Of The Institution

I have been living in a rut for the past month or so. What with work having been put to stop by my omnipotent dad and the even more omnipotent college. I keep beating myself up, wondering what kind of insanity made me nod my head meekly to my dad's deriding “I’m not going to sit back and watch you pour my hard earned savings down the drain. Hah! Working and studying indeed. Why don't you try studying for once and we'll talk about working." So here I am going to college everyday and on the way I remember my boss's insightful words " Why don't you stop whining for once and just get your six months of college over with! " and I thought to myself she is right. I am never going to get to enjoy the little things in life once I start full time work. Like sleeping for as long as I want. Having absolutely nothing to do. I thought I can recharge, I can be creative with all the time that I have. Turns out I am not that creative or what creativity I had left in me, got lost in the hangover like feeling you get when you sleep for so long it's like someone took a sledgehammer to your head once you wake up. But I thought 'I will make the effort, even if others have to suffer for it!'
So here I am trying... trying really hard...to think of something I can write that at least makes sense to me.
What I come upon is... College!

Having studied in two different colleges in my life time, one after the other of course with one still going on. I'd like to think I am quite an expert on this subject.

Being from a middle class south Indian family, there were a million rules that had to be followed. It was quite an experience. Having joined a fashion institute instead of the ubiquitous engineering college, I was termed the rebel. I can still remember my mother's crestfallen face which made obvious to anyone willing to look at her face at that time and those disgusted looks which were saved specially for me and dad. But my dad on some courage spurt actually looked her in the eye and said, “You know we have no control over her. Let's give in gracefully and hope to god she doesn't turn into a hippy." But in all fairness to my dad he had done his research well and having satisfied himself that 'it's a good field to work in' he agreed to relieve his purse of that fat lump of cash. Also, the number of contingency scenarios he had planned for me was mind boggling! There was the reassuring " It's a B.Tech, so this is also like engineering" comment followed by everyone's covert are-you-kidding-me looks or the " She is going to be learning about production, so if nothing works out I could always get her to work in my factory" comment followed by My not so covert are-you-kidding -me look or the " She can always open a boutique in the house" comment followed by both mine and my mother's horrified stares. Enough-said, my so called journey on paths never ventured on before was fast turning into 'The Organized-Ville Horror'.

But all that changed when I walked into a stiflingly hot room bursting at the seams with teenagers of all shapes, colors and sizes, wearing the weirdest of ensembles and my dad gave me that grand opening of his 'one minuter', One minute he is standing next me mumbling something about ' Having seen everything in life' and the next minute he is jumping into his already moving car and begging the chauffer to drive faster. So much for overbearing parents!

And thus began the most eventful and fun four years of my life. And I wouldn't change a thing, be it the long push-shove-quibble train journeys followed by deliberately missing the overcrowded buses and then hurling abuses at the auto drivers and then hoping to God he doesn't retaliate or the lectures which always used to start ten minutes before we reached college or the canteen food from which we used to avert our eyes when it was being served by Attendant number 1 who didn't believe in baths or Attendant number 2 who had long nails painted with fuchsia polish and said " All the better to scratch my sweaty armpits dear" or those long pointless talks on the canteen stairs or in the vestibule leading to the teachers' powder room which was cool and windy no matter how high the temperature or those long weekend and nights when everyone would be grappling with those final edges which did not match or the ten millionth ripped seam only to stop and laugh at some ridiculous joke or to dance and sing along to some equally ridiculous song. Though it was not all laughs all the time, even those stupid fights and tears just bring a smile now.

Sitting here in my risk management class, still balking at my dad’s diabolical genius for ripping me off into doing an MBA, I know it will never be like that here. And I have to wonder, will I ever have the same wonderful experiences again? Will I ever find that awesome place which I profess to hate but secretly can’t wait to get to?

And you know what I realize?

I AM OLD!

Of Perfection

This is next word I love after "Quintessential" - Perfection. Every interview, every resume sent out has at least one mention of this word with an added ‘ist’. I love yapping about my eternal search for perfection and yadayadayada. But I have never really stopped to actually wonder about it. But yesterday I was looking this blog called The Sartorialist and though the post there was very relevant with fashion, it made perfect sense otherwise too.
What I 'gleaned' from the post was that -

Perfection is in-fact the end.

Once something is found to be perfect, though that rarely happens, there is nowhere to go forward from there. Kinda like when a player gives his best performance and then retires probably because he can’t go forward from there or because he is afraid he might not do as well in the encore.

So my point is, even though we might say that we want things to be perfect. Do we really want them to be so? Because according to me, what inspires most is not perfection itself but... near perfection.

PS
To refer, this is the URL for that great blog - http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/

Of Creativity

This is something that i have always wondered about.
What IS creativity?
Is it some special genius that only the select few have?
Or is it a path not all choose to take, in-spite of the fact that all have access to it?
Or is it like those out of the ordinary clubs that only the elite can join? (which means it is totally over-rated!)

Of the much discussed about...

Ok, I know i have already written extensively about this. But I cant help it, people just keep amazing me with their theories and ideas.

This is about the whole women's Lib thing. Having reached an age when other "more conventional" women would be sporting large bellies, the talk of marriage keeps popping up (thankfully not with my folks yet!). People getting married, just the thought and my throat closes up. I dont really know if i am sad and clogged with tears or it's a stroke. But that's the case. The whole concept of marriage still doesn't actually make sense to me. Why does one have to be legally bound to someone else if they have already decided they want to be together. I mean i get that u r already together and not planning to be with someone else and all that. But what it seems to me is that, this is a way of scaring those adulterous spouses with groping hands. And THAT idea is just stupid. If the person is not committed and has not respect for the partner, why would anyone want to spend a lifetime with him/her. If it's jus for the perks that institutions provide for married couples, i understand, but romance does not really figure here does it? Then comes the hassle of the divorce and alimony. The great geniuses of our time invented the prenup. But it still doesn't work for the adulterers and the murderers. So what is the point of this whole ball and chain concept? I am still waiting for the day, light shines on me and i say Eureka! or i do the psychedelic yawn or my throat explodes.

With this picture in mind let's move on, shall we? Women as a clan, have always believed in marriage. And with the passage of time, have added new clauses to the legal contract and have managed to find new unbelievably smart loopholes in it. Here's a trivia that jus proves how smart women are. Did you know that the prenup was used in the 1900's to transfer a woman's possessions to the husband after the wedding and now it is used to protect their wealth from their gold diggers of husbands. Albeit this holds true for a husband as well but if you look at it, it still works out better for the fairer.

But some offsprings of this fair, smart clan, play the exact part of dumb blondes that I can do nothing but stand open mouthed and That is quite a picture. What i guess has happened is that, there are so many new ideas floating around that they are confused. One: being that women are equal partners, two: women can be independent and don't Need men and three: the husband is the provider. These being the 3 main thought flows, ladies trying to be too smart, want to have the cake, eat it and also want more delivered to them regularly for free. I gotta say, That is ambitious. But sadly that remains just that, an ambition. How can any woman be independent, but depend on the spouse for material things and not get dominated by him( if it sounds arguable, know that this is an adaptation on my previous post on the same topic)? Plus, why would anyone want something like that? But surprisingly people do and i jus don't know wat to tell them.

Of the Big Bang and fossilised lice

And now to begin with the long awaited answers for the unnecessary questions…. Why unnecessary?... Because the answers are not really going to change anything much.

I wanted to start with the tattoos, but last night I was just sittin’ around and I had this epiphany and I thought I should write it down before I lose it.

So with reference to the last question as to whether Dan Browns books might have even a tiny smidgen of truth in them?

I was thinking what his books essentially depict are various conspiracy theories… Attacking an assortment of authorities in the world, which a few years back no one would have dared do. And we as his loving audience drink up the spate, (truth or lies, one can never actually prove) enjoying every second of it. What he illustrates are slurs on the very foundations of what we believe.

Yet we enjoy it and want more. Can’t count the number of times I’ve heard people raving about those novels and whining for the next one. Is it just because they are such good reads or because a tiny part of us revels at the idea that this might actually be true (all the thinking about this in the third person)? But god forbid if someone actually says things like that to our face and meaning it about something we have actually been involved in, then it becomes offensive.

Doesn’t this mean that we have double standards. That we choose to believe only what we want to believe. And come to think of it, isn’t THAT what is the crux of all his books. Therefore, even though his stories, as many say are just mountains made out of molehills, the molehills themselves not based on concrete proofs, it seems pretty conclusive that the concept in essence is an unequivocal truth.