And the power's out in the heart of man...
There is no electricity. The only sources of light in this room are my laptop screen and a gnarled candle. Outside, buildings are clad in black, and shapes are scurrying, searching, squealing. It reminds me of playing hide-and-seek in B block, squashed with my friends behind the water tank, trying not to give ourselves away. I wish I could still feel that kind of excitement over this push into darkness. Instead I keep waiting for the lights to come back on, for the fan to wake the air from its maddening langour, for my laptop battery to be charged.
As far as Sundays go, today was fairly productive. I got a pedicure, which at this point, is almost insufferably exciting. Then I worked on the Humjinsi website a bit, and started to write the Combat Law article. I also have to type up my proposal, but I'm so nervous about actually showing it to Mihir and Deepika that I keep putting it off. Of course, it's due tomorrow. Ick. If the rain keeps up like this, though, I doubt I'll be able to go to work tomorrow. According to Star News, Sandhurst Road is pretty badly flooded. In any case, Wadala and King's Circle are pretty badly hit, so it's highly doubtful that the Harbour line will be functional at all.
Anyway.
Sundays are my official vegetate-in-front-of-the-TV day. All the best BBC shows are on Sunday, so our relationship is as wonderful as ever. I watched two shows on Africa - the first looked at Ethiopia twenty years after the famine, more famous for begetting Live Aid than for its terrifying scope. I have tremendous respect for Michael Buerk, and as ever, the documentary was lump-in-the-throat-inducingly compelling. I've always enjoyed watching his work as he's an incredible writer, brimming with beauty, insight and unabashed humanity. The second show was "Geldof in Africa." This particular episode of the series was filmed in Uganda, and mostly focused on the Lord's Resistance Army, and their ruthless targetting of children - the girls are hunted as sex slaves, the boys as soldiers. It was interesting, but not surprisingly, very disturbing.
I also watched the match today. The last cricket match I watched was the disastrous World Cup Final between India and Australia. Today's game was a lot less interesting. We won, without much pomp or fanfare. It was a slow game, but at least we finished in style. Under the circumstances, anyway. I also laughed at myself when I remembered that I used to have an embarassingly intense crush on Dravid. I remember watching the Sahara Cup when I was all of 13, trying to peer between the bars of his helmet to discern the face of this potentially cute cricketer. The intital curiosity soon blossomed into a full-blown crush, replete with baseless glorification and sighing daydreams. In all these reveries, I imagined Daddy shooting an ad with him, which would give Rahul - yes, we were on a first name basis - the perfect chance to realise that I was his soulmate. Funnily enough, Dad did eventually shoot with him that year. He came home one evening, and informed me excitedly that this was the perfect chance for me to meet my hero. This turn of events turned my mind into a cesspool of panic and possibilities - It made so devastatingly happy that I couldn't go to the shoot.
I am pleased to say that my love waned quickly, but I must admit I still have a soft spot for him.
Man, I thought the electricity would be back by the time I finished my rambling. Oh well, at least my feet look fancy.
As far as Sundays go, today was fairly productive. I got a pedicure, which at this point, is almost insufferably exciting. Then I worked on the Humjinsi website a bit, and started to write the Combat Law article. I also have to type up my proposal, but I'm so nervous about actually showing it to Mihir and Deepika that I keep putting it off. Of course, it's due tomorrow. Ick. If the rain keeps up like this, though, I doubt I'll be able to go to work tomorrow. According to Star News, Sandhurst Road is pretty badly flooded. In any case, Wadala and King's Circle are pretty badly hit, so it's highly doubtful that the Harbour line will be functional at all.
Anyway.
Sundays are my official vegetate-in-front-of-the-TV day. All the best BBC shows are on Sunday, so our relationship is as wonderful as ever. I watched two shows on Africa - the first looked at Ethiopia twenty years after the famine, more famous for begetting Live Aid than for its terrifying scope. I have tremendous respect for Michael Buerk, and as ever, the documentary was lump-in-the-throat-inducingly compelling. I've always enjoyed watching his work as he's an incredible writer, brimming with beauty, insight and unabashed humanity. The second show was "Geldof in Africa." This particular episode of the series was filmed in Uganda, and mostly focused on the Lord's Resistance Army, and their ruthless targetting of children - the girls are hunted as sex slaves, the boys as soldiers. It was interesting, but not surprisingly, very disturbing.
I also watched the match today. The last cricket match I watched was the disastrous World Cup Final between India and Australia. Today's game was a lot less interesting. We won, without much pomp or fanfare. It was a slow game, but at least we finished in style. Under the circumstances, anyway. I also laughed at myself when I remembered that I used to have an embarassingly intense crush on Dravid. I remember watching the Sahara Cup when I was all of 13, trying to peer between the bars of his helmet to discern the face of this potentially cute cricketer. The intital curiosity soon blossomed into a full-blown crush, replete with baseless glorification and sighing daydreams. In all these reveries, I imagined Daddy shooting an ad with him, which would give Rahul - yes, we were on a first name basis - the perfect chance to realise that I was his soulmate. Funnily enough, Dad did eventually shoot with him that year. He came home one evening, and informed me excitedly that this was the perfect chance for me to meet my hero. This turn of events turned my mind into a cesspool of panic and possibilities - It made so devastatingly happy that I couldn't go to the shoot.
I am pleased to say that my love waned quickly, but I must admit I still have a soft spot for him.
Man, I thought the electricity would be back by the time I finished my rambling. Oh well, at least my feet look fancy.
posted by Auri @ 11:49 PM
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