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Fix whom.

All of us love Fix You by Coldplay. It’s my go-to song when life gets a tad bit overwhelming like when your seniors (who’ve become as close as siblings) leave college, you make your crush get back to his ex, lose your cool at the wrong people, fight with your best friend, miss your parents, get hurt, breakdown and my list is endless.
You must know by now that Chris wrote it for Gwyneth when her Dad passed away and she held onto him for dear life, in pain and asked him to fix her.

But today is not about getting fixed. I could write a book about it. And in that 60% would be dedicated to both my parents who are experts at that stuff. Any my sisters, Rhea & Rhea.

(Note: Right now one of them is playing a movie version of Tum Ho Toh by Farhan Akhtar and we are singing along)

Today is about FIXING PEOPLE. Somehow we all feel that we have this inherent gift of knowing exactly what a person needs. We may or may not know them too well but we are ready to suggest things to them in a jiffy. Hey Bobby, don’t smoke so much and have breakfast ; Hey you, stop making so much never-going-to-get-published art and work on your course book; hey stop dreaming about NYC and study for GRE: hey stop dating that Fauji and think of your own profession; hey stop drinking every damned weekend; hey don’t wear that shit : you look like our Mother (aka Kurta with Shoes, no eyeliner on dull days etc) …

Maybe you’re wrong. Wait, you’re most likely wrong. I’ve done it, too. Probably still do it to some close friends because what, I’m better than them? Just because I don’t drink I can’t tell my buddy to stop. Hell, I don’t even know what it means to him or her. We keep trying to fix people and their habits , all in good thought but maybe we’re not helping them. Maybe we are interfering with something else. It’s okay to make sure they don’t fall off the ledge but constantly buzzing them with advice is just reinforcing the fact that they need help , in their head. NOT something they need.

Help… but give them some space to breathe, grow and learn from mistakes. Don’t be the doting Mother Bear all the time.

Ah well, why? Because I caught myself doing the same last night and I realised why I’m wrong and that I can’t make any real difference by doing that.

Love people for who they are. Not what you want them to be.

Happy Sunday folks.Arundhati Roy is still sitting on my drafting table : half read and beautiful.

Sunday Serve

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The Classmates. L-R: Myself, Jois, Hrishi and Priyo

This officially marks that its been two weeks since Joining Date. The rooms are set, more or less and we’re getting used to the week’s grind of Design, Urban Planning, Landscape and Interior design plus the electives. Some major work this semester because we are in the final semesters of Collegiate education. Next year is all practical-real-time work . There are other things like laundry and maintenance that also need your attention unless you like living like Shrek, that is. Entertainment comes in diluted forms of watching movies (Malayalam being my Choice of The Month) or just talking to friends sitting on stairs. Whatsapp consumes far too much time than I can spare. Hostel lunch during the weekends suck but the rare weekday lunch of ladies fingers and potatoes and the Friday idli-vada-sambhar comfort us enough to let the issue go. 

Just last Sunday we were all celebrating my classmate’s birthday in CCD and then we drove up to DD Hills which was a blissful experience. We sat there on huge boulders until the sun set, the clouds rolled by drizzling on us and the stars came up. We had tea in a stall while driving down; dinner at a famous restaurant in Khyatsandra before getting dropped at the Hostel almost at Curfew hour. I can’t believe its been a week, since that.

I simply don’t understand how Sunday rushed by. I remember waking up at around 5AM, thanks to mosquitoes (someone left the door open the previous evening) and replying to some message. I thought I’ll just sleep a little bit more and suddenly its 8:41AM and we rush for breakfast.

I spoke to The Parents and read a few blog posts by friends listening to Teena Marie…and suddenly my classmate enters and she’s like, ‘Let’s go for lunch.’ Its 12:27. Though yes, I got to read some great blogs. Today I focused on Ex-army and Fauji wives’ tales : Aditi Mathur and Vikram Karve Sir. And of course, Farooq-Sreesha-Shyvish and my other Indiblogger mates’ blogs. I honestly wish I read more. Arundhati Roy is staring at me from my table, ‘You use my cover as background for new ear-rings for Instagram but you can’t read a dozen pages a day from me!’

The iPod is charged so say hello to songs from the yester-years of my life. I can’t get over The Science of Sleep’s haunting background score.

I mean, are you KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW? We get one day to recoop and even that goes by so quick. I’m already worried about pending assignments and submissions. Saavu addikeraanga pa! I just pat myself for being alive. Oh and did I tell you, I still have a bit of laundry left and there’s oil in my hair that needs washing off? Oh and we have some NASA work to tend to, too. Oh and did I tell you I was writing poetry until 2AM. What is up with me?

Hoping we get things done on time. I’ve still not watched Irrfan Khan’s AIB video that’s making the rounds.

ANYWAY. Hope you had a great week. And will have a nice one, too. Send some love. I could really do with oodles of it.

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Fakir Palya : A Squatter Settlement

In a world where streets

are extensions of homes

and windows are merely 

punched into walls;

Where wealth is a meal

and warmth to share

and health is escaping 

dengue and death, itself;

Where they burn old planks

to boil cheap broken-rice grains

and their entire lifetime

fits in a carton box;

Where marriages are fixed not

by love or tradition

but by the needs of the 

owners of livelihoods;

Where kids play in 

the sand that their

parents build houses with,

in unpalatable haste;

And school is an abstract

idea of keeping kids busy;

Where streets are front yards

and backyards and entertainment.

And tiny boxes are living rooms;

Where dreams are seen, love is made

and so is food and violence between

short spells of sweaty sleep;

Where people bathe upon the drains

because pipes are too expensive

and kids are washed away in drains

when the rains are excessive;

Where money is made on daily wages

and the threat of displacement and

poverty wakes them from their

light slumber: a predicament;

Such is the land where I see

children filling coins in plastic jars

Dreaming of owning cycles

pedaling them to Schools

Where women laugh despite

the scars they hide.

And men buy kids scrap

toys and things to play with

despite their bones

sticking out through their hide.

Each hut here is the same

Single rooms and leaky-roofs.

But everyone has a story.

A beginning and an end.

Architect Sangeet Sharma in his book ‘Architecture, Life and Me’ writes: “Buildings must have a silent narrator. They must hold your hand and take you along the journey while narrating all those violent flushes of the heart that made the architecture of that building come alive. I do not build to exemplify the philosophy of my life and I am not on the path to prove myself; I am here to please myself. I leave a silent narrator on my buildings so that he does the talking, and works as a mute guide. While I, the architect, will slowly be shunted into oblivion… until the user of the space is compelled to inquire about its architect, the endeavour is incomplete.”

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#OneThingForLove

Behind the humour,
She hides her fear
Of sending her daughter away.

Times have turned
Distance into a morphed
Fearful deity no one controls.

But let go she must
As a dream has to be fulfilled.
Half-heartedly if need be.

She masks her concern
And turns it into a smile.
Blotting out my pain.

If I could make this parting
Less painful and come home often
I’d be able to do that One Thing For Love.

PS: A quick poem for Mum as tomorrow I leave for Bengaluru. And thus ends Shreya Sudesh’s last College Summer Vacation.

The love of a daughter towards her Mother who unconditionally exists for her children.

#OneThingForLove

Behind the humour,
She hides her fear
Of sending her daughter away.

Times have turned
Distance into a morphed
Fearful deity no one controls.

But let go she must
As a dream has to be fulfilled.
Half-heartedly if need be.

She masks her concern
And turns it into a smile.
Blotting out my pain.

If I could make this parting
Less painful and come home often
I’d be able to do that One Thing For Love.

PS: A quick poem for Mum as tomorrow I leave for Bengaluru. And thus ends Shreya Sudesh’s last College Summer Vacation.

The love of a daughter towards her Mother who unconditionally exists for her children.

Chocolate Day?

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Hellogiggles sent me a Happy World Chocolate Day email at around 2:38 AM so I’m not sure whether it was/ is still going on in my side of the planet. Anyway, Mum baked the yummiest chocolate cake ever in the morning before we woke up (because she kept promising she’ll bake it since the past few days) And that was breakfast was Rhea because she had 2 pieces while I allowed myself one. Because I had oats waiting and a cup of green tea. See, I’m eating healthy! At least for breakfast.

Then, yesterday was an amazingly lazy day until Rhea came back and we zoomed off in the scooty (with the helmet, mind you) and went to four different super markets to hunt for things that they each sell separately. And finally we ended up almost finishing my holiday budget (which is a tiny yet good sum) in ONE go. I’m praying for a reimbursement. Let’s see (I’ve even kept the bills safely).

My loooong stack of books look at me from across the living room with those shreks-puss-in-boots’ eyes. And I have like two weeks of vacation in which I have planned a lot. So.

Urban Tree is organising a Blogger’s Meet on the eleventh of this month and I got an invite yesterday. I’m hoping bloggers turn up because otherwise I’d be a tad bit disappointed (unless they give me one of the five blogging awards). I’m going to miss my blogging buddies Sarabjeet, Sreesha and Farooq (all of whom you can find on my twitter list) amongst other blogger pals I’ve made via IndiBlogger .

The maids in our house are a little um I don’t have a word. One uses the radio like she owns this place. On full volume that too even if I’m on the phone. I understand they like it and I’m grateful for her affection but. Just but.

I just put a full stop after but. Grammar Nazis burn. I used to belong to that clan until I realised I’m not proficient enough to judge anyone else.

What else?
Excited about HOARDING up college supplies.Taking my scooty to college town this semester on the STRICT CONDITION that I entertain 0 pillion riders. Unless it’s a medical emergency, of course. It’s gonna be tough saying no. But I’m that sour grape when I need to be. We basically live along a Highway in Tumkur so my folks don’t want me to take responsibility of that kind. Let’s see.

I’m ending too many statements with “Let’s see” . This cannot be too good.

Ramadan season is on and all my buddies keep posting lovely Sehri-Iftar pictures and I just want to go to Hyderabad for all its worth.

I’m yet to watch Sweeney Todd. And Im going to watch Papanasam (Tamil movie) starring Uzhaganayagan Kamal Hassan soon which is a remake of a malayam movie Drishyam starring Lalettan.Its a very nice story and I urge you all to watch it (with subtitles if you don’t understand the southern tongues).

I hope you’ve been having a great summer (or whatever season’s on in your part of the country) because I have haha!

Oh oh and Catch Modern Family on Star World especially if you miss Kiddo Manny and Luke because they are airing Season 1 where they’re so adorable.

Lots of love
S

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