Hatred for a pretty man. So much for a Business School.
The Scottish Play :D
Oooh I miss Literature. I miss Lit.ImissLit.ImissLit.ImissLit.ImissLit.
ImissLit.
J told me about Blackadder. She gave me a gift that cheers me up every time I watch it. J is such a fun person. So sad I can’t meet her this time. In June, however, I’ll ditch everything else to meet her.
And T is missed too. I miss our conversations - I haven’t spoken to anyone about my love for The Scottish Play in the freakin’ Scottish land. Or seen somebody’s eyes sparkle as I speak of Ginsberg or Vonnegut or PoMo or Donne. Man I miss her. But this one, hopefully, I’ll meet real soon.
And, I downloaded SO much from DC++ this time - Tom & Jerry, A Bit of Fry and Laurie, Monty Python, Jeeves & Wooster, Sarabhai, House S08. Wow. I’m all set for the next two months.
I’m exploring Edinburgh with an old map this time - this book was pulblished around 1922. And most of these places are intact. I’m looking forward to this.
Meanwhile, home is heaven :)
Dear God,
Letters to you on Facebook and other such public forums have worked in the past. At least for me. In my experience, you hate bad publicity. So, right now my life is a mish-mash khichdi. Sort it out, will you ?
Heres what I need you to do (and really quickly!)
a) Make my brain work like a bright & shiny, fast and furious comet from tomorrow morning.
b) Send a dissertation idea to my head - like in my dream like a shooting star? The way you did with the guy who discovered the structure of Benzene ?
Lots of love,
~V
The sun sets by 4:30 these days. Seems gloomy sometimes, but since I like dusks, this is great. I prefer the Business School to my room at Richmond – its got red chairs, people, conversations, hot chocolate and sofas just right for my height. The Pulp Fiction poster in my room brightens it a little, but what can compete with a room full of red chairs ?
I like to sit on that grey couch after class and study/Skype/write/blog. So I came back to the Business School after dinner last Thursday and got to work. (And developed a disturbingly strong love for cement. What would life be without cement ?) And the next time I looked at the watch it was 1. 1 AM. So I wrapped up and started to walk back home. And I was frightened.
Why? Because I am programed to be scared, careful, alert – walking on the streets in the middle of the night – alone. Girls are not supposed to be doing that. For my parents it was a matter of safety, but I know people for whom this is about “decency”. Because if a girl – walking alone, at such a time is assaulted, it is her fault.
Watch what you wear, how you walk, with whom you walk, when you walk, what kind of people you talk to, what kind of people you sleep with, how many people you sleep with, does your skirt cover your knees, does your blouse cover your breasts. If I didn’t take care of myself, I was inviting it.
(Shit, I got carried away, didn’t I ?)
Anyway, so I had a rather long debate in my head about exactly why I was afraid – and if this fear is so inevitable, isn’t it terrible? Have I been okay so far because I lived in Bombay – the safest city for women in India, or because I always followed every word of what my parents told me to do.
I’ve been walking back at 1/2/3 all of last week – and each time I try to get that fear out of my system. I never imagined it would be so hard. So fucking hard. I think I’m almost there. I cannot wait to get there – to walk back home – free and unafraid.
