Something of Myself
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
My conversation with an erudite 30+ person last night reminded me of Roland Barthes. I remember my introduction to Semiotics and hated it all the way through first year. Clearly, it made no sense to me and belied every reason for studying the same.
I came back to it during my third year and loved it. It made complete sense. I had obviously nurtured my thirst for academia and therein the sensibilities perhaps sharpened. Last night, after the conversation, I went back online and dig up the old web sites that once educated me on Barthes. It was an amazing experience...to look, hunt, explore and refresh memories related to the world of literary studies.
Stuck in the race to appease the hunger, I wonder if I will go on a vacation that will just make me read, read and read. Not the Tony Parsons type but Saussure, Barthes, Freud, Nietzsche...stuff that will make me stay up all night to prod through their minds...to attempt to understand the philosophies that have moulded centuries of 'thought.' Of language and culture. Of race and identity. Of signs and communication. Of individuals and society. Of imprisonment and empowernment.
I am so tempted to apply for a leave...
If only this hunger could be abated at the cost of gastric juices...
I came back to it during my third year and loved it. It made complete sense. I had obviously nurtured my thirst for academia and therein the sensibilities perhaps sharpened. Last night, after the conversation, I went back online and dig up the old web sites that once educated me on Barthes. It was an amazing experience...to look, hunt, explore and refresh memories related to the world of literary studies.
Stuck in the race to appease the hunger, I wonder if I will go on a vacation that will just make me read, read and read. Not the Tony Parsons type but Saussure, Barthes, Freud, Nietzsche...stuff that will make me stay up all night to prod through their minds...to attempt to understand the philosophies that have moulded centuries of 'thought.' Of language and culture. Of race and identity. Of signs and communication. Of individuals and society. Of imprisonment and empowernment.
I am so tempted to apply for a leave...
If only this hunger could be abated at the cost of gastric juices...
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Not that I understand much about tagging but when the request comes from Misti (http://misti-hope.blogspot.com), I guess I have to oblige - so here we go: 8 random things about myself:
1. I love mutton biriyani. Yeah, food is on my mind since I am not having much of it these days! :( Rahamania biriyani is made by the God's own chef.
2. Blue Polo is my favourite perfume. It has always worked with women. :-)
3. I love brands. Apple, Harley Davidson, P&G, Sony, M&S...
4. Unprofessionalism and hypocrisy pisses me off the most.
5. I myself am quite random and that can easily qualify as one of the 'random things about myself.' :-)
6. I struggle forever between spontaneity and control.
7. My favourite wear is dhuti, panjabi and/or business suits (barring the neck tie)...
8. I like people who can talk well. Specially those who can talk their way out of situations.
1. I love mutton biriyani. Yeah, food is on my mind since I am not having much of it these days! :( Rahamania biriyani is made by the God's own chef.
2. Blue Polo is my favourite perfume. It has always worked with women. :-)
3. I love brands. Apple, Harley Davidson, P&G, Sony, M&S...
4. Unprofessionalism and hypocrisy pisses me off the most.
5. I myself am quite random and that can easily qualify as one of the 'random things about myself.' :-)
6. I struggle forever between spontaneity and control.
7. My favourite wear is dhuti, panjabi and/or business suits (barring the neck tie)...
8. I like people who can talk well. Specially those who can talk their way out of situations.
Monday, July 02, 2007
It was not as if it could not have been. It clearly could have. But then, life is often determined not by the choices we make, but the lack of it. At least that's what he was thinking as he was driving from Calcutta towards her place. He was to meet the parents today. After dating her for 11 years, surely it would be the most natural thing to do (given the Indian socio-cultural psyche)...But there was something in the air...some odd smell, the chilly wind perhaps, or may be the conversation that he had with her just before leaving...something, inexplicable that made him look within and ask if he really wanted to do this.
* * *
She could not stop weeping. She had just sold off her place at Warwick. The money ensured that she paid off her car loan and got the tickets to fly to Mumbai. Love makes you do strange things and this was one of them. How else could you explain the desire to give up everything, move away from friends and family to arrive at the doorstep of the man who claimed to have loved you for the last 6 months or so. They said, it was too early to take such a drastic step, to uproot oneself...She had never listened to them because for her, he mattered the most. His being in Mumbai or Timbuctoo would make no difference. That said, after boarding the aircraft, and just before switching off her phone, she received a text from him which did not sound too right...some odd smell, the chilly tone perhaps, or may be the growing, unseen distance between the two...something, inexplicable that made her look within and ask if she really wanted this flight to take off!
* * *
It was almost certain - divorce was inevitable. Even according to their lawyers, they were 'mutually incompatible.' Living under the same roof, or sharing the bed was no longer an option. It had to be this way. It hurt but then so often does life. She got off the cab - wiping away the tear that escaped the lower rim of her dark sunglasses...Yes, it was true that he made a stupid mistake...a one night stand that should have crawled away before sunlight...but still deep inside, she did not want to lose him. His defense pissed her off! How can you defend adultery? Like he said, 'you can't make an omlette with your dick in your trousers', can you? As she walked past the chai stalls, she felt a sudden moment of paralysis...something, inexplicable that made her look within and ask if a legal piece of paper would severe a 16 year old bond - if this could re-write the name of her son's father - if she really wanted to sign on the dotted line.
* * *
Moments like these exist in one's lifetime - when you have promised yourself something, living in the belief of the strongest belief you've known; nurturing the hangover of a dream, inching towards making it a reality and then that very dream, that very desire, that very belief takes a beating. You wonder then if life is really about the choices we make, or the lack of it.
* * *
She could not stop weeping. She had just sold off her place at Warwick. The money ensured that she paid off her car loan and got the tickets to fly to Mumbai. Love makes you do strange things and this was one of them. How else could you explain the desire to give up everything, move away from friends and family to arrive at the doorstep of the man who claimed to have loved you for the last 6 months or so. They said, it was too early to take such a drastic step, to uproot oneself...She had never listened to them because for her, he mattered the most. His being in Mumbai or Timbuctoo would make no difference. That said, after boarding the aircraft, and just before switching off her phone, she received a text from him which did not sound too right...some odd smell, the chilly tone perhaps, or may be the growing, unseen distance between the two...something, inexplicable that made her look within and ask if she really wanted this flight to take off!
* * *
It was almost certain - divorce was inevitable. Even according to their lawyers, they were 'mutually incompatible.' Living under the same roof, or sharing the bed was no longer an option. It had to be this way. It hurt but then so often does life. She got off the cab - wiping away the tear that escaped the lower rim of her dark sunglasses...Yes, it was true that he made a stupid mistake...a one night stand that should have crawled away before sunlight...but still deep inside, she did not want to lose him. His defense pissed her off! How can you defend adultery? Like he said, 'you can't make an omlette with your dick in your trousers', can you? As she walked past the chai stalls, she felt a sudden moment of paralysis...something, inexplicable that made her look within and ask if a legal piece of paper would severe a 16 year old bond - if this could re-write the name of her son's father - if she really wanted to sign on the dotted line.
* * *
Moments like these exist in one's lifetime - when you have promised yourself something, living in the belief of the strongest belief you've known; nurturing the hangover of a dream, inching towards making it a reality and then that very dream, that very desire, that very belief takes a beating. You wonder then if life is really about the choices we make, or the lack of it.
