Anya's Musings

As a girl, the society almost expects me to love shopping. Love? Heck, no! That’s way too mild a term. Thrive on it, live for it, yearn for it…you get the picture. And really, I do see a lot of girls (guys also, yes, but predominantly girls) whose extra-circular activities include shopping. I have friends who can shop, shop, shop and do that and get all perky by the end of the day.

Me? When I shop, its usually because I have to as opposed to want to, or feel like it. When I shop, it’s a ridiculously, painstakingly a “masculine” way of shopping. I shortlist where I need to go, walk in those stores, shortlist what I like in less than five minutes, try them on, and buy the one I want to. That’s all. No hopping from shop to shop. No should I take boths. None of that.

Why do I say it’s a masculine way, you ask? We-ell, I was watching Confessions of a Shopaholic, and that’s how Luke Brandon shopped (incidentally, Hugh Dancy = wow). I don’t find shopping half as divine an experience as Rebecca Bloomwood did, nor half as good as the kind my friends assure me it is. It’s funny, how I just cannot participate in the shopping ga-ga.

Don’t get me wrong though. I do not take shopping that mildly as well. When I shop, when there is a need to, I shop good. Which does not necessarily mean blowing up cash, but using it for all the good, sensible & pretty stuff. Practical, too.

However, there is one splurge of mine, no matter what. And again, it does deviate from the norm. When I walk in a bookstore, the books cry out to “Buy me, buy me, Anya, buy me!” and its excruciatingly difficult to walk away from such heart-wrenching plea. But, I have started to control this urge (And anyways, my bookshelf is out of space) and I haven’t bought a book in three months. Hallelujah!

Someday though, I hope to be rich. And then I’ll buy Jimmy Choo shoes, Chanel dresses, Guess bags… sigh, all that. With my very own money! But even then I know, I won’t be half as ga-ga as people expect me to. I just can’t be. I’m incapable of it. It’s just not me. And the last thing I am is an impulsive buyer. Heck, I doubt I’m impulsive in any field! Not that I’m complaining!

Another day. Its becoming so mundane, even waiting for the mundane-ness to break. And yet, its not. Another day, and its exactly like the one gone by. I’ll just wait for something to happen. A miracle. A revolution, perhaps?

I do not know. But I am beginning to think a revolution would be a good thing. Suddenly all that drama & jazz makes sense. It was to break to mundane, to start something new, something fresh. And if you don’t think of it when you’re 20, well, it’s just too late, love.

Speaking of being 20, I just realized that I may just be the youngest person in my class, which is not altogether a very reassuring revelation. But, what they hey, I was talking about a revolution. Of what? I again have not the slightest clue.

Its got to be something marvelous, something fab. Something breathtakingly beautiful. That’s what a revolution should be like. Something passionate. Passion, I find, is something that (surprisingly) a lot of young people lack. But I think passion is a good thing, as long as it’s not anti-social.

My passion? I really can’t say. But I have reasons to contemplate literature. And what is law, but literature? After all, it is written. And made by humans. Its beautiful, its got its flaws, and people are dumb enough o think it’s a universal truth. Much fun.

I think I haven’t made much sense in this post, which is okay. That was sort of the point. I have a head-splitting headache anyways. I need coffee. Bye.

Today I saw The Motorcycle Diaries. Yes, today, for the first time ever. I had tried watching it earlier in the past, but somehow couldn’t watching snippets of it, fifteen minutes at max. So today, I (along with my mom), brushed off the dust of the borrowed VCD pack (among other things) and started my piling up list of movies that I had thought I would’ve watched before Diwali. Point of optimism: it’s not Diwali yet.

I’ve never been one of the greatest fans of Che Guevara, I’ll admit, for no matter what he would’ve thought about of my 20-year-old, seemingly naïve & childish idealism, I do believe in a peaceful sort of a revolution, a revolution with no guns. Yes, you read that correct. He would’ve laughed, but then again, we are two worlds apart and I must not merge the two and recall his ghost, that would be like copying Alice Walker (and remember Zora Nellie Hurtson?). Despite this obvious difference in opinion, however, I do admire him, like I admire all great people who have had the basic essential most lack: gumption. And no, I was never one of those who thought he was a musician who lived his life on marijuana (honestly, where do they get there ideas?). I am, in fact, one of that category who gifts her brother a Che Guevara T-shirt.

The Motorcycle Diaries, I came to the conclusion, is definitely not one of the over-rated movies. It is, in fact, brilliant. But more than that, it’s inspiring. Both awe-inspiring, and inspiring in the more basic sense of stirring awake one of your deepest emotions and a desire to bring about change to the many, many thing that most of us turns a blind eye to on a daily basis.

While watching the movie (and I’m sure I’m not the only one who went through this phase of day-dreaming while watching it), I imagined what it would be like if I ever had the much desired & even much more lacking gumption to take such a trip. Ofcourse, in my case, there’d be a few essential differences: for once, it’d not be a motorcycle (heck, I can’t even ride a bike…but that’s another story altogether) but a car, a working car; a credit card plus an ATM card; a slightly more organized trip & the fact that I wouldn’t be travelling a continent but India and just that. Here, I make my mistake for India never can be “just that”. It’s huge and diverse enough to be an entire continent. I’m 20 now and Guevara took his trip when he was 23, so that ways, I have 3 years to plan this. But I know, like all the other dreamers, I won’t.

Such an irony though that Guevara’s message has been lost somewhere in the midst of all this pop-culture dosage of his revolutionary saga. People watch the movie, wonder if they could travel like that, live the fantasy for two days at max, and dump the idea. Or they wear T-shirts, caps, quote him on Facebook and forget the essence of his doings. Of that to fight. Of that to change. So what if I believe in revolutions without guns?

The inset picture is from the JNU campus, a Guevara graffiti adorning the walls of the Admin Block.

People say I’m very idealistic. But then again, I’m just 20. If I’m not idealistic now, when will I be? Later on in life, I will be too busy with my plan. Yes, I finally have a plan. It’s not the most brilliant one and I do see some major flaws, but it’s there, it never has been before. I finally want to do something constructive with my life, and I was a fair (if slightly unrealistic) idea of how to achieve that end. Amen to that. And like all great things and small mercies (“God of small things”, you say?) I have learnt to be thankful and eternally grateful for my Muse for that. Oh, that’s a great one, I’ll just call him Muse from now on. Seriously though, if Muse hadn’t been there, I’d be lost like a babe in the woods. Atleast I know I want to become a lawyer. Many seem to be somehow under the impression that I’m interested in studying the law. That’s not true. I’m much more interested in becoming a lawyer, studying the law is an enroute thing. I want to practice law. Amen to that aswell.

I’m hoping for better changes everywhere. I’m praying as despite all my efforts, I do have faith.