Euphoria

I had waited a long time for this. It came and is now embedded as a memory, not merely a memory of what it was, but a memory of how it felt. No, it's not sex you over-assuming perverts. It was just a concert. I knew every song and almost every word. Inhibitions withdrawn, I transcended into this swoon of satisfaction, and let go. Almost voiceless and tired after, not to mention deflowered, I finally understood what I could only see on Ali's face at the Iron Maiden concert in March of 2007. It's this weird feeling of how everything makes sense, and everything is so right. I almost can't believe the power of music at times, and the power that live music unfurls is only amplified.

I thank Tarryn for taking me to Houston and back. matchbox twenty rocked the kasbah, or rather the Toyota Center, and I don't care how anyone else feels or felt about it, but I feel and felt bloody great. I guess I needed the release to some extent. I was having a crappy day thanks to the over-paranoid nature that I sometimes seem to illicit within me, but MB20 sorted all that out. Michael Buble, a night earlier, was brilliant too. His concert was more chilled though, in contrast to the energetic, heart-stomping matchboxers. 2 kick-ass concerts in 2 days - I like very much so, lots of.

ICA (& ISA) is bringing Penn Masala's booties down to UT and that should also be fairly entertaining. A Capella is fascinating, eh? Ever heard of "vocal play"? Naturally 7, who opened for Michael Buble, are "vocal players". Ali, you should have heard how one of the dudes belted out a distorted guitar solo. It was unfriggin' believable. I'll post videos on FB soon.

Talking about ICA, a bunch of the ICA committee just pulled an all-nighter to put together the "Swing-Out Application", in our quest to capture the unprecedented-ly glorious award of "Most Outstanding Organization". I was, as usual, making a video - turned out decent enough.

In other self-obsessed news, I and Jason and Tarryn have Bon Jovi to look forward to this April. Ali will probably automatically, emotionally and mentally, message the brain-centers of the world how brilliant a Bon Jovi experience can be - it's a pity how some arrogant, insecure guys frame them as "gay". That's either defensive pessimism or downright superficial. Go die on a prayer, losers.

P.S. 19 feels the same as 18. Birthdays are over-rated.

Fadoslessness

The futility of futility is so futile. I did nothing of great consequence today. That basically means that today, I did no studying. Two important midterms are coming up this Tuesday and I have done absolutely nothing to prepare for the either of them. My bad, all my bad…

I thought Fado’s, this Irish pub on 5^th street, screwed me over by over-charging my debit card. WelI, I thought wrong, and ended up wasting a whopping two hours traveling to and fro from Fados, thanks to a bus detour, only to later find out that they really hadn’t overcharged my debit card. Apologies Fado’s, but WTF Anish?

Ooh, I am going to be shaking my booty for Jashan ’08 this year to some Bollywood rhythm! I am weirdly excited because it’s been forever since I dhin-chakd (danced) on stage. It kinda brings back those young frivolous days but, at the same time, allows you to be mature enough to not get over-conscious about yourself. Essentially, it’s all for the fun of it. And when something this fun can uphold ICA's solemn goal of pervading Indian culture through the roots of the UT campus, then why not go with the flow?

I am going to now print some study material for tomorrow and hit the bed. Screw the studying. If you do something, do it to the best of your ability. I am currently procrastinating, so I will do it to the best of my ability.

P.S. Peace and have a great week.

Satanic Pointlessness

We partied last night. I’d have liked to say we partied hard, but we really didn’t. It was one of those Valentine ’s Day parties – a “red light” party to be precise. No, it has not got anything to do with prostitution you over-assuming perverts. What the “red light” basically refers to is that when you enter, you get a colored neck-glow-band according to your current “relationship status” – red to stay wed (i.e. those taken), green for those who are single and ready to mingle, and yellow to stay mellow (i.e. stay neutral). Super cool, eh? Yeah, right. What they should have also had was pink to wink and blue to screw – would have made the night way more interesting.

Club parties are getting boring. I don’t drink because self-intoxication is pointless, so that basically means that I have to look for un-intoxicating ways to get “happy”. I enjoy dancing, but a crappy DJ doesn’t help with that. What really gets to me about these club parties is the sexual tension that floats in the air. Everyone is checking everyone out in the most sexual of ways. That’s fine I guess, but annoying thing #1 is that a lot of things are assumed. If you ask a girl for a dance, they almost all assume that you are shouting out, “Hey, can I get into your pants?” This might be true for some horny guys, but sometimes, a dance is just a dance. If it does proceed to the pants, good for you, because you very well know that you (and your lovely friends) will not let yourself get into the wrong pants. Annoying thing #2: People hate it when someone who they find unattractive harmlessly flirts with them – it’s “weird”. But, if a sexy SOB comes along knocking on the vaginal door, it’s obviously no longer “weird”. Get over yourself you arrogant self obsessed maniacs! Instead, be flattered by the attention that you get, however “ugly” the source seems to be.

Frat house parties are worse, at least through my lens - taboo alcohol flowing like the “Ganges” (Ganga!), sexual tension blowing like the Westerlies and dancing opportunities only as flexible as the first-stage bicentennial man, does not help. Also, being surrounded by drunken people is funny only to a particular extent. At least dancing at clubs with unassuming, decent girls to decent music is a decent amount of fun; but house parties for the un-intoxicated is only a live, monotonously boring, visual encyclopedia of young people.

We, as in Jason and I, had an early morning today. We walked down to Fados, this Irish pub on 5^th street, at 9 in the morning to watch the Satan’s Children – Arsenal game. Arsenal played miserably and Eboue is going to hell. But the Satan’s Children victory was pretty pointless as it seemed that Arsenal were not in any mood to play football or “soccer”. I have the same views as this guy, so let this guy bore/entertain you.

P.S. We (ICA/ISA) are bringing down Penn Masala to UT. Woot woot! I need to make a flier/hand-bill for their show.

Limp

House is one hell of a television series. The script is, quite simply, breath-taking. So breath-taking, that it literally takes your breath away, and then stuffs it down your lungs with the gustiest of gusts. To add to the breath-taking-ness, Hugh Laurie plays the character of House like a dream. Gregory House is fascinating – messed up in sorts, but principled when it matters, i.e. good. He is bloody brilliant in bestowing his brilliant bedical bisdom on beople. The Vicodin addiction does not take away anything from the brilliant doctor that he is.

Dad, you need to watch this show. Go to Carrefour or Virgin and buy the 1^st season DVDs of “House.” Yes, people do say that there are some dodgy medical facts that the writers do concoct, but that doesn’t really affect the purpose of the show. Being a doctor, you will really enjoy it.

For some bizarre reason, a couple of days ago, on the 13^th of February, a day when I did not blog, my blog got a whopping 200+ hits. Why? Brilliantly stupid, I say.

For all Arsenal fans that do happen to bounce onto this blog, let us bow down and worship the brilliance of Mr Wenger, let us treasure our current 5-point league over Satan’s children and let us pray that we kick Satan’s children’s rears tomorrow. What you also need to do is start reading www.arseblog.com – the all time greatest Arsenal blog. You should also go see the grand old Adebayor rant away about his brilliant form.

P.S. Ali, where art thou?

7-4

I just saw American Beauty. Heavy stuff. It starts of slow, but picks up like a friggin’ Ferrari as it progresses. The whole “don’t-give-a-shit” attitude that Spacey eventually adopts is fascinating, and seriously, why the hell do we care so much about our friggin’ image? Get you principles sorted out and be good when it matters – things become a lot less dramatic and complicated then. On the other hand, people with the loveliest images can be as bad as Hitler and Satan combined. They appear to be as sweet as peaches when you meet them, but when it comes down to what matters, they mess up like how global warming is kicking our rears right now. And the weird thing is, just like our rears, they also don’t really care that they are being such hypocritical, superficial maniacs. Yes, if you think this superficial maniac is you, then it probably is, don’t doubt it, rectify it, you superficial selfish snob. It’s insane how unfeeling you can be at times. Don’t you get it? People are not stupid. They know you have issues – the only reason they stand by you is because they don’t have anyone else to stand by or fall back on. Another reason could be that you’re attractive, and your “friends” have raging hormones. Or, they might have pity on thou sorry self. We need each other, and as everyone is not great, we have to suffice with what we can get hold of. But hey you, good luck finding real, true friends.

If you are not one of these “superficial maniacs” then it’s a good thing. I am glad you have that edge over others to actually care a little for someone else rather than yourself. Everyone is selfish, and that’s our wretched nature; but show a little love and you’ll get a little love. Be genuine when it matters. Then, listen to Bob Marley, and get high on life.

The weather in Austin is weird. It keeps fluctuating like a singer who can’t sing – when the weather hits those flat notes, it is totally ridiculous, but then there are those random sublime notes that makes it a lot more tolerable.

University is “rocking”. I am in control of my classes and I am enjoying the independence. IM soccer is fun, but ICA is just taking up too much time. It’s good we do a lot, but we need to know when to draw the line. “Live and learn”, eh?

Jason, you're ultra cool. Never hoes before bros, I apologize.

My nose is running like Marion Jones with steroids, and is annoying the tissues out of me. Head's a little heavy - don't want to fall sick.

I am bored of blogging like any other random person about minor, uninteresting, forced issues. I hate the formality that seems to be pervasive in the previous posts and I hate the unnecessary stress I am taking over it. My blog=my way. Change is good if you make it to be, just like life.

P.S. Ridicule away you cynics, stop judging things that do not need to be judged. Feel the love generation foooo!

Back 2 School + The Bahamas + New York = Past Month

There was this itching feeling/problem that has prevented me from blogging in the very recent past – A great compulsion to blog about my holiday even though I fully know that an elaborate account will bore the life out of you. So here’s the past month in less than two hundred words:

After end of the first semester and a week with my new-born nephew, Orlando came all too quickly and took me by storm. A luxurious stay in my super-cool uncle’s house in an Orlando resort and a chilled and a family New Year’s with the wondrous firecrackers of Disney preceded our journey to our Bahamas cruise ship. Contrary to my pre-conceived belief that I would be among a bunch of uncles and aunties on the cruise, I was lucky enough to meet a merry group of my-age people with whom I had the splendid pleasure of partaayyh-ing it up on all the three cruise-nights. An awesome week in New York followed in which my ultra-cool first cousin took splendid care of me. The “care” included a Knicks v Rockets game, Hairspray – The Musical, an Ice-Skating trip overlooking the NYC skyline, the NYC night life, delectable dinner, lumps of laughter, a cluster of constructive conversations and one hell of a holiday. Back to Austin equaled a lot of partying and a lot of adding/dropping/organizing of classes/schedules, ultimately leading to this blogpost.

- 180 words (expandable to 1800+ words)

I have this nasty/awesome habit of extracting knowledge from everything I experience, so here’s the extracted knowledge from this past month, which is essentially for me to know and care about, and for you to enjoy or ridicule; but not for you to react and annoy me. So here goes nothing:

[Note: It is advisable to listen to "Arrival to Earth – Steve Jablonsky – Transformers OST" while taking in the following.]

Things are easier said than done, and one’s worded beliefs seldom reflect one’s actual behavior. People should not be judged, but judging them is unavoidable and uniquely pleasurable; so, instead, let judgment not dictate your life and please do remember to leave room for accommodation, for no one is perfect. Good Friends are priceless and are the greatest s u s t a i n e r s. And most importantly, as my man Jason and I concluded, be good, always; because it is only from our bad-ness that hatred and complications breed. But then again, it’s all easier said than done, right? Thus, we establish the loop of imperfection.

P.S. Thank You Ajay Chacha, Vaishali Chachi, Ravi, Shreeya, Meghna Didi & Ankit Bhaiyya for a very enlightening and enjoyable holiday.

Taare Zameen Par Indeed!

So yesterday, after a mega long period of five months, I finally went to the cinemas to watch one and a half movies - A half of "Awake" which does not need to be spoken about and the full of the latest Aamir Khan production, "Taare Zameen Par." Yes, I was friggin' excited, both for the latest Aamir Khan experience and for the replenishment of my cinema needs.

I really wanted to enjoy "Taare Zameen Par" and I did. It was simple, direct and yet, brilliantly creative. The story is straight forward, but intriguing enough to keep you hooked. It is about this dyslexic kid whose parents are oblivious about his dyslexia until the great Mr Khan comes along and turns everything around. People say that it does become slightly draggy, but I hardly felt so. The kid, Darsheel Safary, is beyond brilliant. I really wonder how they pulled out such a convincing performance from this new-young-kid-on-the-block. His rabbit teeth and killer expressions are heart-warming and amusing. He is NOT the cliched kid that we see in almost all other Indian "blockbusters" and that says a whole lot. Aamir Khan is good as usual, but cries a little too much for my liking. I love the way he has this kick-ass Mohawk-of-an-hairstyle throughout the film, but that doesn't rectify his pansy-ness. I guess the Mohawk is somewhat of a decent attempt of bringing out the youthful exuberance of Mr Khan, but I'm afraid the wrinkles get the better of him. On the otra lado, the kid's mother, Tisca Chopra, plays her role so perfectly that no one else could play her role more perfectly that she has - props to her!

But then, to make sure that the "flim" has some Bollywoodness, some of its parts are pretty over done. For instance, Aamir Khan's entry initially takes you by surprise and fills you with glee, but then the "Bum Bum Bole" gets to you. It's almost as if they over-enjoyed shooting the song and thus made it super long. Also, there is a little melodrama here and there, but not enough to annoy, but just enough for it to be lost in the positives.

All in all, I laughed a lot in this film, and at the same time came very close to tearing up. It's intentionally touchy and well sprinkled with outright funny jokes that will crack you up. Aamir Khan, as a director, has tried very hard to look out of the box for inspiration and has succeeded many more times than he has failed. The songs and it's sequences are brilliantly animated and are far from a typical Bollywood film. The subtle use of animation and cartoons is laudatory. The soundtrack blends beautifully throughout the movie and hits the right spots when it comes to eliciting emotions - the song "Maa" is so very touching. I missed my mummy so very much during that song, and the homesickness did creep in...

Beyond the technical aspects, the message that this movie screams out is strong. It preaches equality of education for all children, whether they are physically/mentally challenged or not. It almost ridicules the Indian system of its close-minded, theoretical approach and begs for the introduction of a more creative and practical system of study. It demands the Indian system to tell a child to dwell into his passion and lay more emphasis on it, rather than wasting time mugging extraneous information. The movie delivers this message beautifully and therefore, I think all teachers and all schools in India should deliberately be shown this movie so that it can help open their minds up. I strongly feel our Indian system of education needs to find a balance between rigorous theory and oblivious practical applications. What that basically means is that we need to find a midpoint between the crazy Indian System and the laid-back American/Western High School system, so, umm, shall we?

P.S. Dad, Mum, Gulshan Aunty - please make sure you watch this movie. Thanks.

Nephews & Skies

My first first-cousin's son was born twenty days ago. Buried in finals and paper submissions, it took me twenty one days to get my first real glimpse of Ayan. He is this tiny little thing with one of the strongest necks among 21-day olds all over the world. He spends the most amount of time sleeping, so interaction is minimum, but enough. Whenever he is awake, his father, his grandfather, his mother, his grandmother and especially his Austin aunt take and make great entertainment from this cute little boy. I just wonder what feedback Ayan gives to the Almighty up above...

God, I like Earth. I get everything I need but the funkiest aspect is definitely my cute little bini. My dad is super cool, but why does he keep calling me "gundabachha"? My Austin-aunt is a little crazy, I must say. She thinks I am some "golgappa" waiting to be devoured, and she keeps messing around with my stomach, yelling that atrocious "golgappa" like thing.. No one apart from my lovely Granny calls me by my real name, so I often forget what it really is. Apparently, it's Ayan or something. Oh and my Mum keeps telling everyone to sanitize his/her hands before they touch me - I must indeed be holy. Sometimes my Dad holds me like he is clasping a magnum rifle! Don't get me wrong folks, it's rather comfortable. God, I need to ask you something, why do I sleep so much? What's worse is that I make these weird groaning noises while I sleep which seems to confuddle the general public. Oooh, I have successfully learnt how to create spit bubbles - it's fascinating. And why in the blooming world can't I cry? God, it's like you are taking away my strongest, most useful weapon from me. Please God, you need to sort these issues out for me. I need to be able to cry. But, on the other tiny hand, thanks for giving me a lot of hair on my head - I just hope it lasts forever. I love the glint in my eyes and my ears are huge - I can hear everything (hehe)! Oh, my parents are super techno-savvy. They have this special camera fixed on me while I am sleeping and can monitor me from anywhere in the house. It's cool and all, but what about some privacy huh? Jeez! But, the bestest thing in the world is the 46-inch-television that is going to be coming into my house soon. I have no clue as to why it is the bestest thing in the world, but I can't wait to find out. And oh, my youngest Austin-uncle is super-duper cool. Right now, that's all I know about him. Okay, Mum's coming to feed me - yum yum. See ya!

P.S. The skies of Austin are so very beautiful.

Finals Week & Homesickness

Last week was crazy in a not-so-fun way. I had three major finals and a lot emotional “trauma” [yes, I’m exaggerating, but still] to deal with. The finals were awesome – I got my As and I’m glad. However, my Spanish treacher-er did screw me over – he gave me a B for my 89.53%. Everyone rounds up you fool, why don’t you? Life.

But what really made this week crazy was the homesickness. Way back in summer, I was this young man, confident of being in control of my emotions and ready to belittle the homesickness theories. I cognitively dissociated myself to believe that there was no need for me to return to Dubai this winter for I was this strong fellow who had a ton of related people in the US of A, and who thought that visiting them, instead of going back home, made way more sense. After all, spending ten pocketfuls of money and going down to Dubai for 20 days didn’t make any darn sense, right? Wrong! It makes all the friggin’ sense that it needs to, and yearns for far more attention than I have ever given it. I should have gone back home. I really should have.

It hit me when I saw all of the gazillion people that I know in universities all over the world facebook their excitement of heading back home. Pictures and videos of school and Dubai did not help either. The typical-ness of Mum and Dad made me more nostalgic than ever. The thought of enticing Ghar-Ka-Khana [home food] was agonizing. Ali, the fool that he is, was not helping either. One day before my Philosophy exam, these thoughts rattled my emotions. I stopped studying, got on Expedia.com and started looking for the cheapest possible flights to Dubai. How I searched! I called Mum and told her I wanted to come home, giving her vivid details of how the air-ticket was relatively cheap and how it could all be possible.

Oh, it’s not possible! I was in this emotional delirium which made the ridiculous seem reasonable, and that dragged me into thoughts that my Psychology professors Sam Gosling and James Pennebaker would be proud of. Emotions offer stir up such extreme thoughts and actions. However principled and “in-control” you are, the passion of true emotion can sometimes drive you to do things that you know are in no way reasonable or right. Obviously, this doesn’t solely apply to homesickness. Temptation to do the pleasurable wrong, whence engulfed in an emotional trance – that’s a broader description. It is closely related to “cognitive dissonance” [this wacky term that I learnt in my awesome Psychology class]. Cognitive dissonance occurs when you have two contradictory thoughts, which drives you to choose one and justify it. Didn’t get it? It’s a little complicated – e-mail me if you really want to know. =)

I am better now. The homesickness has subsided but I am afraid that it has only become dormant. I am dealing with it right now, but I will not deal with it next winter because I am so going back home then! At least that’s what I’m saying now. We’ll see how cognitively dissociated I will get then.

P.S. Apologies to those that got bored/annoyed by my usage of certain not-found-in-Wikipedia terms [i.e. Cognitive Dissonance =)].

Postergación y Práctica

Estudiando es muy importante y postergación no es. De los dos días ultimos, tengo perdido mucho tiempo por tocando “X-BOX 360” y disfrutando con amigos. Sé que este es malo pero la vida es así…

¡Tengo tres exámenes en los próximos tres días y necesito estudiar! Más importantemente, mañana, tengo un examen final de español a los dos de la tarde. Yo tratando de estudio pero es muy aburrido, entonces yo escribiendo este “blog post” en español a practicar mi español.

P.S. I write this post to practice my Spanish and with a secondary motive of updating my blog. Translate if you care - http://www.google.com/translate_t

Melting bankPot

It was a good friend’s birthday the other day, and we decided to go to this stuck-up, “posh” restaurant and decorate our stomachs with one of the most delicious of delicious delights that mankind has ever created – Fondue, expensive Fondue.

So, on the pleasant evening of a good friend’s birthday, the seven of us entered Melting Pot, one of Austin’s finest server’s of scrumptious, expensive food. We were treated with great royalty and were led to a nice, round table. The first thing that took me by storm was the “pre-waitress”. The “pre-waitress” gave us a hearty welcome and referred to our actual waiters (yes dears, there were more than one). They took our drink orders, and a couple of us ordered some virgin cocktail. The second thing that took me by storm was that each of these “virgin” drinks was intoxicated with a bulk of alcohol, even when it was pretty obvious that we were under age. Strange, but my friends enjoyed the extra-nice service.

We then placed our order – a three course Fondue Night Special. Starters included two pots of glorious fondue - melted cheese of different types with rich wine and fine flour, and accessory dip-delights that included bread of all colors, beautifully cut apples and some chips of the highest quality. Obviously, the entrees were next. Two large pots of steaming meat fondues were served. Meat Fondue is essentially a boiling, gravy-like oil. We were also given freshly cut raw pieces of all types of meat – salmon, shrimp, beef, pork and chicken to dip into the fondue. The eating process involved us grasping the meat of our choice by our fondue sticks, and putting them into the fondue to cook and sizzle right before our eyes. Once cooked, there was a plethora of sauces to dip into to add more luscious taste to the freshly cooked meat. Sauces included the horseradish spicy cream sauce, the herb butter dipping sauce, the sour cream mustard sauce, the peanut butter sauce and a dozen more. Taken by storm for a third time, I savored every bite of meat and seafood that penetrated my stomach. Little did we know that the best was yet to come.

The dessert was what made the night wonderfully memorable. The two pots were now filled with molten white chocolate and molten milk chocolate. As our waitress poured the chocolate into the pots, the warm, enticing aroma of the chocolate engulfed our nostrils, as we prepared to savor the best of the best. We were given chocolate marshmallows, bright-red strawberries, munchy rice-crispy blocks, freshly cut banana and delicious pieces of green apple to dip into the molten chocolate. As each of us dipped our way into chocolate paradise, we grew oblivious to our surroundings and let the delicacy allow us to reach this orgasmic high, experiencing seemingly eternal joy and thanking the Swiss Gods above for their brilliant gift to Earth. But then, just when it couldn’t get better, it didn’t – the waitress delivered us the bill.

A whopping’ $45/person is what we paid for this mega-expensive meal. Yes, it was delicious, but $45! We’d rather have bought some white chocolate and some milk chocolate, melted them in some melting pot and purchased some marshmallows, some apples and some bananas to enjoy the almost similar “savory” dip. Suddenly, the brilliance of the meal turned to sheer ridiculousness. The orgasmic nature turned to regret – oh why does this sound like a one-night stand? It was no longer royal treatment, but rather an exaggerated, unnecessary exuberance. The perils of temptation that man has successfully created drowned us in this moment of guiltiness. But we shook it all away, because it was one memorable night in the celebration of one good friend’s birthday. And that’s when the extremes ceased to matter, and what remained were the memories that came along with fulfilling a good friends birthday wishes.

P.S. I did get phone-whipped [kind of] by my Dad for this exuberant expenditure, but hey, it’s a once-in-four-years experience. Yeah Dad, I know that’s no excuse – lesson learnt.

Musical Excitement, Etc.

Without any intention to show-off, but with a definite intention to share my future joy is why I write this post The next four months have Michael Buble, matchbox twenty and Bon Jovi lined up on my calendar - Buble on my birthday at the UT campus, matchbox twenty a day after, that is on the 28th of February at Houston, and Bon Jovi at Dallas in April. Excited? Bloody excited.

Concerts, to me, are still quite simply what I said a year and a half back on this blog:

"I would again like to highlight the sheer joy and memories a 1 hour 50 minute concert can give, so if any of you get any chance of seeing Robbie, or any other good performer for that matter, grab it with your hands, your feet, your stomach and everything else that is possible - because it is rare."
-Sunday, April 23rd, 2006.

Yes, I thoroughly enjoy concerts and love getting lost in the music. Obviously, I am the most excited about matchbox twenty. They have been my favorite band for quite a few years now, and however "cliched" or "gay" this sounds, watching them will fulfill one of my many dreams. Bon Jovi and Buble are supposedly great performers - I love their music too, so there isn't going to be any boredom issues there either.

In other news, my laptop's motherboard has quite conveniently, without any reason, crashed, which has ultimately resulted in the tragic but temporary death of my laptop. To add to this disgrace, HP is being a united idiot with regards to my warranty. I will rant and ridicule about this issue soon. Where as emotionally, I am so annoyed with how much my laptop's crash is annoying me. Lord, we have'st become'st so'st dependent'h on'th our'st laptops'sts.

Thanksgiving at Tarryn's was a great escape - relaxing, fascinating and fun! A bunch of finals and paper submissions are coming up, which I am looking forward to only to get them out of my way. Winter plans are done and involve everything but being home. Ali just blowed the bezeezles out of me, oh how I miss him!

P.S. I am writing this post only after making sure that I have the tickets to all three concerts in my hands. Muhahahaha! :)

The Fall

It was on a chilly Sunday morning. Thanks to the ICA, I hadn’t slept much in the last 24 hours. A ton of ICA work had kept me up all night. I was at a friend’s place, working, while the rest of the gang chirped away about the most random of things, throwing in bits of laughter here and there. By 6 in the morning, I was done, and decided to finally head back home. Tarryn came along and I hoped to walk her back to her car, and then sleep away the exhaustion in my cozy dorm bed. But things did not quite unfold the way I planned them to.

A heavy breeze made the dark, early morning chillier. Tarryn & I were walking arm-in-arm singing and talking about the most random things, as we inched closer to her car. All of a sudden, the calm of the cold Sunday morning met with a loud yelp. Our heads immediately turned towards this sound and we saw this body falling from about four floors above the ground. It hit the road with a crunch, a crunching of bones, and then the body lay their motionless. No screaming, no twitching, absolutely still, dead.

Initially, I didn’t realize what had just happened. The shirtless body that fell seemed as unreal as a doll. The sheer magnitude of what we had just witnessed seeped in only slowly - this ‘body’ was of a university student who had just fallen four floors to his death. With his back facing us, we couldn’t see the extent of the frontal damage done, and this mysticism somewhat made it worse. Was he alive? Was he breathing? Had he passed out? My heart started to race like it had never before. I bet Tarryn’s did too, and we both started freaking out, so overwhelmed by what we had just witnessed. There wasn’t a soul around us and we needed to do something about this. I frantically asked Tarryn for the emergency number. “911.” I dialed it instantly. About 3 minutes had passed since the fall when I dialed 911. The emergency officer answered instantly, and I started ranting out details of what had happened, where it had happened and to my self-amusement, why it had happened. She told me to slow down, and repeat the details a few more times. I really can’t recall how freaked I sounded on the phone because I was in flight-and-fight mode. The adrenaline was pumping with fear and shock. I was fairly efficient in giving the emergency officer all the details. She seemed as panicked as me for there was no other reason for her to call me ‘madam, sorry, sir’.

The emergency officer then asked me to approach the body and see if there was any sign of life - that’s when I saw his face. His mouth was oozing with blood, and there obviously didn’t seem to be any sign of life in him. I was glad that the sun was not out, because that would have resulted in a gorier picture. I moved away, fearful, but slightly relieved to hear the sirens that now loomed the air. Meanwhile, three people who seemed to be enjoying a morning run arrived at the scene. They were also, obviously, taken aback by what they saw. They asked Tarryn and me what had happened, comforted us and said that they had no business to be there, and resumed their running. That was slightly weird. A few minutes later the police, the EMS and the ambulance arrived. Tarryn & I moved away from the scene and saw the rest unfold from a distance.

The police marked the crime scene – it was either suicide, homicide or an accident. Obviously, it was most likely to be an accident. A few minutes later a bulky police officer came and asked us a few questions, and took our contact details down. We were the only witnesses, and if this death became any bigger a deal, we would be called in for further questioning. We asked the police-officer if we could be excused for a few minutes to go wash our faces and put on a jumper. He obviously agreed. So Tarryn and I went up to my room, freshened up and came back down at the crime-scene. At about 9, we were still there, on police-orders to stay. We were then called by a Victims-Help officer and briefed on what was happening and what would happen. She said that we could be called in to the police station for further questioning. But what she primarily was trying to tell us that what we witnessed could be a traumatic enough experience to affect our life in university for the next couple of weeks. She said that if we needed any help, we could contact her, or visit one of the university counselors. We liked the support.

The detective finally arrived at the scene. He questioned us quickly and told us to go back home. I think he was trying to avoid us getting exposed to the media, and he did a pretty good job at that, because just as we were leaving, we saw a news-channel van arrive at the scene. I was glad that happened. I was also glad that I hadn’t slept in the past 30 hours, because as soon as I reached my dorm I fell asleep, solely because of the fact that I was thoroughly exhausted. What a day.

The next two weeks were not easy, but not that difficult either. My classes were not affected, and ICA work was keeping me very occupied, but more importantly, distracted. My university did its bit by offering us support if we needed it. That felt good, even though we didn’t actually need any of it. I think the reason why ‘the fall’ didn’t affect me or Tarryn that much was because we didn’t witness it alone. However clichéd it sounds, Tarryn and I had each other. We supported each other, and understood what the other was going through, making everything easier for the both of us. Ultimately, it brought us only closer together. I get scared to even think of what would have happened if I was alone that fateful morning.

Having said all that, the side effects of ‘the fall’ are still there. Late at night, when the air gets chilly, and I am walking back to my dorm, this automated fear starts building within me. Out-of-the-ordinary sounds send chills down my back, bringing back memories that didn’t need to exist. This fear is only temporary though and seems to disappear as quickly as it comes. But what will stay permanently in my head, is this video, this video that continues to loop over and over again. It’s barely three seconds long. But it’s three seconds of something that no one needs to ever witness.

P.S. This is a memory I will not forget how much ever I want myself to forget it. Writing always helps.

Cows & More

My Chinese and Korean suite-mates just semi-disturbed me. They knocked on my door and asked me to come outside and witness something. Gordon, the Chinese one, pointed to a take-away box which had curly and slimy yet garnished food in it, and said, "Try it."

"What is it?"

"It's a cow's stomach and intestine, deliciously savored with garlic sauce."

Gordon and Chol laughed at my reaction, and I laughed back. My religion condemns such actions but their religion almost embraces it. Personally, I really don't care. The only thing I cared about was the ghastly odor that the cow's intestine left behind. Currently, the addressed food sits in the fridge, waiting to be devoured and shut out from contaminating our suite...

*****

I haven't blogged in quite a bit. It's not that I am blogstipated, in fact I have tons to say, it's just that I have been hit by time constraints - majorly. In a nutshell, October of '07 sets out to be the most dramatic and eventful month of my life, and I write that with no exaggeration. From gravitational and traumatic falls to the "biggest cultural event", October might not have had it all, but it did have quite a large chunk of it all.

I wonder if I will be able to write it all out.
Next month, maybe.

P.S. Recently, Austin, Texas experienced a 40⁰F in temperature in a single day. Oh and my suite-mates are awesome . Also, I can assure you that our suite is by far the most culturally and educationally diverse - 1 Korean, 1 American, 1 Chinese and 1 Indian.

The ICA

If you know me and if I talk to you or if you are an Indian at the University of Texas, you better know what the “ICA” is. The ICA is a decently establishing acronym for the “Indian Cultural Organization”, and quite simply, the ICA is all about the spread of Indian Culture.

So why is it important for you to know about it? Firstly, it is very interesting and often borders a story of sheer devout patriotism, and secondly, I am in it – no Taylor, I don’t intend to sound conceited, it’s just that if anyone is reading this, you probably give half-a-shizer about the world around me. So before I lose you, let the story unfold.

Once upon an exciting long day, Sahil Jain told me that the ICA is loads of fun only if you actually make it into the core committee. That got stuck somewhere in the rear of my brain, and I enthusiastically applied for an interview for the position of a Junior Officer. After a slightly thorough interrogation that was my interview, Saheb led me out and said “good job man”. And later that night, it was somehow magically revealed to me through the brilliance of the electronic mail that I had made it into the ICA as the ICA’s Technical Consultant. Brilliant – Sahil’s words echoed in my mind like some super-filmy Bollywood film, and I was blissfully happy.

There are two major Indian organizations at UT – the ICA and the I(ndian)S(tudents’)A(ssociation). The ISA is largely dominated by the ABCDs or the Indians that have grown up in America, and the ICA is mainly dominated by the FOBs, or the fresh Indians from the Middle East and the Indian mainland itself. However, unlike a typical dramatic Hindi soap opera, there involves no unhealthy rivalry between the two. They both function in harmony, often working together, fulfilling their own objectives; which is a pleasant surprise, considering all the chaotic politics that takes place back home in India.

After having been debriefed on the mega-humongous Indian society that exists in Austin, I was all excited to attend my first committee meeting, and meet the ICA gang! The “ICA gang” has all the good types of unique people that The Almighty has ever produced. From the straight-out “nice” people, and the unbelievably hard-working people, and the academic geniuses, and the creative maestros to the hottest of Indians, and the Love-Therapists, ICA is a melting pot of humanity.

With a dozen or more events that happen through out the semester, which includes the biggest cultural event “Jhalak”, ICA means business. Once you are in, the commitment is hardcore. It takes up a good number of hours each week, and you start feeling the load even before the beginning of mainstream work. With 17 hours/week of classes, soccer activities, Texas Latin Dance and the random fun stuff, another major commitment like the ICA can be quite a dosage. There have already been times when it seemed to be an over-whelming burden. Jason, a very close friend, told me the other day, a commitment so severe may not be worth it, and I could completely get where he was coming from – I kept complaining constantly to him. But what he, or any other non-Indian, will not understand is that unexplainable bond that most Indians have with their roots. It’s so strong, that complain as we may, there is this bound duty that we feel that we almost owe our country. And it’s not negative debt, it’s this inborn urge to stay connected with our culture, and however occupying ICA seems, it is extremely fulfilling.

We freshmen are still new to the whole ICA work ethic, so I guess it will take a bit to get fully accustomed to it, but we seem to be learning and fitting in well - an inspiring senior workforce helps! A bunch of the senior members are doing hardcore double majors and other strenuous activities, maintaining a 4.0 GPA and taking on the third major that is the ICA. When you see such devotion, you feel ashamed to complain, and soon find no reason too. Instead, you get caught in the passion.

Jhalak ’07 is coming up. The Jhalak saga is ICA’s biggest event. It is entirely student driven and aims at the pervasion of Indian culture in the UT society. How does this happen? Indian dances, musical performances, comedy acts, fashion shows, video clips delineating the unique colors of one of the most colorful countries, accompanied by Live Video Editing, Indian food and this Indian ambience that is unmistakable to typical Indian. And to top all that, guess who is headlining Jhalak ’07? Dan Ninan – a stand up comedian who has done many shows with Russell Peters and has even performed for Hilary Clinton. November 2^nd at the University of Texas at Austin is going to be one big Indian bang, and I cannot wait to be a part of it all!

P.S. The usage of ABCDs and FOBs was not intended to offend anyone. However if anyone does get offending, I apologize and want to bring to your notice once again, that this was not my intention. I proud to be Indian.

Goodbye Jose

19^th September 2007 witnessed one the most dramatic managerial departures that the English Premiership has ever seen in its recent past. One of the most successful, yet controversial soccer managers, Jose Mourinho was an annoyingly effective Chelsea soccer club’s manager. His brute spirit and killer attitude had transformed Chelsea’s ridiculous Abramovich-investments into actual silverware – two English Premier League titles, two Carling Cup victories and one FA Cup triumph.

Jose was a colorful chap, who said the most colorful of things in the most colorful of ways. A passionate coach who would do anything to win, Mourinho was a brilliant player manager, bringing the freakishly international and disconnected Chelsea players together. The players at Chelsea loved him, but everyone else around him just hated his guts. Other managers took great offense to Jose’s verbal attacks on everything that did not go his way. Mr Benitez of Liverpool couldn’t stand the Portuguese Mourinho, and he wasn’t afraid to show his hatred. Mourinho has had spites with almost every other egoistic manager, and watching these egos clash has been a wondrous site at times.

So why did he leave? Did he get sacked? Did he quit? Chelsea say that they reached a “mutual” consent with Mourinho on his removal. But personally, I do not think it was as simple as that. I think Chelsea sacked Jose, and Jose could do nothing else but accept it. So as smart as he is, and as smart as Chelsea try to be, according to them, a picture should speak a thousand pretty words, rather than a thousand true and ugly ones. That is the only bit I think they mutually agreed on.

Sacking someone is all about a clash of egos. The billionaire-owner of Chelsea, Roman Abramovich couldn’t stop poking his nose into Mourinho’s job. For instance, he forced Mourinho to spend around forty million dollars on a thirty-year old striker, Andiry Shevchenko, who he really wanted in the team because of Shevchencko’s and his common areas of descent. And amidst this entire nose poking business, Abramovich’s expectations were unbelievably high. I guess, a billionaire would think that money could buy success. Money did partially bring success to Chelsea, but not as must as Abramovich wished it would. So what did the egoistic, success-hungry billionaire do? He blamed the egoistic, success-hungry manager of not being able to convert Chelsea into the best team there is. Now when two such strong egoistic similar personalities clash, what it really calls for is a “The Bold & The Beautiful” episode on their love-hate relationship.

Personally, I feel that for a manager to be successful, the chairman should have faith and patience in what he has hired, but most importantly, the chairman should enjoy a good rapport with his manager. If he doesn’t then it is not worth maintaining a combustible relationship. So Mourinho’s departure is indeed better for the greater good of Chelsea. On the other hand, he is a great loss to the cinematic entertainment that English Premier League managers are masters at.

I hated Mourinho. He annoyed me so very much, but I always respected the fact that he was a very smart soccer manager who knew how to win, even without playing pretty soccer. Quite simply, he is a passionate untroubled maniac, who always seems to be in control of himself and of everything around him. He is like this mega, huge, strong, annoying wall that cannot be pushed around – to get rid of this wall, you need to break it down with a bulldozer. Mr Roman Abramovich is quite a bulldozer. Good luck to him with him finding a new wall.

P.S. I really felt like going back to my football (soccer) writing roots. It's been a while...

Dobie & Elevators

Dobie is my dorm. It’s 27 floors tall and is the tallest darn thing in this area. There are about 900 residents living in Dobie and another 900 friends-of-residents too. It doesn’t have any issues, and is very cool with friends [even of the opposite sex] staying overnight. But it has only three elevators.

Yes, the three-elevators-issue is probably the only issue. I live on the 16^th floor and have climbed up the sixteen 3 times. Move-in day was horrendous – there was only one elevator available for vertical transport and it resulted in a very un-merry sight - too many people, too much contact, too much of time-squandering. The elevator waits can be long, very long, but are always entertaining none the less. Here’s why: The elevators are small, and are almost always full. So when you enter them, you are greeted with this eerie silence, and a dozen sets of daunting eyes. You look away instantly, counting the number of hot women around you in your head from a previous freeze-frame, and acting as cool as possible in the process. You press your floor, and then start looking at random conscious things. Sometimes you look at your watch, sometimes at elevator floor-countdown screen-like thing, and if you’re shameless you blatantly stare at the most attractive person of the sex you are attracted too.

There are times, when you are with a group of friends, buzzing in conversation; but as soon as you step into the elevator, there is that eerie silence that takes over you yet again. Thus begins the long, silent journey to your destined floor. Now as these elevators are prone to a large number of stops, you almost always find someone clicking his tongue on every unscheduled stop, and cursing the heavens above for making this seemingly short journey, painfully long. And if you are prone to claustrophobia, God has certainly not blessed you with Dobie.

So for all the above reasons, Dobie has now come up with “Elevator Etiquette” - no two consecutive floor-buttons can be pressed, and people living on floors 2 – 5 have to use the stairs. Robert doesn’t follow “Elevator Etiquette”. No one likes him.

Basically, the point to this pointless post is that the “Elevator Experience” is one of the unique sights and sounds of Dobie that does not ever fail to amuse me. From the etiquette betrayers, to the eerie silences, to the random laughs and conversations, to the furtive glances at a fellow elevator-traveler and to the annoying waits, Dobie elevators can be thoroughly entertaining, if not annoying.

P.S. The other day, Taylor, a close friend, lost a bet and thus ran around floors 16, 20 and 27, in his skimpy boxers. No one was around in the corridors, but the elevators didn’t spare him – apparently seeing a guy naked with only a towel to protect him is highly peculiar.

Hitting The Real World

50,000 students in and around 40 acres of campus can be overwhelming. From being a decent somebody, it doesn’t take long for your ego to crash-land, and suddenly you realize you are a nobody. Establishment takes time, more time than you think it does.

School is more of a micro-mini-super-special-extra-caring world that you are almost born into. The teachers bring you up as their own little babies, and everyone’s ASS [Attention Seeking Syndrome] is satisfied. Fun and frolic, elementary school is considerably easy to make friends in, and to settle your tiny and naive yet wild brain. After Kindergarten, it’s almost like you ease into High School. If you are lucky enough to be in a considerably small High School [a thousand people or so], then making a somebody out of yourself in some field or the other is not difficult. Sometimes it’s so easy that your ego soars to skies and you think you are one of the greatest undiscovered talents of the world, eager to step into tougher territories to try yourself. But before you enter the real real world, you step into a human-generated independent mini-world: university.

There are no liabilities, no responsibilities, no external pressures on you except for your own, and well for those decent ones, their parents. With numerous doors waiting to be opened, you can’t wait to knock on wood and give yourself to your passions. You embrace freedom and opportunity with such vigor that you almost feel that you are born again, like this vivid butterfly that has just burst out of its cocoon, waiting to discover what’s out there, and at the same time waiting to be discovered of its beauty.

But then, there are times when these butterfly dreams come crashing back to earth and you don’t feel that “beautiful” at all. Yes the world has become small, but there are so many people in this “small” world of ours. People with diverse talents, cultures, faiths, gifts, disabilities, luck and everything else that constitute our global lives exist. Their lives are as complex as ours. And when you fall among 50,000 different people, everything doesn’t seem as colorful. There are ups and downs, but why the “downs” are better is because they bring you back to reality. They don’t necessarily make you feel good, but hey, we non-ideal people should ideally worry about what happens in the longer run, right?

On a slightly positive note, its only 50,000 people now; it will soon be 7 billion. So yeah, university does have a very important role to play beyond education, so make sure you butter-fly your rear to a good, LARGE university.

I missed out on the soccer tryouts and now I’ve missed out on blogging for UT too. I really wanted to at least blog for UT. Anyway, next year, I’ll try again. Classes are fun, except Spanish. I really want to learn Spanish, but unlike most of my classmates, I have no background in Spanish, so it’s tough. I’m struggling in it. I guess it will soon even out. The UT Women’s Volleyball game is on today, so I will probably go watch that, and oh I am going to be “auditioning” for some salsa group too. If I miss out on this, it’s not too bad. I don’t want to compete at Salsa, I just want to dance; and anyway I am getting pretty used to missing out on stuff and crashing back into this human-generated independent mini-world.

P.S. However different and diverse people seem to be, when it comes to a deeper emotional level, everyone is just the same. Some are just very good at hiding it.
Wow, a much needed vent - I really needed that. If you’ve reached so far, thanks. =)

Gone To Texas!

10,000 people held together with the binding force of the Burnt Orange, the Cheerleaders, the Longhorn Band, the Acapella singing groups, the multi-cultural dances, the videos, the speeches, the cheers, the flying balls, the “ \m/ ”, the Eyes of Texas, more singing, more of the Longhorn Marching Band, the unfurling of the biggest Texas Flag, the lighting of Tower, the Bevo, the spirit and the life of UT was all encompassed in one super-duper mega night. A day before classes began, UT held an official welcoming event for us ’07 freshmen – “Gone To Texas”.

It had two stages at either end of the main mall with performances on both stages. In addition to that, a good light setup, topped by the involvement of the UT Tower, made everything even more glamorous. The show went through as smoothly as a smoothie, with a balance of speeches and performances, and that made everything non-boring. Us Desis performed a traditional dance and an Acapella performance, and I felt glad that the Indian community was heavily involved. But they were blown away by this African American girl who unleashed the UT anthem, “The Eyes Of Texas” in a truly wondrous run-filled voice. But the Longhorn Marching Band blew her away. The grand finale had the massive band laden with percussionists, trumpet players and what not, walk through the audience playing popular Texas anthems, leaving the audience in the state of frenzy. They collected under the Tower and the picture you see above is how it ended.

The common thread that connected all the events was the undying everlasting longhorn spirit. The spirit here at UT [and any other university I guess] is awesome, but what’s brilliantly brilliant about it is that you get drowned into the spirit as soon as you step into university. The pure passion in the faces of the longhorns while chanting out TEXAS spreads like a healthy virus into the blood of even the 5-day-old freshmen. The Bevo horns, the sports and basically the spirit is freakishly uniting. I never felt so united in my school and I like my school!

Classes have begun, I have moved into my dorms, I think I’ve found my friend circles and I am going for the Football [American] game today – so I think I have officially settled in, “gotten into my groove”, “found my flow” and all that rot. I went for soccer tryouts and didn’t make it - I wasn’t good enough, but I now know what I need to work towards. I might be blogging for UT this year – I’ll get to know next week [fingers crossed]. The weather is nice. My dorm is nice. People are nice. Good times. J

P.S. The girls here are pretty darn hot. But it’s depressing; they are so hot that they are out of any league that I can think of. Ahh life!

UT

13^th of August, 2007 is historical in my short history. My much-older cousin brother dropped me off at the University of Texas at Austin and went of to work. With a map in one hand, and a really heavy backpack on my shoulders, I stood, pretty clueless of my surroundings. I had some formalities to sort out, and I was determined to find my own way to one of the myriad of buildings that make up UT. It was as if there was a glow in my eyes, that combination of excitement and resolute that you see in a pacing racehorse’s eyes as he strides towards the finish line - you could just see it in my face. I stood overlooking my campus ready to dismantle my barriers, and conquer [i.e. discover] that tiny GIAC [Graduate and International Admissions Center] building. But I just stood. I stood for a long long time, starring at the map, straining my “glowing” eyes to find that wretched GIAC on the map. With great effort, I did eventually find it, but all my thoughts of being a “striding” racehorse crashed away.

It was hot, my back was beginning to feel the strain of the laptop and paper-laden backpack, and I was lost. It took me a good one hour to locate GIAC. When I did find it, I realized that I had walked around it three times already. Not cool. But hey, I made sure I didn’t take any passerby’s help when I knew I easily could. This happened for the next few days. As I kept getting lost, I did also, somehow, find my way .What did all this teach me? No, I am not getting metaphorical here about how “we constantly get lost in our lives, but always seem to find a way”. That’s true, but too friggin’ Paolo Coelho – let him write all that. What the getting-lost bit helped in was figuring out the campus. My path to self-discovery of the UT campus has now resulted in me knowing the campus pretty darn well compared to other new students. Yes it took time, and I was no racehorse, but it’s something.

Besides all the self-exploration and the sorting out of formalities, UT is finally getting very exciting. Yes, there are moments when you get drowned in nostalgia and in your insecurities, but you also soon find your way out of them. Now having put many physical emoting faces to Facebookers, there is at least no feeling of being a complete stranger.

I attended International Orientation on the 17^th of August and it was pretty decent. Yes, getting loads of information can be boring, but the Orientation committee tried their best to make in un-boring. They incorporated heavy participation from the audience, unscrambling scrambled letters, food and water, and a vibrant and friendly atmosphere - so out popped a plethora of different people, citing their experiences and first impressions of the US of A. The first 6 people to step up onto the podimu were Indians – some made us a little proud, some made us not so very proud and some just lied their rears off to get some free gifts: yes, we Indians leave no page unfolded. There was this Australian guy who traveled across the world, as in literally, stopping in various Asian and European places, using 7 modes of transportation [horses, water-ferries, airplanes, trains, buses, cars and feet], and finally landing in Austin. Fascinating. Oh and we met a Chinese guy with possibly the smallest full name in the world: Yu Du. Wow.

Orientation was fun. The pizza-lunch was okay. We didn’t eat much, and instead headed to Gregory’s Gym to play some basketball, but with our greater intention being to finally use our campus’ facilities. So Jason [another Sport Management-er] and I rented a basketball and “shot some hoops”. There were other people there too, as in more seasoned players, who asked us if we wanted to join in for a game. We did. We weren’t that great, but they were. Some of the players we played against were brilliantly brilliant, way better than any I have seen in Dubai. Initially I was scared I’d be embarrassed, but we just fitted in, so it was not all that bad. =)

Next week is scheduled to be hectic and crucial. We have to register for classes and I need to figure out if I will be taking up a double major or not. Other than that, meeting more Facebookers and more new people will continue. Exciting times, very exciting times.

P.S. Again, the world is so small [yeah more crazy connected people stuff happened] and we Desis are everywhere!