In My Element

It is quite hard to be in your element when life turns routine. Daily chores make your days normal, and everything chugs on in the usual way. And sometimes, that is all it takes to rob your mind of its creative instinct. It is quite easy to fall prey to life’s monotony. When you don’t spare time to smell the roses along your journey, your creative senses start to hibernate quietly. You know you are thinking differently when you wake up to listen to the news instead of the cheerful wind chimes in your balcony, and you begin to worry about how you’ll cook for lunch instead of being excited about trying something new. You realize it when you start to write only to discover that it now takes some serious effort to narrate those same old stories which flowed with effortless grace though your fingertips a long time ago. If your creativity isn’t fluid, you will now see nothing of interest in places that hold even the most precious of secrets. And I guess that’s why I’ve been away from my blog for an entire month.

A mystery novel lay forgotten behind a heavy chemistry textbook. As days wore on, the pages of the chemistry book turned. They were highlighted, underlined, dog-eared and understood. The Agatha Christie beckoned, but I told myself I was just too busy. The four letter word was an answer to all complaints. It was easy to play the blame game. It was after many days that I admitted that I needed to catch up with life. I guess life was waiting for just that. It was kind enough to immediately change the plans for me. It made sure that I had one of the most relaxing summer holidays ever, allowing me to escape routine so quickly.

Something stirred deep inside when I looked out through my car window and thought the midsummer skies were beautiful. Favorite rhythms repeated in my ears and the drive turned longer. The world dissolved into a blissful daydream, imagination reignited. It was a quiet getaway like none other. I was off to Big Sur County.

I never knew this place, and didn’t have expectations. But the experience gave me much more than I thought I would receive. When I arrived, the Pacific was at it again. Squeezing through the gaps in crumbling rocks, twisting through them to sculpt caverns, creating tide pools which hid a thousand life forms. These sights held me long. I drunk in the scenery. There were the picnic benches and the lively laughter. I was shoeless on the shore, talking....Now, the world awakened to my provokation, more bold and interesting than ever.

There were also the panoramic views of sandy beaches, and I nostalgically recollected my visit to the 17 mile drive. The bloated ocean calmly sweeping such large expanses of water aroused so many mixed emotions. I was breathless. Engineering marvels of bridges captivated me. I was thankful that I was looking at them in those terms instead of viewing them as to merely consist of steel and arches.

Late evening was spent relaxing by a creek side, legs thrown into the cool waters. Steaming coffee, the comfortable shade of trees and soft singing. Receding heat and changing colours—it was contentment at its deepest. I observed the little rocks inside the creek catch the sun, a blue-jay fretting about innocently. They both looked beautiful. People sang the songs I had heard so many times. But this time, something was different. This time, I actually listened, keenly following the words being carried away by the wind. This time, I appreciated & applauded. The blue-jay hung about to listen too and that excited me. Yes, something had changed again, my brain said…and I couldn’t possibly have asked for more. In that deep contentment, I realised at the bottom of my heart that I was back in my element....

When I went Rafting

It was not too difficult to be poetic there. The lively energy of the environment, the breathless excitement that mounted with every second, the sudden increase in adrenalin at the unpredictability of the situation inspired creativity in even the most dormant of minds. That day, the world had changed. It now consisted of nothing more than high-pitched crackles which rose and fell with an energetic rhythm of a river, an insane spinning and twirling to the pull of some unknown force and the co-coordinated effort of a bunch of muscles at the command of “Forward!”; Then, the relaxing of tendons, the awakening of more subtle of sensations, and the surroundings returning to soft focus... and at that instant of momentary calmness—time enough to get a greedy eyeful of clear May skies, barren rock faces, and golden eagles gliding along gracefully in the distance….before the river plunged you into another intense experience. For me, rafting along the Folsom proved to be an experience of a lifetime.

Sanskrit has a gender for rivers, and poets have descriptions. I have emotions. I closed my eyes for a second and heard the river chuckling. She seemed to be laughing sometimes, and sparkled every time she caught the sun. I could call her mischievous, grinning at our plight, toying with us like we were mere playthings. We urged her every so often with our muscles, and she responded by bouncing us through some insane rapids. She hid her naughtiness carefully whenever she turned sympathetic, but it was the careless Folsom that I preferred: The gurgling rapids which tossed me about with a wild abandon: careless, sprightly, and fearless.

Yes, you can tell, can’t you, that this is my first time rafting? I have been unsuccesful in shrugging off the excitement! The best part of the experience was the changing environment which shifted and pulsed as the river turned and meandered. You were greeted by some magnificent rocks at some point, and the next moment, they disappeared in the frothy excitement of the water which splashed about playfully, obscuring your vision. You admired the knotty pines which grew so quickly, and then they glided effortlessly away from the field of your vision. Folsom’s chuckled again, saying, “Don’t look back now, friend…there is much more I need to show you…”
I remembered Pocahontas’s “Just Around the River Bend…” that day. Every river bend seemed to promise me something, and didn’t leave me disappointed.

As the day wore on, energy didn’t wane. The sun was strong, but the river was stronger. She made sure to soak us to our bones, and when she didn’t we made sure that we were soaked. Water wars and battles prevailed and Folsom continued to chuckle. She knew that we could defeat each other at silly water games but we couldn’t win over her: she still decided on the direction and we bumbled along helplessly to her will. But she ensured that we enjoyed the thrill of that experience: sharing her enthusiasm with us when we approached the rapids, delighting us to some fantastic sights as she calmed…she made me feel blessed to be a part of this.

As I rushed home towards unfinished homework, upcoming tests and a mound of assignments, I remembered the voice of the lady next to me screaming “This cost me as much as Disneyland, but for all I can say, this was more worth it!” I couldn’t help agreeing with her more. For that day, the world had turned smaller and much more meaningful….and no amount of drudgery in the days to come could undo the excitement of this experience. Yes, I told Folsom, this had all been worth it….and heard her chuckle in agreement somewhere in the distance.

"Because I want to Learn..."

The sun seemed very ill-tempered as I peeked into the classroom. The Physics professor was still explaining his complex differentials to a bunch of bored students. That meant that I was quite early for biology classes. That also meant that I had to spend the next ill-fated twenty minutes boiling under the hot sun without a sense of purpose about me. I grudgingly settled down on one of those little concrete benches outside of class, and tried to count the minutes.

I saw her then, her head bent over our biology textbook. Her hair was in a hurriedly tied up bun with a pencil sticking out of it. It was one of those things which I found curious about her. A most unassuming woman, she seemed to be. Uncomfortable in the sweltering heat, I tried to play a mind game. I turned observant, silently eyeing that hard-working soul who was bending over her textbook. Tall. Intelligent. More than forty. Old--But still my classmate. How should I address her if she decides to look up? Drop a careless “Hey there, how’s it going?” or would a polite smile suffice? I didn’t know. She was one of those people who had appeared amicable from the start, but I hadn’t really gotten around to striking an intelligent conversation with her. It goes without saying that I’m very bad when it comes to starting conversations….I hoped she wouldn’t notice me fidgeting there, next to her.

“Oh hey there! Sorry didn’t see you before. How are you?”
I jolted. She was smiling back at me light-heartedly.
“I’m fine. I just arrived.” I tried to sound cheerful amidst the heat which was now pressing down on me.
“Hmm….so there’s a class going on in there, huh? Mathematics….”
“I thought it was a Physics class…”
“Oh is it? Hmm…Physics! Gosh!”
“Yeah, I know. It must be so hard! I always found it insane and difficult in high school.” I responded.
She smiled. That smile was mysterious…there was something that smile implied, which was beyond me. I simply waited.
“I once majored in Physics from a University in England, you know.” She declared.
“Oh!”
The fluid conversation effortlessly hid the fact that I was embarrassed. The woman was at ease, talking about why Physics had appeared so interesting to her. She didn’t boast, but I knew that there was some zest in her, a degree of intelligence which gave her the appearance of a smart intellectual. I saw the vitality in her eyes, speaking to me with so much cheer. Wow, she was a very different kind of a fifty year old.

Slowly, a slight suspicion started weaving a web in my brain…if she had a good job now, knew her Physics right, why is she returning to learn Introductory Biology? I wanted to ask her the question without appearing like an interrogator. But I wasne’t given a chance to ask. Because she answered it before I could even mouth it.

“One day, I went to my doctor. He spoke about my health. He spoke medicine….and I told him, I’m very sorry sir, but I don’t speak doctor! Then I thought….why can’t I? You know, I always knew my Physics right, but Biology? It was so unknown to me! So I thought…why not learn? Why not update my knowledge? So I decided to take this course…”

“Why are you taking this class?” she asked me.
“Because I’m a biochemistry major” I said involuntarily, “You?”

“Because I want to learn…”

Her words immediately reflected the lack of depth in my answer. They also made me think hard. The woman was taking these classes not because it would benefit her professionally or earn her more bucks. She was returning to learn undergraduate level biology simply because she wanted to know….she still wished to be the student....

The physics class dispersed. I picked up my bag which was now slipping off my shoulder. I was still thinking…would this be something I would ever do, given a chance? Would I ever come back to learn Art Appreciation or Psychology when I was fifty years old just because I didn’t understand these subjects? Would I still remain curious about my surroundings, and retain the zest to learn, understand and interpret the world through various means at the age when all one wants to do is take one long vacation? Maybe not, I thought…maybe not. But as I observed her cheerfully shoot some creative doubts to the teacher that day, I changed my mind. I promised myself that when I was old and weak-kneed, if a doctor ever spoke to me in a language I didn’t understand, I would go right back and take human anatomy classes without hesitation. This woman taught me something. I made a mental note to remember that that I’m always a student and it’s never too late to learn....

Given Up Yet??

Until a few days ago, there was a cozy nook in the blogosphere for a 16 year old to talk about his life. It was an amazing blog. The 42 subscribers of the Laptop Dairy will know, and so do I. I would often hop into Mohammad’s little space whenever I felt like taking a break. His posts entertained me, and told me so many stories. Those blog posts didn’t exist to glorify him, they were there to voice his thoughts. They talked for him. They taught, and retaught. They weren’t always about wry humor or random complaints. They were original, from the heart and very much special. The Laptop Diary has disappeared today with “One Last Story…” .Although the reasons for the blog closing down remain unknown to me, I shall say that there are many people who will miss his journal entries in the days to come. It feels like Mohammad left a story unfinished….

Many teenage blogs start out with so much optimism and confidence. Some of them gain popularity, and others melt into oblivion. Either way, it’s unfortunate that most teenage blogs die out pretty soon. They are discarded, dormant or neglected. But they all have something in common: Most of them start out with big dreams…sometimes, these dreams grow to unbelievable heights. The initial optimism associated with starting something new can colour a person’s thought.

For example, a 14 year old might dream of that day when a very willing and generous publisher chances across their little space on the World Wide Web and exclaims in delight upon a marvelous discovery. They might imagine their blog becoming that bestselling book—on the same shelves as your Twilights or Harry Potters. Or they might choose not dream. They might just take to blogging on a whim, and not care about what they write. Both species exist, but I feel that most young bloggers fall in the former category.

Why then, do talented teenagers give up blogging so easily? There are so many reasons which can hamper them from blogging on a regular basis. It might be the parents telling them that its time to give up on their hobbies once they enter 12th, the lack of encouragement, or even laziness. Looking back, haven’t I considered giving up blogging on so many occasions? When my brain couldn’t voice my thoughts as effectively as it once did, when that unknown uncle at a party said, “Aha, 12th, is it? Time to say good-bye to your hobbies, dear!” and when someone scribbled “Your blog is so much crap!” I felt like simply deleting everything and giving up! It felt frustrating to put up with all that, sneak in some extra time to jot something down here when I could be doing something better with my life. But I loved to write, and that’s the only reason why I continue to blog, irrespective of how many people are actually listening.

Sometimes, as I go back to read my older posts, I feel that some of them are pretty immature. I could delete them, for all I care. But I don’t. Preserving them is important because they reflect how I’m growing up. Many teenagers don’t do that. They are ashamed of the stale poetry they scribbled when they were fifteen-somethings:

“I like pretty butterflies,
I think they are so cute…
I like they way they flap their wings,
And go from flower to flower…”

That’s why some of these blogs close down. It’s the author’s decision, but a whole bunch of wonderful stories and poems are lost. Others give up when they enter 10th or 12th grades, and think that their life will be affected by blogging. Although this is arguable, I personally think that blogging doesn’t have a negative impact. Sparing something like 20 minutes per week will not ruin your life forever. In fact, I do not regret blogging all through my PU days. If I hadn’t, I would have forgotten those wonderful experiences which are so dear to me.

The next time you drop by that random teenage blog of that thirteen year old who scribbles three poorly constructed sentences with lots of smiley faces in between ( with 0 comments below her post), don’t just smirk and think she’s wasting her time. Drop a nice, “Hello…it’s nice you actually decided to blog, even amidst the thousand things that occupy your life! Happy Blogging!” Sometimes, encouragement and support is all it takes to make a fantastic blogger out of a shy and talented thirteen year old. It can do a little something to sustain such blogs.

As for me, I hope that there are no more “One Last Story”ies in any of the teenage blogs. I also hope that Laptop Dairy’s “One Last Story...” means “A New beginning…” somewhere else on the World Wide Web. For all I can say, blogging is an experience which is well worth the effort. It would be easy to give up, but it would fruitful to continue. I wish that these teenage blogs continue to stay alive simply because I feel that every teenager has a story to tell....

At Pismo Beach

The beginning of the spring quarter is a new start. It is the time of the year when the earth looks splendid, but you can’t really spare the time to recline on a summer chair and leisurely build castles in the air. But you can do the next best thing. You can steal a few hours to build sandcastles by the beachside instead and soak your legs in the briny waters. The sands do shift fast and the waves come crashing towards you at a terrific pace, don’t they? It’s better to surf the calm seas before they turn turbulent in thunderstorms. I used this heavy logic to convince myself that I needed a quick break to rejuvenate myself before I immersed myself in another intense quarter. It was a decision which made my weekend positively exciting because I was down at Pismo beach with family and friends this weekend, having just the sort of quality fun that I crave for.

It was Sunday. The sun was shining, and the Oceanside was mildly crowded. But the people were lazy. Even the little sandpipers looked quite at ease with the world as they walked about here and there, pleasurably gulping down little worms along the way. It looked like the perfect illusion of peace---it was just that sort of little place which makes you feel like time is slow and always handy. It’s that exact situation where you feel humbled before the vastness that is the ocean, yet enjoy the sublime experience of having all your fears swept away. My heart throbbed as I stood by the ocean, and felt the sands below my feet shift and move away rapidly with the waves. I enjoyed the sensation. After the initial reluctance, I dived right in. We formed a human chain and screamed at the top of our lungs as we bobbed up and down with the waves. It is one of those very stupid things which bought immense relief. The sound of the waves in my ears has a strangely soothing effect on me; it echoed deep harmony and oneness with the Ocean. But I could also feel the pulse of the pacific as the waves hit my back and I screamed in delight. I felt absolutely wild, untamed and free—like there weren’t any rules to life. I felt like I could have stayed there forever.


That was only until I observed that the shadows were growing longer and my feet, more numb. I thanked the pacific, and waddled towards the beach to spend the rest of my meaningful time building a sand castle with a five year old, who cheerfully re-taught me long-forgotten rhymes.

“I love the mountains; I love the rolling hills,

I love the flowers, I love the daffodils…”

I giggled as I sang along with her, understanding how happiness could be so easy to find. I repeated in my head, “I love the beach, I love today….I love the way we had fun, and wish for it stays the same!”

At the end of the day, my hair was tangled, my feet was caked with a considerable amount of beach sand, and I was shivering in the cold. But I was still grinning as we headed back home, singing “I love the mountains…” again: The world seemed perfect once more, and it would take quite some effort to break that spell again!

My First Award!!

A special thing happened to me a week ago-A recieved my first blogging award, which had me delighted! Thanks, Nimmi, for the wonderful award, :-), I'm still smiling!!! As per the way things go, I think I'm supposed to nominate my own list of bloggers who deserve an award for showing "attitude" and/or "gratitude" through thier blog posts. Now, this is especially difficult for me because I realise that there are hundreds of blogs out there which showcase these qualities, but I've decided to stick to the blogs I frequent the most. [ I've decided to exclude Mysore Blog Park members from my "nominees" because I feel ALL of them show great attitude (why else would Mr. GVK include them into the community??), and it would be impossible (and possibly unfair too) to just select 10 bloggers out of our blogging community!]

The Rules:

1. Put the logo on your post.
2. Nominate 10 blogs that you feel show great Attitude or Gratitude or both.
3. Make sure you link your nominees to this post.
4. Let them know they received the award by commenting on their blog.
5. Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received this award.

So, my 10 nominees (in no specific order) are:

1) Sush : A Teenager with such an original attitude towards life and growing up!

2) Walk the Wilderness : A superb photoblog showing gratitude towards nature. The photographs are truly a feast for the eyes!

3) Shambhavi : She truly deserves one for her confident attitude, enduring optimism and such wonderful achievement!

4) Anandi : For continuing to blog at the age of 75, for her wonderful optimism and positive attitude!

5) Arise India Forum : Although still devoloping, the blog does manage to reflect the great attitude of the members of "Arise India" organization: their commitment towards thier cause and immense gratitude towards their natural heritage.

6) Pradeep Biswas : For telling me stories, sharing great experiences and showing such a genuine attitude towards life!

7) Prashanth : Although not a "blog" in a strict sense, I love Mr. Prashanth's photographs on aminus 3...they reflect his attitude towards life and his surroundings: A bit fun-loving, very observant and very interested in capturing those wonderful moments that some of us take for granted! And yes, he is immensely talented too!

8) Karthick : Great blog!! Love it again for the awesome attitude, for thoughts so nicely conveyed, and for being such a devoted fan of Mr. Tejaswi!!! :-)

9) Deeps : For deciding to blog at fourteen, for not hiding your "attitude" towards growing up and learning so much,...and yes, for being such a good friend!!...and this is expressing my gratitude too! :-)

10) Chutney: Of whom I've long since been only a silent admirer (never commented on her blogs.) But loved her attitude towards life...love her posts equally too!

So those are my 10 nominees!!

(PS: Those of you who follow my cousin, Sneha's posts (she's on my blogroll...due to some weird glitch in my blog I've somehow not been able to update it! Will look into the matter soon, Sneha! :-)), kindly note that she has shifted over here...and one of my very good friends, Mr.Pranesh has newly taken to blogging. He has started blogging here. Do visit them in your spare time! And yes, my holidays have ended, and I'm back to facing another quarter again! Have a great week, everyone and keep smiling!)

Another Saturday Hike

I was on an exile last week, enduring a set of difficult final exams. Well, by the end of the day, the sun was still shining and I caught my reflection grinning back at me from glass windows of the science building. Finishing off another quarter naturally makes the world look more beautiful to me. I stop to catch maple leaves before they slip helplessly to the ground, and enjoy the crunch, crunch of the dead ones beneath my feet as I hurry home. My heart is lighter, and my mind is busy delighting itself in holiday plans. Well, as far as my holiday plans go, it looks like they are directly proportional to unforeseen disturbances and deliberate excuses (some real and most hypothetical or invented). So this time when I declared that I wanted to go hiking, I did it without any serious expectations.

I was jabbed awake on Saturday morning by my father with a “You said we’ll go hiking!” Sleep was still heavy on my eyelids, but I knew that my sense of self-worth was in serious jeopardy. I’m not the sort of person who likes to get taunted for being fickle-minded. So I shrugged and decided to get ready. It was to be my little Saturday adventure outdoors…I was granted some time to satisfy my whimsical wishes, and I didn’t want to miss such an opportunity.



Well, for that slow trailer such as me, the these trails are quite a task. I don’t complain though, because there’s such a lovely creek which bumbles along with me as I walk, reminding not to take it so hard. This is exactly why I hike—it’s not because I enjoy sweating so much…it’s because hiking makes me feel like I’m blending into this entirely different world. It’s an escape from everything I don’t wish to remember because I become that silent dreamer when I take a walk—I transform into that annoying squirt who shuts into herself and smiles without knowing why. I’m unusually unresponsive, and do look lost. But the truth is, I enjoy every precious moment of that silent experience…dreams swim and take shape, I become calmer, happier and strangely detached. Somehow, loud jokes and cracking laughter destroy that tranquility within me—they are better suited for those special sleepover parties or family get-togethers. Hiking is everything about catching up with yourself, and everything not about mechanically burning calories in my opinion! :D Well, hiking is also about appreciating the little rewards of mild spring days before sweltering summer and another busy quarter come hurrying into your life.



(The sun has been especially cheerful the last week, as you can see!)

I have also done a lot of prodding around on this trail—everything from disturbing that meek little creek to staring at farm sheep. I had stopped by to listen to this old lady’s lecture about poison ivy the last time had hiked but I couldn’t spot the “dangerous plant” this time…looks like the ivy is scared of the spring! Meanwhile, I can feel it getting warmer here, and the skies are growing clearer by the day. There is very little cloud-cover and one feels the urge to star gaze into the depths of the sky. I wished on a star yesterday, as I stared out into the night, hoping for more such pleasant experiences to bring respite to me in the fast approaching hotter summer months. And I still have my fingers crossed!