Nephews & Skies
My first first-cousin's son was born twenty days ago. Buried in finals and paper submissions, it took me twenty one days to get my first real glimpse of Ayan. He is this tiny little thing with one of the strongest necks among 21-day olds all over the world. He spends the most amount of time sleeping, so interaction is minimum, but enough. Whenever he is awake, his father, his grandfather, his mother, his grandmother and especially his Austin aunt take and make great entertainment from this cute little boy. I just wonder what feedback Ayan gives to the Almighty up above...
God, I like Earth. I get everything I need but the funkiest aspect is definitely my cute little bini. My dad is super cool, but why does he keep calling me "gundabachha"? My Austin-aunt is a little crazy, I must say. She thinks I am some "golgappa" waiting to be devoured, and she keeps messing around with my stomach, yelling that atrocious "golgappa" like thing.. No one apart from my lovely Granny calls me by my real name, so I often forget what it really is. Apparently, it's Ayan or something. Oh and my Mum keeps telling everyone to sanitize his/her hands before they touch me - I must indeed be holy. Sometimes my Dad holds me like he is clasping a magnum rifle! Don't get me wrong folks, it's rather comfortable. God, I need to ask you something, why do I sleep so much? What's worse is that I make these weird groaning noises while I sleep which seems to confuddle the general public. Oooh, I have successfully learnt how to create spit bubbles - it's fascinating. And why in the blooming world can't I cry? God, it's like you are taking away my strongest, most useful weapon from me. Please God, you need to sort these issues out for me. I need to be able to cry. But, on the other tiny hand, thanks for giving me a lot of hair on my head - I just hope it lasts forever. I love the glint in my eyes and my ears are huge - I can hear everything (hehe)! Oh, my parents are super techno-savvy. They have this special camera fixed on me while I am sleeping and can monitor me from anywhere in the house. It's cool and all, but what about some privacy huh? Jeez! But, the bestest thing in the world is the 46-inch-television that is going to be coming into my house soon. I have no clue as to why it is the bestest thing in the world, but I can't wait to find out. And oh, my youngest Austin-uncle is super-duper cool. Right now, that's all I know about him. Okay, Mum's coming to feed me - yum yum. See ya!
P.S. The skies of Austin are so very beautiful.
Finals Week & Homesickness
Last week was crazy in a not-so-fun way. I had three major finals and a lot emotional “trauma” [yes, I’m exaggerating, but still] to deal with. The finals were awesome – I got my As and I’m glad. However, my Spanish treacher-er did screw me over – he gave me a B for my 89.53%. Everyone rounds up you fool, why don’t you? Life.
But what really made this week crazy was the homesickness. Way back in summer, I was this young man, confident of being in control of my emotions and ready to belittle the homesickness theories. I cognitively dissociated myself to believe that there was no need for me to return to Dubai this winter for I was this strong fellow who had a ton of related people in the US of A, and who thought that visiting them, instead of going back home, made way more sense. After all, spending ten pocketfuls of money and going down to Dubai for 20 days didn’t make any darn sense, right? Wrong! It makes all the friggin’ sense that it needs to, and yearns for far more attention than I have ever given it. I should have gone back home. I really should have.
It hit me when I saw all of the gazillion people that I know in universities all over the world facebook their excitement of heading back home. Pictures and videos of school and Dubai did not help either. The typical-ness of Mum and Dad made me more nostalgic than ever. The thought of enticing Ghar-Ka-Khana [home food] was agonizing. Ali, the fool that he is, was not helping either. One day before my Philosophy exam, these thoughts rattled my emotions. I stopped studying, got on Expedia.com and started looking for the cheapest possible flights to Dubai. How I searched! I called Mum and told her I wanted to come home, giving her vivid details of how the air-ticket was relatively cheap and how it could all be possible.
Oh, it’s not possible! I was in this emotional delirium which made the ridiculous seem reasonable, and that dragged me into thoughts that my Psychology professors Sam Gosling and James Pennebaker would be proud of. Emotions offer stir up such extreme thoughts and actions. However principled and “in-control” you are, the passion of true emotion can sometimes drive you to do things that you know are in no way reasonable or right. Obviously, this doesn’t solely apply to homesickness. Temptation to do the pleasurable wrong, whence engulfed in an emotional trance – that’s a broader description. It is closely related to “cognitive dissonance” [this wacky term that I learnt in my awesome Psychology class]. Cognitive dissonance occurs when you have two contradictory thoughts, which drives you to choose one and justify it. Didn’t get it? It’s a little complicated – e-mail me if you really want to know. =)
I am better now. The homesickness has subsided but I am afraid that it has only become dormant. I am dealing with it right now, but I will not deal with it next winter because I am so going back home then! At least that’s what I’m saying now. We’ll see how cognitively dissociated I will get then.
P.S. Apologies to those that got bored/annoyed by my usage of certain not-found-in-Wikipedia terms [i.e. Cognitive Dissonance =)].
Postergación y Práctica
Estudiando es muy importante y postergación no es. De los dos días ultimos, tengo perdido mucho tiempo por tocando “X-BOX 360” y disfrutando con amigos. Sé que este es malo pero la vida es así…
¡Tengo tres exámenes en los próximos tres días y necesito estudiar! Más importantemente, mañana, tengo un examen final de español a los dos de la tarde. Yo tratando de estudio pero es muy aburrido, entonces yo escribiendo este “blog post” en español a practicar mi español.
P.S. I write this post to practice my Spanish and with a secondary motive of updating my blog. Translate if you care - http://www.google.com/translate_t
Melting bankPot
It was a good friend’s birthday the other day, and we decided to go to this stuck-up, “posh” restaurant and decorate our stomachs with one of the most delicious of delicious delights that mankind has ever created – Fondue, expensive Fondue.
So, on the pleasant evening of a good friend’s birthday, the seven of us entered Melting Pot, one of Austin’s finest server’s of scrumptious, expensive food. We were treated with great royalty and were led to a nice, round table. The first thing that took me by storm was the “pre-waitress”. The “pre-waitress” gave us a hearty welcome and referred to our actual waiters (yes dears, there were more than one). They took our drink orders, and a couple of us ordered some virgin cocktail. The second thing that took me by storm was that each of these “virgin” drinks was intoxicated with a bulk of alcohol, even when it was pretty obvious that we were under age. Strange, but my friends enjoyed the extra-nice service.
We then placed our order – a three course Fondue Night Special. Starters included two pots of glorious fondue - melted cheese of different types with rich wine and fine flour, and accessory dip-delights that included bread of all colors, beautifully cut apples and some chips of the highest quality. Obviously, the entrees were next. Two large pots of steaming meat fondues were served. Meat Fondue is essentially a boiling, gravy-like oil. We were also given freshly cut raw pieces of all types of meat – salmon, shrimp, beef, pork and chicken to dip into the fondue. The eating process involved us grasping the meat of our choice by our fondue sticks, and putting them into the fondue to cook and sizzle right before our eyes. Once cooked, there was a plethora of sauces to dip into to add more luscious taste to the freshly cooked meat. Sauces included the horseradish spicy cream sauce, the herb butter dipping sauce, the sour cream mustard sauce, the peanut butter sauce and a dozen more. Taken by storm for a third time, I savored every bite of meat and seafood that penetrated my stomach. Little did we know that the best was yet to come.
The dessert was what made the night wonderfully memorable. The two pots were now filled with molten white chocolate and molten milk chocolate. As our waitress poured the chocolate into the pots, the warm, enticing aroma of the chocolate engulfed our nostrils, as we prepared to savor the best of the best. We were given chocolate marshmallows, bright-red strawberries, munchy rice-crispy blocks, freshly cut banana and delicious pieces of green apple to dip into the molten chocolate. As each of us dipped our way into chocolate paradise, we grew oblivious to our surroundings and let the delicacy allow us to reach this orgasmic high, experiencing seemingly eternal joy and thanking the Swiss Gods above for their brilliant gift to Earth. But then, just when it couldn’t get better, it didn’t – the waitress delivered us the bill.
A whopping’ $45/person is what we paid for this mega-expensive meal. Yes, it was delicious, but $45! We’d rather have bought some white chocolate and some milk chocolate, melted them in some melting pot and purchased some marshmallows, some apples and some bananas to enjoy the almost similar “savory” dip. Suddenly, the brilliance of the meal turned to sheer ridiculousness. The orgasmic nature turned to regret – oh why does this sound like a one-night stand? It was no longer royal treatment, but rather an exaggerated, unnecessary exuberance. The perils of temptation that man has successfully created drowned us in this moment of guiltiness. But we shook it all away, because it was one memorable night in the celebration of one good friend’s birthday. And that’s when the extremes ceased to matter, and what remained were the memories that came along with fulfilling a good friends birthday wishes.
P.S. I did get phone-whipped [kind of] by my Dad for this exuberant expenditure, but hey, it’s a once-in-four-years experience. Yeah Dad, I know that’s no excuse – lesson learnt.
Musical Excitement, Etc.
Without any intention to show-off, but with a definite intention to share my future joy is why I write this post The next four months have Michael Buble, matchbox twenty and Bon Jovi lined up on my calendar - Buble on my birthday at the UT campus, matchbox twenty a day after, that is on the 28th of February at Houston, and Bon Jovi at Dallas in April. Excited? Bloody excited.
Concerts, to me, are still quite simply what I said a year and a half back on this blog:
"I would again like to highlight the sheer joy and memories a 1 hour 50 minute concert can give, so if any of you get any chance of seeing Robbie, or any other good performer for that matter, grab it with your hands, your feet, your stomach and everything else that is possible - because it is rare."
-Sunday, April 23rd, 2006.
Yes, I thoroughly enjoy concerts and love getting lost in the music. Obviously, I am the most excited about matchbox twenty. They have been my favorite band for quite a few years now, and however "cliched" or "gay" this sounds, watching them will fulfill one of my many dreams. Bon Jovi and Buble are supposedly great performers - I love their music too, so there isn't going to be any boredom issues there either.
In other news, my laptop's motherboard has quite conveniently, without any reason, crashed, which has ultimately resulted in the tragic but temporary death of my laptop. To add to this disgrace, HP is being a united idiot with regards to my warranty. I will rant and ridicule about this issue soon. Where as emotionally, I am so annoyed with how much my laptop's crash is annoying me. Lord, we have'st become'st so'st dependent'h on'th our'st laptops'sts.
Thanksgiving at Tarryn's was a great escape - relaxing, fascinating and fun! A bunch of finals and paper submissions are coming up, which I am looking forward to only to get them out of my way. Winter plans are done and involve everything but being home. Ali just blowed the bezeezles out of me, oh how I miss him!
P.S. I am writing this post only after making sure that I have the tickets to all three concerts in my hands. Muhahahaha! :)
The Fall
It was on a chilly Sunday morning. Thanks to the ICA, I hadn’t slept much in the last 24 hours. A ton of ICA work had kept me up all night. I was at a friend’s place, working, while the rest of the gang chirped away about the most random of things, throwing in bits of laughter here and there. By 6 in the morning, I was done, and decided to finally head back home. Tarryn came along and I hoped to walk her back to her car, and then sleep away the exhaustion in my cozy dorm bed. But things did not quite unfold the way I planned them to.
A heavy breeze made the dark, early morning chillier. Tarryn & I were walking arm-in-arm singing and talking about the most random things, as we inched closer to her car. All of a sudden, the calm of the cold Sunday morning met with a loud yelp. Our heads immediately turned towards this sound and we saw this body falling from about four floors above the ground. It hit the road with a crunch, a crunching of bones, and then the body lay their motionless. No screaming, no twitching, absolutely still, dead.
Initially, I didn’t realize what had just happened. The shirtless body that fell seemed as unreal as a doll. The sheer magnitude of what we had just witnessed seeped in only slowly - this ‘body’ was of a university student who had just fallen four floors to his death. With his back facing us, we couldn’t see the extent of the frontal damage done, and this mysticism somewhat made it worse. Was he alive? Was he breathing? Had he passed out? My heart started to race like it had never before. I bet Tarryn’s did too, and we both started freaking out, so overwhelmed by what we had just witnessed. There wasn’t a soul around us and we needed to do something about this. I frantically asked Tarryn for the emergency number. “911.” I dialed it instantly. About 3 minutes had passed since the fall when I dialed 911. The emergency officer answered instantly, and I started ranting out details of what had happened, where it had happened and to my self-amusement, why it had happened. She told me to slow down, and repeat the details a few more times. I really can’t recall how freaked I sounded on the phone because I was in flight-and-fight mode. The adrenaline was pumping with fear and shock. I was fairly efficient in giving the emergency officer all the details. She seemed as panicked as me for there was no other reason for her to call me ‘madam, sorry, sir’.
The emergency officer then asked me to approach the body and see if there was any sign of life - that’s when I saw his face. His mouth was oozing with blood, and there obviously didn’t seem to be any sign of life in him. I was glad that the sun was not out, because that would have resulted in a gorier picture. I moved away, fearful, but slightly relieved to hear the sirens that now loomed the air. Meanwhile, three people who seemed to be enjoying a morning run arrived at the scene. They were also, obviously, taken aback by what they saw. They asked Tarryn and me what had happened, comforted us and said that they had no business to be there, and resumed their running. That was slightly weird. A few minutes later the police, the EMS and the ambulance arrived. Tarryn & I moved away from the scene and saw the rest unfold from a distance.
The police marked the crime scene – it was either suicide, homicide or an accident. Obviously, it was most likely to be an accident. A few minutes later a bulky police officer came and asked us a few questions, and took our contact details down. We were the only witnesses, and if this death became any bigger a deal, we would be called in for further questioning. We asked the police-officer if we could be excused for a few minutes to go wash our faces and put on a jumper. He obviously agreed. So Tarryn and I went up to my room, freshened up and came back down at the crime-scene. At about 9, we were still there, on police-orders to stay. We were then called by a Victims-Help officer and briefed on what was happening and what would happen. She said that we could be called in to the police station for further questioning. But what she primarily was trying to tell us that what we witnessed could be a traumatic enough experience to affect our life in university for the next couple of weeks. She said that if we needed any help, we could contact her, or visit one of the university counselors. We liked the support.
The detective finally arrived at the scene. He questioned us quickly and told us to go back home. I think he was trying to avoid us getting exposed to the media, and he did a pretty good job at that, because just as we were leaving, we saw a news-channel van arrive at the scene. I was glad that happened. I was also glad that I hadn’t slept in the past 30 hours, because as soon as I reached my dorm I fell asleep, solely because of the fact that I was thoroughly exhausted. What a day.
The next two weeks were not easy, but not that difficult either. My classes were not affected, and ICA work was keeping me very occupied, but more importantly, distracted. My university did its bit by offering us support if we needed it. That felt good, even though we didn’t actually need any of it. I think the reason why ‘the fall’ didn’t affect me or Tarryn that much was because we didn’t witness it alone. However clichéd it sounds, Tarryn and I had each other. We supported each other, and understood what the other was going through, making everything easier for the both of us. Ultimately, it brought us only closer together. I get scared to even think of what would have happened if I was alone that fateful morning.
Having said all that, the side effects of ‘the fall’ are still there. Late at night, when the air gets chilly, and I am walking back to my dorm, this automated fear starts building within me. Out-of-the-ordinary sounds send chills down my back, bringing back memories that didn’t need to exist. This fear is only temporary though and seems to disappear as quickly as it comes. But what will stay permanently in my head, is this video, this video that continues to loop over and over again. It’s barely three seconds long. But it’s three seconds of something that no one needs to ever witness.
P.S. This is a memory I will not forget how much ever I want myself to forget it. Writing always helps.