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HEALTH
April 22, 2021.
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A little health update - Badi Chachi tested corona positive a couple of days ago. She's with us as of now, in Delhi, and doing fine. Since then, the rest of us have been at alert, watching out for any symptoms. I had 99.9 F fever about an hour ago, tested my temperature an hour later and it turned out to be 98 F.
What to conclude of this, I have no idea, but yes, I'm also isolated for now, with regard to mild symptoms. Mummy Papa have arranged for our medications and covid tests, so everything is happening at its pace. To all those who are fighting a war with covid, I pray for your good health and speedy recovery.
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LETS TALK
April 9, 2021.
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काफी समय हो गया, चलो लिखें ।
Okay, so..... Hi Tumblr.
This break lasted longer than I wanted it to ; blame me for not writing. A lot is to be shared here, as events worth remembering.
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I started this page hoping that it'd help me develop a habit of writing.
And for the most part, it did. Writing as I've observed is process, and you learn only through the process. Ideas are much easier to express when we understand language as a medium of expressing it. I started out with posting thoughts and writings I'd read in various books, as it took me a while to formulate my own posts, but once I did, it brought me peace. Its a change that I'm glad I was able to bring about on this page, transforming it from a ' blog ' to more like a ' journal '.
Cut to more recent times, past November 2020, I still wrote a lot, about weekly, making drafts after drafts, but I chose to post none.
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I remember Papa asking Baba to write down something about each family member, in order store it as a memoir of his. The only condition was to be fair ; To write, and show the good in everyone.
I am unaware if Baba wrote anything, but the reason I'm sharing this here is that this little conversation made me choose to write only good for the people I mention in here. If we are to keep memories, best keep them happy.
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To my readers ( if there are any ), I apologize for the crappy writeup today. I had this chain of thought for a long time, and trust me I just had to get it out. I have been out of practice, and it is evident :p
Hoping to update this place more often :)
Other updates - I have exams coming up.
Yes, Bubbye
See ya in college !
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TRACK FIELD
August 6, 2020.
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It is stressful. The present feels the lowest I’ve ever been, even academically, and all I hope is that it only goes up from here. The last couple of tests, both in coaching and school went well. Starting August 14, we have our half yearly exams and the phase test at coaching, two things which have had me stressing for a while now. It's as if I don't like studying anymore. The connect of having a place to go, a study place, the physical presence of it; it is valuable. Cherish it.
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A rising concern has been Dadi’s health, as she hasn’t been doing well. Severe complications which the family is looking into. I won’t talk much about it now, let this blog be a little on the happy side :)
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Coming Friday we bid farewell to our seniors, the batch of 2020. Although I haven’t participated in the event, it feels a loss to see them part. Sarthak, Swetabh, Stuti, Priyansh, Abhiniti and Tanmay ; you’ll be missed.
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Celebrating a virtual birthday party today, I scream with all my heart out, Happy birthday Nandini 🎊
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I leave this as an update on what's happened recently. Thank you my friend, for voicing a concern, which made me write today. I feel lighter already 😀
I know you ' inderstand '
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LULLABY
A pebble washed up my shore
Hello it said. I have a tale to spread
Tale! What tale ? Screamed I
Don't worry sir, it's just a lullaby
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Please bear with me sire
This tale is on fire
Of what I speak is a story
A tale of two buddies
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Whispered the divine
The name of the primes
As each went to hunt
What could not be burnt
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Up came a flaming wall
Marked vertically to infinity and beyond
The question arose
Isn't that what we came looking for ?
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One ran to fetch a stick
As he fought the wall to fetch a brick
Only to his dismay
He burnt as he caught hold the flame
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The other, bowed his head in silence
As he knew the divine
Acknowledging it's presence
He waited for the right time
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CONFESSION
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This little thing, which you, my reader just read is a collection of thoughts that sprung up in mid July, when I accidently typed the word ' pebble ' in a draft.
To the few who could identify parallels in this story from our mythology, yes, you are correct.
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Feels good doesn't it, I wrote a poem !
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TRUST PINK FORGET STAINS
July 8, 2020.
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And it just vanished into oblivion ✨🛫
कृपया ध्यान दे,
मास्क पहनना अनिवार्य हैं ।
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And we're boarding !
Fly green.
Bye Bhopal 👋
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SUNSET
The majority of mankind, even in communities where aesthetics are recognized as a legitimate branch of human study, regard the sunset with a certain feeling. The cool promenade or the promise of a tomorrow which rejoices some and depresses others, according to the leadings of their respective interests as involved in the weather, are the sun and substance of the enjoyment given by the daily marvel which attends the withdrawal of light. It is not that every sunset is a brilliant or a gorgeous one, but every one is marvelous. The transition of colour in the dullest is exquisitely beautiful, even of the cold, wet, stormy, cloud-drifting skies of the September equinoctial, when the only change is that from warm greys of daylight to the sepulchral gloom of the lightless scud which floats across the pale green or yellow grey sky.
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Sunsets, W. Sylvester, 1855
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DAY TALK
July 3, 2020.
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It's been 9 days since Baba passed away ; the first death I've witnessed in my family. Life gets normal faster than I'd anticipated. The silence of death is accompanied by a cheer of afterlife. The thirteen days aren't a series of serious mourning. They are, a bridge. A path, path to whatever lies ahead.
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I've been waiting to share this feeling with others, specially since it is new to me. For me, the most emotional moment wasn't watching Papa put Agni to Baba, ( which I thought was the last time I would be seeing him ), but it was collecting his ashes the very next morning. It's seems unreal how fire can transform a body to a pile of grey ash. Drain out every ounce of marrow. Evaporate the flesh.
I pulled back my tears as we swept our hands into the ashes, finding the remains, or as we call them, Asthiya.
The past 9 days have been an experience, from plain simple non spiced meals, ( which are rare in Indian households ), to daily sessions of evening Bhajans,
Rest in peace, Baba 🙏
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We took off from Delhi at noon on the 25th to reach Bhopal, much to perform the rituals and be there for Dadi. Yes, I write this post from the Heart of India, the City of Lakes, Raja Bhoj ki Nagri – Bhopal.
Although the capital city, many might say it's less developed than Indore, and to that, I'll agree. Bhopal does seem like a small underdeveloped city in comparison to the large Metropolitans we have PAN India. What's lovely about this city is that it is green. Greener than you could imagine. It is just beautiful.
2013-14 was a glorious year, an opportunity to experience this city.
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Today Chacha brought home a locally made Indian Khari bread, and I've never eaten such a delightful combination of flour, salt and oil.
I woke up with a crazy dream today, which ended with me being glad that Suman ma'am, my psychology teacher survived the mystical battle we fought at school. To those who know me from school, the villian was Gulshan sir ^_^
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The days pass at light speed, we're each getting older. I so wished for a trip outside during this corona pandemic, not so happy for the reason we had to travel.
It feels good to watch yourself get older with the same bunch of friends from school. Forgive me for my sins, pleaseeeeee ¿
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BONUS
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It is really irritating when I get anonymous asks on my Tumblr, since I don't like answering them on my page. Writing is a good form of expression, but only when somebody reads what you've written.
To whomsoever it may concern, if you ever manage to read this post :
This bird hasn't seen Bulbbul :)
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LIBERATION
Storm and strife and stress,
Lost in a wilderness,
Groping to find a way,
Forth to the haunts of day
Sudden a vista peeps,
Out of the tangled deeps,
Only a point—the ray
But at the end is day.
Dark is the dawn and chill,
Daylight is on the hill,
Night is the flitting breath,
Day rides the hills of death.
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Death, Paul Laurence Dunbar
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यहा तक के सफर के लिए शुक्रिया दोस्तो
इसके आगे का सफर हम खुद तय करेंगे
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FADE
A highlight in recent times has been troublesome. It eventually gets on your nerves, doesn't it ?
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Each day brings about a new turn. It's as if somebody adds a little tinch of spice everytime the Earth spins.
The times are tough, for all of us. Fighting our battles upfront we eventually get frustrated. Solutions fade as more problems emerge. Each greater than the previous.
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A subtle slip of daily motivation. It kept me going. I hope it'll do the same for you :
दिल ना-उमीद तो नहीं नाकाम ही तो है
लम्बी है ग़म की शाम मगर शाम ही तो है
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FINE LESSONS ( edited )
June 14, 2020.
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We bid farewell to mummy soon, as her duty in the covid ICU begins shortly. We talked upon this as a family at lunch today. We won't be seeing her for sometime now. She'll be out there, manning her battle station.
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A sense of pride fills the heart today.
UPDATE : JULY 24, 2020
All the best mumma ☀️✊
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ART
All things that are worth doing in art, are interesting and attractive when they are done. There is no law of right which consecrates dullness. The proof of a thing’s being right is, that it has power over the heart ; that it excites us, wins us, or helps us. I do not say that it has influence over all, but it has over a large class, one kind of art being fit for one class, and another for another ; and there is no goodness in art which is independent of the power of pleasing. Yet, do not mistake me ; I do not mean that there is no such thing as neglect of the best art, or delight in the worst, just as many men neglect nature, and feed upon what is artificial and base ; but I mean, that all good art has the capacity of pleasing, if people will attend to it ; that there is no law against its pleasing ; but, on the contrary, something wrong either in the spectator or the art, when it ceases to please. Now, therefore if you feel that your present school of architecture is unattractive to you, I say there is something wrong, either in the architecture or in you ; and I trust you will not think I mean to flatter you when I tell you, that the wrong is not in you, but in the architecture.
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Delivered at Edinburgh by John Ruskin, 1853
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XPRESS
May 28, 2020.
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I've been quite an attention seeking bitch today. It's weird how sudden mood shifts happen. Sometimes they just happen. Leaving behind a sober self. A self, at times, inclined to believe that they've gained an insight; a deep rooted absolutely true fact about one's life, and the people in it.
Basically, I was having friend issues. Yeah, teenage problems. I know.
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Troubled by this mental tension, and with no workable solutions to unleash the anger that had boiled up within, I resorted to, perhaps, the most 'non-me' method to deal with such things - removing their presence from my social media.
What followed, was an angry hydrocarbon changing his profile picture to a semi rude 'Do Not Disturb' sign. Ah! What an excellent idea.
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See, there isn't much I could do with quarantine on, and for once, this alkane was too saturated to actually talk and sort out problems.
Most of them wouldn't even notice the sudden absence of a friend. Maybe that's what bothered me in the first place, but who knows ? People are confusing.
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The day wasn't so bad to be honest, even this rage lasted for an hour or so. I'm blessed to have a fair share of friends, who make the day even better. Not so proud of the way I dealt with all this, it's so childish, but let's just hang in there. Let time prevail.
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Also, it's evening here, the sky's all cloudy. The breeze is cool and it's starting to drizzle.
All I need is a nice warm hug.
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Why write about it here ?
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Good question. Well guess who has been acting like an attention seeking bitch lately :)
UPDATE : JUNE 4, 2020
Conversation helps. Realisation struck a little late, didn't it ?
Forgive me pals.
To a new beginning,
Stay blessed.
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LINDA
The best know and most controversial of our experiments involved a fictitious lady called Linda. This is how we described Linda:
Linda is a thirty one years old, single, outspoken, and very bright. She majored in philosophy. As a student, she was deeply concerned with issues of discrimination and social justice, and also participated in anti nuclear demonstrations.
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In one of our experiments we presented participants with a list of eight possible scenarios for Linda:
Linda is a teacher in elementary school
Linda works in a bookstore and takes yoga classes
Linda is active in the feminist movement
Linda is a psychiatric social worker
Linda is a member of the League of Women Voters
Linda is a bank teller
Linda is an insurance salesperson
Linda is a bank teller and is active in the feminist movement
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Which one is more likely ?
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This problem shows its age in several ways, but focus on the critical items in the list. Does Linda look more like a bank teller, or more like a bank teller who is active in the feminist movement ? 89% of the participants agreed that Linda fits the idea of a "feminist bank teller" better than she fits the stereotype of bank tellers. The stereotypical bank teller is not a feminist activist, and adding that detail to the description makes for a more coherent story.
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The twist comes in the judgements of likelihood, because there's a logical relation between the two scenarios. Think in terms of Venn diagrams. The set of feminist bank tellers is wholly included in the set of bank tellers, as every feminist bank teller is a bank teller. Therefore the probability that Linda is a feminist bank teller must be lower than the probability of her being a bank teller. When you specify a possibile event in greater detail, you can only lower its probability. The problem therefore sets up a conflict between the institution of representativeness and the logic of probability.
P(Linda is a teller) = P(Linda is a feminist teller) + P(Linda is a non feminist teller)
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We were convinced that statistically sophisticated respondents would do better, so we administered the same questionnaire to doctoral students in the decision science program of the Stanford Graduate School of Business, all of whom had taken several advanced cources in probability, statistics and decision theory.
We were surprised again: 85% of these respondents also ranked "feminist bank teller" as more likely than "bank teller".
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As an increasingly desperate attempt to eliminate error, we modified the possible scenarios:
Which alternative is more probable ?
Linda is a bank teller
Linda is a bank teller and is active in the feminist movement
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Yet again, about 85% to 90% of undergraduates at several major universities choose the second option, contrary to logic. I asked my undergraduate class, "Do you realise that you have violated an elementary logical rule ?" Someone replied "So what ? I thought you just asked for my opinion"
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The word fallacy is used, in general, when people fail to apply a logical rule that is obviously relevant. We introduced the idea of a Conjunction Fallacy, which people commit when they judge a conjunction of two events to be more probable that one of the events in a direct comparison.
As in the Muller-Lyer illusion, the fallacy remains attractive even when you recognise it for what it is. The naturalist Stephen Jay Gould described his own struggle with the Linda problem. He knew the correct answer, of course, yet he wrote, "A little homunculus in my head continues to jump up and down, shouting at me –'but she can't just be a bank teller; read the description.'"
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The judgements of probability that our respondents offered in the Linda problem, corresponded precisely to judgements of representativeness, similar to stereotypes. The most coherent stories are not necessarily the most probable, but they are plausible, and the notions of coherence, plausibility, and probability are easily confused by the unwary.
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Thinking, Fast and Slow, Daniel Kahneman, 2011
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GLASS
A broken glass
Reflects the most
Turning a white light
In fear of ghosts
It says the things
Not meant to be said
But the colours are never
A shade of mixture
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We hold the shards
In our hands
And ask the bypassers
For being the one who mend
A shattered glass
Back into a mirror
Which reflects on us
Only our fears
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Just need one
Who knocks the door
And the beast howls
But not anymore
And then beast doesn’t bleed
From the broken shards
Because the broken glass
Wants to be a healed heart
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@angelztark , Angel. A, 2020
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THE SECRET LIFE OF PETS
A sudden spree of happiness struck our balcony.
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I was there, watering the plants when I heard this little laddie say "meow", and believe me, that's all it took this kitten little to win bowl of milk.
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I so wished to keep her as a pet, but I knew her home was somewhere else.
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Why do all good things come to an end ?
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