Rangoli...

[This post is simply an outbreak of nostalgia... for once, not to be judged on literary qualities but on emotions alone....]

I look down at my hands... manicured nails, fair fingers...people say I have pretty hands. Today, however, I hate my hands. I don't like them so clean, so perfect. Not today, not on Rangoli! Yes, today is Rangoli...not Diwali, not Kali Puja (as those in Bengal call it).. today is Rangoli!Today my hands should have been soiled with a myriad of shades. Today my nails , clipped to the roots, should still have found a way to accumulate pigments under them. Today my hair should have been a mess, my clothes worse than rags, my face barely recognizable. Today my eyes should have been red with a fortnight's waiting sleep. Today my voice should have been hoarse from inhaling pigments (and from shouting at innocent kids everyday!).Today my feet should have been treading a tip-toed path between patches of unfinished rangoli. Today my breath should have been irregular, held every time a bead of sweat threatened to destroy our art.Today dinner should have been fed by a friend braving the rangoli room in spite of asthma, just for my sake. Today my temper should have run high, only to be calmed by the relentless effort of thirty pairs of tired hands.Today my nostrils should have been filled with the smell of cheap powder-dye. Today my ears should have been filled with a Bhaat team's recital interspersed with calls of  "...concave stencil kahan hai?" Today the lights should have been tried(and tried again), the borders should have been drawn, the floor should have been swept. Today the saree should have been wrapped hastily after a two hour long bath that fails to wash all colours away. Today my feet should have hurt, from walking to every hall after a sleepless week. Today my eyes should have opened to an unparalleled showcase of creativity and art. 

Today, this day, is not for crackers, sweets and sounds. It is for achieving the impossible, together, against all odds. Its a celebration of lights and colours, done as only we know how. Today will always be Rangoli (or perhaps Illu for some), every remaining year of my life. Because you aren't KGPian for a few years, you are for life...

My Personal Paradise

My first step out of the golden gates,cobbled sidewalks lined with roses

My first step on this walk of life - for life - one precious, elusive life
Down a path where memories walk, leading to a treasured dream
As the world I know dissolves into a wilderness of conflicting thoughts
I pick my way in careful steps, avoiding bundled weeds and jagged roots
Eyes searching the gaps among the trees out of sheer habit - empty hope
Branches rustle in the wind, reaching desperately for their fallen leaves
Birds sing of joy, insects stir, a lone wolf howls for a long lost mate
But underneath the sounds of life, the wind sings a haunting melody
Reminding me of all that is, and all that soon might cease to be
Insatiable thirst slows my step, perhaps more than just a physical need

But will, sweet will, proves stronger still, as memories cloud my consciousness

Light from the evening sun seeps in through the branches overhead

Wavering, fading into shadows - an enchantment of the end of day

A starless night! A moon still red - sinister in its soft, reflected glow

Absence of life, a vacant world - a cold and dreadful existence

An unseen raven calls aloud - warning or encouragement?I know not yet
But my elusive faith finds its way back - company serves as sustenance

And with each deliberate step the path is less defined, less traversed by

Till it fades into a tangle of thorns - hindering, cutting, drawing blood

So when I pass the edge of the cliff  into the nothingness beyond

When the stark, empty white engulfs me, when each breath breaks my resolve

All I want is the last backward glance, the glimpse of your everlasting smile

The glow of life in the depth of your eyes - that's my personal paradise

Reply to a set of Quora Questions

They say that if you are good at something, you should never do it for free. I try to follow this rule, but this isn't the first time I'm making an exception to try(albeit in vain) to ease my daily suffering. The amount of Quora curiosity on "IITians" as a species is killing me..and no, that does not make me a cat! So here are my humble offerings , in the safety of my own private blog, away from the answer-race on that extremely competitive forum.
Statutory warning: This is not for the weak of heart!Listed below are the questions that have ruined my peace of mind....along with my extremely caustic replies to them. So read on, if you dare!

To begin with, there are the dating advice questions:" What is it like to have an IITian for girlfriend or boyfriend or husband or wife or partner or ... or.....?"
Well, it is pretty damned good, from your perspective at least. See, they usually earn a lot and that is a huge plus point for someone as materialistic as you, I'd say. Honestly, give me one other good reason as to why you are so obscenely interested in the qualification of a person you are supposed to fall in love with! The question you really should be asking is "what is it like to have an IITian for an Ex?"See, IITians have this nasty habit of being smart, and they are likely to figure out the real reason you are with them at some point.

Moving on to more serious matters, this one caught my attention a while ago: "Why isn't there even a single IITian who is known for film-acting?"
Now, I am actually kind of sure that if we search well enough, we'll find an example. But answer me this dearest: why would anyone give up an assured income of 10lpa( relying on their brains) in order to struggle in a merciless, brutal industry armed with nothing but their physical appearance and luck? Yeah, I know you forgot that IITians are smart. But you'll find lots of IITian artists, musicians, directors, designers, etc because these professions require you to be good at something. Honestly, if I do ever consider taking up acting as a career, it'll be stage acting, not film, because that requires skill. We IITians rely on our skills, not on our looks. Its the smart thing to do.

Then there are those looking for motivation: "What made you work hard for getting into an IIT?"
Well, you see, here's the secret: About six months before JEE, a random set of 5000 odd kids have the same dream. A messiah comes and tells them 'Child, to be an IITian is thy destiny, and thou shalt follow this path laid out by the Lord, for only then shalt thee find out the truth behind cylinders rolling down inclines!' Honestly kid, what do you expect to hear? We realized that  its our future and we want this and that nothing comes for free. Its the same thing that motivates a footballer to not miss a penalty. Now here's my advice, take up football and practice hard, and someday you will have Pele appear in your dream like I said above :)

Now to move to more adult content, mirror mirror on the wall, who's the creepiest of them all? this one is truly scarring:"What is it like to have sex with an IITian?"
Am I to assume this is the newest fetish? Not that I am judging, but if that is what is on your mind while doing it, you should be asking your questions to a professional psychiatrist, not on Quora. No. I really don't have an answer that does justice to this question. I am just trying to get it out of my system...

Well, in order to ensure that I don't overwhelm my readers, I'll wrap it up with one last question. This one actually hurt me: "What is the best way to insult an IITian?"
Well my friend, you just did. You just called for public opinion on trying to humiliate us! Do you really hate us that much?If this was just for fun, then thank you for having fun at our expense. If it was for a specific vengeance, is their being an IITian what bothers you most? If this was because you are an IITian and think nobody can insult you, when was the last time you went to your department? But somehow I know, that it is the desperate need to prove to an IITian that they are not special, that they are just another regular person, that triggered this question. That is what hurts me.

Let me tell you a secret. We IITians know that we are not that special. None of us can guarantee that we'll clear JEE if we take it again. None of us assume that success in some competitive exam as a teenager makes us a separate species. We are better than average at logical reasoning and concentration. That's all we have to say for ourselves. Which is a hell of a lot less than Rafael Nadal or Salman Rushdie can say for themselves. So, that's all we want said about us. Please do us a favor and don't alienate us. Whether you worship us or detest us, all you do is create a barrier. Treat us with exactly the same respect that you have for that neighborhood boy who's a state level player or the kid who can juggle 6 eggs at a time. There are a lot less people who scale the Everest every year, let us all stand up and bow to them!

The Unthinkable...

[In reply to Mr. Chetan Bhagat's advice to women: blogs.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/The-underage-optimist/entry/five-things-women-need-to-change-about-themselves]

Now that the first attempt at something "unthinkable" has been made, let me try my hand at it - by trying to tell men that they might just be wrong. This is not a pretty article, so if you are looking for a lighter read, perhaps you will find a copy of "Two States" lying around somewhere. This article is my reply to the five things Mr. Bhagat suggests women to change about themselves. My reply, not as a woman, but as a rational individual:

Mr. Bhagat suggests that women need to stop judging other women. I completely agree with this. In fact, they should also stop judging men, their kids, others' kids, the clothes in Paris Fashion Week and the quality of rice bought at the supermarket. Men should also not judge women, other men, their kids, others' kids, the Kawasaki Ninja and football passes. Won't that be a nice and comfy world to live in!?  Give me a man who has never judged anyone or anything in his life (professional judges, please don't take this personally), and I will accept his advice to humanity on the matter. Mr. Bhagat, whose description of 'Dean Cherian' closely resembles that of a bulldog, does not strike me as such a person.

Now, where do I even begin on the faking issue! Well, as a disclaimer, I love to fake. I was told it is called being grown up. It appears, however, that women tend to commit the serious crimes of laughing at men's jokes even if they are not funny and dumb-ing themselves down for guys. Now, how many men do I know who fake it right , left and center to improve their chances with a girl? I'll leave that question hanging...
Women also tend to accept a raw deal at work easier than men, it appears. It is called being professional, Sir! You might not like to hear it, but perhaps those women are tougher than the men around. They might not be the fake bitches you make them out to be. (It should be noted here that I, personally,do not agree with this generalization  of women accepting raw deals in the least.)

On the issue of women refusing property rights (the only serious issue in the article, according to me), I agree with Mr. Bhagat that women need to stand up for their own rights. However, the usual reason for women to avoid property disputes is domestic discord. Blaming society might be  cliche, but, in ours, women always support their men in their property related disputes, but not vice-versa. The supportive husband says, "forget your dad's property, we have enough as it is!" The loving father says, "forget your alimony, I can support my daughter!" I have rarely seen a woman who has given up her property rights when at least some of her family has supported her. But to choose domestic peace over a few acres of land - isn't that a sign of foresight?

Then there are the dreams! Those dreams that are never big enough, never great enough, never worth fighting for...to anyone but the dreamer. Truth is, nobody needs someone else to tell them what their dreams should be. Mr. Bhagat, in spite of his ability to reduce life at an IIT to a bollywood-ish romantic comedy, does not get to dictate the dreams of the women of India. An ambition of having your two healthy kids tell you how much they liked the lunch you packed for them is no less precious than that of becoming the CEO of Yahoo! The question is: Can you respect one as much as the other, and ensure you do your bit to support a woman in achieving her dreams, irrespective of what they are?

Mr. Bhagat's last advice, however, is one I wholeheartedly support. Never be too caught up in the drama of relationships. This advice, I'll re-iterate, for both men and women to understand (no, I do not think women need this advice more than men).  Any relationship,with anyone but yourself, is not worth having if it takes that much effort and causes that much distress. Relationships, like Mr. Bhagat says, are important and should be valued. However, they are there to help you get through everything else with a smile upon your face. It is not worth it to protect a relationship that constantly keeps costing you that smile. Get over it! Move on! Live your life, this is your only chance at it!