sleeepy is what i am.

some "walk the line" fans will recognise the title a quote from the film. that's not very important though. it was a rather inconspicuous line. i am so tired. i finally, finally managed to deposit my fees after an agonising wait of three LONG hours. if i don't stay on at JUDE for my masters this was probably the last time i put myself through this ordeal...but it's not only me...we all suffer collectively. but we do learn a thing or two in the art of patience. and feel a wave of satisfaction break over us at the end of it all. oh well. i missed two classes owing to all this aajke. i was a bit coss. but not very. i hope i stay on here, at JU, but i'm not entirely sure. i have a passionate love for the literary realm, but i was an ardent lover of biochemistry as well. lessseeee. i don't think i'll go back to the sciences though. i HATED it when people used to assume that just because i was equally interested in the sciences, and pleased the world with my grades, that i'd never step into the field of arts. i despise this derogatory attitude toward the arts which is ever so prevalent. people just betray thier ignorance by speaking such rubbish. sooo many people were soooo shocked when i didn't pursue the sciences. but then again i wasn't overly fond of physics. i liked reading the theory of physics but i HATED writing exams, and never got over a B in my o, A/S and A2 levels. chemistry was GREAT. i miss miss miss it. and i lURVE bio. what was i talking of? well, after my B.A. i might study International Relations. i'm not sure though. things are looking very vague. Very.
i was missing school today. it's been over 3 years since i joined uni and all, but oh well.
i want to watch jodhaa akbar. i am quite fascinated by h. roshan. he's so wonderful. hehe.
i want to watch AMADEUS. i'll try and buy a copy.

there is music in the air tonight,
the candles flicker in their shadowy light
the lone owl, with a piercing howl,
has spread its wings and taken flight.

there is music in the air tonight,
the wind whispers with all its might
the moon glows, as if it knows
the dark world infested with its pale light.

thoughts.

i was thinking of making a list of places i'd like to visit or re-visit. i didn't know where to start. France used always to top my list. Paris. not for the sole purpose of visiting jim morrison's grave, though some of my friends insisted that was why. i love the very idea of the quaint little road-side cafes with tiny tables and scraping chairs. the tiny Parisian book stores i've heard so much of. there's no missing the splendour of the eiffel tower. and the seine. and ofcourse the memories of Napleon strewn all over the place. and oscar wilde's grave. to say nothing of the cheese and the clothes, though i'll probably have to restrict myself to shop window gazing.
what of italy? i watched this episode of INNtimate escapes and am so enamoured by this place called Asolo. a leetle place which was once inhabited by the Brownings. it is an epitome of the idyllic. so verdant, vibrant, greeeeen, and a train ride away from Venice! and i've wanted to go to Florence ever since i've read and LOVED a room with a view.
well, now i feel like keeping the list for a bit of a hold and speaking of other things. my Italian classes are scheduled to start tomorrow. lessee how those will go. i want to visit my school...i saw it from afar today and i can't believe i haven't been able to visit the place even once. i REALLY miss 18 Lee road though. it's so ironic most people from CIS want to meet up at the forum because it unintentionally provides a weak, weak link. that dear old bungalow. with memories stowed away in every unimaginable corner. the fish tank. the math shed. the field being out of bounds ever so often. the art room. the ice-cream dada. the jhaal muri dada. the porch. the dreaded assemblies. the red-roofed hut in the nursery garden. sigh. all this has been levelled to a mammoth parking lot. wow. people have given me very mixed reviews about the new school. i stubbornly refuse to love it. but it seems convenient, and big and spacious. erm.

twen-teen.

i'm twenteen years old. yes, you read right. i don't suppose it's possible to stop feeling like a teenager just because you turn twenty. growing out of adolescence is a more gradual process, ain't it? it's hard to lure oneself away from the enticing allure the teen years can offer. high school and university are the most fascinating years ever...there's SO much to learn...academically indeed. and otherwise. every one seems to be enlightened about the ways of the world as a collective whole.
i've been attnding many interesting classes of late. i LOVE my Tempest classes. i don't know why i feel rather nervous before posing questions, though my professor is the most brilliantl and most encouraging ever!!!! i think the tempest offers one of the most ambiguous conclusions EVER! prospero's art doesn't prove to be entirely efficacious as it cannot penetrate the sinister realm inhabited by antonio and sebastian. also, if they've tried their hand at ousting the monarch twice {both times unsuccesfully, as Prospero does eventually return and alonso is not murdered} there is little guarantee that they won't try it once again. miranda welcomes the court party exceedingly warmly and thinks very well of them...misguided judgement...one hopes she is not as deceived about apotheosising[??] Ferdinand.
okies, enough of this literary talk for the time being.
the weather's nice today. i tried sushi at south city for the first time today! i can't believe i didn't try any in thailand. oh well. we were supposed to have another school friends meet up today. the last day at haldiram's was awesome. i felt like "debu" again...but today's meet didn't happen.

fairy tale no more? (cinderella na!]

That very first time Ella had visited Quay Beach a strange notion had hoisted itself on to the sails of her mind, which seemed to be fluttering to the newly blowing breeze of love. It was the first time they’d taken a trip as a family which had been glued together by a terrible mistake---her dad, step-mom and Anna and Drizzy. Ella had realized soon enough that this marriage, made upon her aunt’s insistence that Ella ought to grow up with a mother around her, was making her father miserable. Macy was so self-centred, to say nothing of her obsession with extravagance. Dizzy was not too bad to be with when she was alone, but was at her vicious best when she was around the tyrannical Anna, which was most always. Her stepsisters and Macy manage to drain her dad’s indefatigably jovial spirit and drilled a big, ugly hole in his pocket.

But she’d met John, the Hotelier’s son, a millionaire by birth, who took a fancy to the wide-eyed, shy Ella from almost the minute he set his eyes upon her. She recalled with nostalgic relish their midnight rambles on the moon-bathed sands, listening to her dad’s funny anecdotes, when John would laugh in his sudden, frank way, catch Ella’s eye and fall quiet almost at once. Anna and Drizzy had hardly taken notice of the scrawny boy with a mop of unkempt hair, who seemed to be willing to walk on his head to please Ella, and liberally bestowed looks of cold disdain upon rich Mr. Harrison’s stupid young son.

That long ago night when Ella came down with a fever, her dad had rushed out for a doctor, while Macy and her daughters attended the annual beach party hosted by the Harrisons’. John Harrison had sat down by her side and read her a story about a nightingale and a rose. Maybe it was the gesture, or the story, more likely both, which had made her sniffle and cry, her tears rapidly rolling down her hot, flushed cheeks, while she kept willing her nose to not water. A disconcerted John tried to make her laugh by twisting his face into the most bizarre contortions, but Ella began fearing an epileptic attack on his behalf and howled even louder,

Ella smiled a sad little smile. Those long—forgotten days which had opened up unknown thoughts and puzzling feelings had long been buried in the past. Her dad used to often tell her that her life would turn out to be a fairy-tale, and Ella’s romantic mind had believed him…foolishly, she now thought. She could never forgive her dad for walking out on her three years ago, but she still reads the letter he’d written her, assuring her of a rosy life ahead and asking her to forgive him, telling her that it was impossible to live on with Macy who refused to grant him a divorce until he agreed to leave Ella out of his will, and that he’d be back as soon as he could find a legal way out of this problem. Ella often wondered why he didn’t return; didn’t he love her as much as she’d thought? This had been the year after the summer at Quay-Beach, but Macy insisted on returning there to keep her summer tryst with the rich and fancy, evidently unaffected by her husband’s sudden desertion. Mr. Waters hadn’t taken a penny away with him, and this often worried Ella. How and where was he living? she often asked herself, with no inkling of an answer. The thought of Quay-Beach, had, however, delighted Ella, though she feigned indifference. Both she and John had decided not to write to one another so that they’d have a store of things to talk about when they next met, which Ella had known would be soon, knowing Macy. It surprised her that Macy turned out to be more predictable than her dad.

At first her family had talked of leaving her behind, making Ella’s heart take several frightened leaps, but Macy was struck with the vague fear that her dad might return and abrew trouble in their absence. “Looks like you’ll have to tag along, after all,’ she’d drawled, dripping contempt. John would be there, Ella had gladly thought, her Prince Charming, who’d stirred that abstruse emotion in her heart, the thought of whom was all it took to make Ella believe her life wasn’t as bad as it had begun to seem. Then the bomb had dropped. Anna managed to fail her annual exams, Drizzy secured an F in math, and Ella accrued a decent number of decent grades. Macy saw a lot of the colour red, was hopping mad and promptly cancelled Ella’s secretly sought trip as a sign of reproach to her daughters. Ella was more than a bit surprised at her step-mom’s taking academics
so seriously, and felt slightly re-assured that she didn’t know Macy so well after all.

It’s been four years since she’d first met John at 15, and now she’s sure he has long forgotten that distant, perhaps inconsequential summer.

The door-bell rings. A letter arrives. Trembling fingers tear open the envelope with an impatience that would rival a five year old’s on Christmas Eve. Ella can’t believe her eyes, and neither can Anna and Macy... She’s gotten through to the law college she’d set her eyes on ever since her dad had taken flight. Macy looks rather scared; she lives in perpetual fear that Ella’s dad will come back and turn her out, {having found a legal way out of the problem} and to have a full-fledged lawyer on the other side of the family was more than an unpleasant thought. “Don’t work yourself too hard.” She says weakly. “I’ll have to, I’m on scholarship!” Ella smiles. She gets along fine with Drizzy now, who gives her a big, rather clumsy bear hug. Life’s not so bad after all, Ella thinks. After all, wasn’t there romance in the idea of a long lost child-hood love? Maybe she’d earn enough go back to Quay-Beach herself one day, maybe John would have changed beyond recognition, maybe he wouldn’t recognize her and maybe she wouldn’t really mind anymore.

life as it seems.

relationships. that's the most confusing word in my dictionary as of now. i don't know what to think of them. i'm thinking of the romantic kind. i've never really been involved in one. i'm a hopeless idealist and an incurable romantic. my first crush happens to be Napoloeon...hehe...the picture of him as a young artillery officer mingled with his strategic military exploits really enchanted moi. hehe. well, as of now i'm a bit confused. i've had enough of falling in love with fictional, historical and celluloid characters...{well, not quite, i was raving about jake gyllenhaal and george gordon{ L.B.} all day today}...i don't know. maybe i'm very fastidious. that's what others think. i don't really think so. erm...i don't let it on when i like someone, who might even like me back. i guess i can come across as pretty unreadable. but oh well, that's just me i suppose. do i regret the way i am ? maybe. sometimes. it's not like i havn't had my share of healthy real life crushes! i don't like to get over people too easily. it doesn't harm me, in fact i quite like lingering over my feelings. okies, now i'm rambling.

blogging at last.

i'm beginning to think that i'm the most miserably lazy person in this whole round world...erm, i've been meaning to post on this ever-untouched blog of mine since the beginning of the year. perhaps i should give up on resolutions all together. to be honest, i know very little about blogging. what does one write? how much does one let go of oneself? where does one start? s and lashing currents before

i'll start with something really random. this is a poem i wrote abot three years ago. i wonder what people think of it. here goes, i guess:

WINTER SUNSHINE


Warmth within you which feeds my soul,
Engulfing the cold waves which did flow
In harsh torrents and lashing currents
before your light did glow.

slanting rays like strings of a harp,
enclose me in your music soft:
so i may croon your eternal tune,
when you are hidden by star-time's loft."

i'll write the next two verses later.