A Walk Around Inokashira Koen

In Search of the Last of the Momiji

Inokashira Park is the closest of the bigger parks near my house. It is extremely beautiful in the changing seasons. I took the opportunity of the first sunny day when I had nothing else to do, to take a walk there with Dad’s heavy duty Nikon camera in search for the last of the Momiji – the Maple trees. Most usually lose their leaves by this time in the rest of Japan. But Tokyo is warmer, and December 2008 was even warmer than before, so there were still many trees with leaves still changing their colour before dying out. Here are some photographs of what I saw…

One day, when I was jaded with studies, I sat daydreaming about all the things I will do when I go to Japan next. The result was the following list:

1. Karaoke to my heart’s desire.
2. Visit Nikko and Hakone.
3. Attend a Sumo match.
4. Watch a Kabuki performance.
5. See cosu-play at Harajuku.
6. Climb Mt. Fuji to the top.
7. Relax at an open air onsen.
8. Do purikura.
9. Eat vegetarian sushi at a kaiten-zushi place. (Kappa Maki!!)
10. Visit Asakusa and drop 100yen at Senso-ji.
11. Take a walk around Inokashira Park.
12. Go to Tokyo Disneyland.
13. Play Taiko Drums at a game center.
14. See Sapporo Snow Festival.
15. Try new Starbucks flavours.
16. Visit Ueno Zoological gardens and the various Museums in Ueno.
17. Eat ice-cream mochi!
18. Buy a Daruma.
19. Call up all my friends in Okinawa and surprise them!

now I am doing these activities... some are not possible now - like climb Fuji to the top (as it is closed for the winters) but am trying to do as many...I will keep crossing them out as I accomplish them. let's see.... gambare to me!

blogs will follow... :)

A Game of Tag

I have been Tagged by Rachel to write 7 strange/random things about myself. It was really difficult. First to think of them. Second to muster up courage to declare them! Here they are:

1. I am addicted to games. I don't own a wii or a DS. The last gaming unit I owned was the old style Nintendo bought in 1990 which had Mario Brothers and the duck/clay shooting thing. I also had a hand held Peanuts Tennis video game and a falling-fish-to-catch-in-the-pot video game, but they were forcibly gifted to cousins before I could have enough of them. It was so long ago that I don't even remember if those video games had a special name.. But I don't dare buy any new units because I know of my addiction. Already I could waste all my valuable time playing on the computer or my mobile, and that too without much guilt. Sometimes I bribe myself to work straight for an hour to get to play one game of mah jong to get my work done.

2. I have visions of head banging to heavy metal inside the Metro. I have come close to doing it, but I think it will just look very foolish and make people stare more than they already do. And staring faces always take the fun out of anything..

3. I am revolted by the sound of burping. More disgusted by it than any other sound in the world! Especially while I am eating, and if someone burps, I just can't eat anymore. I have to start counting in my head or think nice thoughts before my world gets back to normal. And in my joint family's house, most of my uncles burp very loudly. They also try to mask it by saying 'omm' at the same time (this is one those North Indian things..).It just drives me nuts!

4. I think about death quite a lot. So, I know the exact way I would commit suicide if I had to. I would simple walk into the sea. (I know, very Virginia Woolf of me.. ) I would wear some white-coloured cotton outfit and the single conch shell necklace I made. I would be reciting "Death be not Proud" by John Donne. And I would have taken some sleeping pills before to ease the struggle with water to breathe...

this brings me to the fifth one:

5. If I don't commit suicide before I die, I want to have a burial at sea after I die. I don't want to be cremated, nor do I want to be buried in the earth. I want my body to be slipped into the sea not covered in any bag or coffin. I know the thought of being fish-food is kinda scary, but aren't being burned up or locked up for eternity in a box equally bad? Once dead I can hardly know pain, so I take the ecologically best solution.
Oh, I also want a recitation of "Death be not Proud" for my 'funeral'.

6. I am intrigued by incest. I wonder whether it is really wrong. I think it is, but what if its OK as long as it doesn't end up with biological reproduction of a monstrous being.. Just the same with sexual promiscuity. I think it might be wrong but heck! it is so interesting. Stories about both revolt and at the same time delight (in terms of complexity - not pornographic delight...). This ambiguity for me is highly interesting. It gets me all confused and my 'morals' go topsy-turvy. I don't have a brother, so maybe that's why incest seems OK in theory (maybe... perhaps...). I really can't say... But I love the debate.

7. Last. I am a collector. I love collecting things. Stamps, coins, rocks, shells, countries, books, movies, audio albums, stickers, stationery, greeting cards, you name it. I thinks its like the same compulsion that makes me want to make lists and organise things. If I have one thing, how many of its various kinds can be possible to be grouped together? It's like an insane drive to have and possess. But I am highly proud of my stamp collection nonetheless. And whoever inherits it after I die must take great care of it! :)

That's the list. Now, I tag Isa, Varsha, Rajarshi, Elina, and Liz. Keep it going people!

Centenary Celebrations of Hindi-Urdu Teaching in Japan

Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, Japan celebrated the 100 years of Hindi Urdu Teaching in Japan. It was the perhaps the very first university in the world to initiate the teaching of Hindustani language in the year 1908. In 1958, Hindi and Urdu began being taught separately. From December 12-14, 2008 a conference was held in order to celebrate this momentous event.

on my mind

There is plenty that I need to write about, but didn't have the time, what with packing for my trip and worrying about my upcoming Dissertation.

The tension is in the uncertainty. We are made to submit 3 proposals all in different areas of interest. Now this is a Dissertation with counts for 3 times its grades in the overall grading. It will be the primary source of questions for the viva at the end of the course. It is also one that could potentially be an abstract for our future PhD. Thus, it is not a simple paper one just writes up. Its a 25,000 word pain-in-the-ass. So, when we are made to write 3 proposals of what we can work on, its no joking matter. But there is a joke... we don't really have any guarantee that our first preference will be taken up by a supervisor. Earlier, one could state preference for a supervisor, go to him/her and speak/discuss the topic, get feedback/suggestions. Also, this meant that chances of your first preference being chosen were strong. This time, due to some reason, the department decided they will not let students approach teachers. Which means that maybe there might be no teacher enthusiastic about my first choice. or my second choice. and I may end up with my third which I wrote just for the heck of it. My first two topics are quite radical. or at least they seem so to me when I think if there will be anyone interested in them. so I am going nuts over whether my first will be given to me. At this point I really don't care who my supervisor is, as all the teachers are world-class and quite helpful. I wouldn't want someone I never worked with or studied under, but I wouldn't mind it as long I get the first! There might be a meeting and I will miss it as I am leaving. Also, I may not really have an opportunity to negotiate if I am not around. So I have been in worry-mode these past few days.

As for the trip, it seems doomed from the start. Flying on December 6, the day of the anniversary of the demolition of Babri Masjid.... The airport is under tight security as intelligence agencies alert us of 9/11 style hijacking and attacks.... We will cross our fingers and hope for the best. Packing is ongoing and I will write more again. Need to write a blog on the Mumbai attacks and the 7 strange things tag!! coming soon...

I voted!

OK, this relates to the American elections 2008... old news.... BUT I like the end, which stands true for today. 7th minutes onwards.... I did my duty today and voted in the Delhi Elections. Although I don't put too much faith in the power of elections in India - all parties are truly and wholeheartedly corrupt. Yet, one must select the lesser of the multiple evils...

This is a brilliant bit by one of my favourite TV personalities, and one of his funny and yet very significant monologues. I saw it a long time ago. I decided to embed it here, because it doesn't matter whether its about another country, the democratic process is the same! and besides, I just needed a reason to put Craig Ferguson on my blog! :)

Firsts in the metro:

A record of weird/sad sights and smells while travelling in the Metro (on different days):

• A woman breastfeeding her baby during World Breastfeeding week.
• A locust steadily spirally climbing the support pole to the top.
• The nauseating smell of unboiled milk every time the doors opened for each station.
• Two butterflies flitting around inside.
• A woman from a very low-income group pissing her baby inside the compartment.
• A man in a wheelchair (seen on the same day I found barrier-free constructions in my Alma Mater)
• On Independence Day (15th Aug 2008), the AirCon's electric circuit shorted at Ram Krishna Ashram Marg. There were many strange bomb-blast-like sounds and visible electric sparks. Everyone rushed out the Metro in panic. Earlier the train had stopped in the middle a couple of times. When the driver signaled everyone to board the train, he announced that the first two compartments will have no air conditioning.

Soaps and Cleansers

There is a battle being waged these days in Mumbai. It is between producers of Hindi soap operas and the set workers, who are opposing the outdated pay they get for their services. It has resulted in a total shutdown of shooting, thus the lack of new episodes for airing. I embrace this third kind of 'meltdown'. (The term has been made much famous in light of the economic crisis rather than the real issue - the global warming one! So I take the liberty of further trivializing it! pardons to anyone offended by me)

The best thing about this meltdown of soaps is the peace, quiet and serenity in the temple of my home. Having to spend most of my time at home was driving me crazy for the simple reason that every day my mother had the TV on for longer than time itself, with the perpetual background music of the soaps seeping into my closed room regardless of heavy wooden doors! Usually I am not bothered by noise. But this was insane! She would watch reruns in the day and they repeated the same crap all over again twice at different times!! From morning to night in an endless loop, one soap after the other!! Is it not enough to see the episode once, get to know how the story has progressed (or rather in this case - digressed with another devious intrigue plotted with the same might as of a chess move) and then wait for the new episode? Does one really have to see the same episode twice again the next day? How difficult is it to retain the no-brainer 'stories' of these endless soaps anyway?

I know this doesn't bode well for my mom - who is being depicted as one of those moronic desperate housewives sitting at home with nothing to do except watch TV! Interestingly, my mom was never like this only recently she has been getting there. She never was interested in TV much. But she has a tendency to bow down under peer pressure! Yes! She goes to these weekly kirtans - a sort of prayer sessions with songs sung in gods' celebration. There she meets these other aunties of the Society. And obviously after so much religion, they have to gossip and chat about the latest episode of this or that and what sari was worn by the females! Thus, a victim to peer pressure my mom started watching soaps so she will not be left behind in these conversations, and is now officially hooked. Before them, it was the endless music reality shows (like American Idol). Especially the ones with children competing. My mom loves children and loves to see them sing and dance. She thinks its all very cute. She would get emotional for their sad lives shown for generating sympathy. She thought it was really real. Poor mom. She had to have her maternal-ness being shouted at by me accusing her of enjoying child labour!

When the strike first occured 2 days ago, I rejoiced. All I needed more was for the reality shows to stop as well, and I would be walking on air. But alas! the TV channels keep repeating the old episodes - flashbacks they call them! And once again my locked and bolted room is not clean of the uninvited soaps sounds.

falling from out of ennui..

Just when you think that life has absolutely no excitement, thrill, adventure and life seems to be endless series of daily drudgery.... something falls from the sky.

Literally, in this case, a four year old child from the sixth floor (American seventh floor).

I was going along with my mom and sis to give the traditional Diwali gift to family friends. Our hired car had only reached the main gate - the entrance to our Apartment complex - when suddenly a woman with frantic gestures stopped us. When mom rolled down her window, the woman told us that a child had fallen from above and she was new to the Society and didn't know who's child it was, so if we could identify him and do something... We rushed out (in semi-disbelief), but could not recognise the child. He had fallen on a parked car and then on to the concrete. He was still alive though unconscious. The gate guards and the ironing lady and other people there were trying to help but there was more panic and a loss of words and actions. None of us really knew what to do except to get him to a hospital quick. Our driver instantly picked up the boy and wanted to take him to the hospital. I told the guards to try the intercom numbers of all the apartments in that line to find out if the child was theirs. In this time, a man came down and took the child from our driver. He turned out to be the father. In panic, we sat in the car to go to the hospital. As we were about to go a woman started banging on the car windows. She turned out to be the mother. They didn't speak Hindi and were guests of one of the Society members, having come here for the same purpose we were heading out - distribution of Diwali gifts.

When we reached the hospital, my mom told my sister to guide them up to the Emergency ward since they probably didn't know the place. My sis said that the child was groaning in the lift but didn't seem to recover consciousness. My sis came back to the car, only to find that our driver had disappeared. We were already running late for our tasks and these events didn't help. The driver was late in reporting to us, then the child fell, then the driver went up to the hospital trying to find out what was going on, and when we were on our way, one of the tyres got punctured!!

It was an eventful day. But more tragic if anything. The Diwali festival is ruined for a family as their child struggles to live. We can only pray for him.

Post Script: I have been late in publishing this post, and on this day I have sad news. The boy succumbed to the injuries he sustained after struggling for 4 days in the ICU. May he rest in peace...

My Kafkaesque Day

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. Everything was going as usual. I had woken late and had had a good breakfast as I read the newspaper. Suddenly, out of the blue, I get this strange call. Its from someone with a very strong Jat accent. (Jat is the name of a community of people from Haryana (an Indian State) and these people are known for their aggressive we-don't-care-a shit-for anyone-but-ourselves attitude.) This man said he was a Court Official and he was summoning me to the Court. There were accusations levied on me under three sections and I had to appear at Delhi High Court within an hour with an Identity proof and a certain amount of money.

I, of course, thought all this was a joke. I kept repeating to myself, "This is a prank." Sometimes people play a prank on others on live radio. I kept a serious tone, and did not burst into laughter, even though I was on the verge of it.

I asked the guy what exactly was up and he replied suggesting that he was shocked I didn't know anything of this. I demanded whether a written summons was delivered to me, and he mumbled something. I couldn't understand most of what he was saying anyway because he was talking in an accent I run away from. I don't have any friends who speak like that. It is an extremely rude accent and decent human beings do not speak in it. So, I asked him to wait and handed the phone to mom to speak with him. She got very scared. She was trembling, but still she was able to understand him better than me. The man gave a telephone number of some advocate and asked her to speak with about this issue.

We instantly called up my very resourceful uncle. We told him of the call and gave him all the information we had - the name of the advocate, his number, and the number where I got the call from. My uncle asked me whether there was any credit card amount I owed. This was a strange question, as I don't have a credit card; I don't wish to ever in my life own a credit card; and recently I got a call from ICICI bank saying that I had applied for a credit card, they had all my info, and were checking up on the address. It was weird that my uncle made a link with the Court Official's call I got and a credit card bill as I could see no connection whatsoever.

My uncle explained that this type of thing had happened with him over an unpaid credit card bill and that companies forward this to recovery agents who extort the money and their fees from the faulty customers.

The strangest part in all this was that I had never applied for an ICICI credit card but they had my full name, my home phone number and my old address. They were adamant on taking my cellphone number, which I was refusing to give because I had suffered stupid 'frensip' calls to the point where I wanted a new cell number. I had gotten rid of those calls by actually making someone - a male friend - call back the dude and scold him with a Jat accent!!! I kept saying speak to me on this phone. And interestingly, after talking to me, they called up my uncle to get my cellphone number when I refused to give it. My uncle called to tell that he given it and I became furious. There were too many confusing aspects to this:

1. How did ICICI Bank have all my info - name address telephone - when I never applied?
2. How did they have my home number AND my uncle's number?
3. Why were they adamant to have my cell number?
4. How come they used a specific line in the address "near Arya Samaj Temple" - a line I never used in my old address?

My uncle set his men on the task and they found out the business. It was over some Airtel bill. My sister used a postpaid cellphone plan which was in my name. She had recently changed the same number to another plan in her own name. But she had made all the payments and cleared all dues before doing so, as of course, they wouldn't have changed it in the first place if she hadn't. Thus, it was a definite breach of trust on Airtel's part for having forwarded a bill to a recovery agent! We all were very furious. Especially as the bill amount was a measly 230 rupees. My sister never used her phone for that small an amount and we searched all the past bills, there was no bill for that amount. And we were certain that it was Airtel because my uncle had included the line "near Arya Samaj Temple" when he got the connection for me!

In the night when my sis came back home, and we discussed the matter completely, she called up Airtel's customer service and asked them what bill was due and when they said none, she gave them the best calm and serene scolding I have ever heard in my life! How dare they put us into such trouble for something they said didn't exist! We have been loyal Airtel customers. We don't even look elsewhere. Everybody in the family has an Airtel service. My mausaji is Airtel's fourth customer since it first started! I, freaking, owned a phone which had some 1000 rupees on it, which I lost while in Okinawa! And they put us to such trouble over Rs. 230?? Airtel probably does business in multi-billions of rupees and it forwards 230 rupee bills to recovery agents who threaten people! Despicable! Abominable behaviour on Airtel's part! Makes me sick to be an Airtel customer!

Dear Reader, I know my day was not so Kafkaesque even though I term it so. The Trial didn't really happen. I have not been sacrificed without a meaningful death. But something has died. A trust, a belief. I don't know how many countless insults like this happens everyday across the country. But I am certain that if very such a thing happens again, Airtel will be hearing from a Court Official next, when I sue their corporate asses for such a shameful deed on their part!

why does it have to hurt
when we touch the oven,
the heat that warms the stomach
and eases hunger pangs?

uninspired and dry
I still attempt to write
a little line or a tiny word
of nothingness.

There is smell of smoke and a crispness in the air.

The days are getting shorter, but festive energy abounds.

It can mean only one thing - Diwali is here!

Little flames on the cake,
you signify mortality.
But ah! sweet is the anticipation
to blow you out!

the iridescent shell

is shattered

the flawed pearl is lost