Bitch from Hell

bye bye fullhyd.

was nice knowing you.

why do people have families? i dont understand.
all they do is hurt each other and there is so much taking for granted and so much more baggage than in any other relationships.
i dont understand her
i dont understand my parents
i dont understand this whole thing
i dont understand why there have to be eggshells all the time
i dont understand why i become something inferior, something irritating, something superfluous, something insignificant, seomthing that must be shushed, made to stay still in the corner or at the least completely ignored.
i dont understand why, just because she is here only for a short while, she can be allowed ot get away with nasty snide remarks and laugh them off as jokes, and when i say anything it is mean.
i dont understand why, when i pick up a book she'd left splayed out open and face-down, something our entire family is TRAINED to correct, i am policing her and am snarled at, and i dont understand why, when i get upset, SHE gets more upset and more tormented and viticmized, and when amma comes to talk to me its a big favour that shes comforting me and why i am blamed for the entire affair.
i dont understand why, now that im 22 and she is 25, she persists in acting like im 12 and shes 15 and then throws tatnrums bcos we expect her to behave like when we were children.
i dont understand why all day everyone mutters and sulks at me and follows her around. i dont understand why amma cant tlak to me when im trying.
i dont understand why i feel like i am something to be ashamed of.

i have nowhere to go. here is hell. there is hell. what do i do?

ahhhhh winter's coming.

you know the saddest thing about today?

it was one of those lovely nippy days, with a nice breeze-wind, and it was overcast and even drizzly in bits! and the icing on the cake was the hint of an attempt to be foggy.

but oh it broke my heart. because, you see, it wasnt a cool day, but it wasnt a cold day either.

in the auto somewhere i almost cried because i remember the cold. aight i grant you its not cold like in the himalayas or in other countries, but hey its cold for me and for hyd. i remember how i used to walk to college with cotton socks, woollen socks and shoes, woollen gloves, t-shirt flannel shirt and fleece, longjohns, muffler, woollen hat, and still have to hunch and squinch up against the cold, to breathe in short gusts and close my eyes cos they were watering, to stuff my hands into my pockets, bury my nose in my collar, cower in a corner of the auto... and every time i got up from sitting i would shiver involuntarily because of the loss of the heat exchange from parts of my body close together...and diving under the quilt and blanket and shivering for half an hour till it got toasty and the next morning steeling myself to sit on the pot [rarely managed it usually airchaired] and hating to stick my hand under the tap and running back to jump into the bed and not waste the last vestiges of the night's warmth...and warming my hands on endless glasses of chai at the cafe, and how gloves stank of stale cigarettes bcos it was too cold to take em off to hold the cig, and people were always borrowing my gloves...and god i remember the fog where you literally couldnt see your hand at arm's length, and the smell oh the smell of wood-smoke and wetness and trees and the ridge, with the sun at noon loooking like a pale shadow of the moon...and i remember basking in the sun in andrew's court and alnutt court and listening to chica play the guitar and teachers having classes on the lawns cos it was too cold in the classrooms, and i remember missing so many classes because i fell asleep on the library lawns catching those last ten minutes...and i remember my friends chasing me to put sweaters and shawls on me and i remember running down the lanes laughing hysterically and screaming nanananan batman while flapping my shawl like wings....and i remember those days it was 12 degrees in the daytime and we all piled into one bed and shivered together and giggled all day...and i remember waking up on the AP and wondering where we were and looking out the window to be enchanted by the fog for the first time, and being thrilled we were five hours late cos i got to watch the shapes in it....

i remember

HOW i remember....

play was spectacular success, they want us to stage it at ravindra
bharati! wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. owe it all to my darling crew, they created an excellent set out of thermocoal and chart paper - overnight! our budget was Rs.1500 we spent 1000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! we had a debut director [i did a cameo hehehe] three debut actors, a debut lights gal and debut sound guy!!! and lots of debut production people. people have said its the best thing to happen to the pisspot!
wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The Virtuous Burglar - A One-Act Farce by Dario Fo will be staged at the Gokak Auditorium, at the Central Institute for English and Foreign Languages [CIEFL aka the pisspot] Tarnaka, Hyderabad on Saturday the 30th of October 2004 at 6.00pm. All are welcome.

ps...DO come! i need an audience!!!!!!!!!

you know how it is when you can sometimes pinpoint the exact thing, the exact words the exact action the exact event thast made your life what it is? and you know the gutwrenching despair and regret it can evoke when your life is a horrbile place? and you know the yearning for a second chance? how you know, you just KNOW that if you could go back and do or not do somethng say or not say something, your life would be in a better place?

but sometimes you dont know it would have been better. you think alright, it might have been different at any rate. anything to relieve the monotony the mind numbing frustration of a day in the life of inez serrano?

there is worse to come.

is there any feeling in creation, in existence in non existence that is worse than knowing that all the rage and hated inside you, the howls and wails you hear in you head all the time, all of them are because of one thing, and EVEN if you had done that thing different, even if yopu coulkd go back and change things, it would all still be the same?

now i begin to understand being and nothingness. now i begin to see why.

Eighty-nine.

That is a long time.

A long, long, long time.

It is the quit india movement, the partition of india, the formation of the indian constitution, the erosion of the congress, the assassination of so many political leaders, the rise and fall of the hopes of so many countries, a world war, the fall of colonialism, the rise of neo colonialism, the fall of communism, so many other wars, the commericalisation of cricket, the fragmentation of "sovereign, secular, socialist republic", six children, nine grandchildren, three greatgrandchildren, the death of one son, the disappearance of all greenery where he lives, the mushrooming of flyovers, the filth in the beaches... i could go on.

but.

eighty-nine years also isnt long enough.

it isnt long enough in a world of families in different cities, farther and farther apart but pulled closer by the telephone, it isnt long enough when one is always busy and theres always next week, next month, next winter to go visit, it isnt long enough when we havent dissected anatole france...

it isnt long enough when its over.

Adios abuelo. Te ver

today the "czech [did i spell it right????] contingent" camy to our house for dinner. at 830. um 915. no no make that 10. the accomapnying indians chickened out,. these gents finished beer and food for 8 people!! three men!! but, i have learnt today that all nerds are the same across age and field borders. hee.

what, i asked Mr. Cerv, eminenent geophysicist from Prague, is the difference between geophysics and geology.

ladies and germs, this is the reply: the same as the difference between astrophysics and astrology!

sigh

it appears these rivalries exist in all fields. its not just litt versus cultural studies, hee. so perhaps there are many pisspots scattered around this poor world! eep! wot a SCARY thought!

well, gnight all.
sue

wait!

before you jump to kidnapping and trade in teenage girls, marriage markets and other such evils, allow me explain.

NGRI hyderabad is playing host to an international conference on electromagnetic induction. so, theres people from all over the world here, and some of them bring companions, usually the men their wives. and while the scientists are at the sessions, these wives must be entertained. and of course, being enthu cutlet, and child of enthu cutlet delegate, i "volunteered" to go wit the gaggle today, cos i speak english and spanish and well, they needed a woman to go with them, who knows hyderabad.

and so what i had to look forward to was: birla mandir, birla planetarium and birla science museum, followed by NTR park. and a lot of nice old [hee] ladies from various bits of this large planet. who have mostly all met and loved my sister, so i wld be again, N's sister.

and i had a fabulous day! such lovely people, so nice to talk to, they asked the most interesting questions! ludmilla asked me, after carfeully observing all and sundry all day, what do women do if they need to pee on the road. men have public urinals and men have those open toilet thingies, and men have walls. what a brilliant question!

and i discovered i know all sorts of little tidbits about india and hinduism, AND hyderabad, and most of all, theres a lot one can actually do in hyderabad, if one doesnt have hangups about wehre and what. come december....

:)

wot can i say. that i saw it coming? dear ol' muprhy wit his infallible laws. Ladies and Gentlemen, the shit has, finally, hit the fan.

you see, like most other people, i have two parents and two sets of grandparents. well, one set, my mum parents lives wii us, and of the other my dads mum died a very long time ago and his dad lives in chennai. so, in my house we have one 22yr old wit all the issues attnedant on being 22 and having to study at the pisspot, one 54 yr old, one 58 yr old, one 80yr old wioth chronic asthma bronchitis and palpitation, a SERIOUS hearning problem and an even bigger problem admitting all this, teamed with a psychotic urge to control  everything and a delusion that without her the world will stop turning. and last there is the 87yr old who has had in the past 6 years, successivley with no space to enjoy recovery, TB, lung cancer and two strokes. mild srokes but storke.s and most recent, parkinson's. this wonderful [dys]functional family unit is run by the irate irritable irrational 58 yr old and the frantically busy starting-to-tune-out 54yr old.

the other grandparent, lives in chennai on his own, wit a probably 80yr old faithful retainer for comapny, and sundry staff running around, and a serious case of neurosis.

what i ask you, happens, when the 54yr old has a gigantic international conference to attend and organise and is therefore in mumbai, the 80yr old has a 70yr old sibling with psychiatric problems over to visit, and the 86yr old is having breathing and walking problems?

mr murphy comes to visit of course! and the 87yr old falls down in bathroom and beaks hip.

sigh....ladies and gentlemen..there you have it! nice pretty patterns on the ceiling.

i just tabbed thru all th buttons cos im too tired to move the mouse. sigh. my play is killing me. i was not cut out to push people. i cant be bitchy enough [shush!] and all the rehearsed speeches just dont come out. no, ill leave it you show me commitment by monday and we'll see if we are doing this. and now the real madness will begin - production. aaaaaa

im gonna suck at being a manager.

sigh

on the bright side, i saw a lovely movie, called manolito gafato. so cute. wld love to do textual analysis. i got to pet a cat a lot. and it was orange and purry. class was lovely. but i am POLEAXED.

tomorrow i dont have class. but i have to wash bathroom and clean house waaah.

um....sorry...lil disjointed...maybe i shld get a joint...hee.

i have 13 mock CAT papers to do, seventyfive million sums ouside of em, two books on immanuel kant and one on metaphor to read. and thats just this weekend.

tell me again why i cant go to hell right now?

ps...this blog is a site of discrimination and rampant stereotyping. to begin wit, why, if there have to be moods, cant there be a tired? sleepy? then, if they only partially represent the hegemonically dominant group of extreme emotions, why cant i choose to not put one in? as for music...wot if there is none? what about the suballterned section of society called readers who have no representation in this milieu? amd if it is my personal space why cant i just not put shite if i dont want to?

im babbling aint i..

oh joy!

it makes multiple windows redundant! cos by the time you can get to the next window your link has been downloaded. i have downloaded 50 songs in less than an hour. its beautiful.

:)

fitting end to groovy day... i did so much today... i even got maths sums right!!! :O shock! but i spent the day reconnecting with a not so old friend, not so reconnecting with an OLD OLD friend [no not age you chumpS!] and visting with my mum...

on the visit, i took a simple test to determine personality type, and i dsicovered that my theory that i have two distinct personalities is TRUE! i am almost completely choleric AND almost completely sanguine! eep! the scary bit was how right it all was. no, the scary bit was how i am two people!

so who's talking now?

right

Aran, this is for you, so anyone who is bored/traumatised please direct abuse to her.

:D hee

see, most people think the standard dialect of a language is the 'better' one, more 'logical' etc. but. this is not really true...there is no linguistically better or worse dialect, only socially more or less privileged dialects.

with me so far?

so, in standard english, reflexive pronouns are as follows:

my-self
your-self
him-self
her-self
our-selves
their-selves

the root is the possessive pronoun, to which the suffix -self is added. but look again. him is not a possesive pronoun, its an indirect object pronoun.

in a northern dialect of english [the north of england] the third person pronouns are:

his-self
her-self
their-self

all of which are singular. here, the pattern is followed. but what of theirself? that appears to be a sociolinguistic change, because, with increasing consciousness of politically-correctness [eeep wot polysyllabia! and all grammatically doubtful im sure] this gender-neutral pronoun seems to have developed. and that is the pronoun i was using in that post, which is where it came from.

phew.

:D

i woke up sad today.

i HATE when that happens.

thats such a good word you know, impetus. almost onomatapoeic. fuck im sure ive got that spelt wrong. anyway, the point her being that impetus [such a lovely onomataopeoppcicjfc word] is that focus of a huge crisis in my life. i was sitting in the pisspot today and talking to some juniors. one of my profs told us the story of his impoverished childhood and we realised that that ius probably why he is so good at wot he does. i mean, theres nothing like financial need to provide impetus [such a lovely...you get my drift] to actualise latent genius.

shite.

sorry about the jargon, i just finished a 3900 word assignment on blake and the biblical god, so cut me some slack.

wot im trying to say is this: i think everyone has withint the potential to be something phenomenal, each in their [oooh intersting linguiostic theory popped into head, but on second thoutghs shall spare you all] own sphere of experience. but, very very few people manage to convert that potential into something tangible. we were wondering why.

the conclusion we arrived at was this: we are all content in our comnplacency until something pinches us. it could be a passion for soemthing, but usually its the ned for money. did you know michaelangelo painted the ceiling of the sistine chapel cos he needed money? and all he ever wanted to do was sculpt marble, but he was too poor? and thats where the beauty of that painting comes from.

so, our thesis holds that many of us people today who have plenty and are riven by angst about future and shite, who wonder about purpose and so on, maybe that is all our problem is: that we dont have any desperate needs to motivate us.

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