Sounds of the night

Now before you start thinking this is a reflective piece about how in the dead silence of the night, only the rustling of leaves, the buzz of the crickets, the faint bark of a distant dog, the whirring of your brain and the beating of your own heart can be heard.....you're just a little far from the truth. I would love to write about all those things, but there is this one sound that is currently dominating my senses. It's been suggested that I call it 'Snore Rock'.

It's really wondrous, this whole phenomenon of snoring. It's probably the only generous thing humans do--they don't want any bit of the mayhem their rhythmic snoring causes, no siree! It's all for the snoree to partake. And woe is you if you are a light sleeper!

Now what is really amazing about all snorers that I have known, is that at they sleep through the thundrous noises that they themselves make, but are likely to wake up instantly at the slightest creak a floorboard might make. And they are all incredibly self-aware - when you toss and turn trying to block out the rumbling noises, they will wake up with a start and say, 'What's the matter? Can't you sleep? Oh.. Was I snoring again?' No, sweetheart, that was just me practising some of the latest Shaimak Davar dance sequence -Aao Twist Karen (The Twist). Some have the decency of sounding sheepish when they ask that last question - small mercies!

I had a friend who is an advanced, experienced snorer, in that before he goes to sleep he instructs those around him for their well-being. He has a list of remedies that you can resort to if he snores (Ha! IF !!!). 'Call out my name, I am sure to stop', 'Just tap me on my shoulder once', 'Call my name and shake me a bit', 'Roll me over on my side' (now that is truly considerate of him). We added one more by experience - FLEE !

What is making me write this, in the wee hours of the morn? I am doing some brain work - D, and serving as a background for the tapping of keys and the hum of computers is.... not hard to guess... deep snoring! My friend (identity kept secret for obvious reasons) is in the land of dreams, in technicolor...with accompanying music. While I have been driven to my blog for recourse. (Actually, I have to thank him for keeping me awake so I can do my work!) Sshhhhh, I can hear him stir.... I can almost hear him ask me as soon his eyes fly open 'Oh, was I snoring?'

Identity and Brilliance

Brilliant flashes of inspiration at 22.55 ten days away from D submission. Some things that I realised about me, myself and Aarti (List 1):
1) I can hear better with my left ear.
2) I can hear better than I can see (and that doesn't bode well for my sight).
3) All my fingernails have perfect half-moons.
4) I wore boys' vests till I was 14.... no, I wasn't a late bloomer, some weird school rules.
5) I never had a girl by the same name as me in my class till post-grad.
6) I have no favourite colour.
7) My science teacher of 3 years was called Arti (It must have been funny for her saying ' Aarti, are you paying attention', or 'Aarti, leave the class' - which she never had to, btw).
8) I have never officially studied my mother tongue Marathi.
9) I can't say 64 and 67 in Marathi without causing the listener to break into giggles- some weird tongue twister for me ('chau-sastha' and 'sadu-sashtha' ?)
10) I have never used mascara or worn a short skirt (and there goes my dream of finding a hunk)
11) I am in danger of being overshot by a couple of inches by my 11 year old cousin (come on, who knew she would shoot up like Jack's beanstalk?)
12) My vocabulary is in danger. I think in academic verbs 'Kaumudi opines that my dress sense should be more modern, whereas Urja posits a change in hairstyle would be preferable'. Maybe I should even start using the Harvard referencing system - Pande, A., 2005. Identity[online] In: Trivial Pursuits. Blogger. Available at http://sharelifenow.blogspot.com.
13) Reem and Vaibhav haven't yet given me the photographs of fireworks that I was waiting to post here. Of course that has nothing to do with this list.
14) I didn't want to stop at an unlucky number. 14 is also my birthdate, is also Valentine's day date, is also Children's Day date,.........

Woozy Musings

Today is supposed to be the hottest day in Bournemouth. It isn't. The sun is just right - warms you to the bone. Invites you to come laze. I think this might be the result of its dalliances with Pasithea (oh come on, surely you didnt forget her already! - The Goddess of Rest!). My brain got invigorated with all that Vitamin D, and I would have continued sunning hadn't it been for that tiny voice inside of me (I am learning the hex for laryngitis, will let you know soon), reminding me of all D duties. But hey, come to think of it, if I worked in the sun, I could be a genuis... 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration (the inspiration is that of working in the sun, but let's put that aside for a bit).
Sunshine (talking about the girl now) just returned from a whirlwind Europe trip (nah.... I don't hate her for it. Well, maybe a little bit of disgust at the fun she had while I rot here, but nothing more). She started fretting about the work she had to catch up on even before she left - prompting the apple of her eye to complain that she had gone into power-saver mode for part of the holiday. She is going to be free a good 15 days before me..... that makes my list of 'Why I hate Sunshine' that much longer.
There was a piece about languages that I wanted to add to this post, but the brain got an Easyjet ticket to Hawaii (£0.99 exclusive of airport taxes), so will add that later. It's that tiny voice again........gotta go! (Is it 'bamboozlus totalus', the hex?)

Sans dessus dessous

J'ai envie d'ecrire en francais, moi, aujourd'hui. J'ai oublie la plupart de ce que j'ai appris il y a 2 ans, mais j'adore la langue, et meme s'il n'y a personne qui liras ce 'post' (sauf Urja), j'ecris!
Je veux vous presenter un ecrivain (humoriste, plutot) belge qui j'adore - Raymond Devos. Pour Raymond Devos "les mots servent à la confusion, à égarer l'esprit".
Ci-dessous est un de ses sketches, lissez et dites-moi si vous l'appreciez autant que moi! (Urja, I need my Petit Robert!!!)

Translated: I feel like writing in French today. I've forgotten most of what I learnt about 2 years ago, and even if no one reads this post (except Urja, bless her soul!), I shall write! I present to you (good Lord, the arrogance in those words, unintended of course) a Belgian humouriste I absolutely adore - Raymond Devos. Now this is a really neat guy (this is not what I wrote above, my skills are limited). He makes a play on words, spellbinding (and that's bizzarely appropriate here). Please please learn French to appreciate his work, which I've given below. Please please do not use the 'Translate this page' tool, you will slaughter the writing.
I'd love to read something like this in English!
(Urja, I need my French-French dictionary!!! - that of course didnt really need translation, but I'm thorough with my job, you see)

Ouï-dire
Il y a des verbes qui se conjuguent très irrégulièrement.Par exemple, le verbe ouïr.Le verbe ouïr, au présent, ça fait:J'ois... j'ois...Si au lieu de dire "j'entends", je dis "j'ois",les gens vont penser que ce que j'entends est joyeux alors que ce que j'entends peut être particulièrement triste.Il faudrait préciser:"Dieu, que ce que j'ois est triste!
"J'ois...Tu ois...Tu ois mon chien qui aboie le soir au fonds des bois?Il oit...Oyons-nous?Vous oyez...Ils oient.C'est bête! L'oie oit. Elle oit, l'oie!Ce que nous oyons, l'oie l'oit-elle?
Si au lieu de dire "l'oreille",on dit "l'ouïe", alors:Pour peut que l'oie apartienne à Louis:- L'ouïe de l'oie de Louis a ouï.- Ah oui? Et qu'a ouï l'ouïe de l'oie de Louis?- Elle a ouï ce que toute oie oit...- Et qu'oit toute oie?- Toute oie oit, quand mon chien aboie le soir au fond des bois,toute oie oit:ouah! ouah!Qu'elle oit, l'oie!...Au passé, ça fait:J'ouïs...J'ouïs!Il n'y a vraiment pas de quoi!

Vous pouvez lire quelques autres sketches ici : http://www.chez.com/ruivaz/devos.html

What's in a name?

I am on my way to eternal virtual fame. In a very confidential deal, I negotiated the treble mention of my name in exchange for, well, the same. (no, I can't mention the name of the other party due to privacy laws in Jhumri Talayya. No, you can't get the name out of me even by force. No, seriously, don't do this. Ok, I can't take it anymore, it's Arun - see now, did that make a difference to your life?)
What will I achieve out of this, you might ask? Nothing really. It's a deal born in the most uninspiring and random circumstance. Scene - late evening, windy outside. Tons of D work at the uni. Looking for escape. Cycle home as fast as you can, gulp tea with a friend, sort out differences and as a parting shot, say, 'You must mention my name on your blog, if I agree to do the same'. The number 3 got caught in the mess, unfortunate prime number.

Most roads in India are made of tAR, UNlike the roads in the US, I hear. Such roads are not suitable for jogging, or even A RUN.
Je fais cette betisse cAR UN gars a lance un defi. (Excusez des fautes, s'il y'en a! Je les corrigerais aussitot que possible.)

This post thus owes its existence to Arun. Oh, a beside - you know Arun means 'the sun' don't you?
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my freedom from a smothering deal! HAHAHAHA (demonic laughter).

Gorgeous cold beachy stress-buster

So there is indeed a Goddess of Rest, praise ye lord! Urja wasted no time in elightening me about PASITHEA , aptly the wife of Greek God(ah, the images those words bring to mind...) Hypnos. So that's my deity from this moment on. And there is some company that even sells its own version of the Goddess of Rest, complete with flowing grape vines, a radio and - hold your breath - soda and a bag of chips! Is that a goddess or what! I have to tell my parents they conveniently didn't introduce me to the right mythology. I mean surely we could find place for one more goddess in the pantheon of Indian gods, infinite as they seem. Anyways, Relaxa shows us how to relax and chill out. I knew my faith lay somewhere else all those times I visited Indian temples!
I am currently trying to appease the Goddess (whichever version you choose) by cutting down on my workload. In the meanwhile, I cycled with friends to the beach at 10.30 p.m. to escape the claustrophobia dissertation work has been causing. A great decision! The cycling made my muscles groan and creak, but a whiff of fresh, salty air set that all right. Listening to waves (and I know I'm not the first one to say this) is supremely relaxing (ah, relaxa again). It can be such a cleansing experience. The moon was half and divine, though wasn't showing on the beach. The hike back was excruciatingly pleasing pain, if you know what I mean. It drove all other worries straight out of my mind. Happy exhaustion! Reem helped us refuel with a cup of coffee and conversation, and here I am, back to take a swipe at the D in the wee hours of the morn!
Happy Weekend people!

Where is the sunlight?

No, this isnt about the weather. The sun is shining in all its brilliance, Bournemouth is performing beautifully. I, on the other hand, am not.
I am going through serious PMS - Pre Masters Symptoms. Experienced just before the end of a Master's degree. Brought on my unresolved dissertation issues and looming unwritten pages. Symptoms - Sleepiness, distraction, snappiness, mindless blabber, sudden remembering of urgent work (e.g. updating the blog) and mental wanderings. My brain regularly has out of body experiences - it varies from person to person, I imagine.
Panacea - Abdication to a far away country which is immune to all forms of education (and preferably believes in divinity- ruled by the Goddess of Rest).
Sheesh, ok, back to my Word document..... We don't need no education!!!!

Hair stresser

So, I'm considering an alternative career.....which might be a good option anyways judging by the way the D-word is going at present (dissertation to the unintiated, careless, sane people). I might want to hone my skills as a hair dresser, I reckon. My hidden talent was revealed to me one sunny morning (uhhhh, yesterday) when my friend (lets call her Sunshine, shall we? She likes that for some weird reason) asked me to trim her long (and I mean Loooong) tresses for her.
We marched into the garden, after only a little initial trepidation on my part. Now, I have to confess, I did underestimate the difficulty level. But the feeling of power that that simple act gave me egged me on. I chopped off about 3" of those gorgeous hair, and S kept looking over her shoulder to check if things were going ok....like that would give me more skill or something.
Just one tiny problem - the rightmost lock got, uh, kind of cut too much. But disaster management - I made a nice U-cut out of it. Ah, the beauty of skilled hands! Yeah, so you shouldn't look too closely at the result. But who wants to look at the hair when the face is sooo beautiful, right?
Then again, maybe I should think of becoming an image consultant.