Belonging

I read something recently, about being from everywhere and nowhere. Although I have moved a few times in my life, much more than, say, my closest friends, I have always been from one place. This seeming semblance of stability aside, I have not had the most conventional of childhoods, or lives. Obviously, I am not going to elaborate, but I do want to say something. Wherever I go, wherever I live, however far I travel, I will always be from one place. I am from Madras. I've lived on the beach and weep when the Super Kings lose; I've stopped at tiny tea shops to buy cigarettes and driven on ECR; I bristle at the very mention of "Madrasis" being code for all South Indians, I love, love, love The Hindu and consider it akin to The Bible; I am quite profane in Tamil and enjoy perhaps just a little too much.

So, here's the thing, I intend to go many more places in my life. I was born in Delhi, lived in Hyderabad, studied in London and now work in Bombay. I will hopefully study further in another country, someday. But in my heart, home will always be one place. I will never feel more comfortable that when i am in Madras.

Poll Fever

I have to admit, I love politics. People often confuse policy and politics, but if you are even slightly informed, you can tell the difference. Like any true-blue worshiper at the altar of political science, I love the policy stuff. It is literally my bread and butter. It is also where real substance lies. In a world filled with the backstabbing and deceit that usually accompanies politics, framers, scholars and public alike, need to wake up and take notice of policy and make a better attempt at understanding it. But, politics? That is where the truly interesting stuff happens.

I spent the better part of two years following and writing about the elections in America. Now when the elections have arrived on my doorstep, I find that I am no less interested. Elections, though, are a different beast in India. It is as much about tenuously wrought coalitions and communalism as it is about free colour televisions. And all of this is held together by headlining politicians, the Modis, Advanis, and Gandhis of the world. Ideologies are flexible, except when they are not; allies are allies, except when they are not and enemies are irrevocably so, except when they are not. That is the nature of politics, and politics plays out best when elections are at hand.

A few short days from now, we should have our new government. But after the polls are done, and the newschannels are finished analysing the results; after the coalitions have been formed and banners of victory have been unfurled, one thing is certain: I will be bereft. Until June, that is, because thats when the Iranian elections start.

On the other side

By all accounts, I have the type of life to be envied. I am 24, healthy, single, living in one of the most fantastic cities in the world. I have a job that I love, that will clear the path for me to get where I want to go. I have an excellent education that, admittedly, took a lot of work. And while I do worry about it, I do not really have to worry about money as much as most people in the world. This has been my life for the last two and a half years. I have been where most people would kill to be.

So why the long face? I am terrified that I am the kind of person who will always look over her shoulder and envy the life that others have, and worry about all the fun I am missing. Take this weekend, for example. Tomorrow, besides being the last day of the week, is also going to be an eventful day at work. On the day after that, I have not one, but two separate invites to hang out with people my own age, have a few drinks, eat good food, listen to some good music and relax in the company of good people. Did I use the word good enough times in that last sentence?

I am, however, obsessed with a trip a whole group of my friends are taking. This isn't the first time this has happened. My friends have taken several trips without me in the last couple of years. So why do I remain obsessed with the lives of those that are so far away from me? I can't quite tell. When I am back home, with these very same friends, I yearn constantly to return to my life at university or work. Maybe something is inherently wrong with me?

I'm just saying.

Get Back

I've been here before. I have spent many an hour wandering these very halls. In fact, this was my home, for I lived here. That is how much time I spent here, I lived here. And now I have returned to this place of my misbegotten youth, and once more, I find, there is no one else here. My hair is shorter and my address has changed but this, this is the same place that I was. And now I have returned.

One Change, Two Change, Three Change, One.

Sometimes, I wonder about life-altering moments. I've had a few in my life, none that I would go into in great detail about. The first of these moments happened when I was 14, and then one more for each of the next 2 years after that. Perhaps that is what you teenage years are for, for life altering moments. Unfortunately, since then, I have made the decisions that have changed my life, they haven't simply happened to me. I made a few really bad decisions in the years between the time that I was 17 till I was about 21. Those years really set me back. I quite firmly believe that I am four years behind my schedule for life now, that I really should be somewhere else. All of these decisions I have made have had to do with my education and my career. Strangely, when it has come to my personal life, I have been content to be a hermit, growing increasingly isolated as I have grown older.

My friends, the few that there are, believe that I am now more open than I have ever been. Publicly, I agree. When I am alone, which is a lot of the time, the truth is more palatable to me. I hate people more today than I have ever before in my life. I have such contempt for their stupidity, for their frailty, for their immorality, for their narccism, for their drunkenness, for their incompetence, for their irrationality than I have ever had in my life. And much more than that, I hate myself most of all. I can not reconcile all the things I would like to have done with the things that I actually ended up doing. Most of all, I hate that I am no fun, and that I can not have fun. I am the worst kind of voyeur. Not only do I sit and observe as life passes me by, but I do not even take pleasure in watching others' lives.

So, here's the thing about life altering moments, maybe they dont alter all that much, after all, and maybe you are where you decided to be.

The Way I Am

THE WAY I AM-By Ingrid Michaelson
If you were falling, then I would catch you
You need a light, I'd find a match

'Cause I love the way you say good morning
And you take me the way I am

If you are chilly, here take my sweater
Your head is aching; I'll make it better

'Cause I love the way you call me baby
And you take me the way I am

I'd buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair
Sew on patches to all you tear

'Cause I love you more than I could ever promise
And you take me the way I am
You take me the way I am
You take me the way I am

The Anatomy of a Speech

"Words. Words when spoken out loud for the sake of performance are music. They have rhythm and pitch and timbre and volume. These are the properties of music and music has the ability to find us and move us and lift us up in ways that literal meaning can't."
Aaron Sorkin, via Jed Bartlet on The West Wing

When the fictional President in the television series, The West Wing, utters these lines, through him, Aaron Sorkin is exhorting all those with a platform and an audience to not only choose their words carefully, but also deliver those words with the oratorical skills due to them. And, of course, I agree with him. Through out history, the men and women that have a mastery over the collective consciousness have always been those that can articulate themselves with force and charisma. More than 60 years after he said it, we can still remember Nehru saying "the light has gone out of our lives, and there is darkness everywhere". More than 40 years after he was killed we are still moved by Martin Luther King saying "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

The greatest speakers of their time were also the most influential, and not by conincidence. Adolf Hitler, John F. Kennedy, Winston Churchill, all men of great force of presence, all great orators, and each of them the most influential of their generation. It has come to pass that Barack Obama will go down in history to be such a man. His address to the Democratic National Convention in 2004 managed to catapult him into the highest office in his country within a matter 4 years. The speech was a masterly retelling of his life, used as a metaphor for the American condition and the American dream. If that speech propelled him into international spotlight, then all his public appearances since then have managed to make him President. Which is why his speech at his inauguration was the most anticipated moment in politics, in recent times.

Now, you may not know from the slaughter of the English language that was perpetrated by W, but Americans have a great tradition of Presidents also being great public speakers, and their inaugurals have provided the platform for some of the greatest speeches of the 20th century. My personal favourite was JFK's speech, which produced that famous line, "ask not what your country can do for you-ask what you can do for your country." Unfortunately for me, and all those watching in earnest, Barack Obama's speech was not pure fiery oratory, chock full of great quotes like the one above. It was, however, a speech for it's time, brilliantly delivered.

With the world's eyes upon him, Obama made a speech that was many things at once. It was a spotlight on America's troubles, it was a forceful rebuke of the previous administration, it was a call to arms for a nation full of people eager to pitch in, and it was a powerful reminder that change had indeed arrived. My favourite part was when he said "As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals." That will probably go down in the history textbooks.

So, here's the thing, I am enamoured of him, and of his speech, and quite possibly his young speechwriter, whose pictures lead me to believe that he is rather attractive, but mostly I am enamoured of the fact that he has brought back into international focus, the power of having the attention of an audience. That, my friends, is truly spectacular.

Goodbye George Bush, It's Been Awful

George Bush has less than a week left in office. Finally, at long last, his reign of sheer incompetence and criminal stupidity has come to an end. I, however, have been likened in the past few weeks to a child who has had her favourite toy taken away, bereft of my favourite pastime. Indeed, railing against the many mistakes of George Bush has become the staple in my life, much like rice or potatoes in the lives of others. I worry sometimes that Barack Obama is much too placid, moderate, calm and unlikely to make the monumental mistakes that one has come to expect from the White House in America. While that may be a good thing for America, and most of the world in general, for those that have made a life out of skewering the American President, it presents a serious issue. I imagine Jon Stewart and Jay Leno sympathise.

In his last days, George Bush has sparked many comments, some close to sympathetic, most not. He has also chosen to launch a farewell tour, like Cher, giving interviews to any idiot that will place a microphone in front of him. In these interviews, we have not seen a contrite or a saddened Bush. We have instead been witness to someone who refuses to acknowledge his failures as such, and who still believes that he will be judged well by history. He comes off as a rather avuncular, genial figure, cracking jokes about the press 'misunderestimating' him.

Around the world, Bush's last days seem closer to Armageddon, or a bad horror movie. Israel has launched a disproportionate offensive against Hamas in Gaza, killing more than a 1000 people, more than a third of those being children. The United States has done little to prevent this, and even abstained from an UNSC vote to condemn the attack. Zimbabwe is in a position where if it imploded and collapsed into the sea, it will be amongst the least tragic things that could happen to that country. The financial world, led by the United States, has all but collapsed. Russia, Iran and Pakistan are all baring their teeth. There is still more than one genocide on in Africa. Al-Qaeda still exists, and has managed to spread its tentacles into Pakistan, while Osama Bin Laden is very much alive, living in relative luxury in a cave somewhere. The once seemingly invulnerable Indian and Chinese economies, rather than picking up the slack for the rest of the world, are strained. South America is still a hotbed for drug and gang activity. Human trafficking is still major business in many parts of the world, and children are still prostitutes.

For all of this, George Bush is at least in part to blame. Which is why I don't think he should be allowed to slink away like a thief at night. I think he should be held responsible, I think he should be made an example of. He can claim incompetence and stupidity only up until a certain point. People should be made to feel the consequences of making the world so much worse. And while we are at it, Dick Cheney should be shot, if it will help Jon Stewart and Jay Leno, we could get the guy who Cheney shot in the ass to do it.

So, here's the thing, jokes apart, the world is a much worse place than it was in the year 2000. While all the problems that we face can not be placed at Dubya's doorstep, many of them can. And no one who has done that much wrong, whether out of sheer idiocy, or out of wilful malice, should be allowed to get away with it. On that note, however, let me say, Goodbye George Bush, it's been awful.

Fear and Loathing

Having never read Hunter Thompson's book (by the way, that's going on my list) I don't really know what he intended by the title, but I find that I am identifying with it. Lately, I am terrified. And I hate myself for it, and I hate being so alone in having to deal with it. I am sure there are some people I could call if I really really wanted to, but I won't because I can't.

If the previous paragraph seems to be vague and rambling, you will have to excuse me, and chalk it up to the aforementioned fear and loathing. I am seriously back in a certain place where I never thought I would be again, and it's not a good place to be. All of a sudden I am sixteen again. So here's the thing, I hated being sixteen the first time around.

Once more, with feeling

2008 is coming to an end and it has, by all accounts, been nothing short of dramatic. Personally, this is certainly true. As a creature that is prone to shy away from much drama of any sort, I must say that I have been witness to and even partaken in the aforementioned. Fact is, if you do what I do, then this year has been the stuff of Greek tragedies. And even if you do not do what I do, you have to have been blind, deaf and dumb all at once to have not found yourself drawn to the TV set, or the newspapers, or to the internet. Whether it was the Mumbai attacks, the US Presidential elections, the crisis in Zimbabwe, Israel-Palestine, the Beijing Olympics, the situation in Sudan, the much awaited exit of George Bush, the Indian cricket team or the earthquake in China, for the news-watcher and the political analyst, it has truly been a landmark year.

On a personal note, I went on several different journeys this year. I moved back home after more than a year in another country, where I learned more things about myself that I had in the previous 22 years of my existence. I went on a beautiful holiday to Geneva and Edinburgh. I completed my Masters. And then I came back to a place that had been so familiar once, and felt so alien all of a sudden. Home was not what I had remembered it to be. By the time I had re-adjusted and re-evaluated my life, I lost a much beloved family member. I didn't really have the time to grieve her before I had to relocate yet again, this time to start my first 'real' job. It was then that I lived through my first terrorist attack, and probably not my last. And yet, my oldest friends are still my closest friends, I am still single and I am still moody and introspective.

So, here's the thing, I am sitting here, looking into the face of yet another new year, and I have more questions than I have ever had before. And sometimes, I think that's a miracle all in itself.

Currently, on shuffle

My top 5 songs for just now, because this is a list that constantly changes and evolves, but those that know me also know that I tend to get obsessive about the songs I like.

Stir it up-Bob Marley
It's fantastically simple, just Marley's voice mispronouncing the word stir, and yet it actually manages to get you. I don't know why, it reminds me of long walks on quiet nights on school camping trips.

Cry Baby-Dukes of DaVille
The song is a mix of funny and sexy, and all R&B, what's not to love.
Sample lyric: "She made me kiss her cousin, I wanted her.. she makes me cry baby" Seriously!

La La-Teairra Mari
This song is from the 2005 Victoria's Secret Show,(I know) and it's really really good!! Listen to it!!!

Maa da Laadla-Dostana
I LOVE this song!! It's funny, the video rocks, and you can spend the whole day dancing to it, as I have. In fact, the whole soundtrack is pretty kickass.

House of Cards-Radiohead
The song haunts you long after you've stopped listening to it, and the sound effects on the track are nothing short of mesmerising. I wake up having had dreams to the song.

Bombay

I have been in Bombay these past many days, I live here now, and work here. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can have prepared me for the sheer terror of living through one of the worst attacks this country has ever seen. There are bigger, more important truths, however, and I am afraid that the fear and panic will erase that bigger picture. Perhaps that was the whole idea to begin with.

This is not India's 9/11 in terms of the scale of tragedy, and maybe it is just a fraction of the symbol that 9/11 was. After all, Bombay has been repeatedly attacked, and it has, miraculously, bounced back each and every time. What could make this India's 9/11 is our response. Are we heading down the same path that the US did after 9/11? Will panic and the haranguing of politicians divide us down the same religious lines again?

Because that is where this is headed. To my cynical mind, there is no doubt that those that will tell you that your Hindu life, or your Muslim life is under attack and you must protect yourself, far outnumber those that will tell you, who really cares what god you pray to? And therein lies the real threat of democracy. People are stupid, and fearful people, far more. A majority of fearful people could put those in power who would go to war with Pakistan.

What is needed is a much more nuanced approach than simply blaming our old favourite enemies, Pakistan, in order to get votes, come the next election. We need to look inward rather than outward, secure our borders, rather than go to war. Create more and better jobs, rather than more commissions to enquire into the petty political differences between this party and that party. We need electricity and running water in every little corner of India. More than anything, we need better education, more education, for each and every kid, that could grow up to be a disenfranchised young person. That is where terrorists are born.

Ideally, what I would like is for politicians and the twin ideas of religion and 'god' taken out of the picture. That is where we must resemble a communist state. Who cares about your god, and your god, and his god and so on? What purpose does it serve? There are times when I truly do not understand why all people don't want the same things. Good jobs, good food, good schools, people who love you and something you enjoy. Or maybe the truth is that they do want those things, but can not achieve them because of their circumstances, their own individual realities and failures. The communist-like state is a mere pipe dream, I know. People would sooner giver up their wives and children, than their religion.

So, here's the thing, we need to create citizens that are eager to better their lives, not more of those that don't really care because nothing could change the way they live. And that can not be achieved by marginalising Muslims, or going to war with Pakistan. Politicians do not control Pakistan, the Army does, and in truth, their reality is much worse than ours. While this unfolds, I wait, not with bated breath, because I have this terrible feeling. I know what is coming.

I here present, a rant.

I can not explain to you, how absolutely awful it is to be responsible for some one else. It is even worse, when they are supposed to be responsible for you, when their every mistake has made you pay with little bits of yourself. When you have had to do this for as long as I have, you suddenly realise one day that you are not a whole person. You are a mere shadow of who you could be. There is a reason that I am who I am. I wouldn't be me if I did not have a full understanding and appreciation for who I am and how I have come to be, but on some days, such as this one, I would give absolutely anything to be whole, to want regular things, to enjoy them. Instead, I am a fraction, and I will always be, because too much of me has been lost attempting to be someone's somebody. Self-loathing is peculiar thing about yourself to be thankful for, and mostly I am, but not tonight.

So here's the thing about my little rant, it is the reason that I like crawling into bed and staying there, far, far, far away from people, who I detest and myself, who I detest even more, but I hear joy cometh in the morning, and I should hold out hope.

The 'Why', of Why the FUCK do you care?

I must confess, I am obsessed with the American Presidential elections. This is ironic, considering the fact that I have never lived in America, and more importantly, I have, from time to time, proclaimed rather loudly, that I can not stand the country, or its people. Knowing this, my good friend asked me recently why I cared enough to read 3 American newspapers daily.

My answer was that my interest was academic. I have been following and writing about this particular election for last year. However, there is more to this than just my interest in continuity. I am fascinated by how an entire country votes, especially this country that is now in shambles, and this same country that managed to elect George Bush, twice. In America, the election is a microcosm populated by candidates, aides, pundits and reporters. In India, elections are decided by television sets. Our politics are no less political than theirs, and yet, somehow, our election is much more...I think transparent.

The motivation of the American people to vote for a specific candidate worries and fascinates me all at the same time. There are candidates I loathe, and some I respect grudgingly, but that pales in comparison to my fear that a majority of voters will put into power a man and woman so woefully incompetent, to run a country that is repulsively, to me, the most powerful in the world. So what do I do? I read every article published by the New York Times about the election, I read tracking polls, and reports on them, I watch YouTube incessantly, I read about the debates, after watching the debates.

All of this, of course, comes to naught. I am not now, nor will I ever be an American. More importantly, it would not be physically possible for me to care less for them, except if they all go in November and vote John McCain and Sarah Palin into office. Enough said.

Endure and Shut Up

I am at times astounded at the lives that women lead. If you're a woman, of any shape, size or colour, then you have been both verbally and physically assaulted at some point since the time you magically sprouted breasts. A truly unlucky percentage have had the displeasure since even before that blessed event. If you live in a major Indian city, then you will have experienced these joys a few times over.

The first time any of this happens, you are invariably still rather young, and therefore rather upset. However, as time goes on, and you realize that you are not alone, that this has happened to all the women that came before, and all of those that stand beside you, then you start to get inured. You don't feel the pain as much, you almost start to believe that this is what your body is meant to inspire.

How are girls supposed to make it? From every angle, life tells you that things aren't going to work out. You're too skinny, too fat, too tall, too short, you eat too much, you don't eat enough, you're clothes are too conservative, you're clothes are too slutty, you act too much like a guy, you act too much like a girl. Every part of you is analyzed and out loud at that. Every message in the world, from the television to the newspapers tells that you need to live up to this impossible standard. You need to be stunningly beautiful, but act like you're not, so that men don't feel intimidated by you. You need to be Mother Teresa, so they can feel okay enough to take you home to mom, but dirty enough to go down on them whenever their dear little hearts might desire. You need to love them and be devoted to them with all of your heart, but not be too clingy. And you need to forgive them each time they cheat on you, or lie to you or disappoint you. Of course, you should be able to cook, clean, throw parties and also have a full time job, so they can show you off.

All the movies made are about men, how they are being forced to grow up by nagging women and take care of their responsibilities, anyone who has seen Knocked Up and the countless other movies like it will know what I am talking about. The world teaches women to endure and shut up. Our problems are not big enough, our lives not difficult enough.

So, here's the thing about being a woman, there are a few joys attached to it, and they are far between. You live the best way you know how, but, know this, it is not easy.

Read, yon wee bastards

Aaron Sorkin Conjures a Meeting Between Obama and Bartlet:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/21/opinion/21dowd-sorkin.html

Read, read, read, yon wee bastards.

Guilty pleasures, or just plain guilt

Fun, as a concept, is fairly straightforward. I get it. Enjoyment, merriment, laughter, and other such comparables. Except, the having of this fun provides a unique challenge. What if your brain is just wired differently from others? What if, the translation from the concept to actual actions has always eluded you? Then?

Why

I feel like I should get these things off my chest. Only, I don't know how. And there really isn't anybody I can tell, except maybe perfect strangers. Anybody volunteering? It's really not anything, it's the stupidest thing ever, and it is absolutely not a big deal, but the fact that it hasn't been said out loud, and then dismissed as perfectly ludicrous, is just weighing down on me and multiplying the effect. And on that note, I should retire.

So here's the thing. Here's the fucking thing, it needs to be said, and then thrown out. I just need this to not be a thing, you know?

Music for the soul, and a book.

The thing that I keep thinking of when I watch good television is the soundtrack. It gets me thinking about all those moments in my life that I remember because of a song, the soundtrack of my life, as it were, although, less cliche, I hope.

Because I can remember the song from the first time I liked a boy, one from when he said no, one from a rainy day, one from when I nearly ran someone over with my cycle (!), from a slow London night, one from when I couldn't stop crying or get out of bed, one from when I felt like couldn't breathe because I was in love, or something. All this and I can't even remember the names of the people I went to college with. But these songs I remember, they act like triggers, transporting me back to the very moment that I felt what I did, I can taste, and smell and feel the same as that moment. So, the sound track of my life, not so cliche, after all.

And a book, because what else am I going to do, right?

Aimless

I'm feeling.... aimless. I wish I wasn't. I wish that I bounded out of bed every day with single-minded purpose. But for now, aimless, directionless, rudderless, and so on, and so on. There's someone I need to tell something to, (bad sentence construction, I know) but I haven't, or is that two someones, and the same something, or maybe one someone, and two somethings? Like I said at the beginning, aimless man, aimless. I think this might all feel better if I was smoking a joint on the side of the road, or on a beach somewhere. I definitely think it would sound better. Ha!