Updates

Those which come to my mind right now :

The BEd pre-test is due and so is the final teaching day. Breathing down my neck, night and day. So I'm working and studying on a regular basis. Hard work is a shortcut to success, I've always found.

I finally made a perfect omelette last night. Unfortunately, there was no witness and I ate it before I could photograph it. Very me, of course.

I'm planning to learn Spanish. At the beginning of the next year.

I can manage the household entirely by myself without losing sleep over the whole process. Of course, that excludes the cooking and cleaning bits. Come to think of it, work never ends.

I'm back to brushing up my proficiency in my mother tongue. I must be one of those rare specimens who think in English and then translate, most of the time. And no, I'm not proud of it.

I've finally lost enough weight to garner compliments most of the time. Of course, I too have those 'nothing fits me !' days once in a while. But Priyanka in 'Anjaana Anjaani' has given me enough motivation to remain in shape for the next few months ;-)

I'm finally looking forward to watching Bengali films. Of the 'Autograph' type. Even unexpected, I'm humming lyrics from contemporary Bengali film songs.

I've a career plan in place. Well, a few. There's the Gemini in me speaking ;-)

I discovered that I can still lose sense of time and place when reading a Mills & Boon.

I'm back to my culinary enthusiast self. Planning to cook something new this weekend.

I finally have some girlfriends with whom I can go holidaying alone. Although our pre-test dates seem to be hell-bent on messing up our winter vacation plans.

I'm planning to revisit my poet alter ego. Soon.

I've re-connected with my roots after a visit to my paternal grandparents' ancestral place and my paternal grandfather's sister's place in Shantiniketan. I feel somewhat sorted out and stable now. Freud was right when he emphasised that it's our childhood that determines the person we later turn out to be.

I feel I have a better understanding of the members of our apartment. I might be wrong, of course.

I feel I'm happily married, after all ;-)

Introspection

Someone close tells me I overreact to and over-analyse every situation in life. A B.Ed. batchmate and colleague tells me that I'm too straightforward to survive life.

Well, now. I'm totally confused !

Alzheimer's

I'm halfway through Iris. And scared.

What if it happens to me ?

John Bayleys are hard to find nowadays, you know.

Dead and Not Loving It.

I'm very down and out today.

I don't know what it is that makes me feel this way. It might be the fortnight-old cold that just doesn't seem to cure. It might be the fact that S and I are off to catch 'Aisha' today but without Ko, whose grandpa's down with malaria. It might be because my friend's marriage is on the rocks. It might be because I have so little time for myself nowadays that I don't know what to do with my leisure any more. It might be because I want to blog but not to rant and yet that is what I'm only upto right at the moment. It might be because the brand new sharodiya 'Anandamela' is lying on the bed but I don't feel like reading it. It might be because there's so much of household work all around that I'm sick of my very existence. It might be because I feel the girl in me is wasting away, careful always to not tread on anyone's toes. It might be because my life seems all too predictable right now and that's the last thing the Gemini like me would wish for.

There's so much yet left to do : learn a language, test my interior designing skills, write a book, complete my anthology (long overdue), have a child, build my own house, visit new places (so many !!!), become famous...

But nothing seems to matter now...

Am I dying ?

Not literally, of course. That might have been better.

Paradise Lost

Last night, I dreamed of someone I had loved and lost. Someone who my near-thirty years of innocence and desire had slowly, steadily moulded into life... and then, destroyed. Someone who was the climax of my older, younger ardour, the crystallisation of my spartan, monotheist faith. Someone who I dreamed into life, lived into religion, religiously summoned from the sphere of souls to love, cherish and protect. Someone who made me want to believe in the existence of a being who answers your prayers, provided there is enough power and patience in them.

That someone is no more. One day, I woke up and he had disappeared. He had died, I think.

With him, had died all the love I had breathed , so much of it that it had made me wonder.

With him had died all my elations and my illusions.

With his death, I now know how to feel when you love and lose. But better that than never having loved at all.

It's only that enlightenment has come at a cost : I'm alone with myself again. And the dreams are no more.

But yes, I now know that that being is there.

Be careful who you wish for. It might just be answered.

Nirvana

We all need wings to fly. But what happens when the wings become vestigial and our torpor makes us forget the sky and its infinite solace ?

It is then time we wake up and weigh ourselves and find what is wanting. Realise that just living for others has no reward, sometimes we need to live for our own dreams. For the others may leave you to lead their own lives but your self remains, always to inspire you to the noblest grain of your character or to intermittently sound that wary note of time flowing by and so much work yet to be done.

For life is so much more than just family and money and partying. There is so much ignorance and illness about us, so much sorrow and weariness of heart. We forget the greater world around us and get immersed in our own narcissistic misery once in a while. But nature is a good teacher : with enough time and peace of mind at our disposal, she enlightens us to the wisdom that centuries of quest have distilled for us. That we are here to serve interests much greater than our own. To heal all the wounds that selfishness has ever sown. That our lives are one of millions and no one is here to stay. That the road to salvation is calling us and we must surrender our selves and remorselessly, come away.

So be it.

Pilgrimage of the Soul

STAR-CROSSED

He did not harbour regrets :
A scapegoat would do the job.
Memories were just pretty leaflets
One could sweep indoors and turn the knob.

Departing for the sake of worth and value
All that stoked the fire in her soul,
She nursed the past with a halo...
Autumn leaves that echoed in her bowl.

He travelled in the heat of summer
To lands shrouded by the age of trees ;
Unseeing of the silent star who would glimmer,
Crafting light and summoning the breeze.

She would strive in secret splendour,
Living lives doomed never to be whole ;
He would drive on and on, beyond her,
Stopping only to pay some obscure toll.

GARGI MANDAL

Wonder to Wisdom

DEAD FLOWERS ON OUR GRAVE

Sometimes, love just isn't enough.

When windows light up the city sky
But darkness dawns on my eyes,
It's time to draw the curtains
To mourn the need to arise.

For he lies drunk in slumber
Having done his good deed of the day ;
But I must stand, silent and sombre,
Sober mistakes rankling bloody and grey.

We travelled a morning misty but magical
Flowers smiling our way to a home...
Now their corpses rot out of rainbows
Bitter yesterdays serenade their tome.

Doom descends on the departing horizon
As I stare truth into these dead hands :
He crushed the blossom and tore out their scent
While I wept witness to the war in our lands.

------------- GARGI MANDAL

From 'Shirley', Part I, Chapter 7

"A lover masculine so disappointed can speak and urge explanation, a lover feminine can say nothing; if she did, the result would be shame and anguish, inward remorse for self-treachery. Nature would brand such demonstration as a rebellion against her instincts, and would vindictively repay it afterwards by the thunderbolt of self-contempt smiting suddenly in secret. Take the matter as you find it ask no questions, utter no remonstrances; it is your best wisdom. You expected bread and you have got a stone: break your teeth on it, and don't shriek because the nerves are martyrised; do not doubt that your mental stomach - if you have such a thing - is strong as an ostrich's; the stone will digest. You held out your hand for an egg, and fate put into it a scorpion. Show no consternation; close your fingers firmly upon the gift; let it sting through your palm. Never mind; in time, after your hand and arm have swelled and quivered long with torture, the squeezed scorpion will die, and you will have learned the great lesson how to endure without a sob. For the whole remnant of your life, if you survive the test - some, it is said, die under it - you will be stronger, wiser, less sensitive. This you are not aware of, perhaps, at the time, and so cannot borrow courage of that hope. Nature, however, as has been intimated, is an excellent friend in such cases, sealing the lips, interdicting utterance, commanding a placid dissimulation - a dissimulation often wearing an easy and gay mien at first, settling down to sorrow and paleness in time, then passing away, and leaving a convenient stoicism, not the less fortifying because it is half-bitter.

Half-bitter! Is that wrong? No; it should be bitter: bitterness is strength - it is a tonic. Sweet, mild force following acute suffering you find nowhere; to talk of it is delusion. There may be apathetic exhaustion after the rack. If energy remains, it will be rather a dangerous energy - deadly when confronted with injustice."

-------- CHARLOTTE BRONTE

Point

I was reading an interview of Nandita Das a couple of days ago in 'The Telegraph'. It ended with an interesting rhetorical. I can't recall her exact words, but summed up, they more or less ran as follows :

Why on earth would we do something in life unless it was something we really really wanted to do ?

She has a point. Why indeed ?

To Mother or Not to Mother

Several of my friends have become new mothers recently. At most get-togethers where we nowadays come across them, I feel like an outsider. The conversation mostly centres around the needs, eccentricities, trials & tribulations and the daily routine of the mother-and-child. The conversations are by themselves rather interesting and often give unexpected angles into the way a woman's life is transformed overnight when she becomes a mother. After sexual initiation, this is probably the second stage of life when you feel physically fulfilled as a woman. But me not being a mother, how do these conversations make me feel ?

To be honest, isolated would be the first emotion that comes to mind. I get the feeling that this is one of those Phi Beta kind of sororities where even the conversation is coded and elite. Well, of course it's not half as dramatic. But I do get that feeling and it's odd.

The next would be fear. The routine of a new mother sounds terribly intimidating. It makes me feel that I wouldn't be a good mother myself because I seem to lack the patience, the will to put up with n number of sleepless nights, the courage to brave the agony of being unable to pacify a bawling infant owing to not having been able to figure out what the current 'lack/need' is, the indefinite period of sacrifice of other pursuits that are dreadfully dear to my heart in general, the ability to overlook my own indispositions to focus on a being whose needs are more instinctive and sensitive than mine...the list is long and what's more, scary.

Then comes the terrible sense of a personal loss of freedom. The freedom to go anywhere, do anything at anytime, any which way I'd ike to. Marriage does bring its own natural restraints, but that seems nothing compared to what motherhood would demand. The thought of my wanting to just be by myself for a whole day without anyone tugging at my heart-strings and demanding constant care would just be a wistful lotus-eaters' dream once I plunged wholeheartedly into the cactus path to motherhood. I'm a loner by nature and the notion of not allowed to be one seems to endanger my sanity the very moment I start thinking about it.

Then there's the weight gain. Ever since my MA days, I've been struggling to keep my weight under strict surveillance, since my hypothyroidism problem demands that of me in order that I stay fit and fine. I'm not a celebrity like Malaika Arora who can work out with a trainer immediately after delivery and get back into shape at the snap of a finger. My gynaecologist has categorically advised me to lose weight for certain specific reasons. The sense of having to lose weight, gain it again in pregnancy and then begin the struggle to fight the flab all over again exhausts me mentally right now.

And with that finally comes the enormous burden of duty, responsibility and culpability. These are all spontaneous and I suppose would someday come to me as naturally as they have to generations of mothers. I'm secretly proud that I've always been wo(man) enough to stand up bravely and be answerable for my own flaws, lacks, offences or misdeeds in life. But what about taking the blame for mistakes my child might make, often knowing that I was involved all along in the very process of making them ? It menaces me, looms over me like a nightmare that is destined to be fulfilled.

There is one good thing that however stands out star-bright, in this senseless saga of formless fears. I finally realise what it means to be a mother. Maybe that itself heralds a positive, more meaningful, futuristic note. My frequent disagreements with my mother might lessen as life strives to school me in the language of motherhood, a legacy that must be passed on. A dream that must be realised, even if it must go through the painful metamorphosis of the glorious vision into a checkered reality.

DOLLING UP

Everyone seems to be getting hitched of late. I wouldn't mind that, except that we get invited to celebrate all the occasions.Yeah right, I know you're saying. How can one rant about dressing up and indulging one's taste buds at all ? Well, if you were in my position, you'd know. I've been attending invitations from the 21st of Nov and there are several more queued up right till mid-Dec. Of late, I seem to be seeing too colourful versions of myself in the mirror each evening and ransacking my wardrobe for the most elegant saree to wear next day. Even K (who can't be too bothered about dressing up and is usually glad to leave all clothing options to my prudent self) got worked up enough to turn out and address the stock of ethnic clothes he possessed and even perturbed enough to accompany me to buy a new kurta from Prapti (which I'm sure, Abir and he have been enriching financially for the last couple of years). My stock of sarees, I'm happy to let you know, is still good and I do have alternatives enough to confound me most of the time from making a rapid choice. The miracle of course is due to my absence in India for over a year succeeding my marriage, which means that most of the sarees that were part of my wedding trousseau or gifts from generous well-wishers at our biye/reception are still new and compliment-worthy (well, that might be a hint, I suppose !).

Not so with my jewellery which K has been scandalised to find that I'm quite content with and not at all in any hurry of replenishing or adding to. I love pearls and got several sets of them as wedding gifts and a few invitees were decent, daring and darling enough to give me cosmetic jewellery, which are very tasteful and trendy. Oh well, at least in sync with my taste. K however insisted that I had nothing to match my zardosis and dragged me along to Chique in Metropolis Mall, Hiland Park, to buy me a beautiful set of silver pendant and earrings to compensate. I'm grateful he did but not overtly exuberant. Jewellery never did figure in my list of flauntable assets. What I am increasingly enthusiastic about is footwear and my last minute purchases for my wedding featured two expensive silver and gold slip-ons from Kamal & Kamal near Gariahat More. Otherwise though, I'm sorry to say that my taste in shoes is quite conservative and the most adventurous I've been in terms of colour is buying a pair of slip-ons in plum and a couple in cream. Sneakers in all colours keep on tempting me though and I somehow fear that I shall eventually succumb and buy a pair in green or blue or even purple. Sneakers shall be my doom, methinks ;-)

As for hair, I have finally returned to layers from the much-overdone steps and can safely say that I find this easier to manage, versatile enough to address or vary the look of and yet, simple enough to handle on an everyday basis without tooking too plain-Jane (or in my case, plain clueless). Formerly, if I went to a biyebari , I never know what to do with my hair. Usually, I hated long hair because when I kept it open, I looked good but sweated like a pig. If I tie it back, I feel good but look chubby cheeked and rotund in all the photos. Now, I just keep it tied in a top-knot or blow-dry the roots before I venture out and I'm done for the day (or to be more precise, the occasion).

As for make up, I have finally learned to be on time and almost as swift as the boys by totally dispensing with the pathetic goo that is foundation. The amount of effort that went into applying and then later in the night, removing the mess, was enough to make me hot and bothered, which must, after all, have visibly impaired my cheerfulness at parties. Now I religiously follow the cleansing-toning-moisturising routine and devote a little more time to eye shadow. All that goes to highlight my face is compact and blush. The first evens out the skin tone (and I've heard, makes for better photos) while the latter contours the face, enhances my so-so cheekbones and gives my nose the merit it duly deserves ( I really can't be bothered to be modest about my nose, it's the best part of my physiognomy after all). So, spared of all the foundation and concealer nonsense, I'm on time, look presentable and feel festive. That keeps everyone happy. And saves my energy for channelising into more worthwile things like photography, observing human failings and dessert.

Turns out, I'm not too disgruntled after all. Whassay ? ;-)

NOVELTIES

Moumita just called and only confirmed what others are already suspecting : that I'm in a phase of extreme lethargy, which would be termed in colloquial Bengali as 'churanto lyaadh'. I plead guilty, of course. I've always been extremely transparent about my ideas, opinions and intentions,and would be only too pleased to have people consider me so too.


Well, this is not going to be a post dealing with righteous self-justification. I just wanted to keep the nominal few who are good enough to read my blog updated as to my current preoccupations. Now that summer has arrived (yes, at last !), I've undergone a radical transformation in my daily habits. What is torpor for others is actually a state of extreme planning and preparation for me.


Firstly, I mean to take my blog more seriously than ever. That has finally determined me to learn HTML online, which was precisely what I was doing before I decided to do this post. I was tired of googling websites all the time for help on how to make 'n' number of changes to my blog and I decided to make life simpler by learning the language myself. There seem to be quite a few good online and what's more, user-friendly tutorials on HTML and I mean to make good use of them. Perhaps I shall even go in for a certification later (hoping I continue in this enthusiastic vein for long, which is rather unlike me). As they say (well, maybe not exactly verbatim) : 'Laziness is the mother of invention'.


Secondly, also inspired by my blog and Orkut-olleagues, I am taking my photographic skills seriously. Which means, I'm venturing out into editing in a big way. I plan to apply this in future, of course. I may not turn out a Raghu Rai, perhaps, but any of the creative careers I might choose to take up back home would only serve to profit by such add-ons. Hence, I spend a couple of half-hours each day practising various editing techniques to keep my hand in, so to say.


Thirdly, I'm back to my voracious reading self. I have a whole set of books lined up for my express (pun intended, people) perusal and it's all the more challenging when I insist on reading more than one at the same (one of my numerous eccentricities, as K is only too familar with). Here's the list :


The Winter of Our Discontent - John Steinbeck
The Age of Innocence -Edith Wharton
Kim -Rudyard Kipling
Lucky Jim - Kingsley Amis
Shirley - Charlotte Bronte


Of course, I'm also reading an Agatha Christie (for casual relief) on the side. I just completed her 'A Caribbean Mystery' which I had been following not only for the story, but also other reasons, which I'll return to in a moment. And I must say, I was as impressed as ever. She's certainly the 'Queen of Crime'.


I also tried to learn Spanish from a book I found in the library and which I had issued once in the not-too-remote past also. I say 'tried' because I just returned the book, having failed in my attempts to learn the basics of the language all by myself, without any tutor whatsoever. I really had my work cut out this time. It was hard to try to remember the Spanish equivalents of words without knowing for sure whether I was pronouncing the Spanish words themselves correctly. I think I'll buy some software/CD instead, to make my job easier. I spotted some language software packs on sale at the nearby Bridgewater Commons Mall and I think I'll go back and have a serious second look at them.


I'm back to poetry. Yes, I know. I do hear the applause. But as I did warn everyone, I do possess the artistic temperament, which renders me extremely sensitive and susceptible to the influence of such frivolous factors as the weather. I've really tried, but winter in New Jersey is just too severe to nurture my creative urges. And the good news this time is that I think I'm improving as a poet, favouring themes and topics athat appeal more to my sense than merely my sensibility. Which is not to denigrate the latter. Only reminding myself that I'm ageing and consequently need to address commensurate issues.


Last but not least, I've been influenced enough by Agatha Christie's autobiography to try my hand at story-writing. No, I haven't started yet. But I'm mentally preparing myself. A miracle might just happen soon. For the eager and impatient, I quote the Queen of Crime herself :


"It is an odd feeling to have a book growing inside you, for perhaps six or seven years knowing that one day you will write it, , knowing that it is building up, all the time, to what it already is. Yes, it is there already - it just has to come more clearly out of the mist. All the people are there, ready, waiting in the wings, ready to come on to the stage, when their cues are called - and then, suddenly, one gets a clear and sudden command : Now !


Now is when you are ready. Now, you know all about it. Oh, the blessing that for once one is able to do it then and there, that now is really now."


I rest my case.

P.S :

Speaking of novelties, here's the most recent one: Some weirdo named Paul Recherche just added me to his contacts list on Skype (where I have neither a photo nor any sort of personal details that would be even remotely likely to make myself sound attractive to anyone of his sort !) and sent me a message in French, which I not being very conversant with, just got translated on another website. I reproduce the English translation of the original message.

"Hello, this is Paul Recherche here. I'm looking to establish a serious relation that might end up in marriage. Here is my number" (I refrain from reproducing the latter).

What the hell ?!

Faith

My eyes were covered and closed: eddying darkness seemed to swim round me, and reflection came in as black and confused a flow. Self-abandoned, relaxed, and effortless, I seemed to have laid me down in the dried-up bed of a great river; I heard a flood loosened in remote mountains, and felt the torrent come: to rise I had no will, to flee I had no strength. I lay faint, longing to be dead. One idea only still throbbed life-like within me--a remembrance of God: it begot an unuttered prayer: these words went wandering up and down in my rayless mind, as something that should be whispered, but no energy was found to express them--

"Be not far from me, for trouble is near: there is none to help."

It was near: and as I had lifted no petition to Heaven to avert it--as I had neither joined my hands, nor bent my knees, nor moved my lips--it came: in full heavy swing the torrent poured over me. The whole consciousness of my life lorn, my love lost, my hope quenched, my faith
death-struck, swayed full and mighty above me in one sullen mass. That bitter hour cannot be described: in truth, "the waters came into my soul; I sank in deep mire: I felt no standing; I came into deep waters; the floods overflowed me."

Jane Eyre
Chapter XXVI






FAITH


Tears
Torrent,
Fears
Ferment,
Debts
Torment.
Words
Serpent,
Weapons
Dent.


The memory of
Yesterday’s
Unholy
Loud
Proud
Laughter
Coming apart
In slow
Hollow
Shreds,
Seizure of art :
The very thought
of
Today :
A Blasphemy.


The smooth
Uncouth
surface
Can no longer soothe ;
Serrates
Smashes into
A Million
Senseless
Smithereens;
Each staring
Ecstatically
Sarcastically
Into
Each other’s
Reflections.



*


I cannot recall
What
Whom
I walked away from
The prodigal
Why
Begging
Impeachment
Reproach
Mired in material
Mirages.


But
She accepts
Surrender
Submission
Forgives
Sweeps up
Forgotten fragments
Promises
Vows
Renews



*



I
Kneel
Before
Her
Head on heel
Humbled
No words
No tears
No fears
No spears
No arrears



The Omniscient



My soul
Stands redeemed
Unconditionally
For
Seeking within
I have found
In silence
A miracle :
Faith.


GARGI MANDAL
22-04-2009

And because this is one of those rare days when my soul bares itself to you all, this is for you :

Peace.

Freedom !

Yesterday, after a loooooooooong loooooong time, it was so hot within and without the apartment (max temp in the 40 degree F somethings and the centralised heating on at full throttle) that I roamed around the house wearing K's shorts and a skimpy top. I so felt like a hot beach babe (although nowhere near possessing the necessary hourglass for that) that I'm seriously toying with the idea of doing it more often !

Utterly Butterly Disgusting

1) I'm getting the most idiotically irrelevant job responses possible from recruiting personnel who seem to think I'm either illiterate or bankrupt or have been fired from my last job.

2)I'm gonna miss Mitu's graduation fashion show on Wednesday, 18th Feb. One of the biggest events of her life.

3) My parents have forgotten I exist.

4) My friends, thanks to this time difference thing, have practically become reduced to abstract, virtual entities. I keep on dreading I'm missing out on all the happenings that matter in their lives. And some of them are newly married. Damn !

5) K seems to spend more time at office than at home. I feel more like a PA than a wife.

6) I need to lose 10 kg fast. I can't face that hideously plump creature in the mirror any more.

7) I miss Kolkata. Everything about it. Except the heat.

8) The 'What Not to Wear' show wasn't aired as usual on TLC at noon, nor at 1 pm. To think I practically ran home from the library to be in time to watch it. Oh, and the library was closed, today being 'President's Day'.

9)My camera battery gave out just as I was about to upload my newest set of captures to the laptop. Just the sort of thing that would happen to me.

10)I mixed up Moumita-Sabya Da's anniversary date and wished them today instead of yesterday. And to think I'd been so worked up about the occasion from the very beginning of this month.

Moral of Story : I should go drown myself.

Facebook Tag II

Answer each of these questions USING ONLY ONE WORD (unless otherwise specified)!
It's really hard to only use one-word answers, but that's the whole point of doing this tag. If you're up for a tougher challenge, try not to repeat a word you've used. Be sure to tag the person you received it from.

Just for the record, Suchismita tagged me this time.

1. where is your cell phone?

Charging

2. your significant other:

Concerned

3. your hair:

Wavy

4. your mother:

Moody

5. your father:

Doctor

6. your favourite thing(s):

Beaches
Books
Blogging
Cartoons
Colour
Dessert
Foliage
Georgette
Music
Silk
Sunshine
Tee-shirts
Walks
Wood

7. your dream last night:

Vivid

8. your favourite drink:

Juice

9. your dream/goal:

Peace

10. what room are you in?

Drawing

11. your hobby:

Writing

12. your fear:

Violence

13. where do you want to be in 6 years?

Home

14. where were you last night?

Bed !

16. muffins?

Blueberry

17. wish list item:

Shoes

18. where did you grow up?

Wales

19. last thing you did:

Deep breathe

20. what are you wearing?

Tee-Tracks

21. your TV:

Hibernating

22. your pets:

Non-existent

23. your friends:

Refuge

24. your life:

Sedentary

25. your mood:

Serene

26. missing someone?

Rashi

27. your car:

Hyundai-Elantra

28. something you're not wearing:

Makeup

29. your favourite store:

Old Navy

30. your summer:

Icecreams

31. your favorite colour:

Purple

32. when was the last time you laughed?

Morning

33. when was the last time you cried?

DBY-morning

34. three people who email you:

Rashi, Ayan, Titai (& Dhrubo)

35. three of your favourite foods:

Omelette, paneer, yogurt (shukto, strawberries)

36. three places you would rather be right now:

Salt Lake
Shillong
Shimla

37. three people you think will respond:

Rashi, Sunayana, Aditi.

Impressive, nevertheless

I don't invest much in these psychometric tests, but the intricacy, intelligence and elaborate methodology underlying this one (and my dicovery of it on Clytemnestra's website) couldn't but impress me, nevertheless.

Here's my personalised report:

Nick of Time

There's a shop on West Main Street where I frequently drop by to check out the latest sales and sensations. The young and fresh-faced store attendant knows me well by sight nowadays and calls out a cheerful "Hi there !" or a "How're you doing?" whenever I either enter the store or prepare to leave. Initially I'd felt somewhat awkward at exchanging such niceties with strangers whose fates really don't concern me in the least. But I soon got used to it in course of time, although I daresay K would be able to recall several unfortunate instances when I was singularly tongue-tied (very rude, was the exact turn of phrase he used, I think) whe, one evening, the most flamboyant and flirtatious amongst a group of young beauties asked me in passing how I was doing and I came up with the smartest response known to mankind, a blank stare (later, I tried to justify myself by arguing with K that she had addressed him and not me). On another similar occasion, a very young teen returning from school seemed to be eyeing me almost reverentially from a distance, obvious enough to make me sneak a quick peek at my attire to check out the flaw that premised her gaze (her expression surely being deciphered wrongly by my short-sighted self). Funnily enough, when right in front, she rewarded me with a flashing smile and a 'Hiiiiiiiiii there !" I sure felt very proud of myself after that for the most obscure reasons I (or anyone else, for that matter) could conjure up. But the point is that I've now internalised the custom myself and usually treat the Brookside maintenance crew or the salesman at a shop counter or the lady serving me at the post office with similar pleasantries, unless of course, I feel to sleepy or sulky to venture into speech of any form.

However, last Friday, I was caught totally off-guard. The store attendant at the aforementioned shop had exchanged the usual pleasantries and small talk regarding the weather with me and I was just settling in to exploration mode within the shop, elated at my eventual public appearance after several days of inclement weather and frustrated exercise. All of a sudden , he came up with the most bizarre question ever, "So, how's your partner doing ?" There was a long pause before I could muster up enough gravity to reply. His question seemed more to try and delicately move the attention away from the nature of K and my relationship than to draw attention to it but weirdly enough, it succeeded in having quite the opposite effect. For one moment, I battled with the mischievous desire to rise to the occasion by demanding which 'partner' he was referring to, but restrained myself just in time. It dawned on me in a flash : several small and overlooked signs coming together to complete the puzzle in a split second of intuitive recognition of his homosexuality.

I thanked my lucky stars that I had not risen to my own bait. Freedom of speech should always be encouraged, but not at the expense of others.

Facebook Tag

Here's the latest in-thing doing the rounds on Facebook. I thought I'd share it with the non-Facebookeans too. Basically, someone sends you his or her list, tagging you in the process. You complete and publish yours, tagging 25 more victims, including the person who was (un)kind enough to forward this to you. But I have to admit, it makes for a great read. Not mine, silly. That of others. Sort of voyage of discovery.

Just for the record, Romila tagged me.

25 THINGS YOU NEEDN'T KNOW ABOUT ME

1) I love cleaning and sad music. They act as catharsis.

2) Water drives me crazy. I would willingly drown in a bathtub. I might have been a mermaid some time way back.

3) I’ve a thing for colours. Almost an obsession. Blue, green, purple, maroon are my favourites.

4) Maths helps me de-stress.

5) At various points, I wanted to be a lawyer, a doctor, an interior decorator, a pilot, a tour guide, an IPS officer, a fortune-teller, a librarian, a crime reporter, a politician, a poet, an author. Some of them I’ve given up, some I still toy with..

6) I believe in the supernatural. But I’m not scared of it. Death has always fascinated me. I don’t think I’ll be afraid to die.

7) One day, I’ll publish a book named ‘100 Ways to Make an Omelette’. I hope.

8) I hate waking up early in the morning. I’d rather stay up till 3 am.

9) I often hate my closest ones as much as I love them. There. I said it.

10) I miss sleeping in the sunshine on the JU bridge. Obviously I was supposed to be wide awake and in class at that time. I miss my tutorials with Tintin Da the most. I actually think I had fun.

11) I detest alcohol. In all forms. Even if I happen to say it’s ok to drink socially.

12) I read somewhere that my nature would permit me to murder, but not steal. I still wonder.

13) I always hated sharing everything with my sibling. Especially parents. Nowadays I wish I could share all I have with her.

14) I try not to be but I so am. Possessive about K.

15) My first ever crush was Ajay Jadeja. I even wrote a 37 page romantic novelette starring him and me. Man.

16) I criticize too much. Especially myself.

17) I need lots of space and solitude. The cellphone is a bane that way. There are days when I need to be just left alone.

18) I can’t write happy poems. Sadness inspires me.

19) To me, plagiarism, racial discrimination, gender discrimination, war-mongering and snobbery are crimes. When caught, the guilty should be hanged. Well, at least boycotted.

20) I need to learn diplomacy. But using tact somehow makes me feel like I’ve been lying.

21) No one has a best friend. I realized that recently. We only have friends. That too, if we’re lucky.

22) I’m afraid the Kolkata Metro automatic ticket checking gates won’t let me past some day. No particular reason. I might have an ‘I, Robot’ or ‘Eagle Eye’ hangover, perhaps.

23) I’m capable of watching most Bollywood productions. Good or bad. I even cry at most of the sad scenes. Oh, and the happy endings too. However clichéd they may be.

24) I want to create my own record of having read each and every work of Agatha Christie, Saki, Freud, Rabindranath Tagore, Hardy, P.G. Wodehouse, R. K. Narayan, Shirshendu. There should be some more names, I think, but can’t recall them right now.

25) I can’t be bothered to small talk or go out of my way to try and impress my intelligence on others. You have to draw me out. Lots of people consider me aloof. I think I’m just reserved.

Whewww. I'm weird.