All is quiet and peaceful. Until suddenly, you're on a roll. Someone's just doused you with a tank full of crispy cool water in the middle of summer and sent you rolling down a water slide - you land with a splash into a pool. And start gasping with excitement. Possibly bobbing up n down in there as well.
That's how an idea hits me. And no, it's usually not just one. They come like an army - Determined. Energized. Blinding. They march straight into my head; going all over the place like a swarm of bees. Almost like an explosion. Leaving me gasping.
I don't know what is it with ideas and me?! (Didn't I warn you this blog would have a lot of 'me'?! :P) They seem to love me, and come very unexpectedly. In the middle of the night. When I'm slapping a roti onto the tava. When I'm on a phone call. In the IGP lecture. On the roads. In the train. While gazing at the stars. While sitting at LKP. On the terrace. In the rains. Sipping on a cuppa coffee. Listening to music. Day dreaming. While trying to write a report. While listening to my boss's briefing. While working at office. Like today.
An idea can hit me anytime. It's both a cause and an effect. I shall proceed to explain *Ahem!*
One can judge an event or an experience on many parameters. Exciting/dull, fun/boring, learnt something/useless, memorable/watevah, blah blah blah...to me, it's simple. One point measure. Stimulation. How much the event/experience, or even person for that matter - stimulated my mind. Evoked thoughts. Not so much what happened outside, but what it changed within. I know the signs by now. Slowly rising pulse. Eventually racing. Eyes darting here n there. Decibel levels increasing when I talk. Slight vibration in my hands. A weird sort of energy. And a mind abuzz with ideas. Loads of them. All kinds. Sometimes, the energy gets too much for me to handle. In fact, most of the times. Unless I give it an outlet. If I don't write/scream/laugh/talk/dance away the energy, it can get very bad. I could be found jumping up n down on the couch. Or throwing my hands in all directions in gestures that seem meaningless. Or could even look like my face is about to burst - it shines n glows, my cheeks turn red with excitement. Sometimes, it becomes a frenzy. And if I don't release the energy, it results into physical pain. ("Huh?! What?! Aw come on....you gotta be kidding!" *sigh* I knew you wouldn't believe this one. Never mind. You can call me a weirdo if that gives you a reason to believe) Which is when I do something like what I'm doing write now. Even as I occasionally clutch my right shoulder to try n stop it from paining. *ouch*
It can get distracting if it happens in the middle of a lecture. Which it has. Many a time. Being in the institute that I am in, I'm not surprised. IIM A has quite a few brilliant profs. People who perhaps don't need to teach, but do it only coz they love teaching. They're madly passionate about their subject, and are capable of evoking that passion in anyone who steps in with an open mind. I have, many a time. And have stepped out clutching my shoulder, or hand, or head. Sometimes, it's been too much too take. I mean, firstly the prof's too good. Secondly, that morning's good and I'm in class with an open mind. Thirdly, the lecture unravels itself so beautifully. The process kicks in. I have often been left perplexed and helpless, as my mind wildly races from the hills of Switzerland and what kind of a house I'd like there to what the Education minister should be doing with schools right now. *Buzzzz* Until the prof.'s voice fades away, and I can hear only my own. Lots of them, going off at the same time. Very soon, I'm in my own world. Oh all's well until I get cold called and jolted back into reality. With the guilt that I took off on a trip in the middle of an amazing lecture. But what could I have done - the very lecture was the cause - don't you see?!!
I first started jotting down thots on the last pages of my full scape books. Until they started eating from backwards into the actual notes. I now carry an 'Idea diary' or more aptly titled 'Random Thoughts'. I remember reading sometime - Alyque Padamsee once said somewhere - "The secret of my creativity is this -" And he held up a pen and a diary. "I carry this with me all the time." Trust me, he's right. I can safely get back to my lecture now, once I've got one rush of ideas outta my way, until the next batch strikes...
So that's what happened today, Imli. I started talking to Bhupi (a co-intern from IIM B) about my current confusions, my passion, my dreams...ahhh! my dreams. They send me on a frenzy too. All it took today was me starting to talk about making a difference, doing something about education, how would I do it and when, what would happen to my livelihood, material comfort, the other random things I've always wanted to do...like theatre...RJing...exploring the interiors of India..venturing out on my own...and there I was on another one of my trips. Only that this time round, operational issues kicked in and I started thinking about my 'dreams' more seriously. For longer. Which pushed up the energy even more. *Sigh*
And now here I am, in the middle of the night trying to regain my lost composure. Any ideas, anyone?!
Did I just say 'ideas'?! Aaaaaarrrrgghhhhh!
P.S - I'm all set to be blown away anyday ;)
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
In pursuit of The One
It wasn't his day. Night, rather. Or day actually, since the day here begins at 12 am, literally.
He'd been identified long back as 'The ONE'. The one who'd be stared at even as he'd drip wisdom with his every word. The one who'd never be taken seriously, for geniuses never are. The one who'd be laughed at simply coz he was above the lesser mortals...The one who's innocence would be his undoing as he'd be hunted down by a pack of nasty kids-on-the-block...his fellow 'preppies' it seems. The One.
It all began with a harmless b'day celebration. Jeetish Bansod. The guy whose secret desire was to sing 'Yeh mera Dil...' for Helen. We made sure it got fulfilled. (Didn't someone tell you we're angels?) The b'day boy did have quite the time of his life. We ensured that the Ponds face wash tube he'd secretly purchased at Himalaya Mall would get completely used up. In fact, we ensured that the face wash tubes of all alike would be empty the next day. The taps were barely spared. But the buckets were put to good use.
(Adv: Whoever said cake was only for eating?! Come to us. Play Holi of a different kind. In sweltering June. Fee: One kg Blackforest cake and a bucketful of cold water. Guaranteed returns.)
Of course, there was one who was quick enough to flee before his face was decorated. One who thought he'd be spared. The One.
It didn't take long for the rest to figure out. You can't miss the one who everyone wants to get back at. (Don't ask for what. That is bound to remain a mystery for life. Too bad for him)
Within moments of the realisation dawning, people collectively resolved, wiped off the cream that clung lazily to their noses n chins and crept up D13 - his abode. He wasn't there. Smart fellow. Knew people would come seeking him. Full plans of absconding. If only the others wouldn't be smarter...
Something had to be done. Reliable sources revealed that he was to visit the chimp's room in some time to watch a movie. People stealthily moved to the new campus. Ok, laughing n sneering n hooting is not exactly 'stealthily'. Yet.
But what if he'd know? There was no way of verifying.
And then, the inevitable happened. The One walked into the trap himself. One of the comrades had his precious possession which he had to retrieve - his hard disk drive. She put on her most innocent tone, convinced him that she didn't know what was on, and was in fact taking a walk at the LKP. Quite believable. Especially the last part. At any time of the day. Or night.
They decided to meet near the underpass so that she'd pass on what was anyway his. And probably join them for the Telugu movie. Quite unbelievable. At any time of the day. Or night. He should've known.
And then he committed a second error. Called a second comrade to invite her for the movie. She very wittingly said that she was with the first comrade anyway and would see him at the underpass. The trap was laid. No bait was needed. He was walking into it himself. Literally.
The underpass, at an unearthly hour, saw excited movement. About 8-10 odd people, armed with remnants of the cake, now waited behind the bushes, poised for an attack fit for a battle. It was war time.
He walked. With one ear glued to the cell phone. Eyes glued to the approaching comrades. Would've been too risky to let him walk by himself. They virtually escorted him. Lucky chap.
He'd just taken a shower. Scrubbed himself squeaky clean. Even better.
Then it all happened. In a blinding flash of activity. Junta screamed n pounced. He screamed n ducked. Too late. In a matter of moments it was all over. What was left was his inimitable expression, and the greasy, sugary cream that clung to every inch of his face. Silence erupting into triumphant laughter. Slaps on the back. Pics. Gleaming, mocking faces.
The ambush was succesful. All would sleep in peace. All, but one. The One.
It's not just cricket where they take his case. Maybe it just wasn't his day.
Actually, it never is.
He'd been identified long back as 'The ONE'. The one who'd be stared at even as he'd drip wisdom with his every word. The one who'd never be taken seriously, for geniuses never are. The one who'd be laughed at simply coz he was above the lesser mortals...The one who's innocence would be his undoing as he'd be hunted down by a pack of nasty kids-on-the-block...his fellow 'preppies' it seems. The One.
It all began with a harmless b'day celebration. Jeetish Bansod. The guy whose secret desire was to sing 'Yeh mera Dil...' for Helen. We made sure it got fulfilled. (Didn't someone tell you we're angels?) The b'day boy did have quite the time of his life. We ensured that the Ponds face wash tube he'd secretly purchased at Himalaya Mall would get completely used up. In fact, we ensured that the face wash tubes of all alike would be empty the next day. The taps were barely spared. But the buckets were put to good use.
(Adv: Whoever said cake was only for eating?! Come to us. Play Holi of a different kind. In sweltering June. Fee: One kg Blackforest cake and a bucketful of cold water. Guaranteed returns.)
Of course, there was one who was quick enough to flee before his face was decorated. One who thought he'd be spared. The One.
It didn't take long for the rest to figure out. You can't miss the one who everyone wants to get back at. (Don't ask for what. That is bound to remain a mystery for life. Too bad for him)
Within moments of the realisation dawning, people collectively resolved, wiped off the cream that clung lazily to their noses n chins and crept up D13 - his abode. He wasn't there. Smart fellow. Knew people would come seeking him. Full plans of absconding. If only the others wouldn't be smarter...
Something had to be done. Reliable sources revealed that he was to visit the chimp's room in some time to watch a movie. People stealthily moved to the new campus. Ok, laughing n sneering n hooting is not exactly 'stealthily'. Yet.
But what if he'd know? There was no way of verifying.
And then, the inevitable happened. The One walked into the trap himself. One of the comrades had his precious possession which he had to retrieve - his hard disk drive. She put on her most innocent tone, convinced him that she didn't know what was on, and was in fact taking a walk at the LKP. Quite believable. Especially the last part. At any time of the day. Or night.
They decided to meet near the underpass so that she'd pass on what was anyway his. And probably join them for the Telugu movie. Quite unbelievable. At any time of the day. Or night. He should've known.
And then he committed a second error. Called a second comrade to invite her for the movie. She very wittingly said that she was with the first comrade anyway and would see him at the underpass. The trap was laid. No bait was needed. He was walking into it himself. Literally.
The underpass, at an unearthly hour, saw excited movement. About 8-10 odd people, armed with remnants of the cake, now waited behind the bushes, poised for an attack fit for a battle. It was war time.
He walked. With one ear glued to the cell phone. Eyes glued to the approaching comrades. Would've been too risky to let him walk by himself. They virtually escorted him. Lucky chap.
He'd just taken a shower. Scrubbed himself squeaky clean. Even better.
Then it all happened. In a blinding flash of activity. Junta screamed n pounced. He screamed n ducked. Too late. In a matter of moments it was all over. What was left was his inimitable expression, and the greasy, sugary cream that clung to every inch of his face. Silence erupting into triumphant laughter. Slaps on the back. Pics. Gleaming, mocking faces.
The ambush was succesful. All would sleep in peace. All, but one. The One.
It's not just cricket where they take his case. Maybe it just wasn't his day.
Actually, it never is.
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
What is this all about?
I write, therefore I am.
Grrr...wish I could crumple that into a nondescript paper ball n throw it into the bin!
Tempted to try and think of the 'perfect' beginning to this blog...but like a zillion other times - I would've ended up waiting for eternity...coz there ain't no such thing as a 'perfect' beginning...or is it?
The truth is that I have begun. (Woah!) And that it has taken a lot for me to get here...no no, not those hours of searching for the 'perfect' name (there I go again!)...this is about all that went on inside my head before I got myself to blog.
'What's the big deal?!'
Sighhh...the scene is that with me (as you will gradually realise) even seemingly tiny things are big deals...well, call that magnified living if you please...anything but 'blowing it outta proportion'! I'm not, ok!
The truth is I don't know what is this all about...or do I?
I've always loved writing - to myself and others. But then, that was selective writing. For a selective audience. Not a public space where I'd put up a part of myself for others to see and comment on.
Ahhhh...there...now we're talking! Allow me to explain.
Too many questions - What will I write about? Who would read it? Would any one even want to read all of THAT? Am I writing only for someone to read it? Will what I write (and how) be driven by comments from friends and strangers? Have I learnt to deal with unsolicited judgements? Am I mature enough to detach myself from what happens once I press the 'Publish Post' Key? Or is it ok to be attached in the first place? What will this lead to? Does it even matter? Will I be consistent? Will I even begin?!!
Questions. Like the grass that spreads to make the garden its home - questions have flourished ever since I've let them into my life. My mind virtually swims in those of all kinds...naah, aint complaining...love them...well, most of them :)
Haan..so like I was saying - a lot has gone into the creation of this space (more on 'space' some other time) The question (again?!) now is - what is this all about?!
It's about me thinking out aloud. It's about me yearning to express. It's about a glimpse into my life. Into my mind. It's about a glimpse into your own. It's about things you may never have thought of. It's about those which you always had on your mind. It's about listening to a new voice. It's about realising that the voice is actually within you. It's about indulging in the abstract. About engaging in pseduo-philosophy. It's about drawing out meaning from meaninglessness. It's about wanting to reach out. About wanting to scream out n say to the world 'Hell, life can be way better than this!' It's about offerring a sneak peak into a dream life. It's about showing that there are other ways. About realising that there is no need to show anyone anything. It's about me blabbering on and on. It's about you reading all of THAT.
It's about you. It's about me. More about me I guess (How does it matter?! Errr...mebbe it does)
So...looks like we are headed somewhere aren't we... ;)
Cheers to a new beginning!
P.S - I'm excited! :D
Grrr...wish I could crumple that into a nondescript paper ball n throw it into the bin!
Tempted to try and think of the 'perfect' beginning to this blog...but like a zillion other times - I would've ended up waiting for eternity...coz there ain't no such thing as a 'perfect' beginning...or is it?
The truth is that I have begun. (Woah!) And that it has taken a lot for me to get here...no no, not those hours of searching for the 'perfect' name (there I go again!)...this is about all that went on inside my head before I got myself to blog.
'What's the big deal?!'
Sighhh...the scene is that with me (as you will gradually realise) even seemingly tiny things are big deals...well, call that magnified living if you please...anything but 'blowing it outta proportion'! I'm not, ok!
The truth is I don't know what is this all about...or do I?
I've always loved writing - to myself and others. But then, that was selective writing. For a selective audience. Not a public space where I'd put up a part of myself for others to see and comment on.
Ahhhh...there...now we're talking! Allow me to explain.
Too many questions - What will I write about? Who would read it? Would any one even want to read all of THAT? Am I writing only for someone to read it? Will what I write (and how) be driven by comments from friends and strangers? Have I learnt to deal with unsolicited judgements? Am I mature enough to detach myself from what happens once I press the 'Publish Post' Key? Or is it ok to be attached in the first place? What will this lead to? Does it even matter? Will I be consistent? Will I even begin?!!
Questions. Like the grass that spreads to make the garden its home - questions have flourished ever since I've let them into my life. My mind virtually swims in those of all kinds...naah, aint complaining...love them...well, most of them :)
Haan..so like I was saying - a lot has gone into the creation of this space (more on 'space' some other time) The question (again?!) now is - what is this all about?!
It's about me thinking out aloud. It's about me yearning to express. It's about a glimpse into my life. Into my mind. It's about a glimpse into your own. It's about things you may never have thought of. It's about those which you always had on your mind. It's about listening to a new voice. It's about realising that the voice is actually within you. It's about indulging in the abstract. About engaging in pseduo-philosophy. It's about drawing out meaning from meaninglessness. It's about wanting to reach out. About wanting to scream out n say to the world 'Hell, life can be way better than this!' It's about offerring a sneak peak into a dream life. It's about showing that there are other ways. About realising that there is no need to show anyone anything. It's about me blabbering on and on. It's about you reading all of THAT.
It's about you. It's about me. More about me I guess (How does it matter?! Errr...mebbe it does)
So...looks like we are headed somewhere aren't we... ;)
Cheers to a new beginning!
P.S - I'm excited! :D
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This work by Akanksha Thakore Srikrishnan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License