Delhi University is a little more stupid than it's cracked up to be.

long a title?
bah. i don't care.

so it's been a little over a year since the last time i had to face any important result. academically. after the insane XII class board exam result (which too, by the way, are waaayyy overrated) and a few entrances later, i landed myself into the damn University. THE Delhi University. The one, every self respecting XII-board-exam-giver in Delhi, and outside of it,day dreams of. Anyway, i got me a decent college with the course of my choice. life was good. speaking of which, the whole politics that goes on about the hot colleges and the ones that don't figure in them is just sad, if you ask me. primarily, because i know people from 'north campus' who dread going to college everyday and then there's yours truly, who loves her humble south campus college and everything about it! point being, DU might not necessarily be the be all and end all of it all (personal shout out to people of other universities; IP for one. @jaya :P)

so a year of college has come to an end; a year of bunking classes, short attendance, lots of food, cups of iced teas, smokes at mithas, hookahs that suck (and some that don't), toxications of other kinds, ac at ccd..et al... and so much love :).
but blame it on my schooling maybe, but it's almost my natural instinct to expect the damn result by now after i have taken the University exams some thirty thousand years ago (read: in April,2010). and though i embarked upon my journey of being an English literature student with ever so much enthusiasm, it sort of faded away by the year end. hence, i think it won't be wrong to say that the standard of my papers, well, wasn't up to the mark, to say the least. mentally am prepared for the worst, really.

prepared, however, with just one problem. the evident presence of my birth givers. the hypocrites that they are, parents don't blink once when it's all about comparing their own kids to Gupta ji ke bachche who figure in the top rankings in class like that's the only thing to do in life but not once will they agree to see how the parents of those who have failed are doing, like they're an urban myth or something. and god knows that they exist.
yes. that's how bad it is at the moment.
failure sucks! more so when you've lived (safely) oblivious to it for a little over eighteen years of your life.
and the physical presence of my mom's husband right now isn't helping one bit anyway.
but then kids fail all the time, don't they? and they survive past it. there are bound to be other options. am totally considering other options...running away, being one.

yes. the crib fest can continue forever.
hence, B.A (HOUNOURS) ENGLISH, DELHI UNIVERSITY, announce the damn results, already??

till then.. maybe i can go shop for the things i'll take with me while am on the run. retail therapy does do wonders, doesn't it?

p.s. i just heard, DU chooses to not announce results on a Sunday. ah. pricey bitch, anyone?
kill me, already!

anyway, S H O P P I N G !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But my breath fogged up the glass And so i drew a new face and laughed..

It was a regular Sunday evening and i was sitting around the house doing nothing when it started to pour. Ah. The rains. There's something about them that makes me feel things that i have been almost completely oblivious to, consciously and otherwise. From emotions of love to hatred to agony to lust to greed to arrogance..the rains get me all these and so much more.

Even as a kid, nothing fascinated me more than the rains. I would run out of the house at the slightest of pours to be a part of, what i liked to call, a celebration of sorts. Nothing else came even remotely close to being as freeing. It was at that moment when i felt like i belonged somewhere. When i felt like i owned someplace. When i feared no one, not even those ugly dogs who would bully the fuck out of me on other days. It's been THAT empowering!
Growing up, rains graduated from being about dancing in my animated underpants and became about walking in the rain, hand in hand with that boy who had enough of me to break my heart. It's in the rains that i have discovered levels of intimacy and closeness that no amounts of physical contact can induce. It's sexual. The kind that leaves you craving more. The kind that connects at more levels than one.
Every smoke ring i manage, while the waters pour in the background with ever so much conceit, seems to be saying something. Its influence and power is unbelievable.

Or is it just me? Could be. I genuinely believe that it's the only thing that almost brings about the little spiritual side that i have. It's harsh yet so calming. It washes one and all with every pour.
It's quiet after it rains. It becomes like it's my own place; Own yet shared. It's a beautiful feeling. More than i can ever put to words.No bustling of the humdrum life; purity, sanctity, chastity and vigour.
Blissful. Peaceful.

Charlie Chaplin once famously said, ""I Love to walk in rain because no body can see me crying then". Irony, much? So much for being one of the funniest men in the history of entertainment. Am no unfortunate person, on the wrong side of fifty, whose life didn't work out. And no. There's hardly any reason for me to be thinking this way. However, sadly enough, I do find a nice ring to it...

<3 Rains <3

See That My Grave Is Kept Clean

Death.
It's pissing off.
It really is.
You put in a lifetime of effort living a damn life, and you don't even get to get out of it alive. I know. That's what the cycle of life is all about. But is it really a sorted concept? Shouldn't each individual on the planet get to live an equally charmed or rather satisfactory life?

Personally, i genuinely believe that one dies only when one is completely and purely gratified by one's life. It's an end of an era. So only when one has finished each and every act of love, hatred and all that comes in between, does one die. That is the cycle of life for me. You are put on the planet to carry forward an assigned job and your part ends when you've fulfilled each cranny of that role to the best of your abilities. Yes. Extremely Shakespeare.
These last few days, however, my belief stands a little shaken.
I cannot face deaths anymore. I have had my share of the agonizing pain that death brings along to all the people remotely associated with the dearly departed. Some people don't deserve death.
Not yet, anyway.
Death is too strong a word. I find it a little funny when they say that someone's gone to a better place and how they're finally in peace. Who knows that for sure, you know? Shouldn't one be destined to make the most of it while they're still here?
Okay.I don't know how any of this makes any sense to anyone. But it does. To me.
My point being, after Ryan's demise (RIP, you), i just never acknowledged the idea of someone else's possible death. Someone's death that might affect me. Someone's death i might shed almost as many tears for as i did for Ryan.
Maybe i am overreacting. I hope i am overreacting.
She must live. She will. She has reasons to live, she has roles to play.
Maybe meeting me is one of the things that figures in the universe's plan of 'things she must do before she quits being an earthling'.
One can only hope.

Yes. It's pissing off. This feeling of helplessness. This feeling of death and how she might be growing near... for yourself. and for the people you know.and for the people you like. and for the people you love...

Sometimes title-less things are so much cooler.

So, starting today, i am going to be blogging every most days.
Blog post frequency is going to reach a new high super duper soon.
Promise to self.:)

Anyway,
i was just randomly wondering how giving a name/title to any form of your work is hard. really really hard. it has to be short, it must hint at all the things that particular piece is about; and don't even get me started on the pressures of having a catchy title cause let's face it we're judging books by the cover all the time. Speaking of titles, the newest addition to my list of over 1500books that i am going to read before i die is 'A Book Without A Title'- George Jean Nathan. no, it never made any history or even much money for that matter. but there's something about the title that tells me it deserves another chance by someone. maybe by me.
as surprising as it may be, i am not much of a reader. i don't like reading. and i truly regret it. my desire to own these books, some common and some not, is almost as if to own them for the sake of that one day when i start to enjoy what i want to enjoy; reading. it's twisted, yes.

coming back to 'A Book Without A Title', the critics tore it apart.'Not as profound as the author would like it to be.', said one. my point being, how can you critique any piece of art work professionally? doesn't it boil down to one's personal preferences, background, sex etc? it's just unfair, if you ask me. i don't see who's given them that right of sabotaging the vision of an artist, a dream catcher he may be.sigh.

i watched the movie 'udaan' today. i don't know how any other word but brilliance can come even close to defining it. in two hours they captured what was almost parts of my own life. a must watch. for anything human.

here's to good indian cinema, the freedom to go title-less (and name-less in the process) every once in a while and most importantly to the fact that i might die of hunger right about now...

food...
foo...
fo..
f.


sigh sigh sigh.