Tag Archives: Fun

The Saga of Sleep Deprivation. Chapter 1: Why don’t you like me?

Tales from the Yale Summer Program, 2013

(Because making excuses for not updating can be changed into a multi-part post. Read and Review, please? Enjoy. :P)

Only, coffee worked for her.

Only, coffee worked for her.

It was on the way back, from her internship, when she got an email, which congratulated her for being selected for the Yale Summer Program. She couldn’t contain her excitement, but had to, for everyone in the bus were at least ten years older than her and she didn’t know any of them, which is why she screamed it out in WhatsApp groups (hello, caps lock!) because, hey! Spamming was her birthright and she shall have it.  Little did she know that she was going to loose what kept her sane, and what she loved the most.

The first week of the course was pretty okay (If spending half her monthly pocket money in a week was considered fine.) considering she was in a classroom full of complete strangers. But, she survived, thanks to the others not knowing each other either. Restaurants around the college she studied in for three years were discovered, and so was a lot of housing problems, Dharavi and analysing papers she hardly understood. It was the week of the first shower of the season and discovering that people, other than herself, love Friends and How I Met Your Mother. It was also the week when she spoilt her first smartphone, and finally got hold of an Android JellyBean device. (It didn’t even need persuading, thanks to the impossible shower that greeted her at the sea. Soaked, is the word.) It also, unfortunately soaked her copy of The Game of Thrones, which would refuse to dry up even when dried with a hair-dryer. (Why do those things exist? Apart from blowing up your hair disproportionately, of course!)

The second week was the week that hit her harder than Dudley Dursley hit Harry Potter. Ever. Classes started, and with it came a professor who would make her nervous for the months to come. It was bad enough she missed lectures, but why point it out? It’s not like she was ‘chilling’. Added to one term of Summer school, she also had to study for eight papers, four of which didn’t remotely interest her. (Who picks these papers, anyway? Stop shoving it down our throats, people!) But the violence that she heard about made her think twice about everything she heard, or read. She decided that atheism is the way out. (Also known as escapism and refusing to take sides. Learnt from the country she lives in, perhaps?) Because Religion instigates violence, and it has ceased to be what it used to be, and doesn’t provide for anything, but fuel for violence, at least in her city.

Third week descended and she found herself amidst thinking about a term paper, and lots of submissions. Oh, also talking about gender, labour and beautifully done documentaries. Mills and Malls, and Caves and changing from Mumbai to Bombay was just about the only things she talked about. (Except Grey’s Anatomy, because Grey’s forever and #LoveForShonda.) She realised that she wasn’t the same person she was before the week started and, apparently, coffee could keep her up for about three hours at a stretch, before her eyelids would refuse to stay away from her cheeks. The fifteen minutes of treasured time with her Friends was utilized in standing at the coffee counter, screaming, “Bhaiyya, ek Cappuccino,” and bitching about the Professors, who thought their job was to push students to become the creamy layer on the top. Her friends from Yale would spend hours talking of Friends and Grey’s with her, and singing Soft Kitty, Warm Kitty because it annoyed another friend of theirs.

Come fourth week, and the research for the term paper would begin in full swing, and she realises that the solution to all the problems in the world was Inferno. She realised that she would miss these people, who was all she had in the name of social life (even though they would ruin Grey’s and warn her that she was going into a pit. Stop it. Stop it before it leaves you weeping. Stop it before Mark Sloan dies. Stop it before… Oh, wait. Bye, bye sanity!) In any case, they would still quote Friends and talk about that weird one-act play Chandler goes to called “Why don’t you like me?” This became a ritual, and they would be heard screaming “Why don’t you like me?” in a crowd, that would look back at them, not realizing that they were tired, and drained and coffee was the only thing that kept them alive. So they didn’t care. It was also when they talked excessively of caste and Dalit problems and how similar they were to racism in the Americas. She learnt that reservation was Ambedkar’s idea of getting, not equality, but representation. She also learnt that her countrypeople came to conclusions without understanding the dynamics of what their ideologies and values imply. She learnt that she isn’t an atheist, after all, but, ideologically, is a secular humanist. She also learnt that religion is a way of life and giving it up, practically is an impossible task. She learnt that zoning out during her college lectures, especially in lecture of subjects which she didn’t understand at all, and topics she understood, but opposed the professor’s Point of View, is actually an effective coping mechanism. (Coping, here, refers to staying alive, in face of a cognitive breakdown due to information overdose.)

And, finally the fifth week comes, and with that does extra dosage of coffee, better friendships, ‘seducing a friend and taking her home’(to study, because they are awesome like that.), to realize that you have mosquitoes in your house, which apparently are bored of you and were dying to get fresh blood (Jeez, people. If you’d have told us, we’d have gotten more people, no? Not.) Talking of Bollywood, art, cinema, culture, theatre, and everything under the sun happened. And, visiting Dharavi happened. She would have loved to say that Dharavi changed the way she thought of the world, but it didn’t. All it did was change the way she thought of Dharavi. What did she think now, you ask? She thinks that Dharavi is hyped. That she has seen and interacted with people worse off. She thinks that the people in Dharavi are richer than at least 10% people in Bombay. She thinks that people look at Dharavi with sympathy, when the people there don’t deserve it. She thinks that people there should be treated as equals. She also presented her first research paper and fell in love. With Excel. (Her friends ask her to date excel. She told her, ‘If I could, I would. But I can’t, so I shan’t.’)

And thus, that phase is over. The phase of Mills, and Malls; Weekends of road trips and trekking; getting wet in the rains, even with your windcheater and umbrella on, and smelling of sea, salt and wet clothes (okay, I know you didn’t want to hear about it.); and talking, debating, discussing in class about everything under the sun; eating out every day; everything that defined her life for those five weeks were over, with a dinner at a fancy place, and lunch at a dessert place. She tried not to feel deserted, as if her life was over, because it wasn’t; and she tried not to think that she might be meeting some of these friends for the last time in her life. But she went home (by the ladies special, like every other day) to watch the latest epi of Grey’s Anatomy, not knowing that the saga of sleep deprivation had just started; and this was only its first chapter. (To keep her from thinking of things, she watched the first episode of A Game of Thrones, and was scarred for life.)

A/N: The characters in this post are only fictional. Any resemblance to a person (attending an autonomous college) living or dead, however, is purely incidental. The ideas presented are of the author’s own and if you don’t agree, you are requested to shove it up yours. That said, please review, and let me know what you think. J


Laugh Uncontrollably.

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Sometimes we are just too sulky, too sad. Sometimes we never know why we are even alive! Life is way too monotonous sometimes; and at other times way too busy. Sometimes you feel mechanical- getting up in the morning, getting ready, travelling over an hour to reach your destination, listen to your seniors and colleagues, laugh at farce and then forget about it, and return home just to sleep and repeat the same thing the next days. It’s a vicious cycle.

But some other days, you are genuinely happy. You ask yourself why, but never get an answer. You’re just in the mood to be happy. You just want to smile at those classmates, you know exist in your class, but never said ‘hello’ to. You just feel like. You just know everything is going to be okay. You just are in the mood to be happy.

And then, you plan on watching that movie you’ve watched a million times. You probably even know all the lines. You make a plan out of the blue and surprisingly everyone is ready to just go for it, because it is somewhat an adventure. A crazy adventure bunking Social work you’re obliged to do, actually. But such days never come every day.

You call up a friend and force her to travel an hour in the opposite direction just to join you and watch that movie with you. You know she won’t regret it. You know she would come, because she loves the movie and all of you. It is sometimes very funny, though how you never doubt yourselves at points like that. You just don’t regret it, because for once you’ve stayed true to yourself and are doing what you want to do rather than what you have to.

Then you go and start with the movie. You start laughing at funny scenes before they occur and try to control it, because you’re spoiling it for the others. As a result you have your hands pressed tight against your mouth, little bouts of laughter erupting and you are just so excited; you want to jump up and now. You giggle loudly when that cute hero proposes to the heroine. You just have to giggle, because you really can’t help yourself. You bounce on the couch as if you are that princess who’s going to live happily ever after.

And you laugh at all the smallest of jokes. You are just purely happy, no shades of grey. You want to just freeze and live in that moment forever. You laugh uncontrollably, because there’s a massive bubble that just burst in your chest. You just can’t seem to stop and little droplets of tears accumulate in your eyes and muscles in your stomach clench. You laugh uncontrollably because you love the people you are with. You live on. You laugh on. You open that umbrella of joy and spread that ray of happiness to everyone close to you. Because laugh and the world laughs with you. So, we laugh uncontrollably.

Life And Times Of A Potter-maniac

It all ends here‘, they proclaimed. I wondered how something this,  literally, magical could end? As in, END? Magical. Capturing. Page-turning. Exiting. I’m poor at vocabulary.

And then came about Pottermore. And, supposedly there is Ground Quidditch. And of course, so many articles, after it ended. And they rightly said that these books would be read and re- read. I myself read them about 10 times. Insatiable, they were. Totally. I could now kill the cousin who took my book away from me. And there is no ONE day when I haven’t mentioned ‘Harry Potter’ in my conversation. Let alone thinking. Too much, you think? Hell, no! There are about a million others like me.

The weirdest part is when I declare that ‘ J.K. Rowling’ is my role-model, let be my favorite author, they look at me like a kid (they look at me like that all the time, but still! ) who has never ever ever seen the world. Well, so much for not being open minded.

J.K.Rowling is the living example of a self-made woman. She was homeless. She is richer than the queen. (So much for verbs, eh?) And how did this happen? One imagination running wild! (And when I do that, I’m mocked at! )One train journey, with nothing to do -(I have that everyday) and of course, beauty -the rare beauty and talent of weaving a story with bits of alphabets.

I wish people would understand this. I wish they would see the actual underlying geniuse.  (Hey, not you potter-maniac, comrade-in-arms!) in her.

And which other teacher apart from prof. Filtwilk gives you lines :’I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick’ ?!!! All thanks to this lady here ! 🙂

I’m sure all of you who has put their hands on Harry Potter books even once in their lives would have gotten addicted to it, provided you can read (and understand) the language in which it is written. I came across a Malayalam version, I asked my grandma to read it to me- she also got hooked! Beat that! Note to self : Beg your parents!!

And the number of Harry Potter games me and my cousins invented, you you wouldn’t believe !!!! ‘Ashvamedha’ with Harry Potter characters – words antakshari, get into the (common) room only if  you give the correct password, interviewing an Harry Potter character ….they were endless, I tell you. And  I’m not even kidding!!!! It was so damn fun.

And horcruxes guesses… wild is the word. The happy ending: ‘The Potter House’ like Gryffindor and Slytherin houses! Beat that!

Basically, Harry Potter was the most cherished part of my childhood. That part of which I’ll never regret in my entire life. I can proudly say hat it has made me what I am today and has brought me where I am today.

And of course, the most embarrassingly humorous comment I’ve ever made goes like this:

My then Best Friend: “Mom’s out, so I’m having Black Tea”

Me: “Now?”

Best Friend: “Yeah. Why?”

Me:  “It’s 7.pm, dude! Warn your mom. The ministry’s put a curfew. Voldemort’s on the loose. Idiot!

Best Friend: “!!!”

And then of course, I get embarrassed. That’s what you call submerging into a book, isn’t it?!

And don even get me started with Albus Dumbledore. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore=WOW!!! That’s it!

Hogwarts. Hedwig. Molly Weasley. Sirius Black. Home. That’s all I ca say, well, the least I can say. And Umbridge and Bellatrix Lestrange are he only two women I hate in the entire mortal (and immortal) world! And I know that hate is a heavy word. You don’t have too much of it to use. But 50%of my stock goes to these two wonderfully torturing females: @#$%^&(sensored!!!)

So, let’s educate the world about Harry Potter(not Hari Porter, dad!)-okay, lets literate them at least! And the next time I tell you that ‘J.K. Rowling is my role-model’ and you give me that look, seriously: “I’ll put you under the Imperius curse! Be on your guard!

By the way, DreamDust170, that’s me 🙂