let the figs fall

 baby take it slow 

take it in

the figs are fallin

but there’s no point lookin

the sheets are crumpled

the books are in a tumble

but your skin is thirsty

and your eyes are hungry

your body speaks 

if only you’ll listen

 

baby take a breath

take a moment

the figs are fallin

and they’re not slowin

the road’s been long

and the maps are wrong 

you’re not here to stay 

and your stride is long

but you’ll see the crossroads 

if you stop to look around

 

baby let it go 

let it be 

the figs are fallin

though you’re tryin

a stranger answers

when your name is called

your glass is dirty

but the bar is full

and you’ll have stories

when you’re leavin

Why I enjoy living alone

It’s been about five months since I moved out of my parents’ place in Chennai to a small 1BHK in Bangalore. Of late, I’ve been feeling very grateful for having made that decision. Here is why I love living alone.

  1. Today I made shakshuka and it was quite tasty. A year ago, I had no idea what a shakshuka was. Living alone has given me room to experiment with new cuisines.
  2. I listen to music while I cook. While I previously did not really listen to music, it’s become an integral part of my life now.
  3. I feel like I distribute my energy more differently now. I conserve it when I’m alone and invest it in people when I meet loved ones. This feels much more balanced compared to when I was staying at home in Chennai, and there would be constant demands on my energy that I had no control over.
  4. Living alone has made me more grateful for the people in my life. I focus on them better and listen with less judgment.
  5. Friends have stayed over at my place a few times now, and I don’t have to worry about anyone else’s opinions, and it’s a weight off my shoulders. It feels wonderful to be able to host people, to feel an ownership of a space and then to invite people into it.
  6. I’ve been working very hard on “finding friends” in Bangalore. Today, a really cool person pinged me asking if I wanted to hang out, without me having to ping her first. It feels like I’m slowly building connections in this city.
  7. I get to work two days a week with Ishani at BHive, and I must say, there’s something really nice about being able to work face-to-face with colleagues.
  8. Now that my company’s profits actually pay for real-world expenditures, I’m much more motivated to run a tighter ship. And the work I’m putting in is showing. TCC had one of its best quarters in Jan-March 2019.
  9. Now that I actually have to pay rent and can’t spend all my money on luxuries, I’m a bit more prudent about my expenditure. I’m also learning to budget (ugh!).
  10. When I moved out, I was still plagued with anxieties about whether I’d be successful. Moving out has helped me relax these expectations because it has made me aware that my needs are, in fact, quite simple. This has, on the whole, made me more peaceful. (I’m sure this will change in due time, but I’m going to enjoy the moment for now).
  11. I no longer think work is what provides meaning to my life, though it definitely does have a big part to play. It is many components — work, freedom, health, relationships — coming together to form a whole.  I feel more comfortable with my professional life now because it is no longer burdened with the task of providing “purpose” to my life.
  12. I feel like I’m more my own person now. I take greater care of my appearance because I’ve started to see myself differently. I treat myself with greater respect.
  13. It’s strange, but I enjoy not having anyone “looking” at me when I’m at home. For one I am less conscious of my clothes and appearance, but I also feel like I forget myself (my body, my posture) in these moments and simply be.
  14. Living alone is often an emotional workout because there is no one to lean on but yourself. I’ve gotten way better at looking after myself instead of reaching out to someone else. But also, I’ve gotten much more comfortable asking for help when I need it.
  15. I’m starting to realise that I am indeed a brat, letting my own feelings often crowd out the fact that someone might be having a harder time than I am, or that their behaviour has nothing to do with me. I find my perspective changing. The West prioritises happiness and the East prioritises duty. I do not believe in embracing either in its entirety. But I’m EXTREMELY grateful that I am privileged enough to be a position I can balance the two.

First Rain

The day it rained for the first time

after I moved here, I threw open the doors and windows

and invited the thunder in for a cup of tea.

I would’ve enjoyed the company.

Alone in a house yet unmarked by grubby fingers or spilled dessert,

— remembering my mother shaking open her umbrella to survey

her garden, exchanging nods of greeting with the drenched flowers;

— remembering too many friends crowded under too few umbrellas,

elbows and laughter jostling for space in a golden night;

I look at the raintree glisten, drenched in the answer

it has relentlessly demanded of the stone-faced sky — crow slick

with surprise swooping and swiveling out of the way of their embrace —

and I let myself be swept away by this new rain in this new place

so that when the time comes, I may remember this place too,

with fondness.

On ‘Pariyerum Perumaal’

PariyerumPerumal_KathirandKaruppi_750There is something Shakespearean about Pariyerum Perumaal—the relentless battle of a young man to carve a space for himself in a world that only wants to drive him into the mud; the slow circling of a killer, coiling around his victims like a python; the villainy conducted in the name of family and honour by men driven to prove their masculinity; and at the centre of it all, a cruel death and an ever-present violence.

In one scene, Perumaal (played by a forever-glaring Kathir), the young Dalit protagonist, carves his name into a desk at the law college he’s studying at, staking his right to be there. The next day, he finds that his name has been scratched out. The movie was excruciating to watch for many reasons, but most of all because it made me uncomfortably aware of how much I take for granted—that I can speak English well, question authority freely, and am encouraged to make my own life choices. I am allowed to exist and claim my place in the world, in a way Perumal simply isn’t. It was a reminder of how strange and small one’s world is—shiny and flaky and fragile, a glass bubble that is entirely cut off from the other reality playing out just outside of it. This is a recurrent theme in the movie: how those around him, though well-meaning, completely fail to understand his experience.

Perhaps what I loved best about this movie was it’s treatment of the romantic arc—while for upper-caste Jo (the female lead, played by Anandhi), her experience of her relationship with Perumaal is one of friendship that blossoms into youthful love, which then leads to disappointment, heartbreak, and reconciliation, for Perumaal, romantic feelings don’t even have the space to exist as he’s engaged in a struggle for survival. It’s as though they are passing through the same physical space, but in different dimensions. While I found Jo remarkably ditzy and clueless, her response to every situation simplistic and childish, perhaps her ham-handed handling of the tensions brewing around her is a commentary on the blindness of well-meaning members of the upper castes who very often completely miss the point. As Perumaal repeats many times in the movie, his relationship with Jo is not about love. It represents everything in the world that is good and beautiful that is denied to him because of his caste, including his bond with his beloved dog, Karrupie. What is a love story for one, is a struggle for survival for another.

What truly makes this film so remarkable is the array of supporting characters. The villain in the movie, an upper caste _thaatha_ (played by Lijeesh) who uses his age, gender, and caste privilege to convince those around him that he’s a genial old man while harbouring and enacting great violence, embodies a deep-seated paranoia handed down without fail from all mothers to daughters—trust no man, no matter how benevolent, and especially those who are benevolent for no reason; stop to help no one, no matter how helpless; keep your head down and carry on because everyone is out to get you. The murderer is not some diabolical, flashy mobster, but a person you’d see on a bus or riding a cycle on a street, an everyday person who is nevertheless capable of great evil in the belief that they’re doing it in service of their god.

The murderer does not work in isolation, but is aided and abetted by the families of the young lovers he murders. Jo’s father and cousin brother find themselves drawn into an increasingly worsening spiral of violence as they react to Perumaal’s refusal to back down—the father driven by ideas of lineage and honor, while the brother by ideas of masculinity and pride. They too are complicit, as much as the hand that actually does the deed. The father (played by Marimuthu) particularly makes for an interesting character—driven by his caste pride on one side, and his morality on the other—he constantly vacillates between the two, his refusal to take a stand doing as much harm as good.

Perumaal is not without his allies. Jo, though remarkably dense, is steadfast and never really sees his caste. (However, it is her clueless behaviour that precipitates much of the violence against Perumaal, and not his own actions.) His best friend, Anand (played by a wonderfully warm and funny Yogi Babu), is the voice of common sense in many scenes, constantly counselling Perumaal to keep his head down and blend in. College professors, completely inept in dealing with Perumaal’s anger, are just regular people trying to do their jobs, their anger more bombastic shouting than any real grudge. But in the end, the only people who truly make a difference in Perumaal’s life is the Dalit headmaster, who gives Perumaal the direction and meaning that has been stripped from him, and his family, who’re the only people who can truly understand his experience.

Though the middle section of the movie relentlessly drives home how the odds have been stacked against Perumaal, the movie ends on a hopeful note. Perumaal, the angry young man, is still frustrated with the slow rate of change, his anger simmering just below the surface now, but you can see that change is already taking place—he sits facing his oppressor at the same table, drinking tea from an identical glass.

Achievement vs Satisfaction

There’s a very popular narrative regarding achievement I’m seeing pop up across the arts and business fields, particularly in industries with a large self-employed or freelance population. The idea is that happiness is not worth seeking, but rather one should seek meaning through passion, mastery, and achievement. The idea continues: happiness is fleeting, meaning lasts forever. However noble this idea sounds, it can lead rather quickly into a downward spiral. David Burns, one of the founders of Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, argues in his book Feeling Good that this belief system stems from capitalism and the Protestant worth ethic, and is designed to make people work harder, accumulate capital, and generally be miserable. In short, “meaning” is an abstract concept and doesn’t add tuppence to your life.

Continue reading “Achievement vs Satisfaction”

Notes on editing tables

Some quick things to keep in mind while editing papers with tables. Will add more when I think of them.

  • Ensure that the inferences in the text match the data in the table
  • Mention the table in the paragraph under which it occurs
  • Make sure it has a title and a source
  • Try to make the source as specific as possible
  • If there are multiple tables, format the titles and sources consistently (same font, bold/italics, etc)
  • Make sure table titles are capitalised consistently
  • Capitalise header row consistently
  • Don’t capitalise the first column
  • If the “total” row or any other row is bold, be consistent across all tables
  • Make sure that the table numbers are formatted correctly (with a full-stop, colon, roman numerals, number order, etc)
  • Make sure all tables are numbered sequentially
  • Make sure all the table borders are formatted consistently across tables
  • Look out for additional notations (asterisk, for example) and check if it has been explained in the notes
  • If there are any abbreviations not mentioned immediately before in the text, explain them in the notes
  • Make sure all the numbers have the same number of decimal points
  • Check if use of comma separators is consistent
  • Right align numbers if possible so that the units line up
  • Glance through the numbers to make sure nothing looks too weird
  • Roughly check if the total adds up
  • If data is unavailable, put in a dash instead of leaving the cell blank
  • If there is a unit, include it in the header row, instead of repeating it in every cell
  • If the numbers are in a particular unit, mention it in the header row
  • Try to be consistent with the lakh-crore system or million-billion system across tables
  • Be consistent with currencies across tables
  • If a notation indicates a significant value, check if the value is indeed significant according to study parameters
  • If one heading is meant for two columns, merge the cells
  • If the data is for specific years, mention it in the title