The world will never be the same once you've seen it through the eyes of...

...Forrest Gump.

Watched it a couple of days ago (thanks to an insistent friend). A Tom Hanks-starrer from the middle 90s. At first glance, the 6 Oscars that the movie clinched would seem a wash over. Put in one line, the movie is the most non-happening one you'd have ever caught. It was only while looking up the Vietnam War did I learn that it was one of the stormiest and most meaningful phases in American history. But not for Gump. The filmmaker enthrallingly manipulates historical footage to accidentally present Gump at many significant events of the time, and many because of his own actions. Even though he doesn't realize their significance. He gets to meet the President three times, he's the man who exposes the Watergate scandal, he's at the school doors when Governor George Wallace tries to get some Negroes into a white school, and so on and so forth.

The movie is about one simple man's journey through life. Surprised? The people around him dictate his life, but not so. He's stupid, but not so, naive, still, not so. The only times he ever loses control is when he thinks Jenny's being misbehaved with. His ability to run like the wind gets him inducted into the college football team, where he excels; post-college graduation sees him in the army, where he displays unnerving valour, rushing into the for(r)est countless times to rescue his fellow men, he excels again; war-wounded, he unexpectedly has a tryst with ping-pong, follows the first and last line he's ever known about ping-pong 'Never, ever, take your eye off the ball', and excels again. The only things he ever knows about shrimps are the never-ending delicacies that can be prepared from them, from his best friend Bubba in the army, but he becomes shrimp boat captain when his friend dies and, well, excels again.

So what's special about Forrest? Regardless of his intelligence, he has learnt to discover simple truth in life, that all the others around him miss. A struggling Lt. Dan stares on helplessly as Forrest, with superhuman strength, tows him away from death. He loses his mind when he sees his legs being amputated and blames Forrest for this miserable fate of his. He feels every one has a destiny, and his was to die a hero, not to lead a crippled dependent life. But years after, when he's Forrest's first mate on his shrimp boat, he realizes (just as we ourselves do) what Forrest taught him. To keep living life, at all costs. Forrest doesn't suffer humiliation, because he doesn't know the meaning of it. He's not afraid of death, so he can snatch himself (and his loved ones) out of it. He listens to others, but chooses his own. What makes it misleading is that most of the times, he doesn't want to have any particular choice of his own.
Forrest's specialty lies in his simplicity itself.

He lives in a world that derides him as stupid but, as Mrs Gump says, "stupid is as stupid does", and in this movie it's the other characters who seem to engage in acts of relentless and tragic idiocy. All through this Forrest is the constant: intent on doing the right thing. In this movie it's not Forrest that's retarded; it's the rest of the world.

The acting is strong, the narrative is compelling enough and its semi-documentary style direction is consistent and provides clarity and pace. The movie leaves one intensely aware that many of our problems are because of our higher intellect, which, ironically, makes us know what we're missing, and in turn, compels us to crave for it. Imagining a world where the best-intentioned half-wit could pop up at opportune moments in history, winning hearts, amassing a fortune, becoming famous, is tempting. Sadly, the world today belongs to those who have screwed over someone else to get there - and that isn't Forrest, he's too nice a guy.

Why do I DON'T?

Pre-read note: The over thinking syndrome that the author keeps catching/that keeps catching the author at intervals, followed by frustrated, flimsy reproductions in Microsoft's Office. Don't bother to bear with it.

It's a question asked out of a pure, overwhelming feeling of unable to perform. A loser feeling. Out of a desperate need to be accepted and acknowledged and admired and taken notice of. Of being 'wanted', if I dare to sound cliche.

It's a shameless emotion. As if you are allowing yourself to be relegated to just what others think and understand or can think and understand about you. It's utterly shameless, but still everyone gets that, somewhere, sometime. Some, many times, in this world where you try so many times to live only for yourself, by yourself, but don't succeed. Y'know, just like, sort of victimising yourself in your own imagination, and then braving it out to a glorious end.

A guy who knows equally well as his colleagues, probably even more, but doesn't have the confidence to place it in the open. 'Confidence comes from knowledge', somehow, falls out of place in this case. Language problems. Or intimidating friends. Encouraging group, but crushed, buried deep within self-confidence. Inferiority complexes galore, whatever little he speaks gets stubbed too, in time. Psychological inertia. Keep on moving into the dumps.

I've always thought that emotions are more potentially lethal weapons than Gold AK 47s, just like the mind is stronger than the physique. If you lose control, the 47s at least leave remnants.

The worst has passed, you think?

No.

Contentment in that very state.

A person who says main aisa hi hoon, and not main aisa kyon hoon? (Heartfelt apologies, if anyone actually managed to read to this point. Couldn't bear leaving that line out :D)

A person who thinks I don't, but not Why do I don't?

How long can Short be? Or should it be..vice-versa?

08/10/2008

07.55 am

Place: "River"side, The Boat Club, C.O.E.P

Theme: Pauus (Rain)

Work: Write non-crappy stuff (supposed to be written 2 days ago)

Author: A confused girl with a cartload of submissions

The Consequence: Two raggedy pages (with the circuit diagram of a band-reject filter on the back of one of them) in HB pencil, as underneath.

The light shone on in parity,

The drums went on a spree,

The drop atop, 'Where should I drop?

Where would I like to be?'

One trickled in a farmland crack,

Burrowed and hollered through,

Worms, lost seeds, decaying stuff,

No earth to seep into.

One rushed into, the river blue

its icy depths aquiver,

At threshold poised, the air rejoiced,

When life bevied the giver.

One drop, unfortunate, it dropped

on a poor arithmetic journal,

The '8' went '3', the drop broke free,

Messed up a cursed internal.

One landed dang! on top of skin,

It was a little hand,

Bereft, it mused, 'This is my end',

In seconds, I'll bite the sand!

The hurl it knew would come in time

somehow did never come,

What came instead, were fellow drops,

Unknowns and long-lost chums.

They hugged and tugged in wonderment

as the hand cupped 'em together,

And gently laid them on a leaf

Withered to vein and tether.

The vein bloomed to a pulsing lane,

The whites gave way to greens,

Two eyes watched on, the (re)union

Of parched smithereens.

Behold the fall! No time at all!

From pain and dying gory,

Stood life with dancing droplet crowns,

In all its shining glory!

For though it seems (or does not seem)

awful poetry (or prose),

Rain does do magic, spell-binding!

When a bud becomes a rose.

Why do I remember someone saying writing is a work of leisure? :|

To know or not to know

He who knows and knows that he knows, is a wise man- seek him.

He who knows and knows not he knows, is asleep- wake him.

He who knows not and knows he knows not, he is a child- teach him.

He who knows not and knows not he knows not- SHUN HIM.

* no need to explicitly mention that he's a fool [all related expletives], a featherbrained nincompoop [supplementary expletives], and he can commit suicide by belly flopping into the river Mula (or for that matter, any water body; Mula gets special mention because the part of Mula behind our college is just more potent as regards inviting death by multiple causes, like drowning, clawed frog injuries, automatic choking, hyacinth-strangling, etc. in order of increasing probability) *

Alright. I know I just can't resist putting random crap completely irrelevant to the point of my post. But most of the times, it's because many essentially-related-to-the-post arguments crop up in my mind just when I'm actually writing. And then it feels unfair to be writing without expounding them; it feels incomplete. So I just have to include them, you understand. No wonder I always end up with unimaginably huge posts almost every time. But atleast, not this time. No.

So, the lines above are part of a Chinese/Arabian proverb. [Multiple sources – multiple answers] Chuck the origin. Just concentrate on line 1. There are times when try as you might, you just don’t find the right words to express yourself, but you are rock-convinced that you’re correct. It feels like the peak of inexpressibility. And then, when you get the words finally, it’s a crash of delight! That was exactly what I experienced when I chanced upon this line. “He who knows and knows that he knows”. Cognizance. Awareness. Of your own capabilities. To be immensely aware of your intelligence. To be knowing that you’re capable of so very much, vis-a-vis the rest of the world around you! It feels wonderful! Heady sometimes. [I know; as I have felt those pleasurable shivers coursing through me so often :) ]

But, very subtle lines separate being aware, being outspoken, being outspoken at the right times, and being explosive. Modesty is a quality; but be too reticent, and you’ll lose a chance one too many. Be audacious enough to gather a fish-market and pounce upon any and every topic to parade your “awareness”, that’s what is colloquially termed “Attitude”. I’d like to term it, more behaviourally- Pining to be the centre of attention. It’s something on the lines of over-estimating yourself; sort of contradictory ain’t it? You get carried away by your own idea of your abilities (people actually start convincing themselves that things they’re unable to do are not worth doing! :| ) and start thinking you are incomparable. In short, you get a superiority complex. The ploy might hold temporarily, but in the end, you’ll be up for the grabs.

Being aware, and being coolly confident about it is what it’s all about. "You know that you know" should make you more humble than proud. That's real 'knowing'! Everyone has their limits. [They must. Imagine, you’re the top in everything in the world! Scary! What would you do now for the rest of your life? Sit and eat peanuts? I’d actually consider suicide :| ] And you must be aware of them too; so that you can better yourself. You have to accept and respect better talent when you meet it. Never under-estimate anyone, and never over-estimate yourself. Make sure that you do fly sky-high, but with a fully functional parachute.

In short (that is, my idea of short :) ), definitely know that you know, but also know what you don’t know; and know precisely how much you know, and let the others know that ‘know’ing in a slightly demure manner. You might be bursting to brag, but that’ll seem more like forcing others to know that you know, which defeats the purpose after all.

More practically, it might just, just, seem like a variant of case 4, whereby people might just follow the advice the mysterious Chinese/Arabians gave.

SHUN YOU.

Memories

Did I ever tell you?

My balcony and bedroom windows are magical. They serve as timeless time machines. Whenever I look through them (which is quite a lot always, considering that I’m inevitably jobless for 364 days of the non-leap year and oh no! the 365th day is not my birthday! It’s just a random day on which I feel like working :) ), I don’t see the beautiful lotus-encased temple that peaks right up to it. I don’t see the unique mischiefs the brilliant boys come up with in the garden. Sad, in a sense. It would’ve reminded me of my younger days; those chaos-triggering, window-smashing football and dodge-ball sessions, spectacle-splintering appa rappi with a tennis ball, those bashes, climbing trees, stealing tamarind, playing cards all night long....and I used to be the Queen of Challenge!( For those of you who're unaware (sod you!), it's a card game where people play their cards wrong-side up with a declaration and you can challenge their cards' worth upon your discretion. And the guy who loses all his cards first wins! ) I could stack six cards beneath my topmost one and pass it off as ONE card! And I would do it again and again and again! And no one's got wind of it till now. :D *sigh* I don’t see corduroys, I’m hard put noticing Mercs [yes, the ones which have Benz for a last name] making inexplicable appearances in our humble society; in fact, I once shooed a rare cormorant off our sill, mistaking it to be a common sparrow, and I still had the blessed notion till my bro next-room came bawling his head off that he was just trying to keep the creature still enough to take a pic, when yours truly, in all kindness, frightened it out of its feathers. So much for his bird dropping. Errr, watching. ;)

What I notice, instead, are only memories. An avalanche of them. Each one leads to another, and I have absolutely no idea as to where I might’ve landed within the next 15 minutes! I might be in my fifth grade, whispering frantically into tanny’s ears in english class, for all I know. :D

Fascinating how a window for looking out into the world inevitably turned into a window for looking inside myself. Countless are the times I recollect standing there, contemplating on lost times, on future prospects, on pre-examination blues, on impending assignments and intricate (the-ones-i-know-are-materialisable-only-in-the-wildest-of-my-dreams sort of) plans on how to deal with them; on friends, and friendship, and the rough crew that it tows on deck! With amazing delicacy. Those grills know the clutch of my nails when I'm angry; the continuous string of punches and my own inevitable retaliatory 'ow's when I'm vehement; the washing silence of solemnity when I'm trying to indulge in crude astronomy; the warmth of my tears when I'm totally down; the caress, the tenderness of a kiss when I'm oh-so-happy; the tragedy of supporting my weight when I'm exultant and completely over-excited and out of control. So much so, that I just can't help smiling fondly at the window when I pass by it. It feels more than a framework of metal. More..alive.

Countless are the conversations I’ve had with God, with nothing in between him and myself but the iron bars of my window. Pouring my heart out to that paramount helper and sympathizer, raving and raging, whining, apologizing, promising, wishing earnestly, asking for just-one-more-time opportunities, but ultimately, being immensely grateful that I am NOT an atheist. That I have such a being (whether or not for real, doesn’t matter) with whom I can behave any damn which way I want. It's not as much the existence, as the belief, and the faith, that fuels things.

And rain assists going down memory lane. Gives it concomitance. There’s no smell so sweet and rejuvenating as the one that rises from wet, raw mud! The essence of life when the soft pitter-patter of water soaks the parched earth. The mien of water gradually seeping through the loam, as it drinks it up thirstily, as the dried-up cracks fill up and coalesce; as the plants, fresh and green from the first rains, sway jubilantly, rebelliously. As the earth celebrates. As life begets life.

For some reason, or for no reason at all, it talks of freedom, and happiness, of a sudden spurt of unexpectant generosity; of contentment, emanating within and without, and a thrill of joy, of a whole new reason to live! And most inviting of all, memories. Just like soulful music. If your eyes and ears lead you down memory lane, your smell and touch lead you down more so, but with the realization, the cognizance, that you are fortunate enough to be passing through your memories, to be reliving them, not once, not twice, but as many times as you wish to!

Isn’t the ability God-given?!!

My mum begs to differ. She says that wallowing in the past isn’t worth it. Ruffling up old memories, spending hours of precious time ruminating on them, bursting your head open upon how life would’ve been if I’d done a particular thing in a particular different way, and stuff is goose-stuff. Only losers do it. Those who can’t, and don’t know how to move on, those who are miserably stuck in the quagmire of their past and do not wish to rise out of it. And naturally, she’s always on a lookout to tell me off whenever she catches me anywhere within a metre of the window, with a glazed look in my eyes and an out-of-the-context expression on my face. :l

Actually, I’ve sincerely tried putting myself in two minds about the point in question, in an attempt to do full justice to my mum’s point of view, but I’ve never quite even sustained the argument, let alone overcome my own self! I mean, however demoralizing they might be, what would a human be without his memories?? Every person has moments in life that he cherishes. Moments so purifyingly delightful and fulfilling that he just wants them be. Forever. No one has had sadness and failure at every point of life. Sure, NO ONE. Even the saddest, most depressed person in the world, (if you are close enough, and if you appear interested enough,) would tell you the most lovely moments of his life. Probably with that long-lost, hungry look in his eyes.

And that’s what makes memories worth it.

Wallowing in self-pity and losing confidence due to old remembrances doesn’t do. Deriving courage from them, from the very fact that you are strong enough to pass through the leanest phases of your life unscathed, and moving on, does. After all, memories are, inadvertently, a mark of your existence. Evidence of your very being. Your life. Your history.

They are cunningly double-edged though. Make sure that, if, ever, they blow you off your feet, into the past, it is only and only for strengthening your foothold in the present!

As for me, I still keep on discovering newer faces to reflection! [bad pun, I know!] And if anyone has any qualms, to them: Cogito ergo sum! :P

Oh, and actually, I just cannot keep from grinning broadly (whooping, to be more precise :D ) now that dad’s scrapped his grand plans of amplifying the drawing room by bringing down the wall separating it from the balcony, and full credits go to some fictitious (purely rumour-spread) blessed leakages that it might invoke in the plumbing!

I still have my window, all to myself !!! :) :) :)

P.S.: Forgive me, mum.

Uhmmm...

Well, this time round, I'm just gonna give my messed-up mind a holiday, and my puffed-up fingers some exercise!

What with mid-sems over[Comments on this particular part of the post shall be considered nothing short of moral intrusion :P], and what with the sports fest and Regatta coming up[in which I play a very negligible role], I've landed up doing so many wild sort of things [of which bathing at half-past in the night(that was unplanned) and pilfering food 13 times in a day(that was planned! :P) are the menial ones, to say the least!] that nothing's gonna be very suspiciously startling for me, at least for some days to come.

So, right, yesterday, scouting around for something to do, I happened, by pure absent-mindedness, to open my overflowing spare cupboard! By mutual consent, none of my folk dares to open it...on apprehension of an imminent threat of an avalanche of junk..which is precisely what happened! I won't go into further details of what I was subjected to[let your imagination run askew :D]; the only interesting thing that happened was I discovered one of my ol'write-ups. One corresponding to my 10th life. 3 months for the board exams to go, and me scribbling away frantically, as if THAT somehow would make the difference I desperately hoped to be made. Going through it made me relive all those times as vividly as if they had happened right yesterday! Made me pine for those irreplaceable schooldays...made me see them in a whole new light...plus, I unconsciously got round to introspecting my writing too!

But all that for the next post. Right now, mind goes into dream mode, as I type away one of my monologues with God during one of the most intriguing phases of my life....a bit childish...a bit immature...a bit insecure...a bit dramatic...somewhat inquisitive...somewhat archaic...oh what the heck! The only disclaimer I would like to make before commencing is that the random incidents convoked below have been long since come-to-terms-with and it doesn't in the least matter if this post gets published even in the TOI[I wish! ;) ] coz the ones to whom it'll really matter already know. So I ain't even gonna bother editing it. It's ME laid bare.

09/12/2004

12:10 am

"Well, looking through, I guess I've written my last[or is it the first ?] supposed-to-be-diary entry more than 1 month ago. And u bet! The two days couldn't have been any more drastically different! My mood might be worse, but mom's definitely in one of her philosophical-cry-blame-sarcastic-depressed myriad of moods. It started off with me refusing to share half of my pizza[Anti-Pasto] with Vinod, my silly small bro [I mean, you people dined royally at Pancard's, mom, and bought me parcels AND still, U expect me to sacrifice away half of my food to that gluttonous imp!!! :( ]; the usual fight, which turned into nasty battleground fight[with bits of spaghetti flying round the gallery!]; and finally into EAT-or-DIE fight; I won the food but lost my mom! [The li'l devil won her all over again, as he always does!]

Anyways, one of the greatest differences between last entry-day & today is -

ONE SEMESTER OF MY 10TH CAREER IS OVER!!

And can u believe it GOD! The one with which I hoped to re-start my legendary string of standing-first-in-class times, turned out to be one of the worst! I came out 14th in the prelims, in a class of 60, going down badly in the subject I revere above all. MATH. And u know god, the worst thing of all, and i KNOW it, it is entirely, entirely 1001% my own fault [although I'll never admit it to mom, or dad, or for that matter, to anyone, EXCEPT YOU]. I am the world's biggest duffer, saddest person for letting this happen to me; happen to me when I WAS in charge, in full control of the bull, and I let it bound away while still telling myself I can control it! How pathetically stupid, how blindingly foolish can I turn! I hate myself for this! :(

But god, I am not gonna lose that wonderful touch. Optimism. NEVER! I've lost count of the number of times I've leaned on U for support! Instead, this time again, I'm gonna shamelessly ask you to pull me out of this mess, somehow, leaving me ultimately "spotless"; bringing the entire episode of my miserable preliminaries to such a cathartic conclusion that it leaves a ZERO[not even 'negligible'] bad impression on my score-card and certificates. Plus, somehow, try to achieve this formidable task without letting mom n dad know that I've gone through such procedures. Please. PLEASE, both for my sake, and for theirs. It will break their hearts. But that brings me to an altogether another chapter-My Behaviour towards them. Inexcusable. There's no other word. I know I've been the worst daughter to them the last one month. In the excitement of getting together with some of my dearest friends, I took my parents utterly for granted! They would've gotten accustomed to "getting their hearts broken" I s'pose. I promise god, I'll try my best to make it up to them, be a daughter that they can be proud of! [And maybe, I'll try to take a bit more care of my bro too. MAYBE! :D]

Coming back to academics, one more favour GOD. Apart from my parents, there are 2 other people in my life, and it is tremendously important that they remain ignorant of my miserable predicament! You know who they are [No names here, too risky!]; and one of them has enormous probability of coming to know about it as he's my pracs-partner[not to mention my on-campus partner-in-crime! cheers for the title dude! ;) ], and a damn intuitive guy[rare, those! ], so I don't exactly need to elaborate, do I ?? Please, let my friends support me at this crucial juncture. These 2 people mean soo much to me... I hope the daunting stand of this turning-point phase doesn't end up overwhelming our good-hearted throw plays, thereby engineering a forever-gaping hole in our blossoming friendship. And please, make sure the final boards DON'T GET postponed! The extra intermediate 15 days would be unbearable torture!!

Please. please. pleeease. U seem to have become an alternate anu's wish list haven't you ?!![knock on wood!] But what else CAN I DO ??? I have got so much to say, but my thoughts are lightning! Before I can even begin to compose them, a new string bounces forward. But you are faster than lightning-Grasp them from my mind and PLEASE help me!!!

[Maybe I'll put in that rant i scribbled to you in desperation here!]

In short, I badly need YOU! Be with me! I can do without anyone else, but not without you God! Let the New Year bring joy with it; joy for me, a signal of my uphill trudge! YESSSS! And i assure you, I myself will be 99% instrumental in bringing it about.

Alright, handwriting gradually turning into noodles, so I s'pose I should stop writing...Dunno when I shall be writing again.....hoping the next musing would be during a more cheerful phase of life.

Yours shamelessly,

But Yours nevertheless (GOD) always,

Anu."

Dissection later.

DeBuggeD !

I LOVE PHYSICS!! :)

Why is it that just after completing an examination, I develop a sudden exaggerated interest towards the corresponding topics?? Is it because of the gone-aboard realization that I could've done loads better HAD I shown that interest some hours before?? How hurting is the "sinking in" of the situation that folk tons less brainy than YOU performed tons better than you just coz they slogged irrelevantly through the whole night afore when u spent it straining the sofa, reading Harry Potter-7 for the 77th time?? When U KNOW u could've done it in less than one-third the same time?!! When we feel cheated and inflicted-upon unfairly by others, outrage and vocal hostility are the easiest reprieves; and they come naturally. But what if the cheater and the cheated are one and the same?? Is the completely empathetic, alien emotion coursing through me right now ignominy? Shame? Or self-pity? A chauvinistic desire to explain away what is inexcusable?? But to whom?? I can rave at mom. I can TRY TO rave at dad. And without doubt, unrestrainedly at my closest friends. But MYSELF ?!!?

For folk who couldn't figure out that muddle: WELL and GOOD. You are lucky u haven't gone through that kinda dilemma in life.

For folk who did: I ain't a hypocrite.

:D

Einstein WASN'T one too.

Amen.

For Starters...

Okay so here I go at last! My baby blog! I've alternately convinced and put myself off since the last season[3rd of Dec'07 to be precise] the stress of creating a blog, and more so the nagging necessity of maintaining it, but ultimately the victorious won! :D And here I am.

Basically, there are several reasons why I graced Blogger,the primary ones being a dawning tiresomeness towards putting pen to paper[I've had enough of THAT in the boardrooms!], bringing my typing speed up to scratch, making productive 'net' use of download periods[which otherwise shall be deemed 'net'ally illegal in this beautiful era of multitasking], plus,if I ever,EVER, find the time to read my own blog, a chance to refresh my abysmal memory[Modesty is a quality!], and more trivial things among others.

However, the most genuine reason i succumbed to the idea is the most intriguing of all.

A stitch in my side. Two. Stray threads hanging. However much I try to channel the formidable rush my thoughts are, they trickle away twice as fast. Not that they are of much use to anyone, just the vague randomness of a vaguer girl. Now there, now gone! One after the other, just swirl away, with me standing helplessly around, trying to gain control over my (very) OWN Goddamn mind! The need, the desperate urge, to express myself, not just, but in the best inconspicuous manner that is. I'm positive that will harbour diverse opinions-"blogs are public!", "you talk of privacy when its possible for the whole world to view it!"...but Possible,guys, is not a word I care to meddle with. The queerest thing about this queer,queer world is we[ME included!] love spying on ANY[be it Beckham, or the sweet nex'door] creature on the face of Earth, but offer it on a platter, and see the smiles drop off 'our' faces faster than mercury off a table! Kiss a guy behind a tree, and turn around to a sea of expectant-cum-prying eyes; kiss a guy in public, and turn around.......to a sea of pointed-cum-outraged eyes. Going public is the best way of keeping what you really wish to be private exactly that. PRIVATE. The very fact that it is open to all makes it fantastic to-be-least-bothered-about material. It is THERE. It ain't banned. So we can get hold of it anytime. And SO we don't get hold of it ANY TIME. Call it your 'personal diary', and you'll have people[esp. closer ones like parents, siblings, best friends] itching to have a go at it; tag it a blog, and they won't even know it exists! In conclusion, a blog's the best personal diary I could have presented myself. [Oops! Did I say Personal Diary?!?!] :D

Happy Reading [Hopefully!]

And oh[before it trickles away too!], I'd be most interested in any suggestions guys. Be generous!