Sad, Depressing, Sorry Post - Be Warned!

Well, I’m not going to keep the world in suspense any longer. The examination went very badly. Not in the ‘Oh, I could have done better’ sort of a way, but awfully on an absolute scale. I’ve dissected and analysed and replayed the whole exam in my head a million times. What’s the point? I can’t turn back time. I’ve dreamt about it too. And I am ashamed to admit, I even hoped the paper would have leaked so that there was a re-test. I wish I didn’t think such thoughts though – it’s not fair to those who have done well.

It’s pointless discussing here what went wrong. I’ve done it so often in my head, its’ like a record. Difficult paper, very close choices between the answers, took a lot of time answering each question, ran out of time to go back and answer the questions I had marked with a star to indicate that since I was doubtful about it, I should come back to it and think through the options again before answering. So left out a lot of questions because of messed up time management. That was the story with the first paper.

And I was stupid enough to let the first paper affect my second paper. I went in with a ‘what’s the point’ attitude. And I made it a point to answer each question very quickly or not at all – either the answer jumps out at me or I don’t mark it at all. Because of which I answered too few questions and I made too many mistakes. I did so badly that I didn’t even bother going through the key and checking my tentative score. Hell, I didn’t even count how many questions I had answered. Again, what is the point?

More relevant is what I should be doing next. I started thinking of getting back to work. But now I’ve decided to continue preparing for the mains, atleast till August. If I get through by some miracle (and its going to take a miracle equivalent to that of Jesus walking on the water for me to get through) then I would have been preparing these two months. If I don’t get through, all I’m losing is two months of time and money, which isn’t all that much. It isn’t so bad, to wait it out till August. But I don’t know where I’m going to find the motivation to continue to study.

The worst part is that my sense of self is so tied in with academic success that now I feel like something of a failure, and am making it out to be a bigger deal than it actually is. See, I suck at sports, I’m no good at art, I have no musical talent, I’m not a creative person, and anything I cook is inedible. But the one thing I AM was good at was academics. Now it looks like that’s also been taken away from me, and it’s made me hyper-sensitive and irritable. Of course, I know its stupid, but I cant seem to help it.

It’s funny how I feel sorry for myself on the one hand, while on the other hand I am thinking of how I am blowing up this whole business.

Okay, have I now managed to successfully pass on my sense of depression and despair to you?

Well, cheer up, its not all bad news. My parents and Samee have come to Bangalore, and are staying with me for a week. We’ve been about quite a bit, done some shopping, seen a play, ate out every day. Tomorrow I am off to Coorg with the family for the weekend. I’ll write a nice, cheerful, happy post  once I’m back.

Take care and have a good weekend!

P.S: Or maybe not. My next post might well be a painful, pathetic crib post about how I am friendless in Bangalore. That’s one of my latest bugbears. It’s like I’m always looking out for imaginary problems since I don’t have any real problems. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

ToW the Curls

For the longest time ever, I’ve wanted to have curly hair. As a kid, when I made up these fantastic stories in my head, ALL my heroines had curly hair (and dimples). Those were the two things I wanted desperately. And a twin brother. I even fantasised about ‘lost in Kumbh Mela’ and ‘stolen in hospital’ type scenarios, and fully expected to be reunited with my long lost twin brother any given day! Yes, I was a dangerously imaginative child, which wasn’t very pleasant for my parents.

Anyway, I digress. Now my fascination with curly hair continued even as I grew up (as did my fascination for a twin, but I had to accept that nothing was going to come out of that). In my teens, I thought all the girls with curly hair were cute. And as I grew out of my teens, I thought all the girls with curly hair were hot – looking hot having only recently become acceptable for my then extremely prudish and conservative taste.

A couple of years ago, as I was leaving for Europe for four months, it struck me that this was the best time for me to get my hair permed, because even if I looked like a wild pseudo-African, my friends and family wouldn’t see me in this strange new avatar. And so extensive plans were made. I found about salons in Bombay, made an appointment, and booked an early morning flight from Hyderabad to Mumbai (my flight from Mumbai to Milan was later that night). I put my luggage in the left-luggage counter at the airport and headed straight for the salon.­

As I waited for the stylist to arrive at the salon, it started raining, heavily. Now the salon was at the basement level, and the water slowly started filling in. Now this was in September 2005, just one month after the terrible Mumbai floods, and so no one was taking any chances. The salon shut down and I was out on the street. By then, it was pouring cats and dogs, it was getting impossible to get taxis or autos, and I had no friends in Mumbai! Thankfully, I managed to get in touch with a senior, find a taxi, go to the senior’s office and pick up her house keys, and then go to her place, where I spent the rest of the day watching TV and drying myself, till it was time for my flight in the night.

After that, I never got around to doing it. It was too expensive in Europe of course. And when I came back, it was too close to placement season to experiment with my hair. And then I had a job and I didn’t want to experiment and look unprofessional. And so ended my curly hair dream.

But now, I quit work a couple of months ago. And I had pretty long hair since I had been growing it out for over a year now. A friend suggested that this was the best time to revive my long held dreaming of getting my hair permed. And so I went about planning it with a vengeance – I called about a dozen salons, and followed up with personal visits to half a dozen of these. I made Samee run around a couple of salons in Hyderabad. I tried putting my photo on various hair styles on the internet. Finally, I shortlisted a salon and made an appointment.

As d-day arrived, I suddenly took it into my head that I would start looking Mallu, and I almost cancelled my appointment – not that I really have anything against Mallus, just that I don’t want to look like one; I don’t want to look Gult either, for that matter. (Who do I want to look like, you ask? Priyanka Chopra, if I had the choice, but since I clearly don’t, it’s just not worth discussing the question).

Okay, where was I? Yeah, the salon. So after three hours of the stylist wearing thick gloves and doing scary looking things to my hair, I emerged with long curly hair! Since this happened just two days ago, I think it is imperative that I share this fabulous news with the whole world. And so, dear reader, say hello the curls.