The Journey

(I wrote this poem somewhere in 2009 I think.)

There was this captain,

there was the dame,

Cappy was a charmer,

nor was she plain.

There was this feast,

loud, bright and drunk,

Cappy saw her there,

his ship was sunk.

He sought her out,

then she saw him too,

the room became empty,

it was just them two.

They decided together,

to embark on a trip,

one beautiful morning,

set sail on their ship.

The start was perfect,

smoothest ever sailing,

then troubles brewed,

the momentum was failing.

The sea grew choppy,

the waves gave alarm,

one day was stormy,

other day was calm.

It remained that way,

mixing cruel and kind,

the ship was a beast,

with it's own mind.

The skies grew darker,

sunny days faded,

old ship's glory,

became heavily jaded.

The trip was no fun,

but choices they lack,

in the middle of the sea,

should they turn back?

Then one day this happened

she searched all around

looking for Cappy

he wasn't to be found.

The good times flashed

she missed him so

"Lord, together with him,

anywhere I would go"

She didn't feel the storm

she wasn't even scared

"I want Cappy back",

was all that she cared.

Then she saw him

he was under the deck

it was the one place

she had forgotten to check.

His smile was the sun

brighter was her day

He saw her tears

kissed them away.

Looked at each other

with eyes so new,

"Why was I blind

to beauty so true"

The meaning of joy

became bright and clear

the journey doesn't matter

with each other near.

It carried them safely,

didn't sink, this ship,

And sailed into the horizon

on their never ending trip :)

Ghosts of India Past

I was just watching this documentary today called "The Story of India". It was 6 hours of breathtaking footage and stories about India's past. This was like crack to me. I can't tell you how amazing it feels to stand in a building a 1000 years old and imagine life as it used to be. I remember standing in Ajanta Caves when I was 13 years old and simply wanting to cry at the sheer magnificence of what was around me. While I can't do that (relative to India) at this point, just watching it online was enthralling enough.

I have always wondered where Ramayana and Mahabharata fit into the mold of Indian History. As they have religious connotations, I can imagine many people preferring to imagine them as myths and not include them in the accepted historical versions of India. Still, personally to me it was always likely that these stories were true. There were true places like Kurukshetra that were mentioned. And also maybe it was the romantic in me that wanted to believe that the stories were true. I found out that Ramayana supposedly existed around 7500 BC. The Mahabharata time was around 3200 BC. I was also always confused about the different timelines of the Maurya (around 300 BC) and Gupta Dynasties (around 300 AD). It was an amazing refresher to the greatness of India.

Watching these kind of documentaries gives me this kind of strange mix of elation and sad wistfulness. I remember this movie , " A midnight in Paris". The main guy in the movie (played by owen wilson.. what a cutie!) gets to go back to the 1950s each night and experience the life he always longed for. I really think that if I had one wish today, it would be to be able to do the same (after world peace of course :p). Which time would I choose? Ugghhhh.. it's hard but I think I want to see India in all her glory so it would be the Golden Age first of course, and then I guess I'd like to meet Birbal, so Akbar's rule then.

This trail of thought also makes me think about the DISMAL state of preservation of our history. My visit to London and my stay in the US since the past 4 years has shown me how much we take our history for granted. I have visited exhibits in both places where it was preserved, marketed like crazy and all for something that was probably from the 1800s. The documentary was showing artifacts from the Kushan empire (50 AD!!) and the artifacts were kept in a normal room with minimum preservation. The historian was even allowed to touch the artifacts. And it wasn't even in some huge museum which has many visitors, the artifacts were stored in the local city museum of the tiny town in which in was discovered! And in cities like Hyderabad, historical buildings are routinely torn down to build newer uglier buildings. The documentary also showed this structure called Akbar ka Tila which was like a small gathering assembly for Akbar. The monument is completely ignored and unacknowledged and treated like any other piece of concrete in the middle of any other park. Ok, I need to stop.. this is getting me super riled up. Ugghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Mother of all cliched posts

I've often heard people complain about how every idiot gets to have a blog and pretend he (or she in my case) has an opinion that millions care about. Right now at 4.38 am in the morning, I couldn't be more excited about being that idiot.

I guess like most girls my age, I have had a very turbulent relationship with the dreaded L word. I have usually been very starry eyed about the notion of love. I always believed in crazy amazing romantic love. But for the past few years, after breaking hearts and having my heart broken, I really started questioning if love was something than teenagers imagined and then life hits you. I had really started to laugh about the fact that love is nothing but a cover up for saying that you are good looking enough and interesting enough that I guess I should be with you. And God forbid, there comes along someone better looking or more interesting, then the whole notion of "I love you" suddenly evaporates into "I need to find myself", "I'm not in the right place" and of course, "It's not you, it's me". But I dunno, just this week, I have been noticing love. There was no "aha" moment where I suddenly got my faith back, or I guess life is just suddenly being positive so the world feels brighter or whatever, but I am starting to believe that true love exists even now. The love that will love someone a 100 pounds later, will love someone when they wake up with morning stinky breath, and you know that the world can end before this person leaves your corner. I'm starting to believe in this love.

As romantic as it sounds, I don't believe that I'll find that love on a sports bike in a leather jacket hiding 6 pack abs. In fact, I may be prejudiced but I really haven't even met a mildly pleasant guy with 6 pack abs. I don't expect the guy to bring me breakfast in bed, but I hope that when I am really excited about something, he will know me enough to fake-share my joy. He'll remember to tell me that dinner was good if it was good. Small shit like that. I know that for me to find someone to love me like that, I have to learn to love like that. I am hoping I have learnt and I am wiser now. Omg I need to make a list of all the amazing things I wanna do with that guy.

1) Number 1 is ALWAYS to go on a picnic. And now I even like wine!

2) Rock climbing

3) Hold hands n ice skate :)

4) Go sledding on the smaller slopes first and then I stop being scared, I'll join him on the bigger slopes.

5) Let him teach me how to not suck at a sport.. whatever he likes enough to play but doesn't love enough to hate watching me suck.

6) GO TO THE BEACH. And lie on the beach and talk.. and hold hands n walk in the water.. or maybe play tag :)

7) pictionarrryyyyyyyy... and moooonnoopollyyyyy (please God make him like Monopoly!)

8) drive in movie!!

9) Pizza farm!!

10) Ziplining!

11) Camping.. and we make awesome hot dogs and then we tell scary stories

12) Scuba diving together.. super romantic :)

Hmnnn... it's a nice topic to think about just as I fall asleep :)

Post-Thesis Utopia

I found this poem that I wrote in October, 2011 when I was completely overwhelmed with my thesis. I just wrote in on a whim in the middle of the night when I felt another meltdown coming. It's addressed to an imaginary boyfriend.

When I am finally done,

will you hug me really tight?

Buy me an icecream maybe,

watch movies through the night?

If I did a great job writing,

will you take me out to dance?

Tell me you're so proud,

being famous is a chance.

I feel so drained sweetheart,

will you make me fresh and new?

Rub each stress off with a kiss,

can it just be me n you?

Each word feels so heavy,

no wonder my back hurts!

Inspiration's leaking slowly,

more in trickles than in spurts.

If feel the tears are coming,

if the low gets really low,

will you pick me up, dust me off,

tell me i'm the strongest girl u know?

Can't wait to get this done with,

we won't have a single care,

we'll laugh and fight and talk all night,

and forget this time was ever there.

Strange Fruit

Someone on FB posted the picture of Thomas Smith and Abram Smith who were lynched in 1930. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Shipp_and_Abram_Smith
One look at the picture made me physically sick to my stomach.

I am almost naive in my faith in people. I have traveled alone several times staying with strangers (through couchsurfing.com). I have always believed something mummy loves to say, "tum logon ke saath jaise ho, woh tumhare saath waise honge". Loosely translated it means that people treat you the way you treat them. So if you don't do anything wrong to them, they will by default be nice to you. Strangers are always nice, kind people. When I see contrary evidence like that picture, it really shakes me from within. If the picture wasn't haunting enough, the poem "Strange Fruit" written by Abel Meerpol totally tore me apart.

Abel Meeropol, Strange Fruit (1939)

Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

I don't get it. I don't understand how someone's pain can bring pleasure to anything that God made. According to research studies in the past (Milgram's experiment and the Stanford prison trials) people are kind only when they are answerable for their actions. If nobody was accountable to anybody, then by nature, man is cruel. When I read about those research studies, I refused to acknowledge it. I read about them in depth to find a loophole. That there is something that the researchers did wrong. I didn't find any published loophole and it made me sad for a while. But then all I did is distract myself with loud music and fatty food and prayed that it didn't apply to my time anymore.

Seeing this picture has me shit scared. I'm shaking and nauseated. But for now, I will hold on to the faith.

Los Angeles!

So I have been super unproductive today with my mind completely refusing to co-operate with my to-do list. So as a compromise, I decide to finally journal my trip to LA.

LA can be a disappointment at first glance. Especially coming from San Francisco, it was for me. At the beginning. But then you need to get out of the SF hangover to truly enjoy what LA has to offer. I got lucky enough to have a friend offering to host me in Santa Monica. A few blocks from the beach!! I'll be breaking LA into memorable areas or places of interest that I explored since I don't remember it on a day-wise basis.

1) Santa Monica- Santa Monica is the perfect neighborhood to just relax and enjoy being in good weather. I DIED for the amazing pizza.. I have always imagined that pizza would taste better without the tomato sauce and finally atleast two pizzerias in SM agreed with me! I don't know how common it is around town, but the spinach and feta cheese pizzas were to die for!! I miss that the most about Santa Monica. Another awesome part of Santa Monica was the 3rd St. promenade. I don't know if the place was packed cos it was the holiday season but the energy of the place was electrifying. I met with Scott to this Mexican bar that had happy hour drinks and I drowned in delicious chocotinis. The place had karaoke and it was packed on a Thursday night. Another fun place was the Santa Monica Pier which I believe is the official end of Route 66. It was nice enough with lights and people and typical overpriced crappy food that you would expect from such a tourist attraction.

2) Venice Beach: This was my favorite part of LA. Where else in the US can you get into the water in December!! You had lots of people surfing which really made me wish I had some athletic bone in my body. And the views. OMG. You can see all the way till Malibu (I think) and it is just simply breathtaking. Venice beach also has this part called Muscle Beach where you can see bulky guys trying to impress girls by lifting seriously intimidating dumbbells on an outdoor beach. What I had no clue about before I came to Venice beach was the fact that it's called Venice for a reason! There is a whole neighborhood where there are canals running through each house. It looks like a tiny english village connected by canals. I was positively in awe of how gorgeous it was. Apparently, each of those house go for several million bucks. The most magical secret about Venice beach is called the Inland Walkways. It is soooo hard to describe. It is a series of narrow pathways winding through the most unique and whimsical gardens you'll ever see. Never seen anything like this in the US. This is what I imagined tiny cottages in the Enid Blyton books would look like. Oh yeah. BIGGEST tip about the area. Don't go alone. Don't go at night. I somehow managed to do both. The place turns SUPER SHADY the minute it gets dark. I had a Mexican dude who seriously looked like a gang member walk up to me and say "you go home with me". I was like.."umm.. sir.. no thank you". I ran to a cop who also was hitting on me!! I finally found this other white tourist girl who also looked as terrified as me and we ran to the bus stop. Phew!

3) Hollywood: So I did the whole Hollywood tour because you're supposed to do it. But I don't think it is really the best part of LA. For someone who is a lot into the history of Hollywood, it would probably be exciting to stand in the dressing room where Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn once got dressed. But somehow the presence of the million swarming tourists made the place feel very fake. Like everything was not the real deal. The Grauman's Chinese Theatre with the hand prints felt the same way. This congested crowd with a zillion tour guides mde it very difficult to sit back and imagine the history the place. I mean everybody should definitely do it once, but like I said, not my favorite part of LA.

Rest of my LA trip was just scattered around Downtown, Glendale (which has an observatory with the coolest views of LA), Beverly Hills (the supposed poshest area of the world really just looked like Jubilee Hills). Also, the worst way to see LA is using the public transport which is what I had to do. So all the people who tell you that you need a car to enjoy LA are probably right. It was still manageable but took hourrsss to get anywhere. And unlike SF, you could see that most of the general public in LA doesn't use the public buses. For a reason I guess. Oh I forgot to mention, in Glendale, right outside Scott's apartment, I found this amazinnnggg Indian food place. I ate sooo much. I ate dosa and idly and vada and dahi puri. WOW. This is what I miss about big cities.

It's a hot girl's world. But that's gonna change.

I have never considered myself pretty ever. In fact until I became Miss. Gitanjali in class 10, I have considered myself ugly. After that I was like, I can't be that ugly, maybe I look normal. I grew up in the most amazing school with the most amazing family and friends who always focused on the one thing I could do well (get good grades) instead of the 100 things I couldn't (look good, play sports, be tall, sing etc. etc.).

Coming to the US was the dream. At first it was intimidating, every girl in my class looked like she stepped out of a magazine. Mansha in her infinite wisdom told me that since everybody looks good, it doesn't matter to guys anymore. I believed it. I was happy. Then I met him. I don't even know how it all went from being lab partner to friend to more than friends. I say "more than friends" because he said he didn't wanna label it by calling me his girlfriend. I am still amazed that I was almost 25 and I didn't chuck him out right then. My roommates finally (literally) threw all his stuff out of the house and said that he can come in if he calls himself my boyfriend and that's how we finally started dating. The fun part was really fun, but then came this whole other experience that I never knew b4. He would always ask me to wait in the car when he went back to his frat for short times. He would look so uncomfortable when any of his frat buddies saw us together. I took it as a challenge and changed everything about how I dressed. From the girl who didn't own make-up, I became the girl who didn't leave home without make up on. I saw Youtube videos that taught me how to tease and curl and wave my hair. I put half my energy into looking good and only half remained for my academic life.

The story should have ended that I got over my insecurity and lived happily ever after. But the truth is, the more I worked on how I looked, the more I could see other flaws. My nails weren't always manicured. Was my skin always this horrible? And somehow, the more I noticed people treating me differently cos I wasn't hot. I would hang out with his friends who always seemed to be mad at me that I wasn't hotter. I went for this concert yesterday and they picked some girls in the crowd to be in the front and my head was screaming at me that I wasn't hot enough to be picked and when I told my head that I didn't care, he voiced the same opinion ("I guess they pick the guys with the hot girls").

I know at 26 I am supposed to be over this high school shit but I feel like I have been exposed to the world in a way I had never seen before. I feel like I have this number on my forehead that labels who I am before people have even exchanged a word with me. I fight it hard everyday. I try to go back to the same shruti who always said that, " I don't need to be pretty, I'm smart". It's a much harder battle that I thought it would be. I've learned that humor is the best defense. I make fun of how unhot I am before he can and it works at least outwardly. But I'm hoping that sometime from now, I can walk into a room without any makeup on and look everybody confidently in the eye and introduce myself. That I can piss every asshole off who thinks that I am not hot enough to be that confident. It is hard to do while hanging out with him. He still will look at me weirdly and I'll know he's checking some flaw when he says, "when was the last time you tweezed your eyebrows". Ughhhh.... I am smart not pretty bitch!

P.S. Since you probably know who I am talking about, he is a great guy who probably has a million positive traits. I am just talking about the one trait that impacted me negatively.