JP,
something i wrote for you!

the church walked away to warmed hands and warmer toes
the queen stayed and offered some
while the colonised looked on

I ride the shuttle to school and yesterday i wanted to bomb one of them, seriously! As another brown skinned person and i tried to get into the bus, Mr. Driver yells "what do you think you are doing?"
we assume it is a joke and get in. then he enters and proceeds to say "you guys are the targets man. You enter the country as students and then start terrorist organizations." So I ask him "Sir, which kind of people are you talking about?" he points at me "you kind"
and then his friend enters and they proceed to talk about security measures and sleeper cells on campuses.
I am in a hurry to get to school so I don't know what else to do except curse the bastard and want to plant a bomb in his ass.

Robin,

My unlawfully wedded sex partner, may I ask why the rage against your bush? does the mere shaving of one's cunt offer resistance to the offending GW? I am a little offended myself that there is even a comparison being made between the wondeful bush that we all have and GW. Why is there so much shame connected to the genital hair? Doesnt the idle playing around with the hair provide something for us to do in times of boredom? Dont you ponder on the effectualness of something that comes in all textures, sizes and colors, something that is so much a part of you but outside of you? Much like Lacan's the Enigmatic Signifier?
Something that we are all rivetted you. Something beyond yourself! A symbol of being a woman, not that I am a big fan of symbols but still forgive me for sometimes I slip into being my old silly self!
But my love, it is a source of much physical, tactile pleasure to many people and to demean one's pubic hair by comparing it to the murderous Mr. Bush is sacrilegous. LOVE THY OWN BUSH! SUBVERT WHAT IT HAS NOW COME TO MEAN. RECLAIM IT AND MAKE IT OUR OWN!

paul,
that is fucking scary what you went through!! I felt the same too when the guys seemed all confused and I was hoping they wouldnt shoot me or something! here's to never meeting those guys again!

It is 12.30 in the night, im dozing off to a particularly exciting show on the FOX network,one of the only 2 channels i get, and I get the fucking jitters when I hear loud banging on my bedroom door. Someone yells "Its the police. Open up" I do not want to, Im shit scared. Again the yelling resumes. I open the door a little bit and im blinded by the flashlight shining in my face. There are 2 of them. One with the flashlight and the other with his hand on his hip/gun. Im almost about to breakdown when one of the 2 cops yells at me asking me about someone. I told them that the guy lives upstairs and they march away, without a word.
And then i did not sleep all night. Never knew it was so fucking scary.

The Office of the PP(Perpetually Paranoid)hereby notifies the defendents to present themselves at the 25th floor of the City Hall, Buffalo, NY at 4.00 p.m on April 14th. You will be fingerprinted and your records filed away in the PP's Official Database Please follow this link for further details

Im angry and the past 2 semesters are being cleared of their hallucinatory web and im falling down fast to the fucking earth. In anger the alliteration is all around. So, this blank space shall help me clear up some facts.
1. There is nothing one can do to normalize the 'outsider' experience, you just will have to stand on the fringes and be granted ocasional privilages.
2. One has to completely erase your past experiences and achievements when one relocates.
3. One cannot draw consolance from "those happy times"
4. one will be and allways will be the exotic 'other'
5. If anyone mentions one more time about how excellent my english is, im going to present a tome to that offending person about the fucking colonial history that India has had. I'm sorry I am not capable of speaking any other kind of english.
6. if anyone looks closely at my lips and tries to lip read when im fucking screaming my head off, i shall drown my sorrows in a bottle of old monk rum (my favorite from mera desh)
7. If anyone asks me if there are big houses and good roads in India, I shall repeat the book-presentation this time with Said's Orientalism and visker's essay on racism. and then some more subaltern history.
8. IF anyone attempts to translate weird little americanisms i shall inform politely that media globalization and imperialism has brought everything from Cops to Friends to The Bold and the Beautiful to the many corners of the earth.
9. I shall also poltitely explain that I speak, read and write 4 languages, have an MA in Developement Communication and Documentary production and have taken a 20 hour long flight to come to this blessed land.
10. this rounds off nicely my little diatribe.

So why I am writing this? because i have been told, in not so many ways, the first 4 points by some power-that-be.
im frustrated and im not going to be slotted into a preconceived role of the 'alien' the 'foriegner' the 'outsider' that one has to help in order for then to assimilate. well i do not want to assimilate.

My mother left to India on Sunday. I want to go too. The weather apparently is conducting itself beautifully. All wet earth and pouring rain. I miss those long drives and hot raosted buttas (corn)! Sigh!I miss those many strong Irani chais and butter biscuits. I miss the cheap cigarettes. I miss the conversations in Hyderabadi Hindi (a strange mix of Urdu and Hindi. I miss being with friends and sharing one precious cigarette. I miss the big weddings of cousins and friends. I miss the heavy Kanjaeevaram saris and exquisite jewellery. I miss being with my huuuuge extended family and talking till the sun goes up. I miss being the one everyone looks to when we decide at 3.00 am that it is time for some "yummy chai." I miss being able to take off whenever I wanted to and go away to my village for a couple of days. I miss being pampered. I miss having money (lots of it.) I miss my little nephew I havent seen. I miss my friends. I miss vinaya and nitin. I miss those looong conversations about films and politics. I miss saying the lines that made me famous (hmmm): "must have been devastating" and "come on everybody, dance. come on, young man dance," to my sweetest friend nitin, much to his embarrasment.I miss my partner, the love of my life. I miss my beautiful home, with the many guava trees and sweet smelling coconut trees. I miss taking an auto(3 wheeler public transport) to whereever I please. I miss the terrible coffee at Qahwah, the coffee place. I miss the conversations with Srinivas there.
I miss
I miss
I miss
3 times said too much
"Sing" little girl, said the old man from his perch
for there will be life and a song long lost when you return.

colouring your hair, as much as Revlon tells you, does not do too much to your life. i still have to read 48 essays and write as many papers. i am also going to cheecago,as my Telugu brethren would say, on the 11th. will meet old friends and drink and smoke too much. i love it. i spent 3 years of my undergrad years like that, i think i can manage another week, right?