Random Musings

Beware the autumn people says the book. Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury, and I have just read one of those books you remember for a lifetime. I felt like this when I read Second Foundation, years ago. The end of that, when Preem Palver, First Speaker.. Oh boy oh boy.

This book is dark, spooky, macabre and brilliant. It draws you in from the very first page and grabs you by the throat and does not let go for two hundred and ninety thrilling pages. I won’t describe the book anymore. If you like to read, read this. End of story.

I was reading a few blogs and emails from people in my college, and I noticed something curious. We use very long words and weird sentence construction. The blogs especially are guilty of this. For some reason, it seems to be cool to write stuff that is difficult to understand. Not because it is difficult to fathom, but because it is difficult to read.

This thing that I write is not really a blog. It’s more like notes to myself, and for friends to read. And yet, it’s been criticized for being shallow, boring, and too simple. Well, it IS shallow boring and simple.. but not to me. I write for myself, and for fun, not to sound smarter than I am. If you don’t like it, I’m not forcing you to read it! I like to read what I wrote six months back and remember how I felt when I was writing that.

Should I sprout existential philosophy? Use big words and complex construction? Would you be impressed? Well, I hate to tell you this, but if you get impressed by big words and complex construction, I don’t want to know you! Call me opinionated, if you like, but that’s just me. I’d rather talk to someone who would wear another fellow’s cap. “Charles was the kind of fellow who would never wear another fellow’s cap.”.. Which book? heh heh.. see, now I’m showing off. You are welcome to roll your eyes and go click on some link to somewhere less mindless and narcissistic..

I wonder why it is that when we write, we try and be as obtuse as possible. This seems to be an pan-Indian phenomenon. I’ve been a law student for five years now, and I’ve read a reasonable amount of cases and articles written by eminent lawyers and judges. With some refreshing exceptions, most of these people seem to believe that the more they write, the better.

Our examinations from day one are weighted this way. I just wrote a paper today, in which I filled quite a few sheets. The paper could have been answered in half the space, or possibly even a quarter of it, but I had to do the filling up nevertheless. This starts in school and gets worse in college. Some teachers do try, by putting word limits, but most of us are incapable of writing briefly. We seem to freeze inside if we are asked to write within 250 words. The general opinion is, “Write everything, something has to be correct!”.

Is it just me, or does someone else prefer brevity? I do a little bit of writing for some websites and the like, and this was the first thing my editor told me when I started out. Smaller sentences! Active Voice! First person! These three rules made writing suddenly so much more fun. Where I used to write eight sentences, I now write three.

I think law students especially love to use humongous, poly-syllabalic words, in the belief that it makes them sound erudite. The previous sentence could easily have been “Law students like to use big words. They think it makes them sound smarter”. Which would you prefer? Does studying law make people like this, or do such people only study law? There’s a conundrum (a puzzle?)

This is one major reason for me not wanting to practice. The idea of writing briefs in stilted, antiquated English that takes eighteen hundred words to get an idea across, leaves me cold. You might say I am not talented enough, and I’d cheerfully agree.

Oh well, I’d welcome comments. I know I’m not a very good writer, so please refrain from ripping apart my syntax and grammar.

After yet another trip, this time to Bangalore, I’m back, and have exams from tomorrow. Of course, I don’t feel like studying at all.. So what else is new? The trip was great fun, got to meet some of my relatives whom I haven’t met for ages. I spent a day in Bombay, and hung out with my cousin sister, who is sixteen and crazy, in the nice way that we all are.

My basketball aspirations came crashing down after my first game, thanks to a mistimed jump and a bad landing that led to a bruised heel and knee. We won that game 51-12 , but promptly lost the next one to get kicked out of the tournament. So what’s a guy to do? Buy lots of books, of course! I found a very nice second hand bookstore and went slightly mad, snapping up hardcover editions of C.J Cherryh, Forster, Bradbury and Bronte. Always nice to have a stack of books to keep the blues away.

And then I went and met my Uncle and Aunt, who might possibly read this entry.. heh heh. Had a great dinner at their place, and some wacky conversation as well. My aunt is extremely sweet, and she actually went to great lengths to make some great food. And since I am always hungry, and miss home cooked food, I pigged out.

However, all good things come to an end, and I have my end of semester exams starting from tomorrow. Obviously, I don’t know anything, and even more obviously, I am not studying at all   Got six exams, back to back, so it’ll be over quickly at least. And then.. HOME! For a longish time. I have all sorts of plans, none of which will come to fruition, but hey, what the heck, right?

So, as the man said in Punch Drunk Love ( great movie) , That’s that. I shall probably be writing after I get home now.

Ah the shifting capitals. Back in college after a whirlwind trip home, which consisted mostly of food and watching the cricket match..in the stadium. The match unfortunately was a low scoring affair, but at least we won.

Now I am sitting up, and trying hard ( or hardly?) to finish a project or two.. or three… or four!! And given that I am leaving for Bangalore day after, I don’t exactly have unlimited tracts of time at my disposal. And of course, me being the way I am, I’m still not working. Just faffing around, reading, listening to music, looking out of the window, and writing on this useless journal of mine.

What I need is a Deus Ex Machina. Something that comes out of nowhere and saves my sorry, lazy, no-good, ass. But if wishin was fishin, then well, who knows what.

Now is the winter of my discontent and all that blah. The rather blather of freezing water, and the feel of phones that do have wired connections to the wall, black cats in my room..

That was the mental equivalent of a little hiccup. But the cats part is true. While I was away, my good friend, who shall go unnamed, accidently locked a little kitten in my room. The results, as you can guess, were not very pretty. To be fair, the culprit did spend loads of time cleaning up, so I guess we’re even. But I mean, a kitten? Now I have had rats, mice, frogs, dogs, and a kitten in my room. A regular menagerie.. Nature lover I am, and apparently the sentiment is reciprocated.

Well anyway, another night has passed, and it’s early morning. I am supposed to wake up a few people, so off I go to do that.

poinK poiNk

I’ve been dying to re-read A Room With a View lately. Unfortunately, I don’t have the book with me, and the one copy that I know of in college I can’t borrow, for various silly reasons. Anyways, so it suddenly struck me that Project Gutenburg would have the book, since it’s out of copyright.

I was right, they did have a freely downloadable version. Now I don’t like reading books on my computer. Sitting in front of a screen just does not compare to the visceral experience of curling up in bed with a nice book and something to munch on, late at night. But still, beggars choosers and all that, and I did really really want to read it, so what the heck, right?

One-thirds of the way through it so far, and I’ve paused to write this entry. This is a book that you must read. There is something about it that is just beautiful. The first bit, in Italy, is like a river meandering through a spring meadow. It’s slow, and has birds flitting about, and lazy bees humming just at the threshold of your hearing. The smell of fresh cut grass rises up.. difficult to explain, but that’s what I feel like when I read this.

Books do that. They transport me away from my mundane existance to places of beauty and magic. Places of mystery, and suspense, and beautiful maidens. Where you never know what’s around the next corner, unless the book is an old friend, dog-eared and time worn, but which is always welcoming. I don’t understand reading a book only once. The only books I’ve read once are the ones that I don’t like. Books I like I read over and over, at suitable intervals. When I remember only the broad strokes of the book, and not the subtle brushwork, I like to take it off the shelf and go through it again, safe in the knowledge that I not going to meet any unpleasant memories.

Another book I love with all my heart and soul is The Pickwick Papers. Sam Weller is one of my all-time favorite characters, and Snodgrass, Tupam and Winkle are perfectly suited to be admirers of that great man, Mr. Pickwick himself. The variety of characters and situations, the bittersweet nature of the book, and it’s insightful glances into the nature of human existance mark it as a true classic. And to imagine that Dickens wrote this in his early twenties.. just about as old as I am today!

Oh well, I just felt transported by A Room With a View, and I wanted to share the feeling with someone, even someone as ephemeral as you. Thanks.

Don’t have a clue what to write about. Staring at the screen, watching the cursor blink, and wondering at what rate it blinks. hmmm….

Quick trip to MSDN….

Ah well, that’s sorted. It blinks at 250 Milliseconds, and can be adjusted between 0 and 1200.. I bet you didn’t know that before!

Early mornings are like that. Especially when you have stayed up the whole night. Ah well, it was for a good cause, helping a friend out, so I guess it’s positive karma. It’s still dark out, but it’s the sort of dark that is not really dark. The kind of dark when your eyes play tricks on you, making you think you can see that far away tree.. and then in a few minutes, you can! The birds are waking up, and I can hear them start to chirp. The air has the early morning feeling to it, you know, when it feels completely new, and exudes energy. Even when I’ve been up the whole night, I feel so much better when I step out.

Mornings are lovely, especially here in college. We have this huge empty campus, with a range of low hills in the north-west, behind which the sun sets everyday. The sun rises from behind the hostels, and it feels really really good to be out on court when the first slanting rays hit it. I swear my shooting percentage rises like crazy in the mornings, even though I am tired from staying up all night. I just feel like everything is going to be perfect, and it is! Even though I may miss the odd free throw, it’s so so so much better than the evenings, when the sun is setting, and the gloomy evening draws near, and you realize that one more day in your life has passed by, and you did not do anything much.

The morning on the other hand, is full of promise. The whole day lies ahead, and there is so much that you can do, so much that can be accomplished, so many people you can meet, so many projects that can be completed. Yesterday is just a memory, and today is yet to be.

Yup, I love mornings, even though these days I only get to see them when I stay up all nights. So what, say I! I keep faith with the lovely morning, and refuse to be merely a fair-weather friend, fickle and treacherous.

Off to play basketball now, and watch the sun rise.

Despite what you might think this post is about, you would be wrong. This is not a tale of my misery and woe. This is a tale of a late nights and little hedgehogs. !, you might say? It goes like this..

There I was, sitting pretty with a nice book, late at night, a few nights ago. Reading peacefully, and munching on junk food, in a futile attempt to gain weight (not). And then (drum roll), from outside my window, I hear the dulcet tones of Shashwat ( well, not really dulcet, but hey, I have artistic license and I’m not afraid to use it) calling out my name. “Nag”, he says, “Come out, and I’ll show you a hedgehog”.

…

…

!!!

For a few seconds, I am wondering what wormhole I’ve gone through, and what EXACTLY he means by that.. A quizzical look, and Shash hastens to explain he means the little brother of a porcupine. Having cleared that up, I must admit that I am intrigued. So I hop out of my room (literally.. over the balcony) and we go hedgehog hunting.

The interpid hunters, armed to the teeth with sarcasm and rhetoric, stalk into the long grass of the African plains ( remember what I said about artistic license). We fear no man, and certainly no animal, with the possible exception of that rarely sighted creature, chief wardenus horribilus. Communicating only by gesture, we use our phenomenal tracking skills to trace the cowering creature. Convinced that his ( her?) doom is upon him ( or her), he (or she.. arrrgh) is curled up into a little ball of spines, presenting what we in the trade call a Rakhee Sawant camoflauge.

The two of us freeze instantly, and disappear into the background. Time passes. The moon rises and sets, owls fly by, and curious animal sniif at us.. ( and a dog almost pees on one of us, won’t say which one) before he realizes that we are not trees, or lampposts, or other peeable material. The hedgehog cautiosly pokes it’s snout out, and takes a sniff… and instantly ducks back in. Why? Dunhill Desire is the answer. The intrepid hunters forgot that animals have a keen sense of smell, and that it might not be the best idea to go in there smelling of haute couture . Ah well, we slink away, safe in the knowledge that our dignity at least is safe, since no one saw us.. or did they.

A shadow filts across the hostel, and the two of us pause to wonder who that was. Was it a junior? On the other hand, everyone is a junior, since we are in the fifth year, so that don’t really help us much. The sound of footsteps running up the stairs, and we begin to wonder just what kind of opium smuggling operation we have stumbled into. The crab with the golden claws comes to our minds, and we don our trench coats, and adopt our hard bolied detective accents…

heh heh heh.. I am going crazy now, so I shall stop.. more in the same vein will be too much of a good thing. later all, much more much later.

The last month has been crazy. Travelling between Delhi and Jodhpur as if I were travelling between the hostel and the mess. Attending class, playing basketball, trying to get some work done, and watching the days go by.

I’m finally back in my room after a week of travel and craziness, and I’m weary.

I participated in the Google Wordmasters challenge, and that was fun. I have no clue how I did, since I don’t know what they are looking for, but I had fun writing about old science fiction movies. And robbie the robot.

Played Monopoly, and managed to get lots of money without a single card. A few strategic partnerships, and bob’s your uncle.. Spoke about the Lord of the Rings, and fantasy and science fiction, and Asimov. ate and ate and ate and ate… and ate.

Helped a friend in trouble, and watched the devil wears prada. Got to know my sister in law a little better, and saw how my brother is very happy. Missed home a lot, and missed mom more than that.

Actually asked a girl out for a date, and realized that I should not bother. I can’t do the usual things, and I think I come across as rather pathetic for even trying. Well, I might not be that bad, but in any which case, I’m not the usual sort. Which is good, and bad, and miserable, and ecstatic all at once.

Met some Pakistani people, and debated them on a host of issues. Lost some, won some, and made some friends. Came on TV, briefly, and got fifteen milliseconds of fame, as the camera panned across my face. Spent all my money, and watched friends get drunk and goofy, and break through their normal reserved self’s.

Watching the weather change, and winter approach, as the days get shorter, and the air gets keener, even as the sun shines furiously, trying hard to prove that it is still the king! A losing battle, but one that has been fought since time immemorial.

Oh well, that’s that. Write to me someone, and let me know you exist.