Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Being Ten Again

Last week, when my roommate went home to Bombay for a week, I didn't quite like the idea of staying all alone on the 3rd floor of the girls hostel. I had gone home the previous weekend, so there wasn't much for me to do in a hostel half empty and extremely depressing. I decided to bunk in with two of my friends, Kaavya and Sandra on the 5th floor. It was like being at one of those girly pre-teen sleepovers, where Kaavya and I discussed a lot of our artistic interests. I was pleasantly surprised when I discovered that we shared the same taste in English literature, and more so, Japanese anime.

I absolutely LOVE Japanese anime. Especially Cardcaptor Sakura. Big fan of that show. Last semester, whenever I felt depressed, or just sick of being an adult, I started seeing old episodes of the show and it made me feel (atleast for a little while) happy and free because I felt as if I was a ten year old again. Anyway, Kaavya tells me about some pretty awesome anime fan fiction online, and in two days I was completely hooked on to the numerous chapters on fan fiction. I had nothing else to do, except freak out at the sight disgustingly obese lizards in my room and attempt at chasing them OUT of my room, in vain.

Doesn't it feel good to be a kid again, even if is for a little while? I mean, we have our whole lives to be adults right? Sometimes, I feel my childhood was cut short in a lot of ways, maybe that was for the best. But, what makes me feel better is that can always revisit it during times like these.

P.S.- I really go all "Awwwww" at the Sakura and Li moments.

P.S 2- The author of the fan fiction, Wish-chan, deserves a big thumps up for her fan fiction. :)

If you're ALSO a fan of Cardcaptors and want to read some pretty awesome fanfiction- http://www.wishluv.revolutionhosting.net/newtrials.htm

Sunday, August 12, 2012

The Change in the Game Part III / My Leila

"One is not born a woman, but becomes one."
- Simone de Beauvoir

I cannot help but agree with one of the most well known feminists of the 20th century. In this post, I shall tell you the story of a woman I know. A woman who inspires me every day, and pushes me to do better every minute of my time. Her name is Leila.

Leila's mother never wanted a daughter. She was typical of the narrow minded 1950s Indian mindset where boys were the be all and end all of all forms of family wealth. So obviously, when Leila was born, she was disappointed. Leila was smarter than most kids at school, and even though the family had to move all over the country, she would quickly adapt herself to the new ways of her ever changing life. Leila knew she was smart, and put her best use to her brains. She knew her mother would never understand. That she, she could do as well as her brothers. Maybe better. Much better.

By the time she was 23, Leila had 3 degrees to her credit and her parents were finding it hard to find a suitable match for her. No. She wouldn't marry a man who was going to use her as a maidservant. Never. Would she ever find such a man? She did. And the minute she did, she married him. It was 1982, and men who were liberal and encouraged their wives and sisters to study were rare. She knew Ram was a liberal, and her next 6 degrees were credited to him. Together they lived their life, studying and looking after their wonderful dogs, doing what they do best.

Leila inspires me because she never gave up hope, or strength. She never said no when most people said she was gone and done. She always proved them wrong. The troubles she faced, she faced. There were no two ways about it. This is what makes a woman, her life. Not her birth.

Here's to our unique identity. 

Saturday, August 11, 2012

For the love of filter kaapi

I'm kind of hopeless sometimes. Well, even more than hopeless. After an entire year at law school, I still feel homesick sometimes. (For the love of filter coffee.) I wonder if it's okay to feel homesick at times, even after the entire "oh, I've left home. I'm an adult now and I live off suitcases" life status.
Last week, I read Roshi Fernando's "Homesick". I have to admit, a delightful insight into the lives of Sri Lankan immigrants in the UK. Yet, hanging in the entire spirit of the book was the feeling of homesickness. To be back in Sri Lanka. And do Sri Lankan things. The way Sri Lankans do it.

Wherever you are, for however long, there's still that panging feeling in your heart which will only go away when you're-inevitably-home. Home is not a place where you've always been happy, necessarily. It's the place where your heart has witnesses both heaviness and light-heartedness. The place, where you will always find, assurance and support. And Hope. It's a safe place. For the risk of sounding cliched, home is where the heart is. I'm sitting in an ordinary room on an ordinary bed. The walls around me are pale blue, not very different from my room  in the lizard infested fungus ridden hostel room back in Calcutta. Yet, it's safer, somehow. (And, it's not because of the brilliant weather outside).

It's perfectly normal to feel homesick. To yearn for good food, good weather or just your bed. (which might be as ordinary as any other bed, but it's still YOUR bed). Or, to just get off Potato for a few days. That's what makes coming back home all the more awesome and worthwhile. Because that's how it will be from now on. Come back home to be that incorrigible child for a little while and then get back to "I'm an adult and I'm responsible." But for those days back home, just be the annoying little kid your mother always complained about. (Believe me, she secretly likes it, and misses it too)

And, don't punish yourself by making that a by 2 coffee. Drink it full. For the love of filter kaapi. 

Monday, August 6, 2012

Sophomore Year Series

I'm still not used to being a "Second Year" at law school. Notice how I say second year in quotes. Sure, it's nice not to be at the bottom of the hierarchy for once, but I've got to admit, I had it pretty easy last year. (Save for a horrendous contracts course, and grades.)
GRADES! How can I forget about grades! I love grades, especially ones which begin with an "A". (Or here, an "E") 2nd semester into law school. No E's. And I thought I was smart. Am I really? Or not. Is it because I'm so used to doing well in school that now I'm just bogged down by this huge competition suffocating me from all sides? It's not that I'm failing, but I just don't like being mediocre. I hate to admit it, it might also be the fact that I don't like the idea of some of my friends doing better than me. Sort of a flawed superior complex, I must say. I know I'm not one of the best, yet I want to prove that I am  to them so badly.

I've become a CV building bitch. No, whore. CV building bitch-whore sounds more accurate. It's sort of depressing. Yet, I want to be depressed and go ahead and build that CV anyway.

Let's see where this year takes me. And you, if you're reading.