La bella Italia!

In September when I visited the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, I was spellbound after seeing the plaster casts of ancient Roman pillars and decided that I had to visit this city some day. Luckily for me, some of my classmates were planning a trip to Italy for the mid-term break and I was more than happy to join in. After a friend dropped out at the last moment, we were three to set out on this trip – Kangning (or Corinne, as we call her), a huge travel enthusiast who had bought the Lonely Planet guide to Italy some two years ago, Bianca, who is of Italian descent and manages to understand the language and me, the wide-eyed travel novice.

February is a good time to travel in Europe for poor students like us – the tourist season is yet to begin as the weather is cold and humid and thus, the airfares and hotel rents are low.

We charted out a week-long vacation – three days each for Rome and Florence and two for Venice. We later found out that our stay in Venice coincided with the famous yearly carnival and so obviously our excitement knew no bounds.

We booked all our hotels and inter-city train tickets on the internet well in advance so as not to have to worry about it while traveling.

Day 1

Armed with a copy of Lonely Planet and an Italian phrase book, we left for Rome on the morning of 7th February. The journey started on a sour note as C. was not allowed to board the plane since she was not carrying her passport. Apparently Ryanair does not accept the stay permit as a valid ID proof. After a lot of arguing and tear-shedding she was obliged to buy a ticket for an evening flight to Rome.

The flight to Rome’s Ciampino airport took about one and a half hours. From the airport we had to take a 50 minutes bus ride to get to the city’s central station - Stazione Termini. Our hotel was five minutes’ walk away from the station. For 60€ a night, Hotel Beautiful was really beautiful – nice, clean room, an attached toilet and even a little refrigerator. The staff was friendly and helpful and helped us plan our sight-seeing. They recommended a restaurant for lunch as all good things must start with some pet-puja.

The ristorante turned out to be a homely, cozy place run by an old, hefty, slightly-mustachioed lady we later nicknamed “la mamma”. We were warned about the huge portions so in broken Italian and awkward sign language (we later became expert at it) we asked for a fixed menu to be shared by two. We still got huge portions of spaghetti Bolognese (which she watched us eat with a grandmotherly look) and separate desserts and were charged only for one meal! We immediately became fans of “mamma”. We visited the place with C. again the next day. Not only did we get a discount of 6€ but we were also gifted a bottle of champagne. We wanted to cry and tell la mamma how much we liked her but unfortunately our Italian vocabulary was too limited. On the third day, we bought her a box of chocolates but unfortunately her place was closed. But the experience crushed all the prejudices I had of the Italian people. The Romans especially are very friendly people, always smiling and ready to help out even if they cannot speak English very well.

Our first day in Rome was spent visiting the various Piazzas (squares) and the most famous fountain in the world – that of Trevi. Indeed, Rome is an open air museum with beautiful arts of work displayed all over the city. Especially remarkable is the Piazza de Popolo (place of the people) with an obelisk, a waterfall and a fountain in the centre. Further up on one side is a sort of a garden. On climbing it, you get a nice view of the city. We also visited the “Pantheon” where lies the tomb of Raphael, the painter. I had my first café experience nearby – a superb macchiato, exorbitantly priced because we drank it sitting down. It would have cost half its price if we had had it standing at the counter as is the custom all over Italy.

That night, our hotel threw a free dinner party. Not only was the food great but there were guests from all over the world. We would have loved to stay back and chat but we had to have a little nap before going to pick up C. at Termini at midnight.

Day 2

We woke up to a bad weather – grey skies and a light but steady shower. But the breakfast delivered to the room cheered us up a bit – coffee, orange juice and custard-filled croissants!

Luckily the rains stopped and we set out to see the holy trinity of Rome – the Coloseum, the Roman Forum and the Palatino. On the way, we came across Vittoriano – a huge monument built in the honour of Vittorio Emanuele, the first king of the unified Italy. It is white and grandiose with a magnificent equestrian stature of the king at the top. Then, we bought combined tickets for the three most popular attractions of Rome. First off, we did the Roman Forum and Palatino where you can see the vestiges of the ancient city of Rome. It is a surreal experience walking among these ruins – this is where the kings and queen of the Roman Empire lived; this is where they prayed to their Gods in majestic temples of which only the columns remain today; and lastly, this is where the republican government was born. One could spend an entire day studying the structures there and yet it would not be enough. After a lunch at a nearby ristorante we sauntered off to the Colosseum only to find it closed. We were more or less heartbroken but our tickets were valid until the next day, so we decided to return.

The rest of the day was spent revisiting the piazzas and the Trevi fountain. As is the custom we flipped a coin into the fountain over our shoulders so that we would return there one day. Throwing in two, informed Lonely Planet, meant that we would fall in love with an Italian and three would result in a marriage. We just threw in one coin each, rest assured; firstly, we did not have enough change on us and secondly, the Italian men, though usually gorgeous are known for their roving eye. For example, at this very place, an elderly gentleman after buzzing around us for a while approaches me saying “bella fontana!” “Si, si”, I say and the gentleman strikes up a conversation. Nothing cheesy or cheap about it - he asks me how I like Rome, where I come from and what I do – and then leaves after telling me not to forget to throw a coin into the fountain. More trivia – the fountain receives about 3000€ a day (presumably in the high season) and the money goes to charity.




Day 3

As decided, we returned early in the morning to the Coloseum only to learn that it was closed for the morning. So we immediately took a bus to the Vatican City so as to be able to make it to the Colosseum again before its closing time.

We started our tour of the Vatican with its museum. We hired “audio guides” for the visit which provide a detailed account of the most of the artifacts displayed in the museum. Along with the patented Egyptian gallery (is there an unwritten rule that every museum must have an Egyptian gallery?), there were many important works of Italian artists like Raphael, Caravaggio, Da Vinci and Michelangelo. The main attraction is obviously the Sistine Chapel with its frescoes by Michelangelo. They depict Biblical events as interpreted by the artist. On the ceiling, is the often reproduced creation of Adam. On one wall, is the artist’s interpretation of the Last Judgment which is equally impressive.

The next stop was St Peter’s Basilica. I cannot find words to describe the grandiosity of this basilica: the walls are high, everything glitters and shines and the Catholic Church definitely comes across as a very rich institution. St Peter, one of Christ’s twelve apostles is said to be buried here. The popes too, are buried here. The basilica is home to Michelangelo’s “Pieta” – a beautiful statue depicting Mary cradling the body of Christ after his crucifixion.

Then we literally ran to the Colosseum managing to reach there minutes before they closed entry. Entering the Colosseum sent shivers throughout my body as scenes from the film Gladiator flashed before my eyes. The floor of the arena is now gone and the labyrinth below is exposed, where the gladiators might have waited their turn to fight. There are little cage-like structures where wild beasts might have been kept before they were turned loose on the gladiators. How I wished I could go back in time when the Colosseum was well-kept, when screaming, blood thirsty crowds filled the stands and the emperor mercilessly thumbed down a gladiator that did not please him. But maybe such a scene would be too harsh for my twenty-first century sensibilities…

Day 4

We took an early morning train to Florence ready to be afflicted by the Stendhal syndrome. The French writer Stendhal, when visiting Florence, was so overwhelmed by its beauty that he fainted.

Our hotel – Hotel Feretti – was actually a “pensione” which is a family-run guesthouse. It was quite nice and clean though the owner’s wife came across as pretty rude!

It had been raining in Florence for a long time apparently – the streets were wet and the skies grey. So we decided to visit the museums before. First on the list – Uffizi – the primary art museum in Florence. My favourites in this museum were “Primavera”
and “The Birth of the Venus” by Alessandro Boticelli. There are also some nice works by Da Vinci, Raphael, Caravaggio and Michelangelo. Most works have a religious theme and there are countless representations of the Madonna and the Child, the Annunciation (where angel Gabriel announces to Mary that she is to be the virgin mother of the son of God) and the Crucifixion. After a while, it got on my nerves though I learnt something about Christianity and Italy’s religiosity.

Earlier that day, we visited the Piazza della Signoria – a square with some impressive statues including a copy of Michelangelo’s David (more about him, later). As it turns out, Florence too is quite the open air museum! A quick visit was also made to the Palazzo Vecchio (Old Palace) which serves today as a town hall.

Day 5

Crappy weather meant we had to make a beeline to the Academia, another of Florence’s museums. We did not spend a lot of time here – we had grown tired of the innumerable representations of the Madonna and the Child! What interested us the most was the immense statue of the biblical king David (who defeated Goliath) by Michelangelo. David stands nude, his face and muscles tense, ready for combat with Goliath. The statue is indeed a masterpiece showing great understanding of the human anatomy on the part of the artist.

Next was the Santa Maria de Novella, a basilica right across the railway station. It is in green and white in colour. It looked like a mosque to me. There is a bigger version of this basilica called “Santa Maria del Fiore” (Saint Mary of the Flower) and it is the main cathedral of Florence. We got a free guided tour of the cathedral and learned many interesting facts. Here are things that I can still remember: The Virgin Mary is very important in the Catholic faith – she is the obligatory point of passage towards Christ. That is why the Italians fervently worship her and she occupies an important place in most painting and art works.
The colours in the façade of the cathedral are significant – green signifies hope, white faith and red charity. These are the most important values of the Catholic faith with charity being the most important.
There is a 24 hour clock at the entrance of the cathedral – it signifies the end of human time and the beginning of spiritual time. The fresco on the dome (which itself is an architectural marvel) represents the Apocalypse. The Christ returns in all his glory to give the last judgement. Time has stopped so Chronos, the God of time is seen handing over a broken sand clock to Christ. The four seasons have gone to sleep as is the Mother Nature. Death is giving up her weapons too. On the one hand, there are scenes from heaven (which is mostly filled with women, mind you) while on the other hand, demons are torturing naked men (yes, men!) in hell. But the conclusion is that, everybody will be forgiven for their sins as Mary seated next to Christ is pleading him to be forgiving. And Christ is shown refusing a sword handed to him by an angel. We climbed up a long flight of stairs to get closer to the dome. After some more climbing, we got to the terrace from where watched the sun set over the beautiful city of Florence.

Day 6

Since we were not so keen on spending an entire day visiting Pisa, we planned a day trip to Siena and San Gimignano.

Siena is about one and half hours away from Florence by bus. It is UNESCO World Heritage Sight renowned for its beauty. It was apparently founded by the son of Remus, one of the founders of Rome. The figure of the she-wolf suckling Remus and Romulus appears often in this town. What intrigued us the most here is its patron saint Santa Caterina. Her little household is still kept intact as is her head and thumb in the cathedral of San Domenico! The saint died in Rome but the people of Siena wanted at least a part of her in the place where she belonged…

Next we went to San Gimignano. It is the kind of place you see in pictures – cobble-stones streets, pretty houses and picturesque environs. We spent hours roaming about in the town before taking a bus back to Florence. But not before making a resolution to buy a vacation house there some day!

Day 7

We reached Venice a little before lunch time. So the day had to begin with a visit to a restaurant to taste seafood.

We then decided to do the “tourist attractions” listed on our map but the streets were so complicated that we soon gave up trying to decipher the map and roamed aimlessly. Our dream to sail in the gondolas with the boatman singing some old Italian tune were crushed soon given the exorbitant prices. We settled for a ferry ride which sails on the outskirts of Venice. It works like a metro, people getting on and off at “stops”. The ride dropped us on the Piazza San Marco which was bustling with tourists.

We preferred walking about in the quieter, less frequented lanes instead because they were so much more charming. We also did a lot of window shopping. Venice is famous for its Murano glass, I learnt; a colourful glass manufactured only in Venice (and probably in China) and available in many shapes and sizes. There are also a lot of lace and embroidery shops selling beautiful white tapestry, table cloths and the like. Obviously they are very expensive; C. bought an initialled handkerchief for her mother for 14€!

The day ended with a dinner at an American-style pizzeria and a disgusting Italian liqueur Limoncello, the bottle of which we couldn’t finish.

Day 8

C. left for Germany early in the morning. B. and I had a hearty breakfast at the hotel, trying to stuff ourselves so as to postpone lunch as much as possible. On most days we would be famished by noon. I think our trip consisted of visiting sights in between breakfast, lunch and dinner instead of the other way around!

Anyway, our last day in Venice was to be the most exciting one. The Carnival had started last evening so the streets were full of people dressed in weird attires. Women in Marie Antoinette style costumes walked around or sat drinking coffee as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Little children were dressed up as Spiderman and Ratatouille and Miney Mouse. We bought ourselves feathered masks too so as not to play spoilsports.

A band moved around the city followed by disguised singing and dancing revellers. We followed them too for a while until, alas, it was time to leave. With a lot of huffing and puffing we managed to reach the airport in time only to learn the flight was delayed. If only we had known we could have spent some more time in the Carnival…

As with all good things, we felt that the trip had ended too soon. My heart almost sunk as the plan landed in Paris. Now, it’s back to the daily humdrum even though (fortunately) school doesn’t start before next week. I’m going to miss the Italian exuberance and friendliness, pondering over the menu for hours, sheepishly ordering a dessert after every dinner, pretending to speak Italian fluently and correctly (while all I managed is “thank you”, “please” and “the bill please!”), walking until I could no longer feel my legs and yeah even the Madonna and the Child!

But I know I’m going back one day because I threw a coin in the Trevi Fountain…

The Bob, Flower Power and Learning to love it

How it all happened: So finally, I decided to get a haircut. My hair were falling all over the place (a nightmare for our bai) and had turned dry and brittle. At times, frustrated, I wanted to shave them off and was only dissuaded by the fact that I’m a freak enough already. Anyway, off I went to this expensive “salon” for the haircut that would make heads turn…
When the stylist (couldn’t call her the parlourwali since she did some course in L’Oreal Paris) asked me if I’d like the ‘classic bob’ I didn’t think twice before consenting. I mean, Madame Beckham has it, Bipasha got it recently and according to my Sunday newspaper it is the “in” thing. For the next fifteen minutes I watched her chop long strands of my hair and tried not to cry. When it was done I suddenly realised that I was neither Posh nor Bips and neither did I have a posse of hairdressers to airbrush my hair every time I stepped out of the house. As she blow-dried my hair the haircut slowly came into being: my look had changed drastically and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. It wasn’t a bad haircut, it just wasn’t me!
Familia and the gang: Mom thought it looked great. Grandma thought I looked like a doll. Grandpa thought I looked younger. Dad thought it looked funny. Friends refused to say anything beyond, “You look so different”. Cousin thought I looked like a Hollywood actress of a bygone era. I thought I looked like Willy Wonka. Brother agreed but pointed out that he had longer hair.
Anger and Denial: I’ve had my share of disastrous haircuts (once a friend even remarked: What did you do to your hair?) but this would take months to grow! And as anybody who has just seen the face of adversity, I went into denial. This is just a bad dream, I told myself. I’m going to wake up with my tresses intact. Then came anger. Why couldn’t I have given it a second thought? Why, oh, why? But it was too late…
Fear: What will people think? That I’m a moron?
Acceptance: When there’s nothing you can do about something, you accept it. Yes, I had made a wrong choice. So what? I could always buy a nice hat and wear it until my hair grows back.
Learning to live with it: I have to live with it for the next few months. So I might as well learn to like it. What could be the upsides of the bob?
The bob has a long and fascinating history. It originated during the First World War when the womenfolk took to work in absence of the men who were at war. The bob was practical, easy to maintain and didn’t get in the way of work. And so it became the symbol of the liberated woman. Obviously, the men and the Church did not approve. You might not believe it, but I read somewhere that women wearing bobs were fired from work and were labelled as promiscuous. Times have changed now; the bob is more of fashion statement than a symbol of women’s lib. But I guess it is somewhat of a consolation to know that my disastrous haircut once represented “flower power”.
The next step to follow should be (ideally) learning to love it. I’ll come to it. As soon as I figure out how to flatten the Jimmy Hendrix-like halo of hair around my head.

Taps and Rains

Why should my taps run dry when it's pouring cats and dogs outside?

Pursuit of Happyness

“(…) We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS”. (The American Declaration of Independence)

I watched this weekend the wonderful Will Smith film – “Pursuit of Happyness”. (By the way, the wrong spelling is intentional). Will Smith’s character says this at some point in the film, “It was right then that I started thinking about Thomas Jefferson on the Declaration of Independence and the part about our right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And I remember thinking how did he know to put the pursuit part in there? That maybe happiness is something that we can only pursue and maybe we can actually never have it. No matter what. How did he know that?”

Happiness means different things to most of us. We all have our equations for it…
Good education = happiness
More money = happiness
Bigger house = happiness
Nicer car = happiness

The equations are endless… But are they correct?

People living in lesser developed countries tend to be happier than those living in the developed world. Why? Maybe less is more. Or simply because material things do not bring happiness. Not necessarily.

Think of Maslow’s pyramid. At the bottom is the man who just about manages to fulfil his basic needs of food, clothing and shelter. As he climbs up the social ladder, he tries to attain a comfortable standard of living. Once all his bodily needs are satisfied he longs for mental satisfaction, social recognition and happiness. So that’s when things get complicated… The more you have, the more you want! And the more you want, the more unhappy you are! As simple as that!

Gautam Buddha said that the root cause of suffering was ‘trishna’ or thirst. If we learnt to control our thirst or desire, we’d be a lot happier, he said.

Now, that brings me to another question: if we didn’t long for anything, what purpose would we give to our lives? Would it be wrong to be ambitious? Aren’t all great things a result of some longing, of some want? The answer I guess lies in finding a balance. As the Bhagvad Gita says, “do your ‘karma’ (i.e. whatever it is that you have to do) and don’t expect anything in return.” Now that is difficult, or rather impossible for mere mortals like us. The least we can do is not to let failure deter us from our pursuit of happiness…

Children's Rights

Since I haven’t found the right medicine for my blogstipation, here’s some information about child labour. Why child labour, you may ask?
Well, some days ago, I read about Mr. Kailash Satyarthi, a prominent children’s rights activist, in Alternatives Economiques (a French business magazine). He founded with the Bachpan Bachao Aandolan, an organisation dedicated “To identify, liberate, rehabilitate and educate children in servitude through direct intervention, child and community participation, coalition building, consumer action, promoting ethical trade practices and mass mobilisation.”
The BBA site allows one to ask Mr. Satyarthi questions. Here are the questions that I asked and the response that I got:

Q: Don’t children have to work because of poverty?
A: While it is undeniable that children work, in part, because of poverty it is not the only reason, or as important as many people assume. Children often replace adults in the job market, depressing their wages and hindering economic growth. In India, 60 million children are working while 70 million adults are unemployed. Recent studies have begun to question poverty as the major cause of child labour, discovering that other factors, such as failing education systems, are equally important in perpetuating child labour. Countries with very similar levels of poverty often have very different rates of child labour, on the other hand, a country that is much richer than its neighbouring country can have almost equal occurrence of child labour.
(Quite shocking, isn't it?)


Q: How will poor families survive without the additional income of the children?
A: Many studies show that children’s wages contribute so meagrely to the family’s income that they are of little significance to the overall family income. And, a large number of child labourers come from households where the parents are unemployed or under-employed, while employers give preference to children as a cheap source of labour. Moreover, it is precisely the vast number of children in the workforce that bring down adult’s wages, their bargaining power is reduced and they suffer from large-scale unemployment. The cost of children missing out on education is much greater to both the individual development of a child, as well as development of society as a whole. Evidence suggests that existing social norms, tradition, exclusion and discrimination of certain groups as well as a badly or ‘indifferently’ functioning educational system are the most important reasons why children are working and not attending school. It is the responsibilities of States and the international community to ensure that programmes are in place to mitigate the immediate negative impacts of the withdrawal of children from labour for poor families.


Q. How can I, as an individual, concretely contribute to the fight against child labour?
A.If you ever see a child working any where, raise voices against it. Do not take services food/tea etc from such restaurants, Dhaba', tea stall or canteen/houses who employ child labourers. Launch a written complaint about such acts to the nearest labor officer or police station.
You can also inform us about, and can join us in rescue and rehabilitation of that child.

Or you can also join other organizations and networks working against child labour.

Blogstipation

Blogstipation n. Not being able to come up with a post for your blog
Well, I'm pretty blogstipated at the moment. I didn't even come up with this word; it's borrowed from Rahul Khanna's blog. (Yes, yes, the very forgettable crossover actor. The blog is excellent though. Don't ask me where to find it, just google it.)

Being Agnostic Adj. & n. believing that nothing can be known about the existence of God

I am agnostic. My definition of agnosticism is slightly different from the one given above by the Oxford dictionary. I, at this point of time, cannot decide whether I believe in the existence of God or not. In the future, however, I do not rule out the possibility of turning theist or atheist.

All over the world, believers have the tendency to look down upon non-believers. In a survey held in the US, more than ninety percent people were ready to vote a woman, a black or a gay for President. But only one fourth would vote for an atheist. Non-believers are tagged as immoral or plain stupid. The aim of this post is to clear these misunderstandings about us.

Charge no.1: Atheists/Agnostics are egoistic people who find it below their dignity to accept the existence of a power superior to them. (This comes from a column in The Indian Express).

Not true. I understand that I am just an ordinary person out of the millions in this world and I realise the unimportance of my existence on this planet. So I personally don’t have a problem accepting that there is a power superior to me. In fact, it would be wonderful to feel protected and guided all through life. . (Though I do have a problem in accepting that all my actions and my destiny are being controlled by somebody else. What would be the point of our lives then?)

Charge no. 2: Agnostics/Atheists are stupid because how can one not believe in God? (This is usually accompanied by condescending lines like, “You are too young, you know. You’ll know better when you grow up.”

I won’t even bother answering this one.

Charge no. 3: Agnostics/Atheists are stupid because how can one not believe in God? The world is so beautiful and complex. It is even beyond the understanding of science. So God exists.

Huh? I mean, in pre-historic times, Man worshipped the forces of nature because he could not explain them. A lot of thing might be beyond our understanding today, but that hardly proves that God exists.

Charge no.4 (Levelled at agnostics by both theists and atheists): Are agnostics also agnostic about sunrise everyday (i.e. believe that sun may rise or may not)? (This too comes from the same column in The Indian Express)

Again a very fallacious argument. Sun has been rising every single day for as far as we know. Therefore, the probability of the sun rising tomorrow morning is extremely high. It would therefore be stupid to be agnostic about it.

Charge no. 5: Agnostics/Atheists are immoral because they have no fear of God.

If fear of God is the only thing keeping a person from being immoral, then such a person is a big hypocrite. (The omniscient God will see through this!) And then again, don’t we know people who behave immorally and then conduct poojas and visit temples to wash the sins off?
(What helps us choose between good and bad is our conscience.)

‘Believing’ in God is a question of ‘faith’. And ‘faith’ is often beyond ‘reason’. I, an agnostic, am caught between the two. Only time will tell if one of them is to win.

Guilty…

The other day, I was about to park my Scooty near a shop when a young man in his twenties almost blocked my way shouting, ‘Madam, madam!’ He was carrying a large handbag. An older woman (possibly his mother) stood near him, dressed in an old navwari sari. For a moment I was taken aback but I ignored them, parked my Scooty and walked into the shop. I wasn’t going to fall for this, I knew this trick. He’d say that he’d come to the city from some far-off village in search of work, hadn’t found any and had no money to go back home. Would I kindly help him? Fifty rupees? Twenty?

By the time I stepped out of the shop, the young man and his mother were gone. Almost relieved, I started off.

And then it crossed my mind; he was probably simply asking for directions… And I felt terribly guilty for not paying any attention to him.

L’oubli et les souvenirs de mon grand-père

Faut-il se méfier de l’oubli ? L’oubli qui nous arrache de notre passé et qui nous prive de nos souvenirs les plus beaux. Ou faut-il se réfugier là-dedans ? Dans l’oubli qui adouci les souvenirs les plus amers et qui guérit les blessures que laissent les séparations.

Aujourd’hui, il me reste très peu de souvenirs de mon grand-père. Il est mort il y a plus de dix ans. Pourtant, je l’ai beaucoup aimé. C’était mon meilleur ami. Il me reste très peu de souvenirs des après-midi que l’on a passé ensemble jouant je ne sais plus quoi. Je ne me souviens plus de la forme de ses mains. Je ne me souviens plus des airs qu’il jouait sur son harmonica. Je ne me souviens plus de l’histoire qu’il me racontait chaque nuit.

Certes, il me reste des photos. Grâce auxquelles je n’oublierai jamais son visage foncé et ses cheveux blancs comme la neige. Il me reste aussi ses clous, son tournevis et toutes ses affaires ; lui, qui aimait bricoler. Je n’ai pas encore oublié le timbre de sa voix. Je n’ai pas encore oublié les rêves que l’on a rêvés ensemble rentrant de l’école quand il venait me chercher.

Et puis, je n’ai pas oublié non plus le jour où on l’a trouvé allongé par terre dans sa chambre, des ronflements émanant de sa bouche. Il avait subit une crise cardiaque. Fatal. Pour la première fois, j’ai vu les adultes s’effondrer en larmes. Moi aussi, j’ai pleuré. J’ai pleuré toute la journée. Epuisée, je me suis dit « Ce n’est qu’un cauchemar. Ça va passer. » Mais c’était bien réel. Depuis, je n’ai pas revu mon grand-père.

J’ai peur qu’un jour l’oubli gagne sur les souvenirs de mon grand-père, qu’un jour, je perde un peu de ce qui me reste de mon enfance.

Resolutely Non-Resolutionary

We played this interesting game at the New Year’s party. Everyone has to write down their resolutions on a piece of paper without disclosing their identity. Somebody then reads out the resolutions one by one and the others have to guess to whom that particular resolution belongs. It’s quite hilarious especially if the resolutions are written with a touch of humour.

Since I was hosting the game, I didn’t have to write down any resolution. Good thing though since I don’t have any. To give a clichéd response, my resolution is not to make any resolution at all. Because, after all the resolutions are forgotten the very moment the New Year celebrations are over. In all of the documented human history nobody is known to have lasted for more that a week…

Well, but since we have already crossed the threshold of the New Year, one must make some resolutions if only to uphold an old tradition. In any case, it doesn’t matter how long you last.

So here goes –

1) I will cut down on eating outside.
2) I will cut down on unnecessary expenditure like CCD coffees and Pastry Corner’s rum balls.
3) I will go for walks and exercise every single day. (Ouch!)
4) I will study regularly. (Ouch! Ouch!)
5) I will attend college classes regularly. (Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Someone make me stop!)
6) I will work for world peace and bring an end to American hegemony. (Don’t snicker. This resolution is not any more improbable than the five above)
7) And here’s one for the benefit of my dear (non-existent (sniff! sniff!)) reader – I will stop making idiotic posts such as this one.

Now that I have seven resolutions in place, I can now go about forgetting them conveniently; at least until the next New Year’s…