Quarter life crisis??

I wake up in the morning, hoping it is not a morning. I hate my office. I hate my work. I hate the cubicle. I hate talking to friends. I go to office hoping that the day gets over soon. Ppl ask me “what happened?”, I hate even answering that question. I hate walks after lunch, and the talks over the lunch. Small teases become irritating. Its weird, suddenly silence has become so comforting. I am comfortable with computer all the time rather than human beings. Daily talks with my parents does not help me either, rather it drives me crazy. Even my favourite pastime Table Tennis is irksome. I hate crowd, I like to be alone. Future looks frightening. A strange feeling that life is going out of control,  a feeling that somebody else is controlling my life. Even prayers dont help. Night full of nightmares. Oh, Is there a escape? Is this what they call as Quarter life crisis?

Its true that being in twenties is something, weird, full of uncertainties.

 Have you ever felt this way??

Straight from heart..

Hi,

First of all, my sincere apologies to all the readers of my blog, especially to the ones who are more than happy to read it and post their comments. Its been pretty long since I last updated my blog, reasons are many. Lol! We humans are very good at giving reasons, aren’t we?
One genuine reason I can think of not blogging is, my weekends are busier now. And I am happy to say that I have accomplished few things these days.

One such thing being Teaching, Yes, me and my friends decided to take some time off from our habitué life to do some quality work on weekends, apart from meeting and chatting. Teaching was my long time dream. That is  a profession I always looked up to and still think it as a great profession which has a potential to tune the kids and build the nation’s future. I hesitated when I was asked to teach English for 6th std kids at a government school. I thought atleast 100 times before committing to the job. I was doubtful of my teaching skills and I always considered my English as crummy and unworthy of teaching. I was very tensed the day before I went to school, I had spent considerable time figuring out 6th std Kid’s IQ and knowledge.
To my surprise the situation at the school was far different from what I anticipated. Lot of attention was needed to make them understand the very fundamentals. By the end of the first class I had come to conclusion that
1.Teaching is no cakewalk, you wont realize the difficulty unless you jump into it.
2.Teaching language like english which has no apparent logic in it is challenging.
Thanks to all Kiranas, especially to Ninja for giving me such opportunity.

If family is air, friends are water to me.
–Ambika
I know that it is a weird quote, and a weird analogy, but a reality. I grew up with friends more than my siblings. I have spent more time with my friends, more than I did it with my parents. Always friends were there for me at times when I was feeling low, when I was breaking with tears and not to forget when I wanted to share my joy.  I have a long list of friends, right from 6th std, whom I want to thank for being so nice to the ones I made recently, who are bundle of care. Special thanks to Bug and Channa for their care and concern, who wont rest until they make sure that I reach my place safely on a late working day at office.

Thanks to all…

Shoe throwing

It was a regular day at office, I was sitting in front of my comp battling to keep my closing eyes open, asusual after the lunch. A mail popped with an attachment. I opened outlook to see what it was. Flash game, wow!! I turned around to make sure that I was not under surveilance. I started the game and I was all smiles. It was a simple flash game, like a normal shooting game.  A small twist, instead of bullets there were shoes and the target was George Bush. I started playing and to my surprise I was enjoying the game trying to hit Bush coming out of the table once in a while.

Its funny that such shoe throwing incidents are becoming popular and frequent, recent one being our own PMs case. Shoe throwing is becoming a new way of showing the deep anguish. Thanks to the Iraqi journalist who started this tradition. Though this kind of act seems insane, crude  and uncivilized, it is better in a way than using guns and bullets.

I would be happy if terrorists follow this tradition of throwing shoes(LOL!) on people who they are angry on rather than cruel way of killing the innocent people.

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These elections, political drama and IPL is driving me crazy. I am finding myself arguing more and more on these topics. I sometimes have wondered why the hell I am bothering so much. But for the first time I am realizing how miserable India has become or rather how much it is spoilt in the hands of politicians. India is been torn down on the basis of religion, caste, power, corruption what not. And its a shame that still India is lead by such  shameless creatures without ethics who make the max use of boneless tongue to exploit India and Indians.

When I go back to little nest, my home..

Imagine a child’s joy when it joins its parents after being lost in an endless crowd. Thats how I feel whenever I step on the soil of Honnavar. I always feel like a lost soul in Bangalore. Words fall short to explain how I felt when bus I was travelling entered my very own familiar area. I could feel my adrenaline pumping high each second by the mere thought of going back home. I was there at the door of my house, on the day of new year.

After long time I was experiencing Ugadi at my home. I didn’t even remember when was it last time I celebrated it at home. Festivals are always good. You get to eat different kind of kajjaya. My mouth started watering by the thought of kajjaya even before I entered my house. All my family members were there to welcome me. It was a dandy feeling.  Everybody out there, take care of  me.

From that point of time I switch off my brain and follow what elders insist me to do. That is like being in safe mode. I find myself following the instruction given by them like an obedient soldier. Instructions might be as simple as, “Go and get yourself a bath, then come and have breakfast“.  “Did you pray god? Go and pray. We are nothing without god.”

And interrogations follow. “Where is your bindi? Why don you keep bindi? What happened to the bangles I gave you last time? What the hell happened to your hair? I can make out that you have not oiled it since you were here last time, what kind of haircut is this, ili kadid tara?” and the cry goes “these days children have become so smart that they dont even listen to what elders say.” Sometimes I am irritated when they yell at me.Very next moment I think what am I going to lose if I listen to them, Afterall they are the ones who care most.

As it is festival day and some Pooja is being offered I see people all around, busy arranging paraphernalia’s required for pooja. On a festival day like this its better if I dont roam too much inside the house. Coz the things which are to be offered to God should be untouched until the pooja is over. All these things amuses me, I start thinking, does really God get a chance to eat the food. We just show him what we have prepared and end up eating it ourselves. I ask my mom, “Why should you prepare the food in MADI? Why shouldn’t I touch the food you have prepared?” I have a habit of asking the reasons behind the archaic practices and I practice only if the reasons convince me. This habit of mine has annoyed my kins many times. Unlike others my mom patiently explains me. “Look, when you pray to god, prayer is complete only when you are pure at heart and mind. When you wear a pure cloth like silk or naru madi naturally there is a serene feeling, hence there is a rule that we should cook in MADI, and you should not touch the food since your hands might have been infected with bacteria. If you touch the food to be offered it will spoil the serenity of the food. There are scientific reasons explained in Vedic age for every practice and ritual we perform, unfortunately down the line we have failed to understand the meaning behind it and we have ended up performing it in a wrong way. You guys question things and argue it as baseless.” I am convinced at my mom’s answer. I think it’s so important for elders to explain the meaning of rituals, practices and culture in a convincing way, without which so called Generation Gap develops. So I settle for the best job suited for me, cleaning Banana leaves, which is the only work I can do efficiently on a festival day, other than eating ofcourse.

I wait eagerly for the Mangalarathi to get over to eat Prasadam. Mangalarathi is like a green signal to all of us who are waiting for lunch. I ask my mom again, “Can I have lunch now? I am damn hungry“. Permission is mandatory coz Guests are first priority on such occasions.

Wow.. finally the moment I was waiting for arrives. A spoon of  Ghee poured on Banana leaf before anything is served kicks off the lunch. I reluctantly eat Bevu Bella as it is a must on Ugadi and wait for the  rice which is going to be served with tambali, huli and hashi(typical,simple uttara kannada recipees). Delicious Hayagreeva(I have no idea why it assumes that name) served with Ghee.. Yummy.. I bet you, nothing is like food prepared at home.

I am the star of  the day. Everybody is concerned about how much I eat, if I like it or not. My relatives complain, “Look at Ambika, she has become so thin, are you on dieting or something?”. I smile at them and tell to myself “they seriously need an eye check up” .

I am overwhelmed with joy for their care and concern. My eyes are filled with tears which are an indication of both joy of being at home and sorrow of missing my place, my home and parents.

BMTC…

If there is anyone who enjoys BMTC journeys, it must be me.  One reason which i can think of, which contributes to my basking trips in BMTC is I dont have to commute daily in buses anymore. But in my college days BMTC was very important part of my life. My daily commutes to college in the bus created a special bond with them, so much so that I could recall almost all the bus numbers(not route numbers) of the buses which came in my route.
It was totally new experience to commute in BMTC during initial days of engineering. I was appalled to see people hanging to the bus with only half of their foot resting on the footboard. Daily I would sight people travelling in such a horrifying way and always feared they would hit a current pillar or another vehicle and die. Touchwood, nothing of that sort ever happened infront of my eyes.
I got used to such vistas by the time I was in 2nd year and I had started observing more significant things  happening around me. I observed greedy conductors collecting money from passengers without issuing ticket, it left me bewildered. I wondered whether they ever felt guilty of their actions at any point of time. I became aware of people taking advantage of rush and falling upon ladies  sometimes deliberately, conductors leaning on ladies in the pretense of issuing tickets etc etc… These things kinda puzzled me. 
By the time I was in mid 3rd year of engineering I had got a mobile phone with FM. My observations now moved out of the bus. Skillful Bangaloreans driving crazily in traffic amused me. It was fun to see people trying to overtake other vehicles from a distance of less than an inch. I told myself, “I am not fit to drive in this Bangalore traffic“.
These daily bonds with BMTC came to an end with the end of college life. BMTC commutes had made me aware of things around me, making me stronger and bolder. Not to forget to mention that I had even spent few hours studying on the bus. I had sometimes managed to study whole chapter in bus during exams and internals.
It is such tiny incidents which make my BMTC trips interesting and thanks to FM channels which can be refreshing, especially when you are stuck in traffic jams.