Lapses of lingy…

The great thing about travel quotes is that they pretty much apply to the journey of life, too. Like this one.

Too often travel, instead of broadening the mind, merely lengthens the conversation.

~ Elizabeth Drew

The traveller could be a well-read person. Sometimes, the well-read are worse off than the ignoramous, because the more knowledge they gather, the more cynical, jaded, supercilious and condescending, and sometimes shallow, they get, with exceptions of course.

I have found out that there ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them.

~Mark Twain

Well said. This can apply to roomates and one’s life partner too. Just like some friends make bad travel companions, some friends make hellish roommates or hubbies/wives. Secondly, living in close quarters with a person is a great way to know who they really our. Could living in before marriage be a good idea after all?

I dislike feeling at home when I am abroad.

~ George Bernard Shaw

This one is my all-time favourite. I can’t thing of a great analogy, however it’s exactly how I feel when I travel.

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A close friend refuses to beleive that I usually blog about the first thing that pops into my head. He thinks I plot and plan and rewrite what I write for eons before I sumbit an entry

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The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. A major hurdle that threathens to crush all dreams and hopes to the pulp! On the bright side, the little frog who visited our bathroom for two days last week is back in the garden where it belongs.

The folks are coming to town at the end of this month, now, that they have found a babysitter for Lassie, our excitable little pom, who can’t sit for a minute without looking all frazzled. There’s a doggie home that looks after the little uns’ when their owners are away, for about Rs 150 a day. The folks have done some research to figure out if they were good and it appears they are.

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The Mals are threathening to invade my life. The roomie (who is Mal) says it’s cause they are the smartest people around. Hmmm…smart attracts smart.

Anyways, flashback. My Math teacher in school Mr Joseph (pronounced as Jaw-suf) was a Mal, with a thick accent and jet-black skin. He used to call us (the students ie) donkeys (pronounced as do-yin-geese). He lived down the lane with his wife and three kids and his house was always crawling with kids who were there for Math tuition. Yup, a kid could pop out of every nook and cranny.

On Christmas day, he paid us a visit, him in a mundu and his wife in a nightie, whilst the rest of our guests were dressed in Sunday best. However, he was a nice old fella, so we didn’t really mind.

Then the ex is a Mal from Pallakad. A nice chap who was a bit mixed up who what he was and who his mum wanted him to me. Then there is my good friend, film-maker, love-counsellor and philosopher, Nishant, who’s words of advice are priceless, and who’s exposure to music and movies comes in handy when I am in the vicinity of super-snooty intellectuals, who think they have heard it all. Then there’s the roomie, a mule-headed mal gal who has Preity Zinta’s dimples.

Then there was the backlash of the mallus courtesy my review of the film Dor, a remake of the malayalam film Perumazhakkalam, where I did not mention the latter. Then one of my Bengali writers dropped in the other day with Kerala coffee and some cookies from a local bakery in Cochin, where she lives with her mal hubby. And the editor is mal. And the senior editor who has just relocated from the US to the Mumbai office is Mal too.

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I have just discovered: I’ve been trying to be someone else all along!

It’s so much more liberating to express the inner pain just as we do inner joy, and strip ourselves of that facade of positivity as the self-help experts suggest. Or have I got their nuggets of wisdom all wrong? They constantly seem to be saying ‘be postive’ or ‘happy people attract more happy people to them’. Do they mean we should always try to be positive by feigning happiness?

I tried this route for a bit, and the more positive (and calm) I tried to remain from the outside, the more hyperactive and volatile I get from the inside. So, now I just look low when I feel low and look happy when I am happy. Usually, my temperament of the moment can be described as very extreme. The next moment I am feeling something from the other end of the spectrum. Either I am down in the dumps or giddy-headed and ecstatic. Not sure if it’s a good thing. However, sometimes I feel serene from within, and this state of being I like best. However, I am not sure that my output workwise is decent on those days. Passion sometimes does have it’s benefits. Or it’s just a stereotype that crazy people are creative. Sterotypes suck!

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Today am off to see a documentary, on flamingos, called In The Pink. And tomorrow hopefully I should get passes for INXS. I used to dig their music when in college, Class X and XII to be precise, though I listened to Suicide Blonde whilst still in school. There’s something wild and crazy about the way Micheal Hutchence used to sing. Let’s see if the old songs still send a chill down my spine with the new lead singer.

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The long weekend has me feeling more tired than a work week. This time, we braved the rains to go salsa dancing. A bike ride is for a biker dude as is the salsa for me. There’s a certain thrill having the wind in your hair as you go thundering down a highway on an Indian or a Harley. What’s so great about riding a bike? “I feel free”, is the standard statement by most bikers.

Also, caught Munnabhai and Khosla Ka Ghosla…the former has me moping throughout, tears of joy, tears of empathy, tears of pride…the (water)works. The latter is a sweet film too. And talking about water works, got drenched thrice this weekend. We dashed into a restaurant, soaking to the bone. The management has a presence mind to turn down the airconditioning and then serve us hot chocolate soon after.

The roomie dashed off to Pune for the weekend…somehow I can never get used to idea of staying in a house alone at night ie. During the day, am chirpy as a bird. But when night falls, it is eerie time.

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