“When the shit hits the fan” she announced to the world in general. “It doesn’t evenly spread.”
He glared at her ,as did many others. Embarrassed , she looked away. She didn’t usually swear , atleast not that loudly.
“I’m trying to be serious here” he said , and tried to sound scathing. “I’m leaving for Delhi tomorrow , as you know , and I probably won’t come back , not for another five years”
“Yes I know. Oh damn , I left your pendrive at home. Can I keep it..?”
“Wha…? Enough jokes here!” he said. Did she even care? Solemnity certainly wasn’t her middle name.
She looked at his brown nails and peered at his nicotine stained teeth. She tried tip-toeing to see if she’d ever see him face to face. “Five years later , just you watch..." she said , struggling to balance herself and her voice unnaturally wobbly. “I’d be much taller and yes , much better at football yeah!” She still couldn’t meet him in the eye.
He laughed , a typical , generous , throaty , self-conscious laugh. “Promise me you’ll keep in touch.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you will wall me on Facebook”
“I deactivated my account.” She looked at him in the eye for the first time. Her voice rose in mock anger “And you didn’t notice! Go back to Delhi, to your precious ---- , see if I care!”
“What…why did you…she isn’t my girlfriend…atleast not now and you know that! Okay fine. Text me.”
She tossed her head. “STD. Too expensive.”
“Well , then atleast pick up my calls. And email me.”
She looked up only to meet the twinkling eyes which knew her only too well. After six years , there really couldn’t be any more pretense.
“Fine. I’ll miss you and all that shit. You can tell your girlfriend in Delhi that.” She mumbled.
His cellphone buzzed before he could reply. A scoop of molten lead settled down in her stomach and she made up her mind to have a light dinner.
‘Hey you.’ His voice sounded half-joking , half-serious. Dusk had fallen , she could see his face no more. Not that he was drop dead handsome in the first place. ‘Give me a hug. I’m leaving.’
She snorted. ‘You know I don’t hug.’ She cleared her throat and gave him her Important look. ‘So yeah. I will see you when I see you.’
He shook his head , still grinning widely like an idiot and started to move back. Fatso that he was , it would be a good five minutes before she could no longer see him in the distance.
‘Don’t smoke too much. Take care of your health. Don’t skip meals!’ she shouted out to the world in particular.
‘I wo-o-o-n’t’
‘And…And…And… Abhishek Bachchan loves me!”
He laughed again , and his laughter seemed to ring tonelessly in the air. “Khuda Hafiz , Vai!"
She shook her head as warm , salty tears tried to dissolve a goofy , insincere smile painted on her face. Tomorrow's sun would never rise in her world.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
"We are the music makers , we are the dreamer of dreams."
When you close your eyes , what do you see? The person you love? The person you wish would love you back? That precious, infantile goal which the world would probably laugh at?
When I close my eyes, I get dizzy. There are just too many things which flash through my mind , some fond memories , most irrational cravings. I have been known as the quintessential day-dreamer. I live my life as a dream , I see things the way I wish to see them. I construct my own images of what people around me are like , I imagine what they would say and when...it's tiring and yes , it makes me so detached from reality. So when I open my eyes and find myself bruised and see people around me in a new light, it is a rude shock , but yes , strangely relieving too. One less dream to chase , one step closer to reality.
One of my most cherished memories is the first time I was part of a jamming session. Two years back , my brother introduced me to metal and it was like something clicked , like I had found my voice. Most people dismiss heavy metal music , it's noise , they say , too much growling , too much violence , too intense and if I may dare say , dangerous. I disagree. What's music and what's noise and who decides the difference between the two? I might find Carnatic music intolerable , I could find Opera music akin to yowling cats.How can you decide that *this* is music , and *that* is not? I find that extremely shallow and disturbing.
To me , metal symbolises freedom , the ability to deviate from 'normal' music. Metal has a cause , it has a voice of its own , it represents something as anyone who listens to thrash/white/death metal would know. It's not junk music , I would go as far as to say it's 'real' music , music which stands on its own right, a genre with so much variety contained in it (thirty four subgenres , according to Wiki). It's music which makes you feel like you're part of a crowd , yet so alone , as anyone who's been to a rock concert would know. There's screaming yes , there's awesome guitars , hysterical fans , maddening music....yet amidst that chaos is a sense of quietitude , sense of being overwhelmed...overpowered and empowered at the same time. It's an exhilarating feeling , I remember headbanging to Symphony of Destruction at Vivum two years back. That moment , there was no good music or bad music (although , in hindsight , they just didn't do Megadeth justice), it was just a bunch of us with our own individual experiences , preferences , backgrounds , brought together by the creators of music. And nothing else mattered.
I can't create music per se , I can't play the guitar or any musical instrument for that matter and my singing is strictly functional. Yet , when I'm part of a jamming session , I feel like I *create* music too , it's not just them playing out there , it's that girl sitting in the corner , away from the world who does too. That girl may not know the difference between a riff and a chord , but in her own quiet way , in her dreams , in her hopes , in her reality , she is quietly creating her own tunes , dancing to her own music. And to her , nothing else matters.
When you close your eyes , what do you see? The person you love? The person you wish would love you back? That precious, infantile goal which the world would probably laugh at?
When I close my eyes, I get dizzy. There are just too many things which flash through my mind , some fond memories , most irrational cravings. I have been known as the quintessential day-dreamer. I live my life as a dream , I see things the way I wish to see them. I construct my own images of what people around me are like , I imagine what they would say and when...it's tiring and yes , it makes me so detached from reality. So when I open my eyes and find myself bruised and see people around me in a new light, it is a rude shock , but yes , strangely relieving too. One less dream to chase , one step closer to reality.
One of my most cherished memories is the first time I was part of a jamming session. Two years back , my brother introduced me to metal and it was like something clicked , like I had found my voice. Most people dismiss heavy metal music , it's noise , they say , too much growling , too much violence , too intense and if I may dare say , dangerous. I disagree. What's music and what's noise and who decides the difference between the two? I might find Carnatic music intolerable , I could find Opera music akin to yowling cats.How can you decide that *this* is music , and *that* is not? I find that extremely shallow and disturbing.
To me , metal symbolises freedom , the ability to deviate from 'normal' music. Metal has a cause , it has a voice of its own , it represents something as anyone who listens to thrash/white/death metal would know. It's not junk music , I would go as far as to say it's 'real' music , music which stands on its own right, a genre with so much variety contained in it (thirty four subgenres , according to Wiki). It's music which makes you feel like you're part of a crowd , yet so alone , as anyone who's been to a rock concert would know. There's screaming yes , there's awesome guitars , hysterical fans , maddening music....yet amidst that chaos is a sense of quietitude , sense of being overwhelmed...overpowered and empowered at the same time. It's an exhilarating feeling , I remember headbanging to Symphony of Destruction at Vivum two years back. That moment , there was no good music or bad music (although , in hindsight , they just didn't do Megadeth justice), it was just a bunch of us with our own individual experiences , preferences , backgrounds , brought together by the creators of music. And nothing else mattered.
I can't create music per se , I can't play the guitar or any musical instrument for that matter and my singing is strictly functional. Yet , when I'm part of a jamming session , I feel like I *create* music too , it's not just them playing out there , it's that girl sitting in the corner , away from the world who does too. That girl may not know the difference between a riff and a chord , but in her own quiet way , in her dreams , in her hopes , in her reality , she is quietly creating her own tunes , dancing to her own music. And to her , nothing else matters.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Two timer.
Vaishali Prasad is a twice-a-year miracle. Her last post was on January 21st 2010 and her next post is on December 2nd 2011, no 2010. Yay her.
Vaishali Prasad also wonders if she should launch into a heart-wrenching story- about how she struggled against her inner psyche to post something here and how she ultimately emerged victorious after defeating that laziness which so defines her- in a way that would make you click your tongues and wrench your face in an attempt to squeeze out a tear or two. But she can't be bothered.
When Vaishali Prasad last updated something here , she was a much harassed , frantic class 12 commerce student with weird hair. Now , she is pleased to inform you that she is a much harassed , frantic first year Humanities student at IIT-Madras with weird hair. Yes , she passed her Board exams despite sleeping nineteen hours a day during February and March and somehow gate crashed into IIT despite sleeping twenty three hours a day during April and May. She is happy to inform you that now however , she can easily stay up the whole night and sleep during the day.
Vaishali Prasad has the whole of December off and being the earnest optimist that she is , vows to improve her literary , culinary and aesthetic tastes during this period. However you know her better and so I'd implore that you don't laugh at her , when at the end of her holidays , all she improves is her weight and her ability to sleep longer and better.
And , after living in a hostel for four months , she can now sleep with the lights on.
Vaishali Prasad also wonders if she should launch into a heart-wrenching story- about how she struggled against her inner psyche to post something here and how she ultimately emerged victorious after defeating that laziness which so defines her- in a way that would make you click your tongues and wrench your face in an attempt to squeeze out a tear or two. But she can't be bothered.
When Vaishali Prasad last updated something here , she was a much harassed , frantic class 12 commerce student with weird hair. Now , she is pleased to inform you that she is a much harassed , frantic first year Humanities student at IIT-Madras with weird hair. Yes , she passed her Board exams despite sleeping nineteen hours a day during February and March and somehow gate crashed into IIT despite sleeping twenty three hours a day during April and May. She is happy to inform you that now however , she can easily stay up the whole night and sleep during the day.
Vaishali Prasad has the whole of December off and being the earnest optimist that she is , vows to improve her literary , culinary and aesthetic tastes during this period. However you know her better and so I'd implore that you don't laugh at her , when at the end of her holidays , all she improves is her weight and her ability to sleep longer and better.
And , after living in a hostel for four months , she can now sleep with the lights on.
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