prayer

Amoeba is our temple. When I first met Mip in Chennai, that’s what I apparently asked her, ‘Oh so you’re from B’lore, have you been to Amoeba?’ Mip says I asked her about 20 times after that; she exaggerates. On the lane to Amoeba, off Brigade Road, there is a Ganesh Fruit shop. We had mango milk shake. Mip compared it to Gujrati mandal. The aamras there is fiery orange in colour. This one looked like poop, Mip called it — poop coloured turmeric paste. We were drinking a diseased shake.

It wasn’t that bad. Should we compare things in life? It may always not be a good idea. When I first joined JC in Chembur, each person there reminded me of some another; I would compare mannerisms and accents of these new acquaintances with my friends from school and colony. I had never really adjusted. I was longing for brighter mornings. Getting up early and showing up at 7 in college, in dirty mud brown uniform, and studying in a convent like atmosphere was not my idea of college. But it had been my choice. And I think I tried to cope by comparing, all the time. Tough times in life.

After the poop juice, we reached a broken down tomb like structure some twenty paces from Blossoms – the bookstore. Amoeba was not there, instead stood a monster in construction covered in blue and yellow tarpaulin , wooden ladders sticking out at appropriate places. Some renovation, perhaps. We had been walking quite a distance towards our temple and now this wasn’t funny.

Mip was upset. Tired too. She wanted to go home. We decided to skip Blossoms. Nowhere else would the heart go — Amoeba was no more. Or so we thought.

And then we saw a board high up in gleaming electric red. Amoeba. Behind Mainland China. Mip had been mistaken after all. Behind us were a gaggle of Chinese students, and Mip had commented on our way to the demolished monster — how predictable, bunch of Chinese in front of M China and all. And this M China had blocked our view. Unplanned planning. Life had returned. We were in front of Amoeba: temple of first friendships, for more reasons than one. It was here that last year I met two other friends, who were actually acquaintances and friends of a v good friend before we met at Amoeba.

I have a picture of this moment of Amoeba – lost and found again.

v squirrelist

I woke up today to squirrels. It was nearly noon and the uncle and the aunt had given up on me, when the squirrels decided to take things in their hands. Loud keeks. Loud shrill, relentless keeks. When I stumbled to the door, I saw one sitting on the grilled stairway, a live, throbbing alarm clock demanding my attention. Each burst of keek sent its tail shooting up vertically. Did my little ones in M’lapore send an email to B’lore asking this one to wake me up? Did they? Did they not want me to waste time sleeping? (Or Did dear mother call them? )

Such gorgeous creatures. Sigh. Brown, furry, buck teeth, nose hitched up and ears sticking out, eyes peering through invisible eye lids, always scurrying around where humans live with abandon, leaping from one twig to a branch, constantly busy, always always keeking – tireless — sharp intake of breath and short bursts of whistles. Sometimes long, drawn out but relentless. Such happiness. I love them.

(see, squirrels can be rats in so many ways, but so so different they are)

B’lore

I am on holiday in B’lore now. Pretty B’lore, lovely Blore. The only trouble in this house is that besides human beings, cockroaches live here too. Huge, flying, deep shade of brown cockroaches that scare the day lights out of me. I complain each time I come here, but I still come. This place is other wise beautiful. It has only gained in beauty in the last five years.

Summer is here in B’lore but the weather gods seem confused. It rains here quite often, with lightning and thunder that send the night demons into deep burrows. Otherwise bring out the knives and the crazy lines. Kachang!

pearls and squirrels

a couple of strips back, Stephen Pastis of Pearls Before Swine ran a cartoon on the ’sumo squirrels’ . Rat and Pig were jealous of squirrels, and wait! squirrels figured on Pearls! Around this time, squirrelhood acquired a new member; for parody’s sake we’ll call her sumo. Parody cos she’s absolutely not a sumo, she’s the antithesis of it.

But anyway, we take it as a sign. squirrels are getting famous. now we have representation from all streams.

A little sumi about sumo: she’s not sumo at all. and she’s got mallu hair. ( btw,we have too many mallus in this club. except me, everyone else is a mallu. I didn’t know i could get along with mallus. historically, I haven’t. ) plus she is the general secretary of the squirrel club. Mip and I are the co-presidents, ofcourse. Small is the treasurer. We seem to be MRS. so and so.

The thing also is we are all going home in a few days. this may be the last post from here. we’ll be building new nests of love ( not exactly love nests) in different cities — Pune, B’lore and B’bay.

ok then. wee .

kids of the world, unite

Coming to college by bus. Shuffling in between people for some place to stand. I saw a little kid dressed in pink, solemn and moody, on her mother’s arm. The mother did the strange thing of offloading her burden to a sitting woman. As soon as the little pink bundle of cuteness landed on her lap, the sitting woman in annoying green and yellow started baby-talking, coochiecooing and pointing out autos and passing busses on the road. ( as if the kid didn’t know, as if the kid was born yesterday or as if busses and autos were introduced yesterday). the little kid, that probably wanted a little privacy to think out some thoughts before addressing adults, started whining immediately. The woman just didn’t get the hint — all the kid wanted her to do was to shut up– she continued rambling about shops, people on the road, autos and busses in baby language. ( oh, look– an auto, have you been in an auto, before?).

Why do people start talking to kids as soon as they find one. They don’t even bother to find out if the kid wants to talk to them, no polite or dignified behaviour is observed. It is not as if the kids of this world are here to listen to adult banter and drivel, they get enough of it in the womb, thankyou v much.

I have tremendous respect for little ones, they have a wonderful eye for beauty and poetry and a sharp ear for music  before adult hood and life spoonges it out of them.  Pshaw!

bonds

Today I met a South Indian hero. He is actually a student leader and a communist cadre (I think) but he looked like Vijaykanth.
When I thought hard and fast about who he reminded me of, I remembered my Mechanics professor from first year. He was a total bond. He once told me about how he sneaked into his professors cabin, signed on the submission sheet and left for Sangli in the evening without submitting his file, all because the professor was giving him hell; so he decided to return the favour. He said his professor had to send  a peon to Sangli after him. And he nearly encouraged us to do the same thing.  he was the only professor who told my parents that I was a good kid in the whole of graduation.

Our South Indian hero, today, is also a total bond. He was totally thrilled about having been in jail five times for 52 days. He ” really liked it”, it seems.

This is not important

because right now I am supposed to be hard at work, theorising, on my dissertation and this is the time I choose to write a post on my blog. I cannot help it. It’s in my blood: this tendency to waste time when I am on to some argument, which inevitably fizzles out when I get back to it.

In a while, I will orkut, then open Google chat then ofcourse check mail for the zillioneth time, even reply to spam mails abusing them for wasting my time, then worry that noone other than them seems to be mailing me. Even ma and pa have forgotten their child. Depression will pile on. I will check PTi and Google news, then wonder again if P Mukhs will die, what will happen to the front page tomorrow if he does, feel crummy, hope he doesn’t die then, hope Bush does.

Curse orkut now, that blasted sonic wall.  no images even, I say.

Then feel really really stupid and get back to a dissertation to a by-now-very weak argument. And then do a Wodehouse ( ‘I just stare at the computer and curse a bit)

This is a vicious cycle. What are the odds that I will be writing on this page again in a while?

new member and clarification

small, who is very squirrel friendly, has evinced interest in joining the squirrelhood. we are mighty pleased. and this is a unanimous decision, ofcourse.

a small introduction : small is called thus cos she is small. she can cut vegetables mighty fast though. i can’t think of many embarrassing things right now but maybe Mip can.
small can’t pronounce certain words properly like ‘where’ or ‘there’ or ‘here’, but in the squirrelhood club we do not discriminate against people on any ground. so there.
small take offence if animals are referred to as ‘he’ or ’she’ cos that humanises them and it is an insult to animals, she says. fair enough. small was born in a mad ( i cannot pronounce the rest) country. she may have inherited some of their ( theya) traits.

Moving on Sparky might have been miffed that her teeth was called ‘uneven’ yesterday and by a squirrel at that. So now, its only fair that we tell you something else about her so she is not judged solely by her “uneven” teeth.

her ears do not stick out like other intelligent people’s do. and nobody else goes into a tizzy over numbers like she does. some jokes of hers are witty, some aren’t ( some are sad),  she “dudes” people a lot.  she loves Kundera and other strange, weird intellectual people and also a philosopher whose name I cannot pronounce– but Witgensten? she loves south Indian coffee and once even admitted to liking ( loving, but not madly in love with) chennai. this is turning into a testimonial so I have to think of an embarrassing affliction, quick! she loves going squint eyed to stare at that fringe of hair ( or heah, as small would say) on that nose of hers.

Introducing Squirrelhood

Mip and I have been doing this gig for a month now. Each time we want to scare innocent people on the road, we talk about the GDP to sound very smart and then once we’ve crossed them, we go OUI OUI in our shrill, loud voices. The day before yesterday , we actually got a reasponse. A fellow in his bike, I cannot describe because I didn’t notice, squeaked ‘wee wee’. WE might have to accept him in our squirrel club if he applies; that ofcourse is subject to a unanimous decision in the club, which right now has two members — Mip and I ( me?).

We had Sparky — flashing her white, straight, some places uneven teeth— two steps behind us gauging the response of our victims. She claims to have been embarrassed. Her true feelings towards our dignified club will never be known. Sparky is generally not known to endorse clubs that parody the GDP.

Anyway today, I was kind of spaced out ( or maybe desolate, depressed) because of lack of sufficient employment when Mip decided to chip in with some nut and cheer. She convinced me that one of us would get a job soon and then they would have to hire the other ‘cos they can’t hire one squirrel without the other, the union won’t allow it’. So I think we must get our union registered, just in case, companies did not recognise un-registered unions, but ofcourse this is subject to a unanimous decision in the squirrelhood club.

I should probably explain more about squirrelhood to everyone reading here. We are generally happy people. We espouse feminist and squirrelist causes. We are nature friendly, like you didn’t get that. We love love ice cream. We love adventure and tree hopping. We love travelling, and not just from one branch to another. We like to believe that the sky can be touched, that the world was made for us, that we can get anything if only we tried, that it is always better to move, even if it’s one millimeter at a time, than to stay still. We believe in progress of not just in distance or in promotions but also of the mind. We also love giving unsolicited advice. We like funny people. If you are one and believe in all of the above, we might consider you in the squirrelhood club, but only if the decision is unanimous ofcourse ( by now, you might have figured it out.)

OK then . Keek. Keek. We are rather busy these days owing to some theorising, but you may contact us on our keek phones.