Wednesday, 30 March 2011

Of Kittens and Puppies

     Well, this is the season of proliferation, I guess. This campus seems to have become densely populated. Well, exaggeration, obviously. But the ladies' hostel has a bunch of puppies trundling about outside the gates with their mother keeping a close watch over them. One white, two mixed coloured and one black pup. They are, needless to say, terribly cute. I have taken an especial liking toward the black one. Now, I do not know what absurd names my hostel-mates have decided to keep for them. To me they are nameless. So, this black puppy is the adventurer of the group. He loves jumping up at people and nibbling at them to find out their mettle. He is also the one in the group who will go off on small, exciting trips (no doubt) around the ladies' hostel gate. My friend tells me that while she was petting the little thing, he decided to grab hold of her finger, and she just picked him up by his tail. He was hanging in mid-air for a while before he realised he was air-borne and quickly let go of her. The other three pups are quite cute as well (though I am most definitely biased). It is always nice to see the women in our hostel give them milk and other titbits of food. During holi, they were in danger of being harmed by the chemical water and colours, so some really thoughtful girls took them back to their rooms, and let them out when the fun was over. Really sweet of them. It never occurred to me.
     Apart from this, my friend has adopted a stray kitten. She is really cute (though I probably seem to be repetitive here, there are no other words that can express the level of cuteness of these little creatures). She named her kitten Maya, after a character in a Samit Basu book, which she rather sheepishly acknowledged she was reading at the time. Well, apparently she chose a nice name, because Maya in Khasi, someone said, means love. Though that little fur-ball is a mass of energy and enthusiasm, clawing and nibbling at everything she gets, she is quite well-tutored. She is one lovely kitten and reminds me a lot of the little kitten I once adopted along with a few friends of mine. We had named him Simba. He was a gorgeous white kitten, and I am sure I have written up something about him somewhere in this blog. (Miss you sorely, Simba. Hope you are all right).
     The hostel in which my friend stays also has a fast-growing-into-a-dog puppy. He (at least I think he is a 'he') is quite black and apparently quite naughty as well. I haven't met him much, but my friends call him Muffy (or muffin, I'm not too sure which), and he looks nothing like either name. He has managed to survive though and is a nuisance, or so I hear, since he uproots the dustbins over there.
     So that is the scene. What with puppies and kittens, this place is glowing with energy and the beauty of new life. It is quite awesome, actually... For those who like animals anyway!

Monday, 21 March 2011


Everyone with a cause, an agenda.
Everyone with lives at stake,
With nothing but one's own identity to save.

Somebody, a nameless-mask, who has everything.
Somebody with the world at her feet.
With everything, complaint lingers on the lips.

Suddenly, there is a new world that was unknown-
That of a struggle for existence, for survival.
Learning that lives of millions go to waste while that one somebody
Lingers on insignificantly, in her bubble of isolation.

It is then that her world changes for a moment-
For one uselessly insignificant second, it is changed,
Altered, and she forgets her petty qualms,
Yet, knowing that she will turn back into that selfish, narcissistic self.

Thought dance

There    is     a     space.
S      P      A      C      E.
And     tiny     thoughts     that
D      O             N      O      T
Fill     that     space.
They      skirt      it.
T           W         O
thoughts.     Or     TWO
peoples'      thoughts
D     A     N     C     E
a         dance         of
tug     -     of     -     war.

T h o u g h t s
M o v i n g   t o g e t h e r
T h e   s p a c e   c l o s e s,
A l m o s t   c o n n e c t i n g . . .



After a hectic three weeks, I am finally finding the time to re-visit my blog. And finally, I get time to sit back, and enjoy the sunlight straining through the leaves of the neem tree past the transparency of my window, successfully filtering into my room at five o' clock in the evening. I finally got to pick up a book from the very inviting stack on my table to read just for the heck of it, and not for some ulterior purpose of marks or classes or discussions. So I chose to pick up James Herriot's The Lord God Made Them All. I forgot how it was to visit the green hills of Yorkshire- if not physically, at least through the mind's eye (indeed, the latter, I find, is a way more exciting sojourn)- listening to a little bit of Mozart. It was perfect. I feel happy and lazy (in a good way...)
We were discussing King Lear in class today. I don't know how many of you are Shakespeare fans, and if this will ever appeal to you. I used to hate him at one point in time. And I realised why. People tend to deify the man! He was human, for god's sake! He wrote a lot of stupid plays. But he was one genius of a man. And, I'm guessing eccentric too. I had the opportunity to visit the reconstructed version of Shakespeare's Globe in London and the tour guide there was talking about the history of the place. Apparently the first time the theatre burnt down, it comprised of a thatched roof, and during a performance of one of his plays (if I am not mistaken, Richard II) he decided that it would be brilliant to use cannons for the war scene. And the plan backfired (literally), and the roof caught fire. [Sounds like a madman to me]. Well, like people say, he has this amazing ability to present so many different points of view and he is barely ever there in the play itself... Okay, okay. I get it. I am ranting, as usual. Well, so it was an amazing class.
There has also been a lot of dance in the air of late. It feels really nice to dance in a group, in an organised fashion, for a change, though dancing alone is equal fun. There was a DJ party, too. Madness was in the air. And the freedom that comes with such madness is exhilarating. I danced in a saree! As I summarised in a word- 'madness'.
I also had black coffee. Which for some reason heightened the effect of the sunlight. Though coffee with milk would have been better. Ah, well. There is a slight pleasure in sitting at my table and doing everything leisurely, without a hurry. The coffee was just a part of this whole setting and atmosphere, I guess. I shall now sign off. Enough about the luxury of time and leisureliness!! Until next time...