Bombay that I loved as a kid. As a child it did scare the wits out of me - coz like any other kid that age I had a fear of being lost in a crowd, parting from my family forever and never getting to see them again. But then, the movie had not much to do with Bombay as a city. I would like this to change. I don't like being prejudiced this way, this illogic mars my personal glee - that of being flexible in many other things. But who am I kidding, I enjoy not liking Bombay and bask in my ignorance of it. ;)

My room is nice and interesting now, a lot needs to be bought - new curtains, a cupboard, new chair, and most importantly, a book shelf. I also need a rug and a place to hide the innumerable stuff toys that hog most of the space in my favorite cupboard. WHY do people gift stuff toys to you if you are a girl?! I won't deny I must have enjoyed getting them as gifts at one point of time, now all they do is take up a lot of space which I would rather fill up with books and other collectibles. The trouble with stuff toys is that they are totally useless, need dedicated space in the shelf and when you are about to dump them - you just can't help but recall who gifted which teddy bear on which birthday, when you were oh-so-young and there goes your determination; the teddy bears soon find their way back to the cupboard. Stuffed rascals.

I am doing a lot of catching up on news these days. Needless to say, last 3 months I hardly read a newspaper back to back. It was only on the ipad that I used to log in for some news. It is the eds and the op-eds that I am reading now, plan on subscribing to the Hindu, Tehelka and Frontline again. I also want to send my two/three dissertations to some law journals, so I am on a look out for some human rights journal calling for papers.

That's all for now. Will keep you posted, now that I have the time.

the year that was

I will land in Delhi tomorrow. The year has come to an end and I will be back. There isn't a farewell speech to hand in.. but there is much that I feel tonight. I don't think i can put it all into words just now. A lot needs to be done on the work front - the reason I was at LSE and that makes me happy. I am sure Delhi has answers to a lot of mysteries of the past year. I feel I am going home to Panther too even as I know he isn't there. Knowing is such an overrated phenomenon, one that hardly makes a difference. You just continue to feel what you feel. :)

a dog or two

My Life

i will be free..truly free

i will work, earn for myself, get a dog or two (and even though life kinda ends then and there but i have some other chut-put dreams), get lots of green plants, decorate my home my way.. have BIG windows and many cushions and nice curtains.

cook interesting food.. healthy meals cooked in olive oil, less on masala high on taste

crisp salads

go to a gym, have my beautiful books showcased in sexy book shelf which i will buy one day with my own money

simple living high thinking

ek theek thaak si car .. xing type. hola! i already have it.

silk ke dupatte on semi silk ka kurta. :D gee

a rap

Once again the need to be honest that brings me here. I come, I try. Befallen, I crawl back to the confines of my mind. But there is much I must accept now and stop fooling my self. Just stop, stand, and do what is right.. for once be sure and be happy to declare so. Enough of observing, enough of enjoying the thrill of how far one can go. I am not that old to be talking of times gone by as having had some immense impact on me. Whatever has happened in my life so far is also in my present - affecting me even now. I know one day in future it won't be important all of it. But I just have today to live. I must accept myself. Something's gotta give.

Accept yourself.

things..

Everything is turning around. People, places. What I thought is not. What I didn't is. How wrong we can be as judges. How wrong when subsequently patting our backs. The feeling when you realize you have only returned to where you were. I know I keep saying but im not saying much. What stops me? I have gotten so used to keeping things to myself that I wonder if I have forgotten how it is like to be honest. This post is just about trying hard in that direction. Pardon the stilted writing.

I am in Dubai now. Bid adieu to London a day back. In the plane as the plane was about to take off, I said to myself, 'take care, london'. It was more about my time there, hope it all bears fruit and I am able to do some good work. I am happy to be here, I think my sister needed me bad. Apart from that I am at home all day as she and her husband go to work from 7 to 7 everyday. Lots to think, read, watch and relax. Tomorrow I plan to go out, hail a cab and buy some essentials. 

I cleared another round of fellowship I had applied for and was interviewed via skype. The results are not out yet. Nothing is for certain. Tomorrow onwards I apply more vigorously. Also got an internship offer from an NGO in London - too late.

I guess thats all for now. Will keep you posted. Hope to be back soon. Miss you.

i go on

I have been writing for long in my mind. Somehow shying away from coming to the blog. Perhaps it is the wait again, or is it that I have lost the drive. I know what wonders writing does to me, even then. I feel whatever I would write, I would not be honest - so I defer writing all together. I want to be honest, I want to write like before, and yet something stops me. My time in London is coming to an end. I do not have a job; I am waiting for a few replies but that is about all. I haven't tried much anyway.

Staying for long in the room has made me feel shy of outside. Last night I did make all effort and went to Leicester Square - the same streets that oozed with spirit, city-lights and of crazy folk at one time - now all seemed quiet. And no it was not just because it was a Monday, it was like it had always been. But no more was I enchanted, no more did the lights and the streets and the people held my attention. I longed to return and return I did, only to drift off to sleep while a couple of friends watched Ek The Tiger on my laptop.

In my dream I was not sure about some fellowship, whether or not I had been accepted. People after people were going, boarding a train and starting off. I was standing there in wait - someone had to come and tell me I was to board! How could I just board by myself! Everyone had a certificate or a receipt to show they were accepted and they were happy, including a tall, broad, nice natured American gentleman. What about me?

I hesitate calling home. May be I just wanna show them a success story. So, I wait. In a couple of days I will be shifting places again and would stay here in London for a few more weeks after which I might or might to go to Dubai and then to Delhi. I wish to see my sister. It would be a pity if I returned and did not meet her. It is such a small life, must meet people we love.

I will be leaving for the library in a while. Recharged my seasoned ticket yesterday, so travelling shan't cost must. Working from home has never worked for me. I need an office space. I miss my sisters office where I used to set up a corner for me. My 'work' day meant writing a few acrostics, doing random research, helping her out and sometimes meet a friend or two. Whenever I wasn't interning or didn't have college in the morning I used to go to office with her. That's what I need now. So library it is.

I now I am rumbling and I don't know why. But I need it. I need it bad. It is reassuring, writing here. Even nonsense.

taming the fingers

It is one of those times when I can't contain my self. Have been having a conversation with my sister (in my own mind) since last night, but haven't been able to really talk to her. Parents flying to Dubai today to visit other sis. I am kinda liking it. They'd meet her, see around UAE and have a work-free vacation, God knows they never tire. 

Coming back to me - I can't contain myself.. or the excitement. Have thought a lot about 'what after LLM?' and now that after much research some avenues have opened up - i think it would be quite interesting once I am out of this place - of course, given that things go my way. There are many plans, if only I am able to execute them well.

I resist writing anything personal, just waiting for the next big change and then I will be better. I would be in a place to do what I want without any self-imposed obligations..even if it were to go drown my head. :) love you!

Day 3: LSE Library

In the business of words there comes a time when one may have to eat one's own goods. Did I say in the last post that the material on the topic was 'scarce'? Scarce?!!! As if the library is taking revenge on me. I have spent two hours hopping around four floors at the library today. From the much used course collection section to the dusty bookshelves of 'yore' where each book I picked up lead to twenty more on the same topic. I think everyone who has been anything in Indian academia has had something to say on Kashmir, and they pretty much got it published. And if you include the Indian ambassadors to any country in the world, they also have a thick book in their name on Kashmir - and this only on this part of the border. Once you cross the imaginary LOC in the shelves you find Pakistani authors doing just the same. It comes to the point where you can easily guess what the contents page must be covering. And then come the English authors who sit pretty at the fence as they write on Kashmir, some fondly remembering a wonderful summer they spent in the valley sipping English tea. And then some anti-US ones, who point their fingers at US about everything wrong under the sun (and who knows perhaps they are right, too). So much for Kashmir. Then I went on to get me some books on Self Determination. Another deluge. And then on Secession - yet another. I am allowed to borrow 20 books from the library in my name and I think I am gonna have to borrow someone else's library card for all of the stuff I have picked. I have half a mind to focus more on secession now with application on Kashmir. Or may be decide the topic only after I am done with writing. What a horrible idea. But with so little time in hands, it  does make some sense. I think I had better return to my room with all these books, get me a strong mug of tea, sit down and write. Jes.

Day 2 on Extended Essay II

The writing isn't happening. It is not coming to me yet. I know I am a fast writer when I'm surrounded by the right material, but about Kashmir the views are so divergent that you are halfway through an article only to realize that it is not a balanced piece of writing. The material on international legal pov is even more scarce. However much I try, most of what I read ends up in political rhetoric. 

I will go to the library tomorrow and get more books, especially the ones by Crawford, Cassese and Sumatra Bose. I will be better when I have lots of literature with me. It's strange how books can reassure me more than people can at times. There's something about the written word that says "it will be okay, you will do it right". Books. Books. Books.

I will go for a walk now.. try to shake off the jerky nerves.

so much so little

The first extended-essay is nearly done. I will still need two days for fine-tuning, making the bibliography, contents page et al and then have to give it for printing and binding. Today I have also begun work on the other one the topic of which is Self-Determination, Secession and Kashmir. The next two days will be important, because if I dont find enough legal material I might have to give it up and start afresh on something similar yet new. But I think I will pull it through. So much has been done, so little has been done.

It's been raining all day today. And I'm propped in my chair. A long day lies ahead.

...

Sometimes it feels like a long holiday, at others a long sleep, sometimes it is a long journey that I'm making in a train, at others it's crawling realization that the journey will take forever. Then at others I longingly await the end of it, times when I know it will end, making it all bearable. Then I fantasize where I will be. Happy where I am. I don't know where things are going, I am just trying to do my best.

After a lot many days I read a lot today. Downloaded a nice application on the ipad that allows me to read newspapers with ease. Felt good. Felt as if as the time to go back comes nearer, I am again picking up threads from where I had left. Reading a lot of news also makes one angry, and such anger must be preserved.

When I get into this mode, all things that seem so important one moment, start to look insignificant. Abstractions like happiness, love, peace et al. Another kind of freedom takes over - even leading to that what is now insignificant already. And then I'm least bothered by it all. I've begun to understand a few things better than I did earlier. I guess that's the purpose of it all.

A random memory: i don't know from where, but flashes of a school trip are on my mind now. I'm wearing a pair of white pajama bottoms with a white sleeveless top, at a resort where we stayed on the school trip. And I'm looking at the breakfast buffet spread in front, and cool, salty Goan breeze coming from the sea not very far. A little girly consciousness was there. That girl is me. So strange.

That was also the first time I had ever seen the vast sea.

Sigh.

What would I not give. For a lick on the hand, a woof in my ear, a jump and a sudden sprint, a total menace prancing around my toes; nibbling at my ankles, eating away the furniture, running away with the remote, barking like a dog. With the tongue lolling, and the ears crooked, see him running about in circles trying to catch his own tail and a sudden jump on the sofa - and the scared guests. What would I not give. For a bark asking me to take him for a walk, for crazy fights with horrible neighbors, or plain simple showing him off. What would I not give, to have you come home once more. In a little basket may be, as you once did. And to know that you are mine. What would I not give. For your heartbeat that was always so fast, and those paws ever so soft. What I miss about you most are the things I feel I have lost. I want a dog. I want a dog.

I will.

I will make it all right. I promise you, me.

the new place

I'm gonna try writing like old times now. Write for people who read and not just for myself. The self-talk was important too, but now I think it is doing me more harm than good. Writing has always been something I enjoy. I just wanna continue to do that. So anyway, im still in London. Shifted at a different place couple of weeks back. I like the locality but I stil miss the rush of WC2N. Anytime I would get out there would be people around.. laughing people, drunk people, couple people, single people.. I have walked out of the hall at 2.30 am there to Tesco or Co-operative and got me something to munch. Here it is quieter at night. 1 am and the roads are deserted and people fast asleep. But the good part is Shad Thames. All I got to do is walk a little bit to find myself at the bank of Thames and there to my left is the giant tower bridge with the Olympic Rings hanging from up there these days. At night its brilliant, the lights the reflection in the waters, the small food joints, there is also a big broken anchor with giant shackles lying there.. you can't move them an inch if you tried. Yea, it is peaceful here.

freehand

I need to find myself. I still need to know so much. As if all the knowing has come down to nothing. The struggle with self continues. As much as I know it is a boon that there is much to know (as if ever we can really know stuff), the thought of the journey overwhelms me. I'm tired, not exhausted, just tired. The good thing is that I get better with little recompence, it may be that one heals better when the wounds are one's own giving. 

I needed nothing but simple and yet each time I observe, I have all but simple. The people have faces, the places landmarks.. I know they really are. But are they? What is it that is right? What is it that is mine? This isn't a dilemma, for the way out the dilemma is a purpose or perspective. I have no idea where I am. I don't even know what this is called.

Middlemarch

He thinks with me,' said Dorothea to herself, 'or rather, he thinks a whole world of which my thought is but a poor twopenny mirror. And his felings too, his whole experience - what a lake compared with my little pool!'

...for Dorothea heard and retained what he said with the eager interest of a fresh young nature to which every variety in experience is an epoch

Into this soul-hunger as yet all her youthful passion was poured; the union which attracted her was one that would deliver her from her girlish subjection to her own ignorance, and give her the freedom of voluntary submission to a guide who would take her along on the grandest path.

There would be nothing trivial about our lives. It would be like marrying Pascal. I should learn to see the truth by the same light as great men have seen it by.

some post

I again dreamt of Panther last night. Again because his memories seem to have resurfaced. Apparently he was still there.. I dreamt that I had left him at the vets and forgot to get him back for two years thinking he was no more. He looked weak and.. he was in a shed, with a leash tied to a pole and I shuddered to think what he must have gone through all this time in the heat and the rain and the chill, this apart from the enormous guilt of having left him there. I woke up a li'l upset and aching for him. Trying to remember how it felt to hold his big fuzzy face in my hands, his ears flapping around and kiss his forehead lovingly. Even thought is delightful.

Soon exams would be over and I would begin work on the two dissertations I have to write. I hope the work helps me take the decision about whether I want to do the Phd. Btw have been comfort reading Harry Potter these days. I was on that part about Hermione making the polyjuice potion. In the end, all they need is 'a bit of the people they are changing into'. That's what keeps happening with us - for good, worse, or an hour at the most!

pummeling my pillow

Last night as I lay reading a book in my bed, I realised my life was nowhere I wanted it to be. Hark, it hardly even reflected 'me'. And yet, it was mine fair and square.. at the moment it felt if I were to go looking for my life sometime and have to pick and choose one on the basis that I would be able to recognise which one is mine, much like one is able to recognise one's clothes or one's dog, I'm gonna walk right past mine without as much as a pause. Or worse, I would knowingly walk past mine without as much as a pause. 

Morning came and along came some sense. Would never walk past my life without  yelling for all to hear, "there, there! that one's mine!" Better still, would never walk past my life at all.

~like~a~waving~flag!

I have known long how to write in pain, how to wield a pen and churn out words from the depths of sorrow! But how to write when so happy? How to write in freedom and knowing and joy and laughter?! The 'highest' I have been in happiness is perhaps India winning some important match or perhaps some movie with sports in it. The exuberance - euphoria!!!! The Mexican-wave of joy! And there I am right now! Like a waving flag! ~~~

This is for those times when I would look at this blog - sometime in distant in future - when I would be past these times - when I would have long forgiven me and erred some more and would most probably be found patting my back for all these crazy times I've lived!

muah!

muah! 

muah! 

o;-)

Here i'm throwing in the music that brought it all about! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgyJY9yndv4&feature=related

Some air!

The same place that makes one feel free, can turn around and suffocate you under the limitless sky. It is no freedom this when you are not free in will, but led by some vagrant need. Even if the feet that walked thus be yours and the acting hands be yours, until your mind is rendered incapable of thinking 'right'. That's what I mean in an earlier post where I ask ''are we what we do, or are we what we believe in''. I would like to think we are what we believe in, even though we have betrayed us. Actions are not always led by reason. Rather, as much as they are led by reason they are lead by frivolity, boredom, loneliness and such base 'states' we find ourselves in. I am conscientious enough to always be fair, and yet, while talking to my own self, while reflecting upon my own beliefs and actions, I do want to be truthful, so truthful so as to flesh out even the saving grace of my own conscience from me - unmindful of what conclusion my reflections lead me to.

 

x-x-x-x-x-x-x

 

I wish all this to end, drift away. I want to go back to my world, get drowned there if I have to. But just away from this quiet, quiet need, the aftermath of which almost chills my bones.

mind order

Focus.

Work.

Study.

For once. 

Apply

Get some rejection letters

Get some acceptance letters

Intern

Work 

Learn

STUDY

You were keen to dream, let's see how keen you are to achieve. But always know that your life is not being lived on a stage. Not till you choose to debut anyway.

As I stand here

Rush of blood to the head. It sunk in just now. And I don't like it. The feeling is not that of longing, but fear. In plain words, I'm anxious. 

I stand here but my knees might give away. I stand here in mute appeal. My eyes search the web from across the world. I'm looking for a sign of life, how ever faint, but all I see is a temporary suspension, of belief and words and life itself in me. 

Mind won. It won and I'm all the poorer for it.

last night's lullaby

Enough of writing about rain pelting on my window. Enough of picking flowers in my head, colorful flowers in lavender and white and pink - lillies and jasmine and sunflowers.. enough of my love of words, enough of me, enough of reasons. Enough! Why doesn't all of this end and leave me to me? LEAVE!

 

Frustration finds no carefully chosen words when it reaches its zenith. I must sleep now. I must put myself to sleep. Good Night.

 

PS: Are we who we want to be, see ourselves as, the person we really, intrinsically know ourself to be, or are we what we do?

Of leaving and echoes and foreign lands

What is it that I am always leaving behind? And what is it that I seek? There is so much leaving to be finished; I feel like I'm collecting my belongings and packing for another set off all the time. All the time, as I see it. Even before I'm sure of my arrival, I'm certain of going away again. Why wouldn't I rest? What do I seek and why should I? The semblances I live and live to the best I can, believe me. But it comes down to nothing, nothing! Zilch! Pray, I do not complain, I am just weary at times like these.

"My heart is mute - My heart is mute" - Jane Eyre

-----

You saw the madness in me - the madness that found no shore as I beseeched the universe reveal to me where to take it. It hasn't found an answer, only an echo in return - cursed like Echo were. And cursed not once but twice! In never to have the first word and that her only love qualified unrequited. I find myself in one of those echoes that find their identity only in melancholy. But I am not pained as much. Not yet. :)

-----

Must I mention, the two pieces have as little to do with one another as two foreign lands could ever have. Except an occasional hitchhiker perhaps. :) 

a homage in waiting

That moment when you want to be honest and make a clean abreast of everything, not that you have sinned to the full but because it's time. With your givings and misgivings and everything. When you want to cease resisting and surrender.

Someone like her would never submit to a happy forever, however much she wishes her forever to be happy. She'd need to first have a fight to fight inside of her, would need to be made to bow down, would need to be ruled in order to make her love. And at the same time, she'd want all the world at her feet and that he should bring it to her and subtly so, without caring if she knows. All this in thought, HIS thought! She craves to stand in obeisance, in reverence of him, in submission to his will. Why? Because she believes that he is. And there she wants to stand silent, as if it were a secret she'd never tell him about. 'Idol' worship had always been so essential to her. But never did meet her a God.

----

"You told me not to lose faith. But I am. It is slipping out of my hands tonight."

the sporadic

When your mind is cluttered it gets tough to write. And when your mind is uncluttered it gets impossible to write. I think one needs the right amount of nonsense to fill our senses to make us come up with 'words'. The case with me seems the former. I have been meaning to write much and for quite a long time..... But, let alone my wailing be.

So, first the niceties. I am doing well. Happy in my hell, as I said to a friend. Sometimes so distant from home (and i'm not talking geography here) that I know I won't return even when reach back. Some flights are for ever I guess, and I have still been a late bloomer, you'd agree. And the thought of no 'return' - it even makes me happy. 

I am working on my essay these days. "In what sense or senses is poverty a violation of human rights" - goes the question. I have been doing some reading for it but I haven't really been feeling quite there yet. I will start writing today though and I would know where to go thence.

As for the clutter, I seek some method, my madness seeks a method, a route, a chart, a rudder. It would need an anchor too, but on that later. 

I have been dreaming a lot these past few weeks. And dreaming pretty. Every person, every act is symbolic, turning me into quite an impromptu Freud as I open my eyes to the day ahead.

-----

I got all wet last night while coming from a lecture given by Prof. Amartya Sen. It had begin to rain a little by the time I started from the lecture hall across the Thames. Walking along the Jubilee Bridge in slight rain, made me feel so free.. I was as usual, unprepared for the rain and so getting wet by now. As I climbed down the stair case towards Northumberland Avenue, I had to halt at Embankment Station for a while before I could make a dash for my building. But the rain only thickened. Tired with the the wait, I finally took off my overcoat and covered my head with it, wearing it over myself like a cape. Securing my bag and phone with my cold fingers, I went out into the rain again. I couldn't run for fear of slipping, my old worn-out boots are prone to skidding. But it felt so good. Especially because it was late at night and pelting and because I was on my own.