Something has got to give

Its been months since I have written anything, honestly its been some time since I felt like doing anything at all. I am always sleepy. I am spending more time on social media than I probably ever did. I am barely keeping in touch with my friends, heck my own brother. I am scarcely exercising. I am barely reading. I haven’t touched my paints in I think 3 months now. I haven’t written a blog in god knows how long. The only thing I am doing is eating, correction, hogging and of course sleeping. It’s like someone has taken the wind out of my sails.

Last year was great, professionally, personally, in every sense. This year, nothing seems to be clicking. It feels like no matter what I do I am not getting anywhere, not getting anything done. It feels like I have nothing to show for this year. You know the hamster that runs of that silly wheel without a purpose; yes that’s me right now. It seems like I have lost my purpose. Like I no longer have my eyes set on the goal. Heck, I don’t think I know what the goal is anymore!

Has it been a bad year, I don’t think so. Yes sure I broke up with the guy I was dating, I didn’t get the promotion I knew I wasn’t ready for but would have loved anyways, I have done decent work, nothing great but haven’t made mistakes either. But I don’t know what it is; I just can’t seem to shake the funk. Maybe it’s time for a change, maybe a job change, or another guy, or even some weight loss (which I am putting back on). I don’t know, I just hope I figure it out soon. Actually I am going on vacation next week (a whole 8 days!!!!), so hopefully it will be just what I need. I better, because I don’t know whats wrong, just that something has got to give.

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Memories

It’s been too long, but things have been hectic. So many times I thought of writing something but nothing felt like worth it. Today finally its desperation that is making me write this. Have you ever been just going about your merry way and then Wham! Out of the blue something hits you so strongly. Your emotions go haywire, brain stops responding. Your body freezes, senses stop working. Ya… and the worst part, this happened to me because of the most ridiculous reason.

I was walking home from work today, and out of nowhere, over my headphones I heard a bark. Call me crazy but it was as if the dog was calling out to me. I stopped turned around. I didn’t even make a sound, but that dog ran out to me. He was so happy… he was so happy…. He kept licking me, biting gently as if unable to contain his joy. And what did I do… I froze. All I could remember was Buddy. I don’t know why, but it was as if every fibre of my body accepted that this was my Buddy.

Why, I mean why, he didn’t look anything like my Buddy. And most importantly my Buddy is dead, I know that, heck I buried him myself. I know it wasn’t him! So why did could I not shake of the feeling.

I forced myself to walk away. I walked away!!!!! Literally dragging my feet away. Why you ask, because my mother wouldn’t allow us to keep another dog. That’s it, that’s the reason I fucking walked away.

He followed of course, happy to be trotting next to me, running ahead a little bit, sniffing in random places. He stayed within a few feet of me. All the while walking those few feet home, I couldn’t think straight, heck I can’t think straight now. I just kept hoping he would try to follow me inside our society compound. I prayed he would. I don’t know why, in some twisted logic, if he tried following me home he was my Buddy. I mean I know it’s ridiculous, he is not my Baby, but I don’t know why even after five years, the instinct came so naturally. I don’t know whether to be relieved or upset that he didn’t even pause. He just trotted back to his place.

He trotted back happily but I…… I don’t even know what I am feeling. I thought I was over this, I thought I had made peace with Buddy’s death a couple of years ago. But all those memories came rushing back today and I am barely keeping my head over the water.

The Thrill of watching an airplane fly

I don’t even remember the last time I posted anything, apologies up front for that. My personal life has been a little to entertaining of late, some good some bad. One of my good friends got married, and one is about to, I made some new friends, got my heart broken, assisted my brother in figuring out his next career move, closed two super big projects (I am personally proud of my performance on those), struggled with my parent’s health etc. etc. that’s life for you, and honestly, I love it. However, all this excitement also made me a little reflective, as it usually does.

As probably everyone knows by now, I travel, a lot. If you ask me, one of the things I absolutely love about travel is the taking off and landing of an air plane. Whenever I leave Delhi, on my way to the destination, the initial thrust of the take-off serves as a snooze for me- somehow it always manages to put me to sleep. Except today, I am writing this mid-flight (I just haven’t felt like writing at any other time), though I have a feeling the triple shot cappuccino has a role to play in that. But yes, back to the point, the take-off serves as a snooze alarm, the landing serves as the gun shot in a race- ready set go. That’s when Akshita the Consultant comes out to play, and Tanu, the over grown child gets put away. When taking off from Delhi I was always love looking at the city and trying to find my home- I usually can see it pretty clearly and for some reason it reassures me.

While coming back, it’s a slightly different experience. While taking off from the city, I like looking at the city- a fond good bye (well 90% of the times it is fond) and a thank you for the memories. The thrust at this time serves as the finish line- Akshita the Consultant usually goes for a break at this time. However, the best feeling in the world- touching down in Delhi. Somehow it always fills me with a sense of peace, of homecoming – and I instantly feel tired. People say you get this kind of feeling when you return home to your mother and allow her to take care of you. For all of its fault- Delhi has always been my home and always fills me with the same sense of comfort that my home does. Of course, that’s only till I hit the roads and the inevitable traffic jams.

However, the other day, I passed the airport on my way to work, and noticed something I learned to tune out as a kid- numerous people standing by the main road, waiting to watch an air plane take off. That got me thinking, they were all adults and had undoubtedly seen numerous planes in their life time,, so why stop. Why wait- sometimes as long as 30 minutes, just to see a flight take off. What is it that makes us want to show this spectacle to our kids. That is one of my fondest memories- sitting on the roof of my car, or my dad’s shoulders watching the magic of physics play out.

Is it just that – the thrill of physics? Or is it imagining yourself in one of them? Imagining what it feels like to experience it from the inside? Or maybe they are remembering their childhood memories- reliving the good ones, just like me. Or is it more philosophical? The reaffirming of the faith that we Humans; are the masters of innovation. That there is next to little that we can’t achieve if we really put our minds to it? Is it the manifestation of the whole idiom of try and try till you succeed? Though I doubt people are really thinking of the Wright brothers and other’s struggle to come up with the flying machine. Or is it the feeling of freedom, of an escape from reality and the mundane problems, while fighting everything stopping us and moving against us?

I suppose each of those people stopping there have their own reasons and it could be any or neither of the ones I thought off. I just know one thing, even after more than 100 flights in my own lifetime; I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the spectacle. When the front wheels left the ground, I had an unexplainable feeling of satisfaction. 

So here is to freedom, to having enough thrust and power within us, to defeat the odds. To overcome the hurdles life sets in front us. Leaving behind every naysayers- everyone who said (or says) you can’t do it, of conquering each and everys fear and leaving behind obstacles in a blaze of fire (Ok fine, air planes don’t have fire coming out of them in normal circumstances, but you get the meaning). Here is to each and every one of us being our own air planes.

When I travel….

Each site visit is different; each travel is a story that deserves to be told. Some for the fun, some for adventure, some for the life altering experiences they are, some for the sadness and loneliness they bring. No matter what, each story deserves to be told. As I sit in the Mumbai airport, waiting to go home, there is a sense of Melancholy.

 The last 10 days in the city have almost flown by. Mumbai is one of the cities I love coming to. I have friends here, some at work and some outside and they always try to make me feel welcome. My mother once accused me of using my travel to escape, escape my family. I forgave her a long time ago, but those words still sting. I agree at some level travel is a much-needed escape, and I understand why she, who doesn’t have to, would resent my travel.

 But see the thing is, my mother hears my stories, hears of the fun I have. What she doesn’t hear, what she will never know, is the times, when I have been lonely in a hotel room without anyone to talk to, when I can’t sleep because the bed isn’t my bed. She will never know of the times it felt weird because the toothbrush I used wasn’t my usual one (I have a separate one for my travel kit), where my towel didn’t feel the same. She won’t know of the times when I had no hot water, but still took a bath, because I stunk. She won’t know of the times when I got acidity burns because of the food I had to eat for days on end, or when I almost threw up because I was so repulsed by it. My brother will never know how many times I think of him. How many times I crack a joke that no one’s get, no one will get but him. They won’t know how many times I have been scared out of my mind because I can’t get through to them. How scared I was when I was held captive by some local villagers or when I was almost arrested in a foreign country for no fault of ours.

 My home is troubled, yes, but my family is my safety net, and when I travel, when I am on site, I don’t have that.

 

Most Memorable Field Visits: Amlapuram

We were having a discussion in office the other day about our favourite sites to work on. That basically got me thinking and motivated me to start penning (or blogging, whatever) my all time favourite site visits. In the past I have usually blogged about current site visits. However, this series will be completely a trip down memory lane.

The first site visit that comes to my mind, is Amlapuram. Amlapuram is a small coastal town in Andhra Pradesh, known for its oil and gas industries and made popular by a Bollywood song. That is all I knew of the place when I was told I had to go do a project there. The site visit was for an expansion of an existing project and was in a remote corner of the town, far cut off from population. While now I remember the project with fondness, it was one of the worst site visits I have ever undertaken.

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Let me try and paint you a picture. The town was so small, that it had no hotels, just one lodge. The lodge thankfully had clean rooms, but no restaurant/kitchen. We had to order food from a nearby restaurant. That restaurant had a five page menu, boasting of dishes from north India, south India and Chinese! However, no matter what we ordered, even Chinese, it was always the same curry. The only way we could tell Chinese apart from Indian was because for Chinese, they used diced vegetables ! We landed up eating biryani  for seven days. It was thankfully quite delicious.

We would daily drive out of the town for about 2 hours, to our site and do our work. This was such a remote location that there was no source of food. If we wanted lunch, we would have to drive back to town. Also, the restaurant did not have a facility for packing us lunches. So basically we had the following options: a. no lunch, b. have lunch in town but lose an additional 4 hours a day just travelling, c. eat bananas for lunch. Guess which option we chose? yup, every day we would buy a big bunch of local bananas and a bottle of Mazza (a mango drink), in the morning, and that would be our lunch. This continued for seven days.

On top of that, we were in a coastal town, in summers. This meant that the average temperature was 50 degrees Celsius (122 Fahrenheit) and humidity was over 80%, no matter what time of day. Basically what this meant was that by the end of the first day, we were already tanned and I looked as if someone had tried to write braille on my face.

The next issue we faced was language. Our Telegu (local language of Andhra Pradesh) speaking colleagues were all unavailable for this site work. So the team was comprised of people who spoke Hindi and English. Which is usually fine, except for no one, not one soul, seemed to understand either languages! not even our drivers. Though thankfully they understood the words ‘go’ and ‘stop’, but that was it! we eventually had to resort to hand gestures to communicate. Try finding directions to a government department or locating a person’s residence without knowing the language, its really fun. Not.

But then why is this trip one of my most memorable trips? All because of one day. Towards the end of our visit, it turns out was the Telegu new year. What this meant was that we couldn’t get any work done that day, since no one was available. So we decided to spend the day on the beach, with our biodiversity expert, helping him identify the biodiversity along the shore. Basically what that meant was that I spent a day collecting sea shells and watching crabs fool around. The beach was completely deserted and it was just us three for over 5 hours! Heaven!

 

After this amazingly peaceful day, we headed back, in search of proper food for a change. On our way up to the city, we noticed a small room (it was literally a room) tucked away in a corner by the road, completely obscured by the vegetation around it. But the board outside it indicated that there was food to be had. So we stopped and asked (again by hand gestures) if they had any food we could eat. Lo and behold! This small little place, with a capacity of seating six people, was serving the traditional new year’s feast! Sadly I don’t have a photograph of that. But it was by far the most amazing meal I had had in God know’s how long. Simply cooked, served on a banana leaf, the food was amazing in the affection put it into it, which in my opinion always translates into taste. more than 3.5 years down the line, when I think of that afternoon and that food, I can’t help but smile.

So yes, Amlapuram is definitely one of my favourite site visits ever.

I woke up today with a smile

 

I woke up today with a smile;

Well rested, happy to be alive;

I have come a long way from where I began;

A long way since when I first ran;

 

I have shed some of my self- doubt, jealousy and hate;

Along with a lot of my weight;

I let go of some of my baggage;

Let go of stuff that was doing damage;

 

They say this is me growing up;

That I have finally wizened up;

All I know is that I am happier than I have ever been;

I am finally comfortable in my own skin;

 

Make no mistake; the scars are still there;

They will always be my burdens to bear;

But, today I smile and laugh as I please;

Today my heart is genuinely at peace;

 

A day may come when the doubts return;

When I once again feel that familiar burn;

But that day I will not cringe and retreat in fright;

Instead, I promise to stand tall and fight.

 -by:

Akshita Misra

 

Hunger Games: the Modern Day Gladiator Games

Disclaimer: Once again, this is something I have been sitting on for some time now, but just couldn’t find time to complete the draft. However, unfortunately in this long wait, I have managed to lose all the references I had used. Thus please keep in mind that most of what is presented here is not unique or original.

The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins is definitely a series that has captured the imagination of many around the world. I finally got around to reading it last year, and absolutely refused to watch the movies (I didn’t hear glowing reviews and did not want to spoil the mental imagery I had). Since then I have thought a lot about the universe Suzanne Collins set up and realised the very obvious connection the hunger games had with Rome and the Gladiator Games.

The gladiator games were formulated basically as a means of sacrificing prisoners of war through a “burial of a warrior”. The first recorded gladiator fight in Rome is reported to have been held in 264 BC in the honour of the deceased Junius Brutus. As part of that fight, three pairs of slaves had fought each other. These slaves were called “Bustuarii” which is derived from the latin expression “Bustum” which means ‘tomb’ or ‘funeral pyre’. It is reported that these Bustuarii were armed with a rectangular shield, a short sword, a helmet and greaves. The popularity of these games eventually led them to becoming a secular sport.

Some connections between the hunger games and roman gladiator games are pretty obvious, such as the use of names from Ancient Rome including Cato, Portia, Octavia, Flavia and of course, Cinna. Cinna is the name of two guys who are reported to have had connections to Julius Caesar. One was a politician involved in the assassination plot against Caesar and the other was a poet who was murdered following the assassination, after having been mistaken for the other one. Suzanne Collins is also reported to have said that Panem was supposed to be like ancient Rome, and those who have seen the movies can’t miss the similarity of the arena with the Colosseum.

Apart from this, the hunger games also resembled the gladiator games in the sense that they were games involving ‘slaves’. While yes, the hunger games did not include actual acknowledged ‘slaves’, they were picked from the 12 districts, for the purpose of entertain of the residents of the Capitol. The ones whose names were picked as part of the reaping had no right to decline, they had no rights. The games also ended only when one contestant was left standing, thus it required the ‘sacrifice’ of the other contestants, while the viewers bayed and rejoiced at their deaths. The contestants were also dressed in exotic costumes. The difference here was that while in the gladiator games, the slaves were usually dressed as barbarians, in the hunger games, it was about the absurd fashion of that universe.

The gladiator games initially originated as a means of sacrificing prisoners of war at the burial of a warrior, and to make the sacrifice less cruel, the prisoners were given a ‘chance’ of surviving by fighting. The hunger games were invented as a means of reminding the districts of their servitude and the districts ‘sacrificing’ one of their young ones. To make it seem less cruel than plain murder, it was turned into a ‘sport’ which was telecast and viewed by all. The ones who survived became celebrities, but remained enslaved to the capitol for their entire lives.

Thus it is safe to say, that while Suzanne Collins, surely painted an impressive and captivating picture, it was mostly a re-invention of the historical gladiator games!