23 F - 76 F; Adventures across the US in 10 days

It’s been precisely ten days since school shut down for the winter break. Pictures speak louder than words sometimes. Hence, my increased dependency on still images to mark my adventures as I travel through the US. They are littered across my facebook page. It’s true that facebook is a platform for narcissistic indulgences or a convenient page that lets you show to your extended family/ friends that you are having the time of your life. I don’t shy from admitting that mine is probably the combination of both besides the fact that my father is on facebook now and my friend (yes, yes) and a mere click on my page is all he needs to do to see the wonderful places I visit or the architecture, museum and even food that I digest delightfully as I move from one city to another.

Which finally brings me to where I have been. Leaving the snowy confines of Syracuse (we received a ground breaking 70 inches of snow this year) I moved on to New York. The goal was to get a visa for Peru and get to see South America finally curtsey the generosity of my sister and bro-in-law. I get to NY and barely do I step off that my sister calls to inform me that there are no more tickets available for Peru. I was on the sidewalk of 44^th and 9^th heading to a Thai restaurant with a friend and I swear, I was so upset and upset more so for having to keep my calm, all I wanted to do was scream out loudly for everyone there to stop. :/ No Machu Pichu, no sunny beaches of Lima…sigh.

But simply being in NY for the next two days paid off. J and I walked around a lot of places that I hadn’t seen before. The first day we walked three blocks down to a flea market so that he could get an antique lamp for his tangy orange room. I suspect it was to please a special lady friend arriving from Sweden soon J. Then we took the subway to Union Square and spent the next three hours moving from one stall to the next in the farmer’s market. Fresh cider, decorated Easter eggs, glass jewelry…..name anything that would make for a good Christmas gift and it was there. Being the poverty stricken student surviving on an educational loan, I pushed my wallet into the nether regions of my bag and forged ahead in the crowd clicking away. J bought a Christmas decoration for the party that we were to attend later in the evening and I a pair of deadly black pumps. Then he insisted that we eat the BEST chicken rice (a middle eastern equivalent of our more shahi biryani) from a vendor close by. That gastronomic obligation having been fulfilled, we headed back.

Three hours later, dressed in our most fancy clothes and singing old Hindi ads in our loudest voice possible (warm cider and whiskey can do great things to your voice and yes your confidence) J and I took the subway to New Jersey. J’s ex roommate from undergrad found the best deal in NJ thanks to him and this was a house warming come pre-Christmas party at her pad. Musicians, dancers, non-profit workers and the whole gamut of what baba jocularly terms ‘artsy fartsy’ were there. I was mostly on my own while J said his hi and hellos and settled into a conversation with an ex. So I waited in the terrace overlooking the lights of New York in the distance for a wine infused epiphany. I waited for people to come up to me and strike up a conversation and then I simply waited for J to tell me we could leave. At 2, we were finally back in the city munching fried chicken to help me get over a weird nausea that was threatening to ruin my ‘vomit free’ streak since 2005. It didn’t work and I was beginning to panic. J introduced me to Listerine gargling to get over that weird creepy nausea post great wine consumption. It worked.

Next day Q and I caught up over coffee. My roommates are more my sisters and less the people one just has to get along with or carry out domestic chores and pay bills. Q is the younger sister that I never had and our chats often range from China-India politics to why there are few good men around. At 7 after J was done with his football game, he suggested we go for a walk to work our appetite (Puiya his Iranian friend was baking salmon for us to get over his anger at the loss of his favourite team in the game). J made Grand Central Station sound like this crappy new building, which has replaced the old heritage structure and kept whining about the loss. When we did finally get to GC, I realized what he had done. There towering a 100 feet above me was the impressive façade of a gothic structure looking like it was built just yesterday. Inside, a green dome with every constellation painted on it and brass chandeliers glowing brightly left me speechless. J knew I had little idea of what GC looked like so he had intentionally made it sound crappy. It worked again (somehow his methods most always do). I was unprepared for this marvel of architecture. We stayed for 40 minutes or so just taking everything in and walking around. We then walked over to the New York Public Library and headed home. That weekend in NY has been one of my most unforgettable.

Next day I headed to Chicago. I was spending all my time looking up historical buildings, visiting the beach and meeting Jack’s family until the 25^th. Chicago exceeded my expectations. Jack’s family lives in Highland Park, a residential area for the affluent, mostly Jewish community and contrary to what you would imagine for such a place, it looks like it was placed conveniently in the middle of the woods and close to Michigan Lake to be forgotten by the rest of the world. Her house is atop a hill with a ravine flowing by below. While we eat our lunch we spot deer.

One morning, I grapple with how ice can exist in the most surreal forms I’ve see so far. We are standing on the lakeshore and taking pictures endlessly while the ice could crumble beneath our feet any moment. I also spent time at the Chicago Loop, which is a common term for Downtown Chicago. Much of Chicago’s grand town planning is thanks to an American architect called Daniel Burnham. Burnham took a leading role in the development of several cities in the 19^th century including Chicago and Washington D C and for those who have seen the Flatiron building in NY, well that’s Burnham’s ingenuity for you.

Chicago was all about walking and more walking than I did in New York. One day we walked through Evanston, Fullerton basically the famous old residential areas and ended up in the evening after walking close to 10 miles at Green Mill to listen to a Jazz performance. Green Mill is one of the oldest pubs in Chico Town (Chicago dubbed by locals) and was a favourite hang out of Al Capone, the famous gangster during the prohibition days.

A trap door in this pub led to Aragon, a theatre near by and allowed people to escape if a police raid were to happen. Aragon has witnessed performance by leading bands and the likes of Sinatra to Duke Ellington have performed here. On the second day, Jack and I visited the Art Institute and proceeded to walk through Millenium Park, The Chicago Cultural Centre and finally through more historic buildings before returning home exhausted very happily for all that we managed to see in one day. For those visiting Art Institute, don’t miss out the Thornton Room and the New Media room. Thornton room has miniature replicas of living spaces from the 18^th century in England and France and for those who love old furniture and wish to emulate some into your own homes someday, this visit will serve you well.

Christmas eve was a delight at the Hurwitz residence. I got meet all of Jack. ’s relatives and spent close to two hours talking to her grandpa who she refers to as Baba. It’s always great to meet people who are in denial of their age and remain ever curious and spirited about everything in the world. Baba promised me that he and I will start our production company soon and went on to describe the motion picture camera manufacturing company he worked for that also happened to supply cameras to the makers of ‘Gandhi’. Baba reminded me a bit of my own grandpa minus his infamous temper and I grew a little sad that evening knowing that I was so far away from my family.

I left next day for San Francisco and arrived at the Oakland airport and made a mental note of yet another airport terminals I could trace on my map, that of an itinerant. Chicago’s International O’Hare remains my favorite so far. SFO to Berkley and the next day itself back to Oakland where my sis, bro-in law and I set out to Hawaii. So so tempted to be corny and say Hawa , Hawa, Hawaii :P

And here I am! In Maui island the most picturesque of all Hawaii….minutes away from a beach with jade green waters and a bright sun waiting to seep into my skin and soul. From 23 Farenheit to 76! If I were to roam around Hawaii with a camera, I would probably be doing injustice to making the most of all natural beauty around me. So a hold on pics for now and instead, promises of more tales to come from this lush tropical paradise.

Aloha!

Minty Red Blue

A bathroom five by four feet. A woman is seated on the seat closed upon a toilet. She wears a red silk dress and pulls on her stockings. She's in a hurry to get somewhere and the stockings are very sheer. They rend at her heel. She's got little time to think. Five minutes later she steps out and puts on the most elegant satin black heels. She's not too made up but her eyes stand out in their kohl lined beauty and her lips shimmer in the christmas lights. She knows it but she won't admit it . She is attractive but in her own simple silent way. She doesn't take her admirers very seriously. It helps her stay grounded.

She dashes out of the door after he calls out and in that moment they both know it. The shoes are a disaster! But just this one time she doesn't want to pass off as a 20 year old, her dress is stunning and she wants to look her age. Atleast close to it. She's back at the door, dragged comically by him. He knows better. She hesitates at his suggestion. "The boots look grungy" she thinks. He tosses her pretty shoes out of sight. She smiles and agrees. The boots are on and she's looking more than fine. Pretty feet come aa cost and walking all over New York well heeled is more important than well dressed.

Two hours later, she's tried every single wine at the table. Also the hot spiced cider with whiskey. The crowd is a mix of people in their late 20s and 30s. Musicians, performers, martyrs (the non profit kind) mingle around. Upstairs, a group is playing the african drums and singing. A couple makes out in the bathroom in the adjoining room. So she waits and waits and waits and then smirking to herself steps out onto the terrace. She's reminding herself of where she was a few months ago and what she wanted. She compares that to what's at hand now.

The little red and blue neon lights strung around set off the New York skyline in the distance. She takes pictures. Pictures that form her visual diary. Her need to map everything in pixellated reality follows her everywhere. In new cities, on the streets she walks for the first time, amidst people...... It's become an obsession. Meanwhile, the red dress fetches a compliment. A smile and "thank you" are returned. She looks up. The sky is smoky blue and brown today and the moon glows half-mindedly.

A little past 1, a subway ride out of New Jersey and into the city, she finds herself in a diner wanting to get over the wine. Fried chicken doesn't work. His concern is endearing as is his sincerity. She trusts this.

Back home, the wine and cider are still doing tricks. She is frightened at the idea of puking. Like she has always been since her childhood. So he takes her by the hand. He leads her to the closet in the bathroom. Listerine comes to the rescue and so does bubbling laughter. They gargle and spit out in unison.

It's late and the fresh mint catalyses a feeling of bliss. She takes this moment for whatever it is. She wouldn't move on otherwise but she will this time. For whatever it is worth in its purest entity, she acknowledges it. But just for that unit of time alone. For whatever it's worth and however it can comfort her. And the moment spills forth, tinged in the neon light streaming in through the window from skyscrapers in the distant.

Sometimes knowing what you don't have and understanding why perhaps is the first step. Knowing why what you do when you do it at that moment is comforting even if just for that moment. Not when you've erred on the side of caution so many times before. She thinks these through. She's hit the lows too many times and too recently. She steps in.

The next morning, she wakes up to a bright blue sky. Today she will walk the streets she hasn't the last time, not in hope and anticipation but for self-discovery. And she"ll learn from that. For now. For herself.

About a Snowflake

I saw my first snowflake today. And if that doesn't make sense then envision this.

You are indoors. Amidst warm lights, fellow colleagues and the buzz of an academic institute. It grows dark and all you can spot outside now and then when your attention wavers from work are the white lights enclosed in snowball like lamps glowing softly in the distant. You know it's another Friday evening, one you will spend with yourself.

A little later you hurry out wanting to get across to the parking lot. And suddenly you notice. You stop dead in your tracks amazed how much you take beauty for granted. Everything is covered in a soft, fluffy white snow blanket. And your eyelash flickers. It's a snow flake. It's the most sincere moment you can allow yourself. Snow particles coming down softly making a silent noise which only you hear in your head. They glow streaming headlong in your direction almost as if the street lights are showering gold. You face the sky and hold your tongue out. They miss but you smile.

You finally get into the car. And as you look through its window, you see it. That little snow flake that you saw in the Archie's comics you read growing up or perhaps later in your Physics textbook. It's the tiniest structure you have ever sighted in your lifetime and yet you see the geometrical shape crystal clear. It's a moment that freezes it's significance in your mind for years to come. And you know you are lucky to have seen it.

La luz

No matter how many languages you say it in, this word does something for all of us.

I am talking about light. When I was small, I think the one word that signified both relief and horror (depending on whether my sister was switching it on or off in a room) was 'alo', the bengali word for light. Back in Bhubaneswar, the small town my father's family is settled in, summer mornings were eagerly looked forward to. Not just for the opportunity to tailgate my grandfather as he went about picking flowers in our garden, but to be immersed in the lemon-white milk that bathed the garden. There was an immense feeling of being overwhelmed those summers at 7 am and no words will help me explain this to you. The previous night's dew lay in its last moments, lighting up the lower blades of grass in a sparkling green hue and the sun streamed through coconut leaves, cutting myriads of shadows and shapes interspersed with light onto everything beneath it. Magical to say the least.

And in those summer evenings, I slept next to my grandpa or 'dadu' as we grand-daughters fondly referred to him. Out in the garden on his army cot beneath the open sky. The moon shone down upon the entire foliage surrounding us, converting everything into dark silhouettes. The light coming through the mosquito net which covered us, lit my skin in a strange bluish hue.

When I was close to 9, I would lay mortified in my bed till well past midnight, imagining shapes and unknown fears waiting for me to close my eyelids and then pounce upon me. In those silent and painful hours, my mother's late night washroom trip was an immense relief. As her door streamed light through the common corridor, I felt comforted and called out to her. A call of assurance later, I was finally able to fall asleep. There were also nights were I left the light in my room switched on till wee hours of the morning when my father finally discovered his daughter's once again cowardly act. I would get an amused chuckle from baba at the breakfast table. Later that week, I began lighting candles and falling asleep. Chuckles gave way to a sound tongue-lashing. Fire hazard anyone? Light was a precious luxury for me in those insomniac years.

Growing older and finding love, some of the above light forms and tinges made for significant memories. The evening where my first school sweetheart and I sat in a children's playground located on a hill watching the orange sun light up the sky, dipping further and further until the wild pink flowers turned violet and my friend's face acquired a character I hadn't seen before.

Candles again, this time my 22rd birthday spent with a different boy... dare I say man. Candles, despite the fact that the angry afternoon sun pounded upon the world outside. We hid ourselves in the cool interiors and danced away in the light our smiles shone in...that light had promises of an adventurous and happy relationship. But then again, we learn more of the people we love as time progresses. And then it's time to leave them onto the sidelines as you move ahead ...for yourself.

And more recently, when the old scars filled up, an old friend emerged as a new companion. Late one night, in suburbian Mumbai, on one of my last trips to the city before I left the country, we sat next to each other typing out the inner recesses of our minds onto his blog, still unsure and shy of communicating our affection for each other. The light from his laptop glowed intensely into the goblets of our wine. It lit up our faces, lighting up a hope that was still timid yet felt stronger than the shadows cast upon the wall. I"ll never forget that night, even if I have to forget the months that followed it. I"ll hold onto snatches of that memory like the morning light, a few hours later which jolted me from my slumber only to reveal a face smiling down at me.

And then Syracuse. A new friend in a new country and our first outdoor venture together. Late this August, Jackie and I hiked up into the hills, two hours away from Syracuse. Discovering a quite stream tucked behind the greenery, we took off our shoes and lay upon the gnarling mushroom infested logs that bridged one end of the stream to the other. And what a sight it was. Looking up, the sun shone through faintly, fettered by all the dense foliage. The water bubbled and had this steel like resonance to it and in that silence, my eyes spotted the light reflected by the water onto the ferns above my head. It was an ethereal moment that only willderness can provide to one's soul.

My fascination with light has only grow stronger since the past few months, this time at a more creative level.

Which brings me to how much I love light and light in the night, in the streets, in the cities. Shooting in Mumbai for my short film last December at 4 am in the morning at Lower Parel, I was mesmerised by the symmetry of street lamps in my frame. That one shot made that effort - of undertaking an entire project on more enthusiasm than financial backing - totally worth it. This year 'The Records that those Pavements Keep' was selected to be screened in the Mumbai Shorts competitive category at the Mumbai International Film Festival.

I walked the streets of New York today mostly downtown and Theatre District losing my way close to Colombus Square and walking an extra 40 minutes all the way back to where I should have initially turned. And even for those who have heard the romanticism about New York, for the nth time, one MUST MUST walk its streets in the evening and at night. As an amateur photographer, I can't help but stop every time I see light in it's various forms here. In the ordinary neon signs, the frosted electronic hues that christmas decorations cast on the street or simply the light that shines remotely in the distance, a glimmering hope as it were, that walking further to find out more will be worth it.

To luminescence. I hope this journey with light never ends.

Of Nerds and Turd

I am in the city that makes me miss Mumbai really bad. This is my second trip to New York and in a very modest way, I must admit I am less excited with every trip. And I mean that in a good way. I am less excited because I feel increasingly at home with every trip of mine to this amazing city.

The 2 day career workshop ended today. IRTS did a good job getting together a range of media outfits under the same roof. The queue for Disney and HBO were the longest. Also spoke to NBC, Comcast, Discovery and even forced myself to chat with the Nielsen guys.

The rest of the evening panned out unexpectedly well. Jacque's friend wanted us to attend a very interesting event at a bar in Chinatown. 'The Poop Project' was bringing people together in New York to raise funding for adequate sanitation in third world countries. A small gritty underground pub, brick red and lined up with bizarre stuffed animals (meerkats!) and candles had New York's nerdiest crowd packed in. We bought our raffle tickets at the door and entered with our drink coupons, a little skeptical but mostly amused at the sight of a western toilet seat hanging at the entrance. Over the course of next two hours, men and women walked upto the stage and to the cue of a jazz musician duo, narrated, sung and enacted their worst 'poop' stories. Needless to say, there were some very graphic descriptions, sound effects and even a strip act thrown in. I have no clue how the last one connected to the theme of the friend but our friend who got us in was horrified to discover that the stripper was her ex boss. Ha ha!!

The high point of the evening though was the stage act of a hilarious Jewish lady from Chicago. Based on a true story ladies and gentleman, it involved a woman, a guy she was interested in, an unfortunate scatological mishap the morning after, her trying to damage control with a rib tickling mail, the guy dumping her and now married to a Entourage actor, the said dumped lady being miserable and then after a year meeting a guy at another barbeque party who is discussing the most unbelievable stories they've experienced. Guy tells her about a woman who his room-mate was dating and had to go through hell because of their damaged toilet. He adds that he thought it was hilarious upon which woman reveals she was the one who did it. New guy and lady are presently engaged! So there is hope in mankind, sorry....men.

The last act was by an Indian and well he was a bit off the temp (perhaps because the previous act was stolen by a woman who did a strip act involving chips, whipped cream, stripping to her undies and drinking gelusil!!!!!) Couldn't help but walk up to him later and chat up. Turns out he was with the Peace Corps, is a lawyer (on the welfare side) but now living in New York..

Said Indian disappeared an hour later. Jacque, Mikhail and I hit the floor. We danced away the rest of the evening to very very 60s swing music. Jacque had every other guy wanting to dance with her becasue of her crazy moves. And it was then I realised we were surrounded with nerds. And what fun they were! Not looking to grab you on the floor or take you home but just awfully happy and completely immersed in crazy dance moves and eager to share that with anyone who could match their craziness.

Well so we are dancing with these two guys specifically and suddenly this one cute guy in the corner who can REALLY dance shakes up the floor with Jaque. A little later he gets me to dance with him and we do the whole twirl cross deal , jiving and the crowd has made this little space for us an dis cheering us on. We yelled out our names, the stereo drowning our attempts but I understood that he is Martin and he is from France and man was he dancing his nifty shoes off...I am high at that moment just being able to dance well with someone who KNOWS how to dance after so long. Twenty minutes later, the Francophone tells me 'Sorry darling, I have to leave". He then proceeds to peck me affectionately on the cheek. I say "Of course" and hold my balance after having being spun around like a yo-yo for the last 5 minutes. I am disappointed (of course I am losing a dance partner like that!) but I manage to find my steps back to Jackie. I whine and ga-ga at the same time about monsieur dancing shoes who suddenly decided to leave. She nudges me to look at him. He is leaving and that too with another good looking guy. So in short, the universe just told me that "Hey....I"ll give you good dance partners. BUT they have to be gay!"

So!!!! NYC, yes you are full of surprises. But I love you and I will for a while. Even if my heart aches when I walk your streets.... You remind me of friends, a city and people I so yearn to go back to.

And oh yes ....cheers the nerdiest of Nerds in New York. Thank you for a splendid Friday evening:)

SUIT UP!

I may be underestimating my friend’s serious tone when she sighs as I announce that I am going shopping to the mall. But she has a good reason for doing so. I will come to that in a while.

My trip to the mall is never just a cursory one. When I am at the mall I don’t simply frolick around or window shop, sighing with bated breath as I pass by one of those sexy outfits ; the price tag on the said piece of clothing equating it to a heavy gold relic from El Dorado but weighing over the anorexic ‘plaster of paris’ mannequins.

Leading a grad student life with limited funds and time, I rarely visit the mall. But the few times I do, I have an agenda. And that is to shop till I drop. But only because I REALLY need to shop.

My recent trip was catalysed by a panic-stricken epiphany that I did not have the right formal attire to attend a conference in New York. Of course if you’ve appeared for interviews which I have back in India, one would have basic black suit and trousers to go. And I did. Except that it was cut in 2006, at a time when I neither had a very keen eye for corporate attire nor the funds to possess an immaculate set.

Which reminds me of where the suit was made and I must distract myself for a while to tell this story; at the Raymond’s showroom in New Empire market in Kolkata. Raymond’s did I say? Fancy you would think. Na-ah! I forgot to mention. It was exclusively for men! Given my family’s love for good tailoring and the old craftsmanship of this skill (which can only be found these days in the small-town neighbouhood ‘dorji’s dokan’) my family has always had an obsession to get trousers, shirts and even denim tailor made. So when my sister joined the corporate ranks after her fancy MBA, international brands and SGP’s fashion houses didn’t do it for her. Instead she got her suits and even buttoned down shirts made in this hallowed sanctuary for middle class corporate professionals. ‘Masterji’ as everyone fondly referred to the head tailor at that showroom would have basked in glory had he seen Arthur D Little’s executives stop by didi’s desk to ask her where she’d bought her perfect fitting pearl grey shirt.

Now getting back to my friend’s ominous sigh. I am a dread to go shopping along with when I have an agenda. Sure enough this specific friend promptly informed me that she had ‘homework to do’. On such visits to the urban mecca of consumer crap, I almost always know exactly what I want and will go to and fro from one store to another comparing prices, trying things on until I know for a fact, that my dollar is being well spent. It’s not the Indian desi mentality, no –oh! For those who knew me in my early earning days back in Mumbai, they would have sworn that Sophie Kinsella’s lead in ‘Shopaholic’ must have been based on me. In comparison now, I may take longer to arrive at a decision comparing clothes but that way I have been able to hold back from impulsive shopping decisions.

But this particular mall excursion will go down in the annals of history…..my unique history, of the countless shopping trips that resulted in things being bought but never used or never needed. This time I needed a suit and I was prepared for the trauma that would come with looking for one. I am either a wreck trying to find the right fit or providing entertainment to the sales girls giggling as a cackle of geese as they watch me float around, arms and legs akimbo in clothes that merit a person of more Goliath-like proportions. But little did I know what I was in for on this fateful day.

I didn’t waste any time going to a Macy’s or Lord and Tylor’s instead boldly stepping into Banana Republic. My wallet was shrinking in horror as I inched towards the slick black suits lined up in front. They yielded like silk and butter (imagine a combo of that!) in my hands and elicited deeper and more heartfelt sighs than my friend’s. I think ‘grad student’ must have struck her instantly because she led me to a depressing ‘grey’ section that was on sale. Note. Greys are perhaps the only thing always on sale! I must have looked real forlorn or God had decided that this was to be the day my faith in good salesmanship must be restored. The salesgirl asked me to hold on and promptly disappeared to a storage section which didn’t strike me to be good because all rejected or bad fits land up there. A few minutes later she emerged cheerfully asking “Is this okay?”

Okay! Hell it was more than okay. It was the super duper okay of O Ks! I hurried into the trial room and low behold. This slate blue suit with a subtle blue trimming and a matching skirt just the perfect length and perrrrrrrrrfect fit (needless to say moi’s derriere looked nice in it ) was on me…NO , it was made just for me. A double zero (beat that Kareen aKapoor!!) she said. I was a double zero and so was the suit!!!! HALLEJUAH!

I left the mall a happier and more optimistic person that day. There’s been a spring in my step and a whistle on my lips. I don my fancy suit and skirt and tread the streets of New York tomorrow…a person whose faith in wardrobe miracles has been restored.

Rambling 2.0

Every now and then ten twenty different things are pounding at my brain. Punching my anterior lobe, knocking hard on my skull to take a more prosaic form. The thoughts are mostly reflections over the latest updates of my life. Sometimes even more trifling: just day to day events in their miniscule details. And they find their way, trickling gradually from my grey matter, sparking off neurons here and there, trailing through my veins, pulsating at my fingertips and finally free ...free on my screen as my fingers go 'clickity clack' on the keyboard (:) when was the last time you heard anyone use that 60s comic strip lingo?)

So here's one my long due posts..meandering, rambling and yet another way of catharsis...of reaching out economically and subtly to people who I know want to or may like to know what life as a Grad student in upstate New York has been like since Fall semester began.

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Come end of a semester and registration for a new one, you will be tearing your hair apart or your advisor's to understand how you can leverage your credits, your precious dollar heavy credits for courses that are worth your time and investment into a Master's education. I seem to have whistled my way through Fall sem with just 12 credits in my basket and now I have to take 16........that's five 3 credit courses and one 1 credit course. What was I thinking?!!!!!!!!

As you inch closer to graduating, you want good work under your belt to show to the industry and to assure yourself that your loan back in India is worth what you are doing...so last minute scrambling around to meet Professors, long conversations with fellow students and copious amounts of scanning courses....I am still struggling to make my choice.

p.s just for context, 3 credits is worth half my annual salary back in India and let's not even go there

!!!!!!!

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Ryan and I are ..I think inching closer to beginning our research paper on 'tween shows'. Ryan is my dear friend and colleague from Canada. Given our shared love and interest in developing content for children, we decided to use our final paper for TV Research this semester to analyse popular Nickelodeon and Disney shows for tweens (kids aged 9-14) and script a pilot for our own show. ...which I hope we will pitch and hopefully see in production mode in the near future. Also, I will be Ryan's Producer for his short film in which he will cast his own kids. A short film for and by kids.....Super super excited :)

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My self appointed advisor is so stressed out that her rear molars are crumbling. The dentist recommended she sleep with a night guard in her mouth. I knew stress leads to hair fall, acne, dark circles, foul temper, irregular bowel syndrome. Now your molars are also at threat! And you know why? Because when you are stressed you subconsciously clench your jaws tighter, building up pressure and grinding your upper teeth against the lower set.

I need a night guard too...and to add to this recent cause of anxiety, a cavity seems sure and I don't have dental insurance. In the US, you cannot get yourself treated for something as simple as a cavity filling for anything less than $ 200 without insurance.

Remind me why it's great to live in India...no please do!

Conclusion...wait till May 2011 until I visit India. Until I probably lose my canine tool for enjoying my meat. Retarded developed country's ill-developed health insurance plans...grrr

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Which brings me to what I do best when I am stressed or upset......

EAT/COOK!

Jess and I spent over an hour grocery shopping. Considering the crap I've been eating (note sliders are bad, just plain BAD ...nothing more to be said there!) for a few days now, my cart was loaded with things that looked like I had just pulled off a heist at the Garden of Eden.

Dinner today?

I tried something new.

Pears chopped up and mixed in with fresh mint. Balsamic vinegar ....and a drizzle of parmesan cheese. I ate up a whole bowl of that and could have had more.

Followed by whole wheat tortilla stuffed with Indian eggplant mix...my favourite 'baingan bharta'

I was combining homework with dinner...so finally watched 'Bottle Rocket' and made notes for my screenwriter's analysis of Wes Anderson and Owen Wilson........ I can go on but for anyone who has not watched Anderson's films....it's better late than never! So start with Bottle Rocket or Rushmore and move on to Darjeeling Ltd....By now you get a sense that this director's works are mostly based on a club of men who have their fantasy ridden worlds propelling them to seek out adventure in the most unconventional fashion. A band of brothers and friends is often your main characters ....throw in a motley group of characters who appear in most of his works : Kumar Pallana, Bill Murray, Jason Schwartzman....the Wilson brothers of course.....

You could then watch what I consider his epic piece 'The Royal Tenenbaums'

:D

Getting back to my gourmet rant

I had two courses for dinner but then nothing stops me...so Hammas and wheat crackers....and then

Marshmallows to seal the feast

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I am hooked to The Office! The American version. Dwight and Jim are my favourites. Jim well......yes I guess Rohini is right. Sensitive, funny and caring Jim is every woman's dream ....most women I know fall in love with this character pretty hard...so hard that some actually go out looking for a Jim version in reality! Carm confirmed this is true!

Here Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim, Jim...Jimmy?

:)

Applause for the writer for fleshing out such consistent , well thought of eccentric characters....especially Dwight. Of proud German inheritance, raised rough in the country and high on loyalty and duty...Schrute rocks with his knowledge of warfare, detective skills and sales acumen that would put his boss to shame!

His beet farm really did it for me though...No wait! I think it was his knowledge of manure

:P

***********************

Dramatic Writing has proved to be the most beneficial and fun class this semester. Watching my colleagues have their scripts read and 'improvised' by class was a real life professional feedback session. It feels good to know that I have a solid litmus test to run my script through and gauge its creative potential. Finally finished my scene outlines for the feature length film that's my final work for this class. Scripting will begin this weekend perhaps en route and in New York......Might just perch myself on a stool by a cafe's window-side for inspiration and type and type .......

I forgot to mention.

I was accepted for a Multi-cultural career workshop being organised by The International Radio and Television Society in NYC next week......

It's always good to visit the city that makes you feel at home instantly

New York...here I come

*****************************************************

w.a.l.k

How do you make peace with being unable to engage with someone the way you did, the way it felt really right and in a way that outdid your imagined version of it to be?

Do you count your days, weeks and months until jet trails can take you back , back to a moment where you could summon the strength to knock on the door again. Spend your year, maybe two, maybe more in willing suspension of disbelief......until your heart is purged of feeling and thought exclusive for a person?

Do you spend a few moments now and then doing what the tech-age has enabled all of us to, stalk someone, virtually...trace there scribbles but promise yourself a detached afterthought....

Or do you follow your impulse and reach out...only to be pacified and counseled "train yourself to hold back"

I am holding on.........to a blankness within me...the blanks will fill up in due time. Won't they?

It's funny how a year earlier, just around this same time, a marathon sparked off a thought in my head. I had no idea I would chase that thought through.

I also had no idea I would be left behind in that chase.

On a very different thought...I am headed to New York in a week's time for work. This time I will find time to walk and walk longer through unknown streets and avenues.

Walking to keep ahead of my thoughts, walking until I find in me that I can run.........once again

p.s The New York marathon and the Bimal Mahato story just came to my mind

Hmm 2011 NY marathon...if I am still here

Pause and Play

The brevity and rationale of it all

Seems illogical, today, right now

If I were to write all night,

I would write all that I want to tell you

The brevity and rationale of our last conversation

Was a convenient guise

Yours, because you choose to say little and move away

Mine because I wanted you to stay

Heart's rending across virtual spaces

This is what our long friendship has come down to

You scribble on your walls

I on mine

Both wondering if the other will trace our thoughts marked with words

Yes. I do want to hear, talk and feel

But I hold myself together and back from your words

Words that I will imagine for now

For I have no strength to utter or hear

Garbled, incoherent, unsure or timid ones from your end

Strong, clear, courageous and bold

Those were your steps

Until you left your footprints on my porch

And left no trace or understanding of who I knew you to be

So let us begin our conversations in our virtual spaces

In our minds or on our walls

I know your move will not be the first

And I am not sure what will be mine

Nostalgia

I know it ...

I know it when I wake up to a pale grey sky, slightly disoriented about the dream I have had early in the morning

I know it when I recall Ma and Baba's smiles and how they danced to Rafi's songs

The streets, the smell and the flavours are beginning to bleach white...

I know I want to return... before my land becomes a mere figment of my imagination

Saturday Night...Time for Delight

There are these rare days where misery and hope collide one losing out to the other

After location scouting for over an hour, trudging through University's rolling slopes, in the cold, empty stomach, losing my way through staircases that led nowhere and doors that didn't really help me get where I wanted to, I landed up at Marshall Street craving for Waffles. 7 phone calls down, not a single person was free to have a meal with me....

Giddy, mad, and wanting to shout the f word loudly for the whole campus (stark raving mad woman images can be conjured here) I stormed into the library. 25 minutes later, a watery tea, a croissant and banana down, I finally trudged to the bus stop

I convinced myself to hammer out one chapter of Commn Law and the evening rolled in

Jacque came to my rescue (as usual). Carmine accompanied me

Asian story fry, Malibu with Apple cider, double helping of chocolate chip dough and a steaming cuppa of peppermint tea....the ladies entertained me with their performances to Les Miserables and Anastasia.

Tip to my male readers and friends : never give up an opportunity to befriend or date women who have been trained in musicals ;)

Long discussions also happened - of unconventional endings for romantic comedies (Carm is doing a TV research paper on it this semester), ex boyfriends who would have made unsuitable life partners, dates which made you think why you are unwilling to make use of whatever

(read who) comes your way for now, of pumpkin ale and becoming someone's therapy (Jacque was victim to it today by a 40 year old who is recently separated) and the lack of intelligent dating sites in India.........

Came back and danced like bonkers to music just for and by myself ..after aeons..and then for R on Skype who was too happy being regaled by this virtual Saturday partying with her best friend in NY while she was sitting in Singapore

I get by with a little help from my friends .....

An evening with women like Jacque and Carm makes up for all the crappy Saturday nights, blues and home-sickness

Like Ma says "Saturday Night, time for delight!!!"

:)

delight..........

An unsung note

Reading about a random rant on someone's blog....

sometimes you could become so insignificant to someone you wanted so badly that it all becomes unecessarily signififcant....

Spoke to J for about an hour straight through an entire party snuck away in a corner with everyone throwing us curious looks

But I couldn't care...Here was a guy speaking to me about how pathetic it is to know someone loves you, someone you share a compatibility with so good enough that you doubt you will ever find it again. J is going through a testing time because he is in a long distance relationship and he really likes this girl but the time period and distance don't seem feasible. I told J he reminded me of someone I lost recently, lost to miles and lack of conviction. Just hearing him talk about fidelity and attachment was enough to want to encourage him to do whatever suits him for now. And that was hypocritical, because I've been the girl on the other end, had it all offered and had it all taken away because of someone being uncertain or simply not interested in seeing what they initially believed worth pursuing to it's logical end (whatever that might have been)

I heard him out , answered questions about my past, immediate and further back....and also committed myself to being his DP/ cameraperson for a pilot of an wildlife series (it never hurts to fantasize)

And as I stepped out of his car, we shook hands, agreed to do a meal and then these words tumbled out

j: "A lot of bad things happen, but life has too many beautiful things to offer. So try to remind yourself of that"

r: "Let's touch base in 5 years and then see if that's true"

And he said.......... "Knowledge is Good" :)

It's the existential debate. Art for art's sake ? On those lines...visual content for the sole purpose of entertaining the public or empowering them? Educating and enlightening them of realities they would be otherwise unaware of? I am fighting for words here, partially excited with the endorphin rush I am presently experiencing thanks to the developments of this evening and also because days like this one make me want to thank my stars (and my sister! and of course my own decision to pursue a Masters) for bringing me to Newhouse, to Syracuse University and well the US!

The Human Rights Film festival at Newhouse School opened tonight with 'The Response': a 30 minute film based on actual transcripts of trials at Guantanamo Bay. Stellar performances by all especially Asif Mandavi (from The Daily Show ) and wait for it...Peter Reigert! Now for those of you who are wondering why that actor's name is followed by an exclamation mark, Peter Reigert was one of the lead characters in the iconic film 'Animal House' (1978 directed by John Landis). If I was back in India watching this film, I perhaps wouldn't have got the cultural significances, subtle political/literary commentary and the brilliant screenwriting. I did because I watched it in Robert Thompson's 'Critical Perspectives in TV and Film' class this summer and I am so glad I HAD to take it. It opened up a whole new way of critiquing, analysing and viewing visual content like never before.

Coming back to 'The Response' (http://www.theresponsemovie.com/) and what this film aimed at doing in terms of debating the US policy ( post 9/11 suspected terrorists were denied fundamental rights of defending themselves granted to 'military' combatants under the Third Geneva Convention. I am not an expert on the subject although I did get the gist so I highly recommend looking up these on the internet). Here I am - listening to human rights advocates, activists, a Captain from JAG (NOT the TV series silly! I mean THE U.S NAVY JUDGE ADVOCATE GENERAL'S CORPS) the producer of the film - one of only three TV and Film Grad students to attend the screening and panel discussion amidst 200 other law students and I found myself thinking "Did I do the right thing by leaving Journalism and the Broadcast News industry behind? Am I deluding myself with the idea that I can tell the kind of stories that need to be told through mainstream TV and Film by walking down the path a Producer/Director/Screenwriter would take? And if I do, which way do I go? East coast Independent film/ Documentary or West Coast Development/ Feature Film and TV series?

So I wait for the panel discussion to end and I speak to Mallika Dutt to get an idea of what Breakthrough is about and if I can write to her to get a better sense of whether people like me work with Human Right advocate groups to create their visual campaigns etc. And then I contemplate approaching Reigert but I am almost too shy, so I am being egged by a friend about making 'that conversation'. I hesitate for a few moments, feel very stupid for not making the most of every opportunity I am being presented with and I act on my impulse at this very epiphany. I turn around and walk straight up to him, introduce myself and ask him for 2 minutes of his time.

That 2 minutes turned to a 25 and Mr Reigert and I spoke about Downtown NYC theatre artists vis-a-vis Hollywood actors, his experience with both New York and LA, why it would make sense to go one over another and I got a whole lot of advice I had not anticipated I would ever have heard from an actor here at Newhouse :D I am so glad I did. Thank you Mr Peter Reigert. And he was so happy to hear that atleast Jessica and I had got his joke when he started his commentary in the discussion with the one now almost iconic corny line from the opening scene of Animal House: 'Knowledge is Good'. As I shook his hand to say goodbye, I couldn't help but reiterate it.

So what did I take away from this evening, from the panel members' debate, from the movie and from my rendezvous with Peter Reigert. Well I can only do justice to that question by quoting him for somethings he said today. As an actor he would have played any one of the roles in The Response with "as much integrity" as he played his (the only Captain on the tribunal convinced that the suspect was to be absolved of all charges) Peter also said that as aspiring artists "in the end you do your job and you do it well" .

I hope to use my craft and skills in mainstream TV/Film so as to fund and create visual content on themes that need to reach a larger audience. And I intend to keep that promise regardless of what lies ahead. Sometimes it really is about "doing your work, paying your bills and then fueling your passion for the things you believe in" but most of all as Peter said, I continue to remind myself of this:

"Am I who I say I am

Or am I what I do?"

It's absolutely splendid to be back in school!

***Pachelbel Canon***

Almost three weeks ago, I was sitting under a dimly lit dome, its ceilings adorned with stain glass frescoes tinged red and black. It was my first day at Central Park West that day....and as they played Pachelbel Canon, I found myself rooted to my spot. I couldn't breathe and I wasn't aware of the 40 odd people gathered around those student musicians.......

The music rose to a crescendo and I was suddenly conscious of how much I belonged to a moment which I could not have, a moment in an alternate universe where you stood by me here at CPW on a cold Saturday evening... an evening we could have had no matter how tough the distance would have proved....perhaps if you hadn't given up and said good bye. And as goosebumps made their way onto my skin, a tear and then more rolled down my cheek. You were miles away so I took out my phone to just have you share that moment with me. It didn't matter that you didn't see this work ...it didn't matter

But I made that call half-way through and put my cell phone away......not knowing if you would understand or even try to.....

At times like these...

At times like these, the need to call you is the most,

Not for assurances or re-assurances

Of questions from my end to you

Asking why we couldn't be

Just to share yet another eventful day or the most

To hear your silly joke or curious question in the end

To know you get it and if you don't

You'd stop me and ask and nod and smile

At times like these the need to call you is the most,

When I have no one but myself to speak to

To muse at what I have seen and understand how it will change me

Just having you hear the same makes it more significant

For your companionship and wise words

Not for sweet nothings, they were not you

For your silent chuckles and heart warming smile

That made me want to dissolve the virtual space between us

And sit beside you ....miles away

At times like these the need to call you is the most,

And yet I hold myself back not knowing whether you feel the same anymore

Shabbat & Full Moon

This weekend was quite unique. I had the opportunity of being a part of two very different cultural and gastronomic events. Friday evening was spent at J's place. She and her landlady (also her roommate) invited me over for a 'shabbat' meal. In Judaism, shabbat is the seventh day of the Jewish week and is a day of rest wherein the family congregates together eating three special meals. Also, it is a time when the Jewish community contemplate the spiritual aspect of lie often atoning for mistakes made over the year. J is one of the most wonderful and extremely intelligent women I have met and I doubt I will meet more like her. Sometimes you meet women who are so effervescent, charismatic, funny, caring and the easiest to get along with and you almost wonder why you can't just have a guy version of her :P I know two women I would very much like to meet. More on that later. Anyways, going back to the shabbat meal, we had squash soup, cauliflower gratin, a salad with roman lettuce, tomatoes, blue cheese and balsamic vinegar (I'm hooked on to this thing) and khallah, the traditional bread which J baked herself. Knowing J, she always sets herself apart in some way so she baked the bread in a way that the inside was semi gooey...really nice :). There were 6 of us and we sat around the table, lit up with the candles (which are supposed to burn all night) rounded up with rosemary liek laurels resting around those candlestands. J and her roomie then took the candles to her forehead and what they sang next, rather the way they sang their prayers gave me goosebumps:

"Baruch ata adonai

Eloheinu melech ha'olam

Hamotzi lechem min ha'aretz"

That was just one part of the bread blessing....I think :)

Here's what it means and it's beautiful in its simplicity:

"Blessed are you O lord our God

King of the Universe

For giving us bread from the earth"

And we held the bread together and broke it after saying one more prayer (garrrh I should have taken a camera) and we blessed our wine and drunk it :)

So much conversation ensued I don't even remember the details. We spoke about our eccentricities as children and our parents and how much we love them. I asked about the NRA because H has a pistol at home and that just made me feel a bit queasy. It was interesting to listen to H's explanation about essentially "having the ability to protect oneself from one;s government if turned tyrannical. What would we socialists do?!!!!" hmmmmm

C spoke about different things, how he wants to have kids someday (that's the first American guy in my peer group I've heard wanting to settle down) and then trailed off for a bit ending on an ex girlfriend in Brooklyn and why it didn't work although she was great.......'the distance' he said and left me to pour some more wine and sink into mellowness. C was a journalist for the US millitary for 5 years before having to resign because of epileptic fits. He is the funniest I've met on campus so far and extremely talented. Hoping to cast him as John for the short film that my team directs this semester. Dropping me off he said "Well we all have the same concerns Ronnie regardless of which country we are in...we'll talk about this over more wine?" I smiled and agreed trying to hide my sadness about what he earlier said about distances by looking out of the window. Finally getting out, C called out to me just as i was walking away. He had his classic Woody Allen-ish horn-rimmed mega spectacles half-way down on his nose (which his colleagues apparently dubbed as the birth-control glass because it would never get him laid) and said 'hay hay' in the very goofy naughty way. These are my friends and I am grateful for always finding the most unique lot of them wherever I go.

Today, I was couped up in my room all day long, having 'Ramen' noodles for dinner and tring my very best to finish my auto-ethnography assignment in between fooling around my blogpost's weird kitschy purple new template. I had decided not to attend an Indian get together down the street "There will be a DJ!" read the facebook invite. And just generally shaking off clammy mellowness I tried focussing on my screen. Qi-bi called me out to the dining space and the table was laid out with a grill and fancy food. turns out today is the chinese Moon Festival, and it's marked by the family gathering together to eat a good meal. So I sat there with 5 Chinese students (Qi and Janey are from NYC) trying to understand the relevance of this festival, what the meat was marinated in, making jokes about how hopeless I was with chopsticks and nibbling away at the fantastic beef, tofu, chicken and prawns. Turns out American kids learn about Hindu gods in their curriculum. Janey was telling me more about Shiva than I knew! 2 hours later and a lot of meat and prawns down, Qi brought out 'ice wine' and we were all quizzed. I also had chinese 'moon cakes' and they were splendid. These are made from thick lotus seed paste that's surrounded by a relatively thinner layer and the centre of the cake is salted yolk from duck eggs.

Food for thought followed. Janey asked me and Qi whether we would date men who were shorter than us or younger. I said I could settle for someone slightly younger and Tink her friend did his best to convince me that "you should never date a guy who is younger to you because he will be emotionally stunted" ....hmmmm. The guys said they would not mind dating women who were taller to them :D That's a refreshing one. Wonder what they would have to say about older women ;)

Syracuse is getting colder after getting intermittently warm and damp. And I can feel the weather affecting my chain of thoughts. I feel it when I wake up in my bed and see the grey sky outside, I feel it when I go to my cold bed alone everynight, I feel it when I walk to school letting the draft make me shiver taking off my cap so I get used to this and I feel it when it rains and I can hear the cars 'ssssssshhhh' through the wet roads beneath my window. Coming to the US has definitely been more than what I expected from my campus life....even if the last month has been an unexpected low....there are just 8 months left to my academic life and I can only hope I'll do justice to all those 32 weeks..........only 32 weeks