Mind your Language

I am an Indian and my mother tongue is Hindi. Hindi is also our official language, English is the second official language. Constitution of India recognizes no national language, which is appropriate because there are way too many regional languages (Tamil, Bengali, Marathi, Punjabi etc.). If you are a foreigner and you think learning Hindi will help you have a proper conversation in South then you are sadly mistaken. Not like Southies don't understand Hindi, they just refuse to speak it.
In my house we speak Hindi (or Hindi-Urdu to be accurate) in Andamani dialect, it's not much different but it has its own flair. It certainly is not the purest form of Hindi but I don't know who speaks like that anyway.
My mother is a mainlander and my dad is an islander, they both have their own way of speaking Hindi. Mine I would say is a mix of both style and not to forget I went to a English medium school, so I speak Hinglish, like many other people of my generation.

The funny thing is, I am more comfortable speaking English sometimes, maybe it's because I live in England now. But surely I can't put it above my mother tongue? Or can I?
I passed school with A grade in Hindi and B in English. So I guess my Hindi is better.

But grades have no significance in real life.

Today I went to get my eyes checked. They had one of those things that you read from a distance to check your vision. It had four sides, one was English alphabets another was assortments of animals, third was different signs and fourth was Hindi alphabets. I always read the English one but the problem is that I have had a lot of eye check ups and I have pretty much memorised the English one. So this time I had to choose something else.

I sat down on a stool and looked straight. There they were, Hindi alphabets arranged randomly. I stared at it for sometime and I just couldn't get it. I knew what they were but they seemed alien to me somehow. Like it was not the language I speak everyday at home. I said I'm not comfortable with Hindi so I'll read the signs. After trying different numbers, we came to the conclusion that the glasses I am using now is fine.

So I sat there with my 6/6 vision thinking why I didn't want to read Hindi. Is it some kind of self-hate? But it wasn't, because I didn't feel that I don't like Hindi. I like it, it's just complicated.  I have to think a lot while reading it. I don't read Hindi subtitles on TV because they go away in seconds before I can figure out what was written, I only read it if it's romanized. I don't watch Hindi news because I feel I have to concentrate to figure out those big complicated Hindi words they use. But I have no problem watching Hindi sitcoms as they are a more lighter version of Hindi, there are no heavy duty words there.

I thought of other things too. Like how I can only count till 20 in Hindi. How shameful is that? I got a A grade for the same language. And this was not like billion years ago, it's only been four years. Were the teachers really happy the day the marked me? Were they drunk? Did they have really good sex or their favourite cricket team won the match or something? They seem to be very generous with their grades.
Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I gave English an upper hand because I write in English. And really the last time I wrote more than two words in Hindi was four years ago.

I wonder if my kids will have more trouble with Hindi. I live in a multi-cultural country now so I guess I can have babies with anyone. There are good chances that my kids can be bi-racial. They would probably never write a word of Hindi, unless I want them to. But do I actually give a fuck? That is the real question.

Estuary

I am surrounded by mundane things.

On uni days I need to follow my routine. I have to get up on a specific time, get ready and leave for the class early. Most importantly I have to sleep early, which is hard because I am nocturnal. But I fear missing a class or being all tired the next day so I put on a light relaxing music that will help me sleep.

Routine makes me sad. But it is the only way I can survive this mundane world. I often wonder if I am in the wrong place. I wonder if I am ever truly present. But here a sign on the attendance list is all it takes.
I was present, I was invisible.

What keeps me here? A sense of purpose? Or lack of courage... or is it just the fact that I am suppose to be present.
I need to get through this. I need to endure.

And one day the river will meet the ocean.

A Whole Lot of Nothing

I am in U.K. now...good ol' Epsom. It's really cold here but still no snow, which is really disappointing. My classes haven't started yet, that means I have a whole lot of nothing to do. Makes me feel pretty useless. These are the times when I miss projects and assignments. It took me immense strength to write this post, because once the devilish bug of laziness bites you, it's really hard to do anything.

Fashion Menswear collections for 2012 fall is out, which I can't get myself to face. I have just started to look into it.

I keep checking the weather forecast for snow... but here is what my life's forecast looks like -

Gloomy with short periods of sunshine. 

Thank goodness for the short periods of sunshine. Thank goodness for the gloomy days so I can cozy up for a while and do nothing.

Happy Halloween !

How I love Halloween!

Hope everyone is having a good time even if you don't celebrate it. Few years ago Halloween for me was just a Hollywood thing, until  I moved to U.K, and it was all real!

Some pictures to share (not related to Halloween)

And now one related to Halloween -

Made by me and my flat mate Kristy 

Coulrophobia

Last night me and my friends were talking over wine, cigarettes and cheese puffs when one of my friend brought up the urban legend of Lithuanian paedophile. Apparently everyone knows it and it is one of the reason why some people are mortally afraid of clowns, besides the fact that clowns are way too happy and that itself is kind of scary.

If you are not aware of the story, read it here, I insist. 

Today morning I was cooking downstairs in the kitchen, some good old eggs and bacon, and I remembered the paedophile clown. I had to look back my shoulder in every few seconds to check if I am alone and to think of it why on Earth will i fear a paedophile when I am not even underage anymore. Luckily my housemate woke up because the fire alarm decided to went off for no damn reason and I was saved from the non-existing clown in my kitchen. 

It's one of those stories that just get's you and leaves you bewildered. To get it out of my system I diverted my mind and did some photography just around my new room, I will post those pictures later, I don't want to post pictures of my room in the same place I talk about some European paedophile clown. 

Image from Google

P.S - If you haven't figured out yet, Coulrophobia is a fear of clowns. 

A Wanderer's Home

Yesterday evening me and my friends were sprawled on the grassy grounds of the park near our house, making up jokes and looking at dogs and their owners, trying to spot good looking guys who don't have their hands around  good-looking girls. I was just soaking up the beauty of the park when I looked at an almost-old, almost-balding man in navy blue sweater and black pants walking through the park to I don't know where, and shouted "OMG, he looks like Paulo Coelho".

That is how badly I am obsessed with Coelho, now that I think random strangers in the park can be him. I love him. I am not that much of a reader which is funny because I write for a living. But I can never pass a Paulo Coelho book. Whenever I read him, it's like I know him, like he is me. I love when that happens. I am sure he is not like me, he is not a 19 year old girl. But just his words resonates with my thoughts and ideals so much. 

I think the first book of his that I loved was Brida. I was into witchcraft then and I wanted to read about magick since no one around me was into it, so I wouldn't feel alone. Brida is a book which many don't understand, many who never practised magick. Everyone loves the Alchemist, I love it too. But Brida will always be my favourite. 

Over the summer I read Like a flowing river... and fell in love with that phase. Wonderful book, filled with short stories and profound as always. Currently, I am reading Aleph which I was lucky to find in Chennai airport bookshop. Aleph is amazing, any spiritual person will love it. 

I know some people who would read Paulo Coelho's work and say' life-changing', 'exploring the unknown' or 'he taught me so many new things'. But I am not one of them. To me his words are very reassuring. That I am not the only one who thinks and feel that way. I am travelling alone, but this path is walked by many, like him. 

For me, this world can be overwhelming, there are things I don't understand. Sometimes I feel I don't belong, but I am very much needed. And through all this, I remain a wanderer. His words are familiar because I speak them everyday, to myself and others.  His books are a doorway for me, a doorway to a world I know, unlike the one I have to face. When I read his words, it's the only time I am not questioning and searching, I am at peace. Like being home. But can a self-proclaimed wanderer ever feel at home? In the journey of my own and others, I sometime find home. 

Image from Google

“None of us knows what might happen even the next minute, yet still we go forward. Because we trust. Because we have Faith.”
- Paulo Coelho, Brida

1 Indian, 1 Iraqi and 6 boxes

image from google

All moved in into my new house, shifted my things from the storage, now the only challenge is to fit my 3 years worth of stuff into my tiny room. I got no idea how it's going to work out but I know I'll manage somehow because there is no other choice.

I called in to hire a man and a van to help me move my things from the storage. The driver called me to say he was stuck in traffic, so we are running 2 hours behind, thank you London traffic! When I reached my storage place there was a fair, dark-haired, medium built, middle-aged man waiting for me, who greeted me with a thick middle-eastern accent and a very sweet smile.  Later I found out that he is from North Iraq.

We emptied my little storage cube and I got to sit on the big van to take my stuff back to my house. Boy! that was fun. To break the silence, on the way back to my house we had a little conversation. The first thing he asks me is if I have a boyfriend. No, regardless of people may think, I don't think he was 'flirting' with me, the man was just curious.  You see a young girl in U.K. sorting out her stuff alone and you wonder all these things.

Oh! wait no, the very first thing he asked me is if I was married. I replied ' I am 19' with a laugh. One reason I said that is because obviously most 19 year old girls are not married and if they are they won't be booking a stranger to help them move their things, they would be making their husbands slave over it. Second reason is because soon I will be 20 and I want to enjoy saying 'I am 19' in the little time I got left.

Anyway back to the Iraqi, he interrogated me a little more and I politely answered all his queries without giving out too much information, but really there is nothing to fear, if he wanted to stalk me he bloody well can, he knows my address and my number. He tells me that his cousin is married to an Indian woman, which is always a nice thing to hear, I love it when two people from different cultures and country get together.

It's funny because earlier my friend/housemate joked what if the man I hire to move my things is the love of my life. Well, I have to say, that did not happen. The chances of me getting with a middle-aged Iraqi is very less, and the only reason I say 'very less' is because I believe more in 'never say never'.

My van driver did his work and retired with a smile. If I didn't had to pay him, I would have called it a disappointing date. End of the day I was still single, with six boxes and £60 less in my Marc Jacob wallet. 

Mad Chicken and the Golden Eggs

So I am back in U.K. now, back to green lawns and unpredictable weather, to friends and ex's. I haven't even completely moved in yet, half of my things are still in storage and i am down with sore throat and fever, probably because of the weather change.

My dad just called me to see if i am alright, usually my family checks on me few times in a week, but now that i am kind of sick, the doctor and parent in them won't rest in peace if they don't talk to me everyday. But everytime my dad calls, he has this strange note of worry in his voice, it always bothers me. I have been out of India for 3 years now, it's not like i am completely naive about living alone.

Is it just a 'dad' thing? Or maybe it's just his voice, i don't know maybe i am imagining it to be worrisome because i always think they are over-protective of me. But let me assure you that my mother and father are the most liberal parents ever, it's just that no amount of freedom was ever good enough for me. If it was upto me I would forever roam around the world and not care about anything.

I would travel to different lands, meet new people, stay at caves and sleep under the stars. And then I would move to another land. Maybe it's my zodiac sign (Sagittarius) that makes me think like a nomad. But still when I feel hot I want an a/c or when I am cold I put on the heater, I wonder if I was a nomad I would have survived the hot desserts and the chilly nights.

"He who is really happy is happy everywhere, in a palace or in a cottage, in riches or in poverty, for he has

discovered the fountain of happiness which is situated in his own heart. As long as a person has not found

that fountain, nothing will give him real happiness.” ~Hazrat Inayat Khan

I wonder what will make me happy,maybe it's a fountain that I haven't found yet. But something tells me that nothing can 'make' me happy, I can just be it.
I see people saying 'oh if I get those shoes I will be so happy' or 'if I can get a rich husband and a nice house my life is set, I will forever be happy', but once they get that, they will chase after other things that they feel will make them 'happy'. This is how we get caught in a vicious loop of finding something that is already there.

Maybe we all are running around eyes closed,  like a mad chicken, to find the golden eggs, oblivious of the fact that we are the one producing it.

My initial days in U.K.

Rochester High St., England. Potography by me. click to enlarge

My first day in U.K.(27 Sept 2008) - I am with my parents. I am worried that they will embarrass me….I’m worried that I’ll embarrass myself…something stupid could easily happen. Maybe they won’t understand my accent…maybe they won’t understand my parents accen. They are way too polite here, you don’t know if they are actually happy to see you or not.

After few days - I am having fun. The weather is cold but tricky as soon as you walk under sun you feel warm, then you step under the shade and it’s cold. My mother bought a pink sock that she wears with salwar, I think it is the ugliest thing I have ever seen.

One day I was coming back from my college and I see my mother and father standing at the end of the road secretly taking my pictures, I have no idea how to react. So I just laugh and say that it’s annoying and not to spy on me.

My parents made friends with the owner of the B&B we were staying, and the cab driver we hired once, trust my dad to do something like that. I warn them not to get overly friendly with anyone, but I am glad they have people to talk to. My mother seems to love the tiny town of Rochester, and why not, it is lovely, I love how cozy it is.

My first day in college I get inside my class wearing blue jeans, my favorite pink floral top from Bangkok, white furry jacket and cute pink flats, I think it’s cute. I enter the room and see bunch of students dressed in black and grey and they are staring at me…there you go, I travelled from India to U.K. just to be the odd one out again.

My parents went back to India after 15 days and I got busy with college. I didn’t have many friends, but once I started talking a little, people didn’t seem so scary. I know they were reluctant to talk to me. Rochester is not a like London, they asked why I travelled so far just for college, they told me I must be rich, i told them i wanted to live outside my country and about the money they are sadly mistaken.

I felt I can survive this place, until this one girl with a dire need of a nose job came to me and said she couldn’t believe that I can speak such good English; I told her I did my schooling in English speaking Catholic school.

My initials days in Rochester were hard, and also kind of hazy, it was a whole new world to me and even though I felt I didn’t fit in, I never accepted the fact that I am home sick. I was the youngest in my halls, nobody else was 16. I stuck a poster on my wall saying ‘no smoking, no drinking and no noise after 9pm’, my flat mates hated me for it, and I don’t blame them. I kept fighting until I opened my eyes to see all I was doing was fighting myself, so I let it go and embraced everything new and crazy, I was smoking….and drinking not because of anyone else but because I wanted it, maybe it wasn’t a wise choice, but I was 16 and it seemed fun and it didn’t make me feel like I was a stuck up bitch judging people for their choices.

London riot rambling

's just once of those days when i don't want to see others, every word they say gets on my nerve and i can't explain why, all i care about is just going away deeper and deeper into myself and get away from the crazy world.

A day back my mom told me about the London riot, i didn't take it seriously. But last night i saw everyone updating their status on facebook and i knew this is big. Funny how i trusted facebook before a news channels, since media just need a tiny thing to hype it up i figure facebookers are much more real people interested in real news.

I looked it up online and i was shocked to see so much destruction and so anger. It's a strange place we have arrived to. At one side i see these incredibly spiritual people, highly sensitive, people who believe they are born to help others and make this world a better place. On the other side i see people so angry burning down houses of their own neighbours and destroying anything that they can see. I know about the dual nature of this planet, but i think today it's more extreme than any other time. Of course this is a very unique time.

I hope all those in unrest will find peace. After all those who inflict pain on others are bigger victims than those who suffer. It's not a problem when you feel pain, it is when you stop feeling it. How dazed they must be who burn others houses and cannot feel it's heat.

Anyway, like i said i pray for them to find some peace.

It is one of the most beautiful compensations of this life that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Random Clicks

just some random photography in the kitchen, while waiting for pasta to boil...

edited with picasa 3
click on the pictures to view in their original size. 

My Tattoo

Got it done from Hell to Pay tattoo shop in Camden town, London, few months ago (November 2010)

F.A.Q

Why did i get this tattoo?
Because i wanted to. I have been waiting for the right time, i thought i should do it on my 18th birthday, instead i did it a month before 19th birthday. People keep saying i will change when i grow up, worry about money and security more, will get caught in a dead end job just like them. I wanted to get this tattoo to remind me who i am and my values and purpose in life just in case i do end up being like them i would at least try to get out of it. I love body art and i just knew i wanted a tattoo.

The meaning behind this tattoo-
The circle in between in a pentagram, five-pointed star an ancient symbol used by pagans and also for witchcraft. Five points stand for Earth, Air, Water, Fire and the Spirit or the Spirit World. It represents balance, harmony and magick. I am a spiritual person so of course this is a symbol very dear to me, i practised witchcraft and i am very much into occult.
An inverted pentagram is used for Satanism, i have no idea what they do in it, neither do i want to dwell on it. But don't mistake my tattoo for it as you can see the pentagram in my tattoo is not inverted.

Did it hurt?
Yes, but not much, nothing that you cannot handle. But pain would depend on person to person and also the body part, like ribs would hurt a lot (any bony part) back was not so bad. It felt like very hot water trickling down my back.

Do i plan on getting more tattoos?
Yes. Maybe one or two more. I have one in mind, but I'm not sure when I'll go through with it.

Would i recommend this tattoo shop?
This is my first tattoo so it's not like i have been in a dozen of tattoo shop, but i had a very good time and everyone in the shop was very nice and helpful, so yes, you might want to check it out.

rent control

ok so i live in this shared dingy house that cause me 450 pounds....i pay it every month..of course or i wud hav been writing this on street...unfortunately this time i lost m funds...i dont do job and im a shopoholic and i dnt cook much...thats does bad things to my bank account....so here i am wid 1oo n something in my account and my houseowner knocks....i cross my fingers that its abt loud music or something...and she is like u hav to pay rent....n im like i dnt hav any money [ and thats wierd cause i always hav thm...im no billionair but im definately never out of funds, thnx to dad] i called up everyone i know first and thn dad....and i still cudnt make it in time....

i go and talk to my agent....here it goes
knock knock

me- hi so the thing is im outa funds, can u wait for a week?
agent- noooooooooo u r already late
me- yea i know but my room is next to ur office, its not like im plannin to run away, besides i always pay rent....its the first time n im student i dont do job
agent- wat if u run away at night
me- y wud i do dat...i got a lot to do...
agent- i dun know noone knows
me- thn y do u think so, look its no big deal i called my dad but tranfer will take a bit time cant do it asap, i dnt rule the bank...i dnt even rule my account
agent- noooooooooooo
me- fine wat if i pay some tomorow
agent- ok, wat do u do
me- oh im doin a course in lcf, fashion media
agent-oooo thats nice fashion huh
me- yea its cool...im new here n i got a lot to do so im a bit out of control...
agent- its ok....u know its my boss...i hav to obey her
me- yea sure

most funny lines
me- hey ur place isnt too good aswell, always a sign 'sorry for inconvenience, plz co orparate' y cant u co orparate now?
agent- it happen since u came in
me- u mean i go to washroom with a hammer every morni n break things
agent- who knows
me- huh....i know...thats crazy...its just few days n i live nxt to u
agent- wat if u run away, wat if u murder someone
me- y wid u kill someone? outrageous
agent- i dont know


anyway....lets c wat happens tomorow...or i wudnt b postin that much....out of the house....

:(...im stressed......killing me honestly...cant rest till i get it right