Positive vs. Negative

Over time, i've realized how important it is to stay positive. Granted, it's the most obvious thing in the world. But it's taken me a while to come to this realization.

More than plain optimism, I think it's important to bring the good things in your life into the limelight, and give them attention and importance. Life isn't perfect, and there are many elements to it that you may dislike. Sometimes, you may have to live with these elements. But bringing the positive things, using the happy moments, to cloud over bad times and bad elements can help you be happier, and more productive, even. Letting all that negativity suck away even the good moments of your life is just a way of digging your own grave. Crush the negativity, make it seem insignificant. 'Cause it's going to be there no matter what. It's up to you to get rid of it, or make it seem like a drop in the ocean that is your life.

Flawed.

Semester wise epiphanies seem to be becoming more of a trend for me. I spend an entire week having vague and varied revelations about everything from Donald Duck’s pant-less existence to the presence of an excessive amount of green in my room. But overanalyse I do, and the end result is a long, endless rant, and sharp evidence of little or no progress in the studying area.

I have come to the recent conclusion that University life is all about mistakes. I’m pretty sure that I did not make even ONE correct, useful, right decision in the last three semesters. I’m not saying that I regret all of it. But wise choices have failed me ever since I first stepped into my dorm room last year.

Maybe that’s the point of college. If you make all the right decisions... well, perfection, unflawed as it is, has no scope for inadequacy of any sort. And with no imperfection, all that you have to look back on are boundless green pastures of happiness- which sounds like a good thing, but let's say that I've been there, done that- and truthfully, these green pastures can get boring. Besides, they don’t last forever, and sooner or later the storm comes. But, however scary the storm may be, when you live through it and look back at it, more than the noise, more than all the thunder and lightning and cold, you see yourself surviving. Most importantly, you see the rainbow after it’s passed.

I don’t intend to sound preachy with this, but what I’m trying to say is- make mistakes. Make lots of them, and don’t be scared to make a single one of them. It’s alright to make stupid decisions, and sometimes being embarrassed isn’t such a bad thing- even if your Diwali outfit makes you look like an oversized pumpkin with a dark blob for a face, and makes you feel big enough for Cinderella to ride home in after her magical night; even if you spend three hours enjoying the latest Harry Potter film on the cusp of a week of tests; even if you write five-hundred words of confusion right before your exams.

Give yourself a chance to trip and fall- metaphorically, of course. You don't want to end up with four pairs of torn jeans like I have. But that's another story.

Fragile Things

Sometimes, the fragility of this world scares me. In his book, Fragile Things, Neil Gaiman says, “People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.” This one line had me stunned for hours, not because of anything but the truth behind this simple statement. I look around, and there are days when everything confuses me. Why is the world made this way? Happiness, sorrow, it all seems so variable, so very fragile. Is there anything that’s constant, and most importantly, is there such a thing as true happiness? Is it really this hard to find a place where we truly belong?

I have always thought that people who have layers to themselves, depth of a different sort, are the ones who lead the most complicated lives. But recently, I was proven otherwise, only to realize that truly, we complicate our own lives, irrespective of what kind of people we are, irrespective of the various layers we may or may not possess.

The world is made in odd ways. We all let differences take over us; we remain biased no matter how much we have been exposed to, no matter how much of life we have seen. Most of the time, I feel that we might spend our whole lives trying to understand the workings of the world, the minds of people, and still fail miserably at it.

I remember having some wild, crazy dreams as a child. I was so sure I’d end up doing something revolutionary, out of the ordinary. There was so much in life that I was passionate about, and I was eager to turn this passion into something real. But, I think somewhere along the way, things drastically changed. Reality sunk in, and reality is the most complex thing I have ever come across. Issues like world peace and global warming still affect me greatly, but I know for a fact that as a kid, despite knowing much less than I do now, I felt more for these things than I probably ever shall in the future.

But life can’t just be about wasted hours and broken dreams. There has to be a deeper, better meaning to everything that we do, and more importantly, everything that we want to do.

We all dream of touching people; of not only changing our own lives, but also changing the lives of others, in some small way or the other. It's definitely not as easy as it sounds - not all of us can give memorable speeches like Martin Luther King, or selflessly help people like Mother Teresa. But no one said that we have to do something drastic - a small thought or gesture to the people we love most can mean so much, and can mark itself down in history in a smaller, but equally important way.

I think one of the hardest things in the world is regret. Personally, I don’t think that I’ve seen enough of life to fully understand what it is to deeply regret something. But recently, after watching a Swedish film, Wild Strawberries, I understood that it is never too late to undo the things you regret- your whole life may have rushed past you, and you may feel like it's too late to change your life, but the truth is, it's never too late to change yourself.

I guess this post is just a compilation of my thoughts and feelings, these past few weeks. All I’m trying to say is stop and look around once in a while. Try and understand the things around you. It’s a hard, almost impossible task, but every bit effort and thought that goes into it is worth it, because whether you find your answers or not, the feeling of trying is the most satisfying thing ever.

Observations from the world of physics

1:00 p.m.
Eve of Physics exam

Yes, most definitely NOT the best time to sit down and write a blog. Especially when I've still got 3 and a quarter chapters to blunder through, each having a cartload of problems and formulas. Apparently, I'm not my sane self today. But then again, when am I?

No, seriously. I just stumbled upon some interesting facts which i couldn't help but pen down:

Firstly, Pradeep's Fundamental Physics has nothing, whatsoever, to do with fundamental physics. Not in the slightest. It is, infact, packed with over 1000 pages of undesipherable, advanced, bull, topped with fantastic, fact-filled IIT preparation guides, hints, and three times the number of problems in our NCERT text book. Now that, definitely, is a problem.

And I finally figured out what those weird s-like symbols represent. Calculus. They are not, I repeat NOT fancy signatures of infamous physicists. Thank God. Okay, I've already mentioned that. Couldn't resist.

'Vectors do NOT add like numbers.' Fascinating, really. I mean, when I grow up and am unemployed and go job-hunting, I can simply, accidentally-on-purpose stumble upon my eleventh-grade physics text book, chant 'vectors don't add like numbers', make millions, and get a double-suite with Bill Gates at the Hilton. Woohoo!

'For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. However, these action-reaction pairs occur at exactly the same time.' Sadly,this would mean that me and my brother screaming at each other would not make an action-reaction pair. I mean, the equal and opposite thing so agrees, but it usually starts with me, and continues with my brother. There's a gaping difference of around a second or two. Sigh.

And that is all for now. On a more serious note, I have also deciphered that I have the concentration span of a three year old. No, it's okay. Some people in my position would be scandalized. But, seriously, I'm quite alright. I'm honestly quite optimistic about my future.

Hooligans at Zoosville

As if it's not enough to bear with a bunch of hooligans throughout the school day, my IIT class welcomes me with thrice the number. I make it a point to come right on time, if not a few minutes late, to prevent my eyes and ears from being abused to great extents.

However, circumstances fail to ever favour me, and i, for the first time in eternity, turn up a whole 15 minutes early. I curse myself for my bad time sense, and search for an empty seat, trying my best to ignore the lingering smell of sweat, intermingled with that of worn-out school uniforms and mud-stained shoes.

The first hooligan of the day accidentally shifts his foot a nanometer from it's original position, only to leave me stumbling across the room, trying in vain to regain my balance. I avoid eye contact with anyone as I reach my seat. Spare me; I get embarrassed enough at school as it is.

Sadly, my choice of place is far from perfect. Unlike the usual set of brains between whom i can sit and pretend to fit in with, I'm surrounded by a bunch of dirty, sweaty, and, yes, giggly guys, who can't keep their mouths shut for more than two seconds.

The guy next to me stares, as though it's perfectly illegal for a girl to sit next to him. Some hooligans in front of me take out their phones, cunningly hiding them, placing them in the perfect position so as to be able to message each other, yes, EACH OTHER, though out class. Clever, you might think. Not quite. Especially when you're sitting right behind them and hear them bursting into fits of laughter every time they receive an SMS.

The boy on my right is sincerely doing last week's homework. Okay, maybe not a hooligan after all, but who said scribbling away undecipherable math sums is any better than under- bench messaging? The continuous scratching of his pen somehow annoys me more than deep-voiced giggles.

Metres and metres away from my inches-from-hell sitting place, a guy sits on the windowsill, twirling his pen and, yes, talking(?) to a group of girls. He occasionally runs a hand through his hair. I roll my eyes so hard, it hurts. I stuff my hand into my pocket to prevent myself from hurling my 10-inch math book onto him. Yes, the scene looks that unbearable.

Two girls walk in even later than me(and to think i never thought it possible). They make their way towards their seats. They don't topple over any one's feet. They don't find their seats between the craziest attention-seeking prats of all time. The guy next to them smiles and says hello, and is not revolted by the fact that a girl is sitting next to him. As though by a stroke of luck, their eyes miss the guy on the windowsill.

I groan out in frustration, only to be met with another terrified, get-out-don't-sit-next-to-me look from the guy on my left. Well, at least someone finds me intimidating.

Just then, the 'professor' walks in. Silence ensues. The pen stops scratching. The giggling in front is, miraculously, controlled. The boy on the windowsill jumps up as though he's just been struck by lighting(how i wish it were true...).

Peace at last. =)

The Park

As I sink into the sofa and grab the remote, preparing myself for my favorite soap, my mom nudges me. Take a walk to the park , she says. She mumbles something about fresh air. I glare at her. She has any excuse to make me shed some weight. Me? Well, it's just my excuse to eat more.

I make my way into the park, which is a street away. It's tiny. Minuscule, really. Not an inch larger than my house. Blocks of stone are placed together in groups of three. A group of teenagers flock on one side. Some kids are playing football. Noisily. But it only seems to add on to the tranquility. I can't help but feel a bit lonely.

Some old ladies are huddled together in the centre of the park. I can almost hear them whispering, complaining about some long-lost grandson or insolent daughter-in-law. A shocking trip to the restaurant or the need for stronger censorship. They throw reproachful looks at the soccer kids.

I see the 90-odd year old lady, the one who walks around the park twenty times every single day. Her steps are small, snail like. She stops once in a while, adjusting her sari, checking if all her body parts are working and still in place. There's a compelling look of serenity, even innocence, on her face. She doesn't seem to be bothered by the loud kids. I somehow feel that she realises how incomplete the park would be without their high-pitched shrieks, jests and jeers.

Just as I turn to leave, a dog bounds into the park. A beautiful, big, golden retriever. A bundle of energy and intensity. Following it is a little girl, a smile playing on her lips as she chases the dog.


The picture is perfect.

Hmmm.... (observations)

Okay, first things first, no offence to anyone. I was just being extremely cynical one afternoon... Trust me, this is just a general picture of any school, and i'm not mentioning anyone in particular either...
Here goes..

Lunch tables seem to have always been a symbol of categorization:
Table no. 1 : The jocks
Table no. 2: The drama kids
Table no. 3 The artists
.... and so on...
With the obvious absence of lunch tables, I have, out of utter desperation, moved on. I have entered the light.
Our school canteen is a captivating observation deck, with the whole lot of seniors hanging out there. It is, undoubtedly, the most happening place to be (not to mention an ideal place to think about how to cut those extra pounds while conspicuously munching on a sugary chocolate bar just handed over to you by Vinod anna).

1) The 'in on' gang- Notably, the only gang with both the sexes(whatever happened to girl power?). Believe me, for those of us who don't know them(ha!), ignorance is pure bliss.

2) Indian born confused wannabe Americans- With short skirts and fake American accents galore, there's no stopping them. They go on singing the latest pop/hip-hop/rap/ i wish i knew more genres. They frustrate you with their oh-so-fake accents. Culture is apparently alien to them.

3)The 'look at me, I'm cool' guys- They obviously don't eat their lunch, 'cause from 12:40 till the unanimously dreaded bell rings, these 'jocks' lean on the perforated walls, sipping colas or licking icecreams, their eyes wandering hopefully over every girl who passes by. Two words -you wish.

4)Sowkarpet 'babes'- These gals speak the fluentest Hindi conceiveable, so fluent that it is impossible to catch. Even their English is heavily accented with Hindi. I'm guessing that they're newly returns from the great north. Yeah, sure.

5) The 'kids'- Yeah, we can't forget them. They're gutsy enough to enter a zone self- marked for seniors. Valiantly, they plunge into the crowd of six-footers. Some of them have even experimented with folding down their socks. Their tininess is a big give away. I mean, i wasn't THAT small!

6)The outcasts- These people always seem to be lost, but believe me, they're far from losers. Together, they form the most intellectual band of students, and also the least sought-after gang. They spread over a wide range of people, all of whom are desperate tag-alongs. Hey, I said they were intellectual!

7)And last, but not the least, the Loners - You can see them flicking an invisible speck of dust from their ties, shooing away microscopic mosquitoes, and pretending to be in their own world, when they're actually, hopefully shifting their eyes around, digging for people they know, and trying to make conversation with random passers-by, not to mention the occasional stray dog.


Whoever came up with the lunch tables example??