Tuesday, December 14, 2010

I don't think I'm that hot on getting away any more, you know why because you know what I'm going to say next. Everyone that I have ever loved, everyone is getting old. You go go, and you don't come back. You go go, and you don't come back. Can't get this out of my head now.

Winamp's on rabid shuffle. I've had a holiday without music, my music I mean. Apart from humming absently while doing stupid things like brushing my teeth (a habit I've picked up from my mother, I've realised) the only other song I heard that I can remember is an anthem going Jaya Karnataka Maate that a group of kids at a school in Kakkabe were singing. They'd probably think otherwise, or not think about it at all, but it made me feel cheated anyway, I'd like to be going to school on a mountain. Blame it on the Chalet School, which I loved only because of where it was, and Ranikhet and Rishap and this little building under Tadiyendamol, the things I could do with my life if I had a schooling under the sky.

On the train back from Bangalore I heard a kid declaim about the pubs there - clean ladies loos, smoking sections, ittis really awesome da. I could only concur. This kid, incidentally, was part of an entire panoply of college students who decided to spend most of the 29 hours hogging every charger outlet to either watch movies or transfer them. Walking from berth to loo I catch on glowing laptop screens glimpses of The Lion King, Big Bang Theory, Serendipity, Karthik Calling Karthik, and, inexplicably, Crossroads. Inception jaisa koi action film hai kya? Arre Se7en dekh. Mast hai. Magar woh waisa toh nahin hoga na, matlab gripping types chahiye. Arre Se7en dekh. Bahhhuut dangerous hai.

This is a mostly desultory post because I'm writing desultorily. My keyboard's grown stiffer. What I mean is I need to hit every key forcefully and sometimes vengefully and it's not conducive to gushing. Going elsewhere always does me good if it's not too many people and I can walk around a lot, Coorg's ideal for that if you consider lines like the woodland spring has put the darkness from your thinking, something that just came up now. It's a pretty effective analogy but I really should stop trying to write with music playing, I inevitably end up thinking via lyrics.

Most of the time I'm a quieter person when I'm travelling. I don't speak unless spoken to and I'd much rather not hobnob with other people at the dining room, chewing and watching is pretty much my game. I was rude to this gentleman during teatime because he was annoying the fuck out of me by describing the trek he'd undertaken that morning. I could tell my father was secretly pleased, but then he holds that Bloody Proselytizers deserve all the discomfort that comes their way. That is, by the way, a category. My father does not like missionaries. That is, of course, not why I was rude to him. Another thing that made my trip, reading alone. Having people come up and declare that they've just finished reading x by y then look around hoping to find someone else who's read it and will discuss it, it's taking a toll on my wellbeing. I could attribute it to a lot of other things too but being a literature student, I've realised, has come close to screwing with my happiness most of the time. That's not to say I won't survive it :)

Now for the sea.

3 comments:

rorschach said...

aah, you go go don't mean you never come back. you go go, and come back when you want.

also everyone is growing old. you too.

Antara said...

Sometimes it seems like we were born as old souls.

The sea would be wonderful.

Priyanka said...

@ rorschach: I don't grow old, no, I wasn't born young =)

@ antara: It would, it would.