Hello Goodbye.

“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.

"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.

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.

Back.

It's been four months and a new year since my last post , and so I'm back , armed with a broom to dust away the cobwebs lurking at the corners of my blog. As I tighten the scarf around my face and flex my non existent muscles with greater vigour , I hope I'll never let a thin layer of brown powder outline this unattended blog again. But then , I keep making promises , keep making resolutions and keep hoping till I lose count of all the things I wish for or dream about...so maybe one day , when I'm 80 and I've lost more teeth than I (or the tooth fairy) can keep track of, they'd all come true. And it'll matter no more.

I'd love to begin this post with a very promising opener like "I've been listening to a lot of John Mayer recently" or "I've been reading a lot of Vikram Seth recently". But the truth is , all I've been doing recently is study for my board exams and study even more , and since Fayol's Principles of Management hardly make interesting blogging , I shall not even try.

As you might have guessed , I am feeling very morbid and gloomy. (I know they mean the same thing , but I simply cannot conclude a sentence without using two adjectives in it.) I dont know why , I just do. There's so much I gotta do , so much I want , dream , no , crave for , that I don't just know when they'll start happening. I just feel like I'm in a dark dark smelly tunnel groping my way through , images of all that I want flashing through. Sigh. I hope the ground would break open and I am transported to the world under. I could start a new life there.
And worst , worst , the feelings of inadequacy. The feeling of will that ever happen to me? why havent I got it before? why , how , why...?...questions filling my head like a hot , angry , ceaseless fire. Threatening to burst out in all royal glory.

Sometimes I wish I could just run away. To a green green meadow where birds chirp and I can feel the sun's pleasant warmth on my skin. Where a waterfall roars nearbly , but the roar is muffled by the peace and happiness surrounding me. Where I can lie on the soft green grass , look up the clear blue sky and say , there's nothing I need to worry about. There's no negativity clouding my mind , no doubts , no comparisions , no unhappiness. Just me , the birds , the cows and the water. But well , I'm stuck in my room , my claustrophobic mind threatening to eat me up.

Sigh. Maybe I just need to bide my time. Wait and wait in patience , wait without hoping , wait without dreading. And I will. Wait...

Words , Speech and Joie De Vivre

I don't know what's come over me lately , for people are correcting my pronounciation all the time.

By the way. It's ProNUNciation. Not Pronounciation. (Courtesy one very enlightened friend). So if you were Del-yu-ded like me all this while , then get it right. And turn your nose up in air while you're at it.

With all due respect to all those Who Can Pronounce Words And Phrases As They Ought To Be Pronounced , I can't speak as I ought to. Fine? Fine. So don't correct the next word I say. I'm not impressed and I certainly am offended!

Actually I'm not. I am far too thick skinned to get really really offended. But it makes me In-dig-nunt! You irreparable braggarts!

And it's even more distressing when someone corrects my *French* proNUNciation. I am no um , mademoiselle French , but then , French is a very weird language! How on earth am I supposed to know how to pronounce something which should not be pronounced the way it reads! After all , what meets the eye...what I see is what you get! Right? No , you're wrong!

So I flem-bOy-antly proclaim that I have lost my joie de vivre (or have I) exactly as how you would read it now , mister and this another Excellent French Speaking Friend of mine cuttingly points out that it is Chihua hua hua. Or Wah Wah Wah. What nonsense!
Personally I feel that the only way one can master The Art Of Speaking French The Way The True French Man With His Nose High Up In The Air Does is to imagine that's you are puking. So every word , put that extra emphasis , mentally cOn-jyure the image of you Ree-gur-gi-gayting each word out and hey presto! You master French within no time! So basically Joie De Vivre should sound like , well , Bwah Bwah Bwah. More emotion , the better. The French are very passionate , you know :)

PS - No offence to the Frenchmen out there and those with perfect diction. No , I'm not jealous. I promise xD
PS 2 - Joie De Vivre is actually pronounced as Zhwer Dey Vevre. I *think*. You never know though.
PS 3 - All the spelling errors are completely intentional :)

One Book At A Time

I have made a new resolution and that is to finish every book I read , before moving on to the next one.
I know it sound silly , but I then realised that I have far too many books which are half read or even worse , meant to be half read , which means that I bought them from Landmark with utmost enthusiasm , came back home , read the blurb , put the book in a safe place to read in peace later on , and then promptly forgot to (read - motorcycle diaries) (yes , yes , pun intended :P )
So , my resolution is this. Basically , I start a book , I finish it. One at a time. All in good time. No sticking your finger in too many pies , Vaishali. (PS - I rock at that) (PS 2- Is it "Sticking your finger in too many pies or into many pies"?) (PS 3 - No , I do not mean the computer game :P )
So what better time is there to begin a new idea than now and I decided to start off with (I need applause here...) My Experiments with truth. By Gandhi. And then , The Hungry Tide. By Amitav Ghosh. And then Three Men in a Boat. And then...I haven't decided.
So anyway , I have finished My Experiments with Truth , all four hundred pages of it , and now have started with The Hungry Tide. And I'm itching to quit it and get back to Roald Dahl (Kiss Kiss , Switch Bitch...) , but no.. One Book At A Time!
And I hope to finish Motorcyle Diaries soon!
PS - The Movie (Diaros en Motorcycleta something :|) is a must watch! But you'd need subtitles. :)

12:00 am.

You cannot sleep , which is surprising , since you're usually a sound sleeper. You wake up and you go to your balcony. The road , the same road which hosted a variety of noises , movements and activity in the morning , is cold and quiet now. It is still under the dim light of the street lamps. It waits with bated breath for something to happen. But you know the truth. Nothing will happen until the break of dawn. The road will be silent , the road will wait. Nothing will happen now...nothing else matters.

But you feel sorry for it. You know that what's worse than hope , is disappointment. The day has taught you many important lessons and there is no better time than the night to revisit them. Thus you put on your shoes and you plug in the earphones. Your phone's fully charged. And so are you. You get out.

"I walk a lonely road
The only one that I have ever known
Don't know where it goes
But it's home to me and I walk alone(1)"

The song fades away. Everything does , after a stage. Even the 'we push the envelope' Metallica songs. 10 minutes of energy and it fades away...

"Life it seems, will fade away
Drifting further every day
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free...(2)"

Depressing songs do not go well with you right now. It's easy to be depressed when everything's gay around you. Now...it scares you. You shuffle through the songs , ignoring Hallowed be thy name (doesn't sound very right...) , The Unforgiven (too long) and raining blood (inappropriate). You settle on something which you think will cheer you up

"I drive these brothers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these ices.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and NaDonna
Karan, they be sharin'
All their money got me wearin' fly
Brother I ain't askin,
They say they love my ass ‘n,
Seven Jeans, True Religion's,
I say no, but they keep givin'
So I keep on takin'
And no I ain't taken
We can keep on datin'
I keep on demonstrating...(3)"

But Fergie's misguided opinion on love disgusts you , for you're quite the purist when you choose to be. Love is everything and lust is not even worth discussing. Love happens once , Love is forever , Love...improves your life. And not just your hand-bag collection.
Feeling slightly sick , you change to a song which you hope ,would reassure you that your weird notions of romance do find approval somewhere...

“Girl, it's been a long time that we've been apart
Much too long for a man who needs love
I miss you since I've been away
Babe, it wasn't easy to leave you alone
It's getting harder each time that I go
If I had the choice, I would stay

There's no one like you
I can't wait for the nights with you
I imagine the things we'll do
I just wanna be loved by you..(4)”

And then , with horror , you realise that your favourite song and what you considered as the epitome of true love , is not really what you think it's all about. It makes your heart sink , makes you want to give up on your fangled notions , makes you feel all the more alone for noone else , let alone Klaus meine , and the chill of the night makes it worse...

"Black night is not right,
I dont feel so bright,
I dont care to sit tight.
Maybe Ill find on the way down the line
That Im free, free to be me.
Black night is a long way from home..(5)"

And then , you smile cynically , realising how true the lyrics are. Home is far behind and you have no idea where you're heading to. You haven't seen these roads before , these houses , these closed shops , did they pop out during the night and fade away during the day?
You're glad that the street lights are on. Despite all your bravado , you're scared. And you're grateful for that small consolation - that the lights are still on , which means someone installed lamps on the street you're walking in , and which means that someone knows the street you're walking on. Probably that someone is fast asleep , probably he isn't. Your innate sexism amuses you - humour never seemed more appealing than when you're alone.

"Now, what do you own the world?
How do you own disorder, disorder?
Now somewhere between the sacred silence
Sacred silence and sleep
Somewhere, between the sacred silence and sleep
Disorder, disorder, disorder

More wood for the fires, loud neighbors
Flashlight reveries caught in the headlights of a truck
Eating seeds as a pastime activity
The toxicity of our city, of our city (6)"

Dopey songs remind you of another famous song , the meaning of whose lyrics still remain a mystery. Some claim it's about love and love lost , and some say that it's about drugs. But you don't care really. All that matters to you , is the song , despite it's annoying refrain. And the voice , that heavenly voice…

"Theres a lady whos sure
All that glitters is gold
And shes buying a stairway to heaven.
When she gets there she knows
If the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for.
Ooh, ooh, and shes buying a stairway to heaven"

"And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
....
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.(7) "

You are now getting bored for all this while , you've just been walking and listening to songs , poignant nevertheless , but not what you'd call fun. But since you aren't one of those who believe in absolute refinement in anything , let alone music tastes , you decide to settle for something which you'd disapprove on the outside , but secretly enjoy on the inside.

"You spin my head right round, right round
When you go down, when you go down down
You spin my head right round, right round
When you go down, when you go down down
From the top of the pole I watch her go [down]
She got me throwin my money [around
Ain’t nothin more beautiful to be [found]
It’s goin down down
From the top of the pole I watch her go [down]
She got me throwin my money a[round]
Ain’t nothin more beautiful to be [found]
It’s goin down down
I’m spendin my money
I’m out of control
Somebody help me
She’s takin my bank roll.
But I’m king of the club
And I’m wearin the crown
Poppin these bottles
Touching these models
Watchin they a**es go down down
down down, down down...(8)"

…And you spin and spin and dance like no-one's watching you , for no-one is , and dance away everything you wanted to , but couldn't do during the day. You open up during the night , the night is your true self , for it lets you do what the day bars you from....you spin and spin..and you fall down.

You are dazed , for that has never happened to you , since you were 6 , anyway. But you collect yourself and get up , rather gingerly , but determined. You must not let your mask slip. Dance is for those who can dance , and is surely not for you. Why , if anyone saw that , what would they think? Oh no. You must keep your emotions within you and within your headphones. Only in your mind will you dance , you sing , you laugh , you joke , and you love...

" My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating
Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me
'Til then I walk alone......(9)"

NB – (1) and (9) Boulevard of Broken Dreams (Greenday)

(2) Fade to Black (Metallica)

(3) My Humps (Black Eyed Peas)

(4) No One like you (Scorpions)

(5) Black Knight (Deep Purple)

(6) Toxicity (System of a Down)

(7) Stairway to Heaven (Led Zeppelin)

(8) Right Round (Flo Rida)