Why no updates here?

Well, because you all, i know a lot of you read, know that it's ME who is posting here. Don't want to give away my thoughts this easy, now do i?

With the comfort of anonymity taken away from this space, it's difficult to find topics uncontroversial enough to write about.

Or, should I write about controversial topics?

Maybe I will.

New Year is around the corner and it's very very cold.

Hope you are with family and warm wherever you are.

The Monk and The Red Bull

World is a funny place.

I was in a mall recently.

Now before I write further, just so you know, I don't go to malls too often. In fact, it's a monthly visit to the mall to check the new books in the book store and maybe look at some people. There are lot of people in malls these days. I guess there always were a lot of people in malls and there will be more in future.

There are lot of shops in the mall and many of these shops have very very expensive things. There are oxygen bars where you can pay money to breathe in oxygen through tubes that are inserted into your nose. And you thought air would always be free? Ha! There are small pools for some kind of foot treatment where little fish nibble the dead skin off your feet. There are chairs where people sit and other people rub their feet, for a payment. I find that thing particularly strange, paying another human being to rub your feet. Of course, anyone can give me an argument that it's a job too, but that won't change me feeling strange about it. I'd never do it for the life of me.

I have digressed.

Again.

I was in a mall recently.

There, I saw a monk drinking a Red Bull, which is an energy drink, in case some of the readers are not in the know of that. And the monk was talking on an N97 cell phone. A can of Red Bull costs 75 Rs and an N97 phone from Nokia costs upwards of Rs 30,000. What a monk was doing in possession of such a cellphone is beyond my guesswork and it's not something that I should be bothered about. But I have a soft spot for monks in my heart. These people give up a lot to live a simple life, meditating and trying to find god, and other cool things that monks do, maybe doing Kung-Fu to bandits in the hills of Himalayas. Just saying. I am not a know-it-all.

It was disconcerting to see the monk drinking Red Bull. Just that.

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P.S-- If this was any other blog, I'd have written something of general interest, but the fact that you bothered to click the link or type in www.pallavsehgal.com in the address bar of your browser and hit enter, I can safely think that you have some kind of interest in reading what I am writing.

Hello, in that case.

Things I've lost and things I've remembered

As a kid, science always interested me. The inherit sense of wonder that is a part of childhood was too much in me. It was not that I was always taking toys apart to see how they worked but there was a genuine attraction towards gadgets of the most simple to the most complex kind.

I remember a magnifying glass. It was made of white plastic, a cheap toy, but I remember it had a thick glass. It was one of my favorite toys. Later in life, i saw magnifying glasses made in iron but that first piece of plasticy magnifying glass had its own charm. I used to get some carbon paper, not the blue one, the black type, and I would stand in the sun, focusing the rays on the black carbon paper making holes with the concentrated rays of the sun. The paper smoldered and sometimes it burned, that was always very exciting.

I've always liked fire too. I almost set the set the small house temple on fire when I was playing with matchsticks once. I don't remember who, but someone once bought me a lighter, it was an amazing thing. Purple in color and a flame that was bright yellow and Tall! In the evenings with power cuts, the lighter was a thing of pride and joy.

I also had two big magnets. I always wanted the magnets that were in the speakers of an old stereo in our house but I never got the chance to break open the machine. I was sleeping in the afternoon once with the magnets at my pillow, when I woke up they were not there anymore.

I lost the magnifying glass, I lost the lighter, and I lost my favorite piece of magnets too. But I remember them.



P.S- Some people are getting "baffled" reading the things I am writing here. Come on people, I have not even started yet ;)

Of Thanks and Welcome...

Maybe you're here for the first time, maybe you are her after reading some posts, maybe you are traveling through time and found this post. Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, take this moment to breathe and say a thanks to yourself.

 

(A Mirror I saw on a recent trip to Shimla)

On Remembering School Days :: One

Dad once asked me why I hated certain things and people so much.

 

I said because it felt good. Because certain things and people are just not worth loving. Fine, someone else can love them all they want, and that's perfectly ok, but don't take away my right to hate. Right? Yup, very right.

 

Moving on, I said I'd write something about school days. This is my way of catching up with the nostalgia because frankly, if I don't try to remember now, somewhere down the line, I WILL forget it all. I don't want that to happen. Maybe this place will be a collection of all the tidbits that I can remember.

 

Yes, school. What all do I remember?

·         Going to school on a cycle. Changed 3 cycles through all the years in school.

·         Using Ink Pens. I used to take a geometry box full of pens for some reason.

·         Bags! Which were of so heavy.

·         Tiffin box.

·         Small break and recess.

·         Ironing my own clothes.

·         Polishing my shoes, dad's shoes and sister's shoes too. Glad that mom didn't wear black shoes or I'd have polished her shoes too.

·         Home work diary. Man, that blue cover, that's all I remember.

·         Chemistry lab. I have fond memories of labs, because they brought a strange kind of freedom from the classrooms.

·         The big bell in school which used to be a steel plate but later turned into a Mandir Ka Ghanta.

·         Teachers, who were all more awesome than each other, didn't realize it back then, I do feel and respect that now.

·         Classmates, who were of no use. I am not in touch with a single one of them (OK, one only). Which is ok by me.

·         Morning prayers, where students used to fall down like watermelons from trees.*

·         One teacher who beat me up once. (I remember your name man, and we will meet again surely, he he)

 

Yup, that's some of it. There is a lot more. But that in some other post.

 

Next, The Caravan I saw On a Road While Coming Back From Office.

Trying to understand Me

Writing here, on the blog is different from any other place that I write. There is a perfect knowledge that everything here will be read by the parents, teachers and anyone who cares enough to run my name through google.com. So, what do I say that makes sense for everyone, or maybe not. There is never a perfect answer, is there?

My plan for this space in the coming few days is to write about the things that I miss. I said things, and not people because people who are not there in our lives are not there for a reason. There is no reason to feel bad for their absence because this is the way life is, we all move on.

Again, i digress, things. We were talking about things. And of course, with things come memories. There are just too many memories in my head, because it is difficult to forget than to remember.

The very first memory I have is of being defiant. I don't remember what I did but I was punished for that be me being made to sit home and my sister was taken for a movie. Which movie was that? I don't really remember. But what I remember is saying sorry for the first time. It's a strange muddled memory in my head, but that's one of the earliest things that i can remember. School came much later. And there were some interesting incidents in school too.

That, tomorrow.

The Problem

I do not care about Writer's Block, that's for lazy people who can't put their fingers to the keyboard and make magic. Writing not a skill you can learn, it's not the money that you can earn, it's not something that can be achieved by any mortal means. Writing is a gift, either you are born with it or you are not. If you don't have that gift, don't try. It will be failure and painful.

Come to think of it, it's never really about the writing. Or to expand this thought, it's never really about what we are doing. The job is not a job, the friendship is not really a friendship, the food we eat everyday is not really for sustenance (You can very well survive for at least a month if you don't eat). There is always a bigger picture. Always. There is always something bigger going on behind the screen of what you see. There IS a bigger purpose. Everything we do, everything we see, everything we say, feel, touch, hate, love is just another link in the chain of events.

What is all this leading to?

I don't know.

We all have to reach our own destinations. And whether you like it or not, life is going to drag you down to your final home, it depends on you whether you reach there kicking and screaming with mud on your knees, or with a winning grin on your face.

It's late at night as I write this and my mind is full of thought. The mind never stops thinking. There are just too many thoughts. And they are good thoughts at that. The only thing needed is to put those thoughts "out there" and infect, inspire, or inform as many people as I can. Why? Because thinking alone is no fun. If I am troubled why don't you join me and share this feeling.

Now, quick, the order of traffic lights, red on top or green on top?

Goodnight.