Posted by: astrodominie on: June 11, 2009
Posted by: astrodominie on: May 24, 2009
I’m leaving in less than 5 days and I’m already a bit of a wreck.
I don’t know why all this didn’t occur to me. Moving out was (is) always something I wanted (want) to do. I’m terribly excited about the new apartment, Suv and I are already budgeting and planning and decorating, I’m trying to learn how to use a pressure cooker. My suitcase is crammed with saucepans, kurtas, spoons, photographs and books, all fighting for room. There’s so much I need to take and so much that I wish to do. There’s also just too much that I can’t leave behind.
I’ve been spending more time with my parents over the past few weeks than I have in years and it’s bittersweet. They’ve adopted my imminent move as a new project, and masterfully rose to the occasion despite their own mixed feelings. Right now, I’m choking with love, excitement, borderline panic and guilt. It’s the money spent on clothes and relocation, the little sandalwood Ganesha nestling in the nether regions of my suitcase, the Skype account that I set up for my mum, the little undemonstrative things that touch me more than anything else. Hyderabad is not far away and home will always be Chennai, but I feel so damn bad because I know I’ve already broken a hundred unspoken rules in more ways than one.
People tell me that I analyze too much which is probably true. But when you know something is wrong but you can’t let go of it, what are you supposed to do then?
I’m too damn emo for my own good.
In other news, I love this song. It’s my current anthem.
Title Source: Summer’s End by Foo Fighters
Posted by: astrodominie on: May 9, 2009
It was the application form with its series of questions that I mostly fibbed on (”What magazines do you read and what is the frequency with which you read them?” “The Economist and I read it every 15 days without fail!”).
It was the first glimpse of the majestic building on Ellis Road which was to become my home (”This must be the administrative building, the real college must be somewhere else”).
It was the slow change in my vocabulary and the creeping in of phrases and people that I would never have thought of using before (”J school”, “the owl of Minerva”, “the little green men”).
It was the mind-boggling array of assignments, the bewildering number of people whose names I tried to guess from the admissions list, the frantic worry when faced with the mysteries of the camera and technology. The way I initially clung to Priti and Jincy who were “old friends”, the way I would painstakingly take down names of a million people mentioned in class, most of whose names I couldn’t even recognize, the humiliating realization that I knew too little, and the gradual acceptance that I would never know enough and I was quite happy staying that way.
It was the countless Submarine sessions, sitting in the dingy interiors and eating dubious snacks while trying to hear ourselves over the blare of Sun TV. The unlikeliest group of friends possible, which we couldn’t explain even though we tried (”But why are we all friends?”). It was trying to force Jiby to forego sleep and come drinking with us, Karthik and his Sri Lanka T-shirts, the mad Dipanjan vs. Vijaykanth session, Kamakshi and our Sunday sessions in Bikes, the 5 of us forcing the watchman to open up the gates for a last photo.
It was Lucky and our infrequent sessions at the canteen, Aparna and I as the laziest Magazine cycle team possible (”yeah, call Jiby’s mother and get a quote”), Jatin and the Terry Prachett that never was, Arpit and HIMYM and the WordPress debt that he still owes me, Moonmoon and her endless jigsaw puzzles, Ajai and his watering eyes and his subsequent theft of the infamous aviators, the Environment group and our consequent fixation on Pallikaranai even after the course ended. It was Kanchipuram and Taxi Taxi, with its entertaining anecdotes of Mohan and the birds, and Nalini Rajan grappling with her Tamil, in the background of a heady mix of alcohol, jokes and room parties. It was G1 in the third semester and the strange Robin and Ramnarayan parties, one with too much pizza and the other with too much beer.
It was a disjointed series of interaction with too many people to name, and too many people whom I will, in all probability, never meet again.
Now it’s a series of photographs in the prospectus and on the website of us in unnatural poses of concentration and diligence, of Facebook messages (”hey how you doing? when do you start work?”), and of the cluttered memories of the ten hectic months that were.
We were bound by the loose ties of being students at the Asian College of Journalism. In reality, we were that and a lot more.
Title Source: Roll Another Joint by Tom Petty
Posted by: astrodominie on: April 19, 2009
Well, let’s see.
Title Source: Let It Die by Foo Fighters
Posted by: astrodominie on: April 5, 2009
I got a job!
Features reporter with The Hindu in Hyderabad. I start on June 1, which effectively means that I leave Chennai before the end of May.
It hasn’t sunk in, I don’t quite believe it, but it’s true. I’m employed!
I wish I had more to say on it but I don’t. Maybe in a week or two. When I’m able to figure out the muddle of terms like provident fund, allowances and bonuses. Until then — I have a job, I’m moving out, the Chennai chapter shall soon close. After over 10 years.
Eek!
Title Source: Rockstar by Nickelback
Posted by: astrodominie on: April 2, 2009
I wish people weren’t so obliged to offer opinions. True, it might seem like the greatest irony in the world that after all this build-up, I got a job through placements only to turn it down, but it was a choice that I made. It was a tough decision but I made it and now enough.
I might not get the job I want through college, but I will get it somehow. So I don’t need people to think that it’s their “duty” to tell me that I might live to regret turning down “what could have been the job of a lifetime”. Especially the random people who don’t even really care about me, who are just doing it to be petty and condescending.
Thank you.
Title Source: Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes