November 06, 2005

A temporary bout of sporadic amnesia

I don't know what I want to write about. Yes, I really don't know.

There are times when you are busy doing something else, and you feel like doing all the things in the world at the same time. At those crucial moments, your brain overflows with ideas for the next post on your blog. But when you actually are free - like now, for example and you sit down to write, all those ideas seem to have been sucked back into a vacuum, never to be found again.

All those earth-shattering, probable Nobel and Booker lines, vanish when it comes to actually putting them down in words. Why?

Thinking of leisure time to write, the thought of this very shallow idea of leisure is very amusing too. I have so many projects left to complete and no time to do them. Four fat volumes of the Natyasastra glare at me from the bookshelf even as I write this. One teacher asks for a decent 20 pages on the Natyasastra.

My holidays are on. Not that I'm enjoying myself. I'm busy doing an internship at India's 'best' event management company. My present boss, in plain terms, is an absolute bitch. She never misses an opportunity to chide me on how unprofessional I am. At 17, I don't really conform to her idea of professional.

There are times when I'm doing a 9-5 at office, wait, a 9 am to 5 am the next day event flurry is what I mean. Sometimes, they don't give me any work to do, BUT, I'm supposed to be at their beck and call from 10 - 6:30. Which is why I feel like saying - Hey, I have a life of my own.

But, life is still not as bad as it sounds. For I know, I may have late nights, but that decent 20 page thing will come through.

And then, as people say - Anything that happens happens for the best !

November 02, 2005

Boom - Diwali - Boom - The festival of sound

Diwali - the festival of lights. These days, in India, it takes on an additional dimension.
The Festival of SOUND.

Since many years, people woke up to the stirrings of soothing Ragas on Diwali morning. A tradition called the Diwali Pahat. Cheerful banter filled houses and colonies as elaborate Rangolis were carved. Women vied with each other during the Rangoli session - the most beautiful Rangoli would elicit lots of fake compliments with ingratiating smiles along with equally numerous sniggers followed by long-winded gossipy stories about the Rangoli queen and her mother-in-law and all the worldly problems that seemed to plague them.

After a never-ending afternoon soiree where jewellery and clothes were matched, compared and debated on, the much-awaited 'getting ready for Laxmi puja' started. The dressing done, it was time for a little devotion before the sweets were passed around and savoured. Diyas all around the place added glory (and light) to the festival atmosphere. This was folllowed by a small token of the festival of light - phuljadis were lit and the light emanating from them was thought to be the harbinger of a brighter future.

In due course of time, phuljadis were accompanied by anars and chakris, then by small tinny lavangis, then by majestic ladis, then by Goddess Laxmi herself, in the form of Laxmi bombs, then by the boomer Rassi bombs, and finally by the reigning banshees - the Sutli bombs. And Diwali metamorphosed from the festival of lights to THE FESTIVAL OF SOUND.

Today, Diwali morning is welcomed by the desperate -sounding bursts of toy guns. The day passes by in a succession of horrible sounding blasts and bursts, a build-up to the grand finale of the night. For a nightmarish amount of time, human ears enjoy being assaulted by gruesome and noisy booms which sound like a thousand Hiroshimas happening at once.
Welcome to the all-new Diwali - the festival of SOUND