There are thought-out, worked-upon posts and then there is hack work to keep the juices flowing. This is probably the latter.
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My weekends have changed.
In my five years in med-school, weekends were like pit-stops. We used to look forward to them, counting down the days and generally living a weekend-to-weekend existence. The whole work week was considered a tedious preamble to the really important stuff, namely the weekend.
Sunday was an almost hallowed day and I would go to great lengths to keep it that way. Saturday mornings at the college were spent dreaming up weekend escapades and any study or ward-duty was done grudgingly and with complete disinterestedness. Playing hookey (quite a dangerous exercise considering where I was studying) and trying to get home as early as possible was an accepted practice. Throughout my stay in med-school, I never stayed in the hostels for a weekend unless it was absolutely unavoidable, i.e there were exams or the weekend was -in official parlance- a closed weekend.
The fact that my family moved four times during the five years I was in hostel meant that going home on weekends was a rather tedious and,in hindsight, expensive task. Except for the two and a half years that the family was settled in Pindi , going home generally meant a taxi-cab from college to the bus station, a hundred kilometre bus ride, and another cab from the bus-station to home. This process was repeated in reverse less than 24 hours later for the return journey. This ensured that at least 8 of the possible 30 hours were spent traveling.
What I didn't realize or probably realized but didn't care about at the time was the obvious monetary cost of performing the same ritual week in week out in the face of rising fuel prices and bus fares. All in all, I may've spent in the neighborhood of 50-60000 rupees simply on traveling to and from home on weekends. But here's the thing; looking back I can safely say that the time spent away from the hostels was worth every penny.
Weekends at the hostel were usually mind-numbingly dull affairs with most of my dorm-mates either home or out about town and nothing but 8-10 hours of sleep to while away the time, waking from which I had to endure the hostel-food which descended to unthinkable levels of blandness on Saturdays and Sundays. An unhealthy gloom descended on me every time I knew I was going to have to spend a weekend in the hostels.
Weekends at home were a completely different story, with every hour utilized to its fullest. I wasn't (and still am not) a very sociable person in that I didn't make friends in whatever neighborhood we were living in at the time. Hence there weren't many social calls to pay. I usually stayed home, and if I went out at all it was probably to go to
a) a bookstore or,
b) the now deceased Sadaf CD Store
The lack of a social circle also meant that I could spend my time in catching up on my reading or writing, spending a few hours on earnest undisturbed study or painstakingly downloading the next week's supply of music (those were pre-broadband days). If there was nothing else to do, I'd spend hours upon hours in front of the telly, getting my money's worth out of the couch in the living room,oblivious to the world around me.
Sleep was strictly rationed to the bare minimum. I rarely slept more than 5 to 6 hours on weekends, preferring to sleep off all the fatigue on Sunday night when I was back in the hostel. Afternoon naps were eschewed even in the balmiest weather and it was usual for me to sleep at 4 in the morning and wake up 4 or 5 hours later.
That was then, this is now.
It's almost four months now since I started working on my house-job and there are precious few weekends left. Sundays are working days unless by a freak of nature my name is not on the weekend duty-roster. On the average, I get every sixth Sunday off, with a non-stop succession of workdays in between. Add to that thrice weekly night duties and I have my hands full most days of the month. I can't complain however. The workload isn't unbearable and the fact that I'm finally learning actively after years of passively imbibing knowledge means that I don't consider myself an overburdened drone.
I get around two to three evenings free every week, which is more than what I used to have in Med-school,especially during final year. It's the weekends that have dried up, and that's a tragedy of gargantuan levels. Still, things would be acceptable if the level of activity on those precious few weekends equaled if not exceeded the R&R of weekends past. If I could get a bit of reading, a bit of writing, a bit of listening and viewing done over the weekend, I'd be a happy man.
But the balance of R&R has swung from recreation to rest. Where once sleep was strictly rationed, it has now spread itself over the day to such an extent that I wake up on Sundays at the ungodly hour of twelve in the afternoon, most times only to grab a two to three hour nap in the afternoon. I've replaced Jeff 'The Dude' Lebowski the poster-boy for unshaven slacking. Downloaded music remains unlistened to, movies that were eagerly awaited and downloaded gather dust in the DVD rack and newest contents of my overburdened bookshelf go untouched for months. Most disturbingly, it's been almost three and a half months since I acquired a new car-my first car mind you- and I feel absolutely no urge to grab the keys and take it out for a spin and practice my driving on the only day I have time for it. The result is that even after 3 months of being a car-owner, my driving skills are cretinous at best.
This is an alarming situation and I'm worried over it. Strangely, worrying only makes me want to snooze even more. I can't put my finger on the cause of the blight that has descended on the holiest of days in my calendar. The only reason I can think of is that I unconsciously accumulate fatigue over the weeks and weeks of ceaseless work and the only time I have to unburden myself is a Sunday. Try as I might, I can't maintain the same levels of activity I used to produce in the preceding years. My friends and acquaintances ensure me that what I'm going through is actually a return to normalcy after years of what they consider fairly deviant behaviour. Weekends were meant for sleeping ,they say, congratulating me on the fact that I have finally seen the light.
The sad bit is that I slowly feel myself warming to their point of view.
Random ravings of an exile from the past...
Showing posts with label College. Show all posts
Showing posts with label College. Show all posts
Monday, August 23, 2010
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
…Of Exams
There’s a scene in the Simpsons Movie where the guys inside the giant dome are having an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting when suddenly the discover that they’ve run out of coffee. Pandemonium ensues.
I used to laugh at that, till the same thing happened to me.
Exams are my favorite-most thing in the world, as my friends can testify, hence the month-long worry sessions, the compulsive eating that sends my waistline flying, and the caffeine trips that play havoc with my biological clock. And each year, as the stakes get higher, the worry-weight-coffee cycle begins earlier and grows more intense.
This past month were my first exams of my Final year, the beginning of the end as it were, and the enormity of the occasion had me taking uncharacteristically desperate measures. My new phone, which had me losing at least 12 man-hours (I love the term “man-hours”, reminds me of Charlie Chaplin punching clocks in Modern Times) each day, was exchanged on a whim with a much more basic model in the hope of conserving time and concentration. The feeling of being completely cut off from the rest of the world that this swap entailed was partly compensated by the addictive Snakes game that made the many trips to the loo immensely more entertaining.
I had began prepping earnestly (that’s another world I quite like) three weeks before the start of the exams, and bearing the odd football match that distracted me, I was amazed at my bone headed insistence to actually study. The build-up was fine, I even had the odd weekend to come home and watch a bunch of movies, plus the obligatory ‘Wake-up-early-morning,-bunk-classes-and-watch-the-Oscars’ ritual 5 days before the exams started, which warrants its own post I think.The pace of preparation was slow and assured, at least till 2 days before the exams, when all hell broke loose.
Ever since 3rd Year, I’ve been relying on two addictive legal stimulants to help me get my ganglions jangling-pots of coffee and the occasional Red Bull-, and I wasn’t expecting this year to be any different. Three nights before the exam, me and my study group (worth at least one more post) set out to the cafeteria for our symbolic First Coffee Dose Of The Year. This usually is the sign that things have come to a head and “Squeaky Bum time” has begun. What we found at the cafeteria was too horrible to even contemplate. The place was closed….
Apparently, the cafe owner’s mother-in-law had passed away, and he was out celebrating, or at least that’s what we thought. As the thought of three coffee-less days before an exam hit us, the horror everyone felt was obvious. I could well imagine the amount of work I could get done with an unstimulated brain and thought for a moment to give up the pretense of study, get my phone back and not give a damn. But that was only a fleeting thought, because doing that would have required a sort of perverse courage that I knew I didn’t have.
God made the Universe, heaven and hell and everything in between, and then he made Mothers. Thank heavens for that. Knowing that I was broke and couldn’t go out to buy anything because of the shortage of time, my mum came to the rescue. One phone call and half an hour later, I had a package from home…. A box of instant coffee packets and the world’s biggest stash of Zeera biscuits. I wondered what the strange significance of Zeera was, but they’re my favorite flavor now.
Armed with the ammunition we needed, we managed to get down to studying, when suddenly at around midnight, we heard blood curdling shrieks coming from the corridor. I wasn’t unduly alarmed, knowing from experience that an anguished scream or two every night were routine from any one of the dorm rooms around mine, a time-honored exam tradition. But when they continued, became more protracted and louder, I had to investigate.
It was the hostel cat.
I have a special enmity with the hostel cat, who shall henceforth be called Aunt Agatha (Wodehouse-reference-with-a-desperate-hope-that-someone-would-notice No. 2413) A few days ago, coming back from a four day holiday, I had found the heap of my (usually) freshly washed laundry slightly, how shall I say ,soiled. Apparently mistaking it for the sand-pit, Aunt Agatha had relieved herself liberally on a stash of me shirts, leaving me with a distinctive odor that repeated subsequent washings had done little to dissipate, and had made me the centre of attention in the feline circles.
So, watching the cat scream and writhe in apparent agony made me say a silent, contented prayer for whichever angel-in-human-form had kicked it in the ribs or stepped on it’s tail or given it whatever retribution it deserved. Happy, I returned to my room, and the cat went away after an hour of vocal calisthenics. But it returned the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that ….
Pleadings, an odd thrown shoe, an Exorcism…., nothing seemed to appease it. Finally, after the first exam and four nights of successive feline wailing, we gave in and left the cat alone to pursue it’s Galli-Gurci impressions in peace. It became our nightly alarm clock, reminding us that it was 11 pm and the night only had 4 more hours of study-time left. It was only after the last exam that we found out what the zoologists in our hostel had deduced ages ago, the poor animal was in heat…
The exams ended Monday, and the overwhelming sense of relief was enhanced by the misprint-laden exam paper that now hangs in my room as a hilarious testament to the power a word-processor holds in the wrong hands. Now was the time for the de-mob, the detox, the de-brief and the de-examinifitication.
I’m glad to report, the 6:30 show of Watchmen at the local multiplex did that admirably…
The fact that the exams almost ruined my birthday, which was only rescued by the birthday present to end all birthday presents, the fact that the personal habits of my study mates made me doubt the statement that Man is at the top of the evolutionary chain, the fact that a flu, a backache and a crocked body-clock that the exams left me with shall take ages to recover, the fact that the prospect of a new Dylan album coming out in a month’s time has perked me up to no end…. shall have to wait for another day, laziness permitting.
Book Of The Week,”The Reader”
Movie Of The Week,”Watchmen”
Album of the Week,The Watchmen Soundtrack
I used to laugh at that, till the same thing happened to me.
Exams are my favorite-most thing in the world, as my friends can testify, hence the month-long worry sessions, the compulsive eating that sends my waistline flying, and the caffeine trips that play havoc with my biological clock. And each year, as the stakes get higher, the worry-weight-coffee cycle begins earlier and grows more intense.
This past month were my first exams of my Final year, the beginning of the end as it were, and the enormity of the occasion had me taking uncharacteristically desperate measures. My new phone, which had me losing at least 12 man-hours (I love the term “man-hours”, reminds me of Charlie Chaplin punching clocks in Modern Times) each day, was exchanged on a whim with a much more basic model in the hope of conserving time and concentration. The feeling of being completely cut off from the rest of the world that this swap entailed was partly compensated by the addictive Snakes game that made the many trips to the loo immensely more entertaining.
I had began prepping earnestly (that’s another world I quite like) three weeks before the start of the exams, and bearing the odd football match that distracted me, I was amazed at my bone headed insistence to actually study. The build-up was fine, I even had the odd weekend to come home and watch a bunch of movies, plus the obligatory ‘Wake-up-early-morning,-bunk-classes-and-watch-the-Oscars’ ritual 5 days before the exams started, which warrants its own post I think.The pace of preparation was slow and assured, at least till 2 days before the exams, when all hell broke loose.
Ever since 3rd Year, I’ve been relying on two addictive legal stimulants to help me get my ganglions jangling-pots of coffee and the occasional Red Bull-, and I wasn’t expecting this year to be any different. Three nights before the exam, me and my study group (worth at least one more post) set out to the cafeteria for our symbolic First Coffee Dose Of The Year. This usually is the sign that things have come to a head and “Squeaky Bum time” has begun. What we found at the cafeteria was too horrible to even contemplate. The place was closed….
Apparently, the cafe owner’s mother-in-law had passed away, and he was out celebrating, or at least that’s what we thought. As the thought of three coffee-less days before an exam hit us, the horror everyone felt was obvious. I could well imagine the amount of work I could get done with an unstimulated brain and thought for a moment to give up the pretense of study, get my phone back and not give a damn. But that was only a fleeting thought, because doing that would have required a sort of perverse courage that I knew I didn’t have.
God made the Universe, heaven and hell and everything in between, and then he made Mothers. Thank heavens for that. Knowing that I was broke and couldn’t go out to buy anything because of the shortage of time, my mum came to the rescue. One phone call and half an hour later, I had a package from home…. A box of instant coffee packets and the world’s biggest stash of Zeera biscuits. I wondered what the strange significance of Zeera was, but they’re my favorite flavor now.
Armed with the ammunition we needed, we managed to get down to studying, when suddenly at around midnight, we heard blood curdling shrieks coming from the corridor. I wasn’t unduly alarmed, knowing from experience that an anguished scream or two every night were routine from any one of the dorm rooms around mine, a time-honored exam tradition. But when they continued, became more protracted and louder, I had to investigate.
It was the hostel cat.
I have a special enmity with the hostel cat, who shall henceforth be called Aunt Agatha (Wodehouse-reference-with-a-desperate-hope-that-someone-would-notice No. 2413) A few days ago, coming back from a four day holiday, I had found the heap of my (usually) freshly washed laundry slightly, how shall I say ,soiled. Apparently mistaking it for the sand-pit, Aunt Agatha had relieved herself liberally on a stash of me shirts, leaving me with a distinctive odor that repeated subsequent washings had done little to dissipate, and had made me the centre of attention in the feline circles.
So, watching the cat scream and writhe in apparent agony made me say a silent, contented prayer for whichever angel-in-human-form had kicked it in the ribs or stepped on it’s tail or given it whatever retribution it deserved. Happy, I returned to my room, and the cat went away after an hour of vocal calisthenics. But it returned the next night, and the night after that, and the night after that ….
Pleadings, an odd thrown shoe, an Exorcism…., nothing seemed to appease it. Finally, after the first exam and four nights of successive feline wailing, we gave in and left the cat alone to pursue it’s Galli-Gurci impressions in peace. It became our nightly alarm clock, reminding us that it was 11 pm and the night only had 4 more hours of study-time left. It was only after the last exam that we found out what the zoologists in our hostel had deduced ages ago, the poor animal was in heat…
The exams ended Monday, and the overwhelming sense of relief was enhanced by the misprint-laden exam paper that now hangs in my room as a hilarious testament to the power a word-processor holds in the wrong hands. Now was the time for the de-mob, the detox, the de-brief and the de-examinifitication.
I’m glad to report, the 6:30 show of Watchmen at the local multiplex did that admirably…
The fact that the exams almost ruined my birthday, which was only rescued by the birthday present to end all birthday presents, the fact that the personal habits of my study mates made me doubt the statement that Man is at the top of the evolutionary chain, the fact that a flu, a backache and a crocked body-clock that the exams left me with shall take ages to recover, the fact that the prospect of a new Dylan album coming out in a month’s time has perked me up to no end…. shall have to wait for another day, laziness permitting.
Book Of The Week,”The Reader”
Movie Of The Week,”Watchmen”
Album of the Week,The Watchmen Soundtrack
Thursday, December 6, 2007
....Of Lethargy And Long Sabbatticals
Ages and ages since I last blogged.A variety of reasons my dears,have kept me from posting crazy stuff.Call it blogger's block(it would be too presuptous to call myself a writer),ennui or plain old laziness,whatever it is;now's the time to make amends.I sat down to write today with no clear topic in my mind(something pretty unusual for a didact like me).
It's been a long winter.A dry,not-quite-so-cold-but-hard-on-the-sinuses winter.No need for quilts and heaters,but still a craving for roasted peanuts.Initially it was exams,pretty average,even by my own measly standards.That took a lot of the energy out,and energy was just the thing I was to need in the coming weeks.If any reader remembers(reader...who am I kidding here !),one of my posts was about moviemaking.
Last year-end,I had particitipated in a shall we say,cinematic adventure.Never one to learn from my mistakes,I signed up again when the opportunity presented itself.I had thought it would be a bit easier this time around,what with experience and so forth.No marks for guessing how wrong I was.Having already garnered a Razzie for Worst Acting last year,I was determined not to show my map on screen this time.
I don't know how wasted I was,but clearly I wasn't in control of my senses when I agreed to produce the thing.Well,the first part involved the crew pinching 2000 quid from my wallet while I was semi-asleep..
Well,what with one thing and another,the movie's done,shown and even distributed to four countries by the time I am writing this.Aah,laziness prevented me from completing a post about ...erm laziness.
Book Of The Week,'Gielgud,The Authorized Biography'
Movie Of The Week,'The Producers'
It's been a long winter.A dry,not-quite-so-cold-but-hard-on-the-sinuses winter.No need for quilts and heaters,but still a craving for roasted peanuts.Initially it was exams,pretty average,even by my own measly standards.That took a lot of the energy out,and energy was just the thing I was to need in the coming weeks.If any reader remembers(reader...who am I kidding here !),one of my posts was about moviemaking.
Last year-end,I had particitipated in a shall we say,cinematic adventure.Never one to learn from my mistakes,I signed up again when the opportunity presented itself.I had thought it would be a bit easier this time around,what with experience and so forth.No marks for guessing how wrong I was.Having already garnered a Razzie for Worst Acting last year,I was determined not to show my map on screen this time.
I don't know how wasted I was,but clearly I wasn't in control of my senses when I agreed to produce the thing.Well,the first part involved the crew pinching 2000 quid from my wallet while I was semi-asleep..
Well,what with one thing and another,the movie's done,shown and even distributed to four countries by the time I am writing this.Aah,laziness prevented me from completing a post about ...erm laziness.
Book Of The Week,'Gielgud,The Authorized Biography'
Movie Of The Week,'The Producers'
Saturday, April 14, 2007
...Of Censorship and Kisses And Exams
Rarely does my weak ego get a kick in the rear that sends it sky high.But the recent blocking of blogspot by the Pakistani government had me flyin' to the moon.The reason? The reason was that my puny 'ickle blog was also blocked along with all the rest.And this awoke a sense of pride in me.Pride at the fact that I too can be counted among the few whom the government deems worthy of censorship,but my general feeling was that of ,how shall I put it,indignation.My heart bled for the millions (yeah,right) who hung on my every word,anxiously glued to their PCs .waiting for my next post,as I imagined their looks of dissapointment and ominous mutterings,unable to fathom the cause of my disappearance...Did I mention I had a flimsy ego ???
Anyway,I've been thinking of kisses,movie kisses to be precise.The old fashioned kisses,to be more precise.The kind where Errol Flynn climbed up the castle walls to be with Olivia de Havilland and stole a beautiful,tender ten second peck,while cheesy romantic music played.Not the modern variety,which looks more like a contest to determine who can finish off their partner's tonsils first,and get a bit of epiglottis for good measure.Seriously,back in those days,a kiss was just that,a kiss.William Holden and Nancy Olsen in Sunset Boulevard,one of the most romantic scenes ever.Bergman and Bogart in Casablanca,sublime.Even Brando in On The Waterfront...But now,sheesh !!
I've been through a lot since I joined my college.It's an Army institute,and I've had my fair share of physical punishment.In fact,more than my fair share.I've been made to stand,dripping wet,outside on a cold winter night.I've been made to crawl on asphalt till my knuckles bled.I've been made to do push ups all day long,while fasting,and with only three hours of sleep per day.I thought thhat was as tough as it could get,but that was before I encountered the biggest terror of them all....Exams.Believe me when I say that I would willingly,nay gladly go through all that physical regimentation crap twice over rather than sit for exams.And unfortunately that's just what's about to happen.From onday,I'm gonna be caught in a vicious cycle of exams that'll end on 24th of June..Hope I come out alive.
Movie Of The Week : Royal wedding
Song Of The Week : The Ballad Of Hollis Brown
Discovery Of The Week: I'm in love with Bette Davis !!!
Anyway,I've been thinking of kisses,movie kisses to be precise.The old fashioned kisses,to be more precise.The kind where Errol Flynn climbed up the castle walls to be with Olivia de Havilland and stole a beautiful,tender ten second peck,while cheesy romantic music played.Not the modern variety,which looks more like a contest to determine who can finish off their partner's tonsils first,and get a bit of epiglottis for good measure.Seriously,back in those days,a kiss was just that,a kiss.William Holden and Nancy Olsen in Sunset Boulevard,one of the most romantic scenes ever.Bergman and Bogart in Casablanca,sublime.Even Brando in On The Waterfront...But now,sheesh !!
I've been through a lot since I joined my college.It's an Army institute,and I've had my fair share of physical punishment.In fact,more than my fair share.I've been made to stand,dripping wet,outside on a cold winter night.I've been made to crawl on asphalt till my knuckles bled.I've been made to do push ups all day long,while fasting,and with only three hours of sleep per day.I thought thhat was as tough as it could get,but that was before I encountered the biggest terror of them all....Exams.Believe me when I say that I would willingly,nay gladly go through all that physical regimentation crap twice over rather than sit for exams.And unfortunately that's just what's about to happen.From onday,I'm gonna be caught in a vicious cycle of exams that'll end on 24th of June..Hope I come out alive.
Movie Of The Week : Royal wedding
Song Of The Week : The Ballad Of Hollis Brown
Discovery Of The Week: I'm in love with Bette Davis !!!
Saturday, March 24, 2007
.....Of Pain
Every one has their own waking up rituals.Some just jump off the bed,fresh as a daisy.Others lie there,waiting in vain for a miracle to turn back the clock just one more hour so they can snooze some more.With me,it's just a quick stretch and I'm off.Never again am I stretching after today !!!
Woke up today with no premonition of the coming agony.Was just stretching a bit when out of the blue,something went Pop in my right ear!!.Suddenly a whacking great flash of pain shot up from my toes upto my neck,and stayed there.I couldn't move my neck one bit and all I could do was shout out HOLY CRAAAAAPP !!!!.And a fat lot of help that did.I had sprained one of my neck muscles really bad,and it was hurting like the dickens.After a lot of swearing,wheezing and hefting,I managed to sit up straight,one arm supporting my neck,with the elbow jutting forward like a rocket launcher or something.I called up a friend,woke him from sleep and asked (yelled at) him to come and take me to the hospital.
Now I've been acquainted with pain from my earliest days.After having been shot twice while out boar hunting,bitten by a snake,putting my finger in a meat grinder out of curiosity and having it's tip chopped off (i was seven,for pete's sake),you'd think I would take this minor misfortune in my stride.But each kind of pain is different.Sometimes it's that slight sweet pain you get when you've got a light fever,a little flu and lot's of ovaltine to keep you company.Sometimes it's that horrid,mysterious pain that comes out of nowhere and forces you to stand utterly still and hope you've not busted you're guts or something.Sometimes it's that silly niggling pain that just won't let you play football.This was of a new kind.The kind where you are completely paralyzed and each slight movement is rewarded by an electric shock putting you back in your place...
Well,holding my head at an ungodly angle I headed out to the hospital,wincing at each speed breaker along the way.The doctor at the trauma centre took one look at me and decided that I was bluffing,so he decided to confirm.A simple F%^%&^%#@^%!*$^*%& !!!!!!!!!!!! radically changed his views,and taught him never to touch my neck again.With a vengeful look in his filthy,leering eyes,he handed me a prescription,all the while muttering "That'll teach you". An injection,aah well,I was expecting it.So I uncovered my arm and braced for the needle.But no,I wasn't getting off that easy."Lie down",said the sadistic doctor,and I reluctantly lay down with a horid premonition as he applied his needle to you know where.
So,as I write this,i find myself in the singularly unenviable position of simultaneously having a pain in the neck,and a pain in the a**e !!!
Song of the Week ;Diamonds And Rust by Joan Baez
Movie Of The Week;Gigi (perfectly horrid)
Woke up today with no premonition of the coming agony.Was just stretching a bit when out of the blue,something went Pop in my right ear!!.Suddenly a whacking great flash of pain shot up from my toes upto my neck,and stayed there.I couldn't move my neck one bit and all I could do was shout out HOLY CRAAAAAPP !!!!.And a fat lot of help that did.I had sprained one of my neck muscles really bad,and it was hurting like the dickens.After a lot of swearing,wheezing and hefting,I managed to sit up straight,one arm supporting my neck,with the elbow jutting forward like a rocket launcher or something.I called up a friend,woke him from sleep and asked (yelled at) him to come and take me to the hospital.
Now I've been acquainted with pain from my earliest days.After having been shot twice while out boar hunting,bitten by a snake,putting my finger in a meat grinder out of curiosity and having it's tip chopped off (i was seven,for pete's sake),you'd think I would take this minor misfortune in my stride.But each kind of pain is different.Sometimes it's that slight sweet pain you get when you've got a light fever,a little flu and lot's of ovaltine to keep you company.Sometimes it's that horrid,mysterious pain that comes out of nowhere and forces you to stand utterly still and hope you've not busted you're guts or something.Sometimes it's that silly niggling pain that just won't let you play football.This was of a new kind.The kind where you are completely paralyzed and each slight movement is rewarded by an electric shock putting you back in your place...
Well,holding my head at an ungodly angle I headed out to the hospital,wincing at each speed breaker along the way.The doctor at the trauma centre took one look at me and decided that I was bluffing,so he decided to confirm.A simple F%^%&^%#@^%!*$^*%& !!!!!!!!!!!! radically changed his views,and taught him never to touch my neck again.With a vengeful look in his filthy,leering eyes,he handed me a prescription,all the while muttering "That'll teach you". An injection,aah well,I was expecting it.So I uncovered my arm and braced for the needle.But no,I wasn't getting off that easy."Lie down",said the sadistic doctor,and I reluctantly lay down with a horid premonition as he applied his needle to you know where.
So,as I write this,i find myself in the singularly unenviable position of simultaneously having a pain in the neck,and a pain in the a**e !!!
Song of the Week ;Diamonds And Rust by Joan Baez
Movie Of The Week;Gigi (perfectly horrid)
Monday, March 12, 2007
...Of Yesterday
Yesterday...
I woke up in a pretty foul mood.What with a cosmic mix-up of fate and circumstance,I wasn't allowed to go home on the weekend.The prospect of a whole sunday of idleness had turned my thoughts ugly and I was just lying down again,with the hope of drowning my grouch in sleep,when my phone rang.It was a friend of mine,telling me that a coupla guys were heading out to Islamabad to shoot a movie and I could tag along if I wanted to.Talk about Manna from heaven...
Took me 5 minutes to change,and while i was busy sprucing up,suddenly,I sensed a subtle change..It started with the faint patter of spring rain,then came the heady scent of rain-kist earth,and to top it off,the radio started playing Paper Moon by Ella Fitzgerald !! There was some hope in this world after all..
We set off on a trip that I count among some of the best I have ever undertaken.If I ever get to heaven(a pretty thin chance,if ever there was one),here's how I'd like it to be;
Driving along Kashmir Highway,with the spruce leaves turning bright red.Cold splashy rain drumming on the car roof,and the radio playing "Mere Dil Ke Taar" by Mehdi Hassan,followed by "Neend Mujhe na Aaye",by Hemant and Lata.I hope someone up there's noting down my order...
We alighted on the foot of the Margallas.While waiting for the rest of the filmmaking crew,we hiked up one of the hills.Again a glimpse of paradise,yellow leaves falling and flailing in the wind,the steady rain poking through my clothes and Naseem Begum singing "Dil chaahta Hai Mera,Kho Jayen HumYahaan"...
When the rest of the lot arrived,we set up shop.Me and the friend of mine got drafted in as extras,henchmen of a mafia don,complete with the necessary shades and firearms.All we had to do was follow the Don,grimace a bit and tote our guns,but yours truly hasn't won the Worst Acting Oscar three years in a row for nothing.
I was gleefully smiling all the way,winking at the camera. Then ther was a scene of me being gunned down by a sniper.Since I was wearing a borrowed jacket for that one,I rolled around pretty liberally till said jacket was dripping wet.Unfortunately,my jeans had also gotten moist in some pretty strategic locations(if you know what I mean).Once again the jacket came in handy.I can tell you from experience,there ain't no better absorbent tha a Vicuna jacket if you want to wipe your.....erm,you get the picture.
Then,saying goodbye to the filming crew,I headed off to do some shopping.Now the type of shopping I do merits my friends' name for me: "Maghaz".I set off to a record store and got my hands on some cds I had been looking for for ages.Since it was getting pretty late,and the rain wasn't letting up,and we hadn't eaten anything since last night,my friend's exhortions to speed it up were getting more and more vorciforous.But you can't drag a kid out of a candy store that easily,can you..
Having ditched 'em,enjoying the rain,my eyes caught sight of a "rare dvds" rack in a shop,and i zeroed in.Imagine my surprise when there,stacked before my eyes,was a bunch of DVDs I had been searching for since Time Immemorial !!! Boy,did I gobble 'em up!
Half an hour later,having spent 1700 of my hard earned cash,toting my shopping bags,I headed back.But sweet Mother Nature wasn't done spreading sweetness and light.On the way back,there was the same rain,the same brilliant foliage,and the radio outdid itself by playing Lata's "Mausam Hai Aashqaana".
As I lay down to sleep,with the steady rain knocking on my window,a happy dilemma presented itself.Should I fall aslumber with Nat King Cole palying Honeysuckle Rose.Or should Duke Ellington lull me to sleep with Mood Indigo.Or Should I let Joan Baez pray for me to stay Forever Young.In the end,I gave in to temptation and fell asleep with Ustad Barkat Ali Khan singing "Dono Jahaan Teri Mohabbat Main Haar Ke"
But that was Yesterday.....
My shopping list,if anyone's interested;
Cds by Joan Baez,Nat King Cole,Duke Ellington and A Faiz collection
Dvds,Bringing Up Baby,Two Marx Brothers flicks,Arsenic And Old Lace and the original Ladykillers...
I woke up in a pretty foul mood.What with a cosmic mix-up of fate and circumstance,I wasn't allowed to go home on the weekend.The prospect of a whole sunday of idleness had turned my thoughts ugly and I was just lying down again,with the hope of drowning my grouch in sleep,when my phone rang.It was a friend of mine,telling me that a coupla guys were heading out to Islamabad to shoot a movie and I could tag along if I wanted to.Talk about Manna from heaven...
Took me 5 minutes to change,and while i was busy sprucing up,suddenly,I sensed a subtle change..It started with the faint patter of spring rain,then came the heady scent of rain-kist earth,and to top it off,the radio started playing Paper Moon by Ella Fitzgerald !! There was some hope in this world after all..
We set off on a trip that I count among some of the best I have ever undertaken.If I ever get to heaven(a pretty thin chance,if ever there was one),here's how I'd like it to be;
Driving along Kashmir Highway,with the spruce leaves turning bright red.Cold splashy rain drumming on the car roof,and the radio playing "Mere Dil Ke Taar" by Mehdi Hassan,followed by "Neend Mujhe na Aaye",by Hemant and Lata.I hope someone up there's noting down my order...
We alighted on the foot of the Margallas.While waiting for the rest of the filmmaking crew,we hiked up one of the hills.Again a glimpse of paradise,yellow leaves falling and flailing in the wind,the steady rain poking through my clothes and Naseem Begum singing "Dil chaahta Hai Mera,Kho Jayen HumYahaan"...
When the rest of the lot arrived,we set up shop.Me and the friend of mine got drafted in as extras,henchmen of a mafia don,complete with the necessary shades and firearms.All we had to do was follow the Don,grimace a bit and tote our guns,but yours truly hasn't won the Worst Acting Oscar three years in a row for nothing.
I was gleefully smiling all the way,winking at the camera. Then ther was a scene of me being gunned down by a sniper.Since I was wearing a borrowed jacket for that one,I rolled around pretty liberally till said jacket was dripping wet.Unfortunately,my jeans had also gotten moist in some pretty strategic locations(if you know what I mean).Once again the jacket came in handy.I can tell you from experience,there ain't no better absorbent tha a Vicuna jacket if you want to wipe your.....erm,you get the picture.
Then,saying goodbye to the filming crew,I headed off to do some shopping.Now the type of shopping I do merits my friends' name for me: "Maghaz".I set off to a record store and got my hands on some cds I had been looking for for ages.Since it was getting pretty late,and the rain wasn't letting up,and we hadn't eaten anything since last night,my friend's exhortions to speed it up were getting more and more vorciforous.But you can't drag a kid out of a candy store that easily,can you..
Having ditched 'em,enjoying the rain,my eyes caught sight of a "rare dvds" rack in a shop,and i zeroed in.Imagine my surprise when there,stacked before my eyes,was a bunch of DVDs I had been searching for since Time Immemorial !!! Boy,did I gobble 'em up!
Half an hour later,having spent 1700 of my hard earned cash,toting my shopping bags,I headed back.But sweet Mother Nature wasn't done spreading sweetness and light.On the way back,there was the same rain,the same brilliant foliage,and the radio outdid itself by playing Lata's "Mausam Hai Aashqaana".
As I lay down to sleep,with the steady rain knocking on my window,a happy dilemma presented itself.Should I fall aslumber with Nat King Cole palying Honeysuckle Rose.Or should Duke Ellington lull me to sleep with Mood Indigo.Or Should I let Joan Baez pray for me to stay Forever Young.In the end,I gave in to temptation and fell asleep with Ustad Barkat Ali Khan singing "Dono Jahaan Teri Mohabbat Main Haar Ke"
But that was Yesterday.....
My shopping list,if anyone's interested;
Cds by Joan Baez,Nat King Cole,Duke Ellington and A Faiz collection
Dvds,Bringing Up Baby,Two Marx Brothers flicks,Arsenic And Old Lace and the original Ladykillers...
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Of Pity and the Oscars....
Watched the Oscars yesterday,or rather,woke up at six in the morning and bunked two classes to watch the Oscars yesterday!! Now,i don't mean to insinuate that i'm an award show buff or anything.Although getting to see Rachel Weisz,Cate Blanchette and Kate Winslet look ravishing,elfin and ethereal respectively,and seeing Jack Nicholson's new hair-do(or hair-don't,whichever's more apt)were attractions enough,there were deeper reasons...
It's just that the Oscars recall to my mind a conversation I had with myself a long while back(fortunately or unfortunately,most of my meaningful conversations are with myself).
A winter evening,many years ago.There I was,sitting in front of my fireplace,sipping my ovaltine(happy days...),when a thought occured to me.Who,I asked myself,do youpity the most?,Who,among all the inhabitats of this sorry world,deserves your comisseration and understanding??
Is it the impoverished widow that begs for your indulgence,all the while tugging two filthy looking children in tow?Is it the bearded,bespectacled old man,all toothless and senile,hawking candy at the bus stand in the hope of finding sustenance for his family??Is it the unfortunate ten year old,who playing with a landmine instead of a toy,joins the legions of mutilated children in some war-torn street???
All fairly destitute characters,and all deserving of a soft spot,but I ended up with a strange choice,quite strange indeed...
I came to the conclusion that the most pitiable object in my twisted mind is the faded star!!!
The matinee idol,once the pin-up boy(or girl)of every teen in the land,the staple of gossip columns and movie magazines...now just another face you knew long ago,another extra in the B-movie nobody sees,another worthless drop in the sea of trivia questions...
The beauty queen,once gracing the cover of every glamour magazine and advertisement...now just the topic of the "whatever happened to...." conversations in fashionable society,trapped in the endless cycle of botox and facelifts...
The grand comedian who once had'em rollin' in the aisles,repeating his famous jokes,re-enacting his deadliest routines...now just another gag-man for a new generation of clowns.Punched,pinched,gagged,shoved and ridiculed by the succeeding jesters in the public court...
The crooner who once belted out tune after lilting tune to the screaming,worshipping public...now just a distant memory,enshrined in dusty LPs and faded publicity photographs...
Pretty strange choice,inn'it?
Harp on it a while,form your own conclusions,and wait a while till i offer my own twisted reasons...
It's just that the Oscars recall to my mind a conversation I had with myself a long while back(fortunately or unfortunately,most of my meaningful conversations are with myself).
A winter evening,many years ago.There I was,sitting in front of my fireplace,sipping my ovaltine(happy days...),when a thought occured to me.Who,I asked myself,do youpity the most?,Who,among all the inhabitats of this sorry world,deserves your comisseration and understanding??
Is it the impoverished widow that begs for your indulgence,all the while tugging two filthy looking children in tow?Is it the bearded,bespectacled old man,all toothless and senile,hawking candy at the bus stand in the hope of finding sustenance for his family??Is it the unfortunate ten year old,who playing with a landmine instead of a toy,joins the legions of mutilated children in some war-torn street???
All fairly destitute characters,and all deserving of a soft spot,but I ended up with a strange choice,quite strange indeed...
I came to the conclusion that the most pitiable object in my twisted mind is the faded star!!!
The matinee idol,once the pin-up boy(or girl)of every teen in the land,the staple of gossip columns and movie magazines...now just another face you knew long ago,another extra in the B-movie nobody sees,another worthless drop in the sea of trivia questions...
The beauty queen,once gracing the cover of every glamour magazine and advertisement...now just the topic of the "whatever happened to...." conversations in fashionable society,trapped in the endless cycle of botox and facelifts...
The grand comedian who once had'em rollin' in the aisles,repeating his famous jokes,re-enacting his deadliest routines...now just another gag-man for a new generation of clowns.Punched,pinched,gagged,shoved and ridiculed by the succeeding jesters in the public court...
The crooner who once belted out tune after lilting tune to the screaming,worshipping public...now just a distant memory,enshrined in dusty LPs and faded publicity photographs...
Pretty strange choice,inn'it?
Harp on it a while,form your own conclusions,and wait a while till i offer my own twisted reasons...
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
....Concerning Show Business
Lights,Camera,Action !!!
...not quite as simple as that,i'm afraid!A realization that came to me after one week of dabbling in the performing arts.
Such a harrowing,tiresome and mind bending experience is not for the weakof heart like me.A simple ten minute flick for the Class Function exposed me to the complete show-business menagerie;the meddling busybody,the prima donna,the harrowed director,the overworked editor and the pessimistic producer(that's me...).
Comprising a ragtag band of first timers,our lot managed to patch together a ten minute opus in four dreary,tense,but nevertheless exciting nights.The fruits of our labour will be shown tonight in front of a restless,hungry and entertainment starved captive audience.The final hours before the moment of truth....
And that's not all !!
In a fit of overconfidence(read insanity) I offered up my services to sing to the teeming masses.The song is the Bob Dylan tune "Knockin' On Heaven's Door",covered(mutilated) by many before me.An ironic choice of a song considering my imminent demise at the hands of yon audience.And to top it off,it's the first song of the night!!
And so,our unlucky hero finds himself caught between two mighty perils.Danger lurks at every step...
Will he survive?,Will the adoring public plead for more?,or will he return a mutilated,tomato tinged wreck??
All this and more in the next installment !!
Song Of The Week:Knockin On Heaven's Door
Movie Of The Week:Ours,of course !!
Discovery Of The Week:There's No Business Like Show Busines !!
...not quite as simple as that,i'm afraid!A realization that came to me after one week of dabbling in the performing arts.
Such a harrowing,tiresome and mind bending experience is not for the weakof heart like me.A simple ten minute flick for the Class Function exposed me to the complete show-business menagerie;the meddling busybody,the prima donna,the harrowed director,the overworked editor and the pessimistic producer(that's me...).
Comprising a ragtag band of first timers,our lot managed to patch together a ten minute opus in four dreary,tense,but nevertheless exciting nights.The fruits of our labour will be shown tonight in front of a restless,hungry and entertainment starved captive audience.The final hours before the moment of truth....
And that's not all !!
In a fit of overconfidence(read insanity) I offered up my services to sing to the teeming masses.The song is the Bob Dylan tune "Knockin' On Heaven's Door",covered(mutilated) by many before me.An ironic choice of a song considering my imminent demise at the hands of yon audience.And to top it off,it's the first song of the night!!
And so,our unlucky hero finds himself caught between two mighty perils.Danger lurks at every step...
Will he survive?,Will the adoring public plead for more?,or will he return a mutilated,tomato tinged wreck??
All this and more in the next installment !!
Song Of The Week:Knockin On Heaven's Door
Movie Of The Week:Ours,of course !!
Discovery Of The Week:There's No Business Like Show Busines !!
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