You say goodbye, and I say hello

2005 was special.
Here's to an even better 2006.

The Curtain

I was ten at the time. Give or take a year. It was the annual inter-class painting competition, that Holy Grail of all things artistic for pre-pubescent kids (atleast the guys, anyway) with little more than starry eyes and an inflated(parent-induced, no doubt) opinion of their own talents.

The teachers, in charge of the organisational aspects of this venture, sprang something of a surprise. 'Free topic - Anything you want', they said, setting off an excited buzz around the rather large drawing hall . 'Unheard of !', whimpered some. 'F***ing brilliant', claimed the rather more wordly wise. What scope this bold, daring step would provide for artistic innovation! What grand, hidden talent this momentous move would unearth !

The dominant subject of choice, for most, seemed to be a landscape of some sort. You know the works - a nice house, preferably with a chimney (a remnant of the Santa Claus delusion, perhaps) , garden, fence, mountains in the background, and the rising sun in the background.
Some others worked on their version of a rainy day, boats on a lake(visions of Monet's 'Impressions of Sunrise', perhaps ?), and other such mundane topics. No nudes though, sadly.

Meanwhile, I drew a curtain.

It was simply called 'The Curtain'. Of course, at the time, I wasn't to know that a title of this sort was very much in the tradition of Camus ('The Plague', 'The Outsider'), and Kafka('The Trial', 'The Castle'), not even to mention Rodin('The Thinker'), the work's quality unquestionable and its metaphysical implications immense.

Of course, I was laughed at. Mocked, even. By all the teachers, no less.

I tell you what, though. It might've been just a reddish brown, plain, frilly curtain covering the entire sheet of drawing paper. It didn't seek to blow in the wind, or anything funny like that. It didn't try to portray any showy light effects. Dammit, it may not even have covered a window.
It was, however, without a shadow of a doubt, the classic minimalist work of its time. And it was all mine.

No wonder I turned out so messed up.

Lady luck has a crush on me

Ok, so the grades are out. Suffices to say that today, I believe in good fortune.

The Honey-Bee has my greatest sympathies. Evidently, Lady Luck isn't a lesbian.

hush puppy

So yesterday, I attended the memorial service, or the final rites of passage, if you like, of my recently deceased grandfather. The atmosphere, expectedly, was decidedly sombre, as hushed voices and tear-streaked countenances paid their last respects to the departed soul.

It's funny how death unites families. Mingling with familiar faces were those of long lost relatives - distant uncles and aunts thought to have been swept away by the hands of time to distant, irredeemable pockets of indifference returned, and presumably, disappeared once again to their own lives, so much separated from ours.

Not before a few gems, by way of conversation(for lack of a better word), from patronising, (but i must mention, not unkindly) aunts who exclaimed, in great surprise, ' How could your features change this much ?', and without the merest hint of a snicker, 'MIT next stop, eh ?' , eliciting little more than mumbles in response.

For one so much given to verbosity in private, I'm sadly tongue-tied in any public gathering. After the perfunctory 'hello's and 'fine , thank you's, I slip easily into my now perfected role of quiet-world-watcher, slinking around on the metaphorial tip-toe, unnoticed, and possibly forgotten. And before you know it, it's time to go.

Maybe that's exactly the way some people lead their entire lives. Gone before they know it's time, after spending innumerable years unnoticed, and forgotten.

What a shame.

home

Is it just me, or does everyone who returns home after a long time get greeted with anguished cries of 'Oh! How could you become this thin ', followed by massive meal after massive meal ?

Going home tonight for the weekend. Promises to be much fun, especially for the tummy.

the daily prophet

I've been in something of a Harry Potter mood recently. Just finished reading 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (yes, I know that I'm about half a year behind the rest of the world, so don't give me that look) ,and paid my own little daily tribute to movie piracy by watching '..Goblet of Fire' on the computer today.

A few cursory observations, then.

a)Maybe it's just me, or the fact that I already knew who the Prince was, who he kills, and how before the first page was turned, but the sixth book was definitely a disappointment. Not bad, but not quite in the same league as 'Goblet of Fire'. Rather conspicuously lacking even a semblance of a plot within the framework of the big story, it almost reminded of me 'The Matrix Reloaded ', simply trying to set the stage for the grand finale.

b)I suppose that it is a bit difficult to blame the original casting agents for not having the foresight to realize that Emma "Hermione " Watson would grow up to reach, as film critic Roger Ebert put it, the 'cusp of babehood'. It doesn't, however, make me feel very good to keep telling myself that ogling at fifteen-year old adolescents doesn't make for a particularly morally upright temperament.
FIFTEEN, for god's sake.

And don't even let me get started on Fleur Delacour.

c)The Ginny Weasley angle, in the 'The Half-Blood Prince', rather took me by surprise. I always assumed that Rowling would set up something of a love triangle between Harry, Hermione and Ron. Seemed the natural thing to do, no?

d)Oh, and they better give Ron a haircut, not to mention the twins. What is this, the Swinging Sixties ?

e)Full marks for all the bad guys, though. Ralph Fiennes looks deliciously menacing as You-Know-Who; and Mad-Eye-Moody, along with old regulars Snape and Wormtail, is in sparkling, scene-stealing form.
Definitely the best Potter movie, till the next, atleast.

from here to eternity

I had just returned to my hostel room, after ingesting the resident cook's very unique version of a special celebratory post-exam lunch, when the cell rang.

It was my mother.

'Your grandfather passed away last night. I didn't want to tell you in the morning beacuse I thought it would spoil your mood for your exam.'

What can i say? The exams are finally over now, and after a fortnight of stressing out and sleeplessness , all i can do is sit back, allow the tears to fall and wonder whose turn it is going to be next.

Thanks for everything, grand-daddy. For making my childhood wonderful, for teaching me all the right things, for the summer vacations spent loitering around discussing any matter that took my fancy, for helping me grow up in a world where i never felt deprived of anything, a place that is now just a fragmented, disjointed memory of a bygone time.

And now you are gone. Gone to join grandma.
You didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye.

Rest in Peace. I love you.