A Fine Balance

My extended weekend is starting to feel too long. Though I should be cherishing my precious hours- hours which should be spent on work, I stroll around in idleness, lamenting the trivialities of life. That's not going to change any time soon, I suppose.

Waking up past noon has that effect on you- I felt as if I were robbed of my day. I have been awake for less than 2 hours- yet half my day has disappeared. If I had gotten up early, I would have had more time- but I did choose to sleep at three. The reason? I was reading a... (peculiar? Is that the word I want to use?) book that I had wanted to finish before going to bed. That way I could wake up with a clear head and start my analysis.

The title of the novel is the title of this entry: A Fine Balance. It describes the impacts of the political changes in India during the years of the Emergency; specifically from the lower class' point of view. It was anything but pleasant. Unlike my overly emotionally sympathetic friend (who I dearly love), however, I did not cry seven times. In fact, I don't remember crying at all. Strangely, even sadness was absent. Not that I'm an unfeeling statue or anything- I just didn't think the novel was particularly sad. It was more like a series of grotesque events pieced together, and what had formed was perhaps a little too bizarre for my cognitive empathy to interpret.

I kept a list of events which had happened in the novel, which I found particularly disturbing. One of my friends had commented that it was something that only I would do--- and I heartily agree. Being the wonderful person I am, I'll share the list with you, so you know what happens in this book without having to suffer the process of reading the entire 614 page novel like I did.

A Fine Balance: All the nasty scenes

1.  Nusswan (Dina’s brother) squeezing Dina’s nipples
2.  Ishvar’s mother getting raped in a field
3.  Narayan was hung upside down, naked. He was flogged and hot coal was applied to his mouth and genitals. Then they dragged his body back to his family and burnt his family.
4.  Maneck’s classmate masturbating against him at boarding school
5.   Maneck being stripped naked in and shoved in a refrigerator. He took a dump in there. After they let him out he was forced to ejaculate in front of them.
6.  Tikka (the dog) eats the two monkeys. Apparently Monkey-man has sex with his monkeys.
7. Monkey-man slits Tikka’s throat in front of an “altar”. He now lives with 2 small children.
8. Ashraf (an old tailor) is killed in a marquee. 
9. Om and Ishavar forced to undergo vasectomies with half-sterilized equipment.
10. Om is castrated after his operation, under the pretense of him having testicular cancer.
11. Ishvar and Om become beggars, with Om dragging Ishvar around. Ishvar had his legs amputated due to surgical complications. Om had become fat, possibly due to the hormonal imbalance after his castration.
12. Maneck steps off the platform at the railway station, committing suicide.

Nasty plot, is it not? (Heh, that rhymed.) The names may be confusing, but you get the general gist. Most of my friends found the castration scene to be the worst, but to me the most pitiable character was Monkey-man (no. 7). The 2 small children were his sister's, and they were taken away from him. The children had their hands cut off and their eyes blinded, then they were sent out to beg. Their physical deformities attracted greater monetary sympathy. I had felt and understood the hollowness in Monkey-man's character- being emotionally dependent on everything he could attach himself to, yet having all of those taken away from him. 

Anyway, so that I don't stand out in the crowd as the only person who was not overly-disgusted at the castration scene, I went back and re-read it. It was alright, really. The tone of this novel is very detached, as if it were merely recounting a series of events. I blame this for my general lack of emotion towards this novel.  And I don't really see why the castration scene was any worse than all the other scenes. Sure it symbolised a loss of manhood, but I think it was more the fact that it dealt with a sensitive region that people make a greater fuss over it. At least he was anesthetized when he was castrated. 

Being who I am, I looked up "effects of castration" on the internet. It turned up with images. That was kind of repulsive, but my curiosity overcame that with ease. That has been my entertainment for the past 10 minutes, reading a journal on the effects of castration. 

http://jcem.endojournals.org/content/84/12/4324.full

Disclaimer: The above link contains material similar to those I read on a daily basis, out of amusement. I only left it there to satisfy your curiosity, follow the link at your own discretion. I take no responsibility for your condition, physical or psychological, as a result of reading the article.

That being said, it is from a legitimate journal. Journal of Clinical Endocrinology and Metabolism. Oh... btw, there are images there. Nothing too upsetting, but then again--- perhaps our definitions of "upsetting" are slightly varied.

In summary I'd say A Fine Balance was a rather... satisfying read. Not many would agree with me, I guess. I can't say I enjoyed the experience, because this is not the type of novel I would voluntarily read. However, it is good literature, and I am ultimately glad to have read something like this. It makes you more refined as a person, in my opinion. 

So go ahead and read the novel if you have time. The author's won a multitude of literary awards, so at least you will have read something famous...ish. It is apparently "A masterpiece of illumination and grace. Like all great fiction, it transforms our understanding of life."

Earphones

My mother stomps into my room, and hurls a pair of earphones at me. "These earphones are ruined," she says. It takes me a moment or two to make sense of what was happening- oh right, they must've been in the pocket of my pants, and seeing as how she just did the laundry, she probably washed my earphones as well.

Shrugging, I tell her it's okay, and I don't mind.

What I did not expect, however, was her rage at me. "YOU POINTED TO THOSE PANTS, SO I JUST WASHED THEM. WHY DIDN'T YOU CHECK? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME? DO YOU HAVE NO COMMON SENSE?" I remain silent, stunned at this sudden outburst. It's like she's defending herself against an imaginary accusation. I did say that it was okay, didn't I? And these are my earphones. If anything, I should be the one who's upset, not her. Then she says a few more words which I heard but didn't pay attention to- and I laugh weakly in response. She imitates my weak laugh sarcastically, as if to say, "now look what you've done." Then she leaves my room in anger. I cannot fully express how overwhelmed I am by this event.

But then I'm like, "meh"

Well, I suppose one life lesson I've learnt from her today is how to be a complete bitch. If you've done something wrong- for example, damaged someone's property--- no, don't bother talking about it calmly. Don't bother apologising or expressing remorse. No, instead you had better blame the owner for allowing you to damage their possession- it's their fault, obviously. If you rage at them before they rage at you, then they'll be shocked into not raging at all. I'm sure apologies only fuel anger, anyway.

God, as stupid as this sounds... I think she might have a point there. Why does this stupid world work this way? See, at least now she feels no guilt about the earphones incident, and I am most certainly not going to provoke her now.

Except I don't want to be that way.

...Oh, did I mention... My earphones survived the laundry process quite well. In fact... they're completely fine, and there is no evidence that they have been through the washing machine, save the fact that they smell of washing powder.

Long weekend... of not-doing-anything

Public holiday this Monday- Queen's birthday or something. Holidays are always welcome- especially when I have inconveniently large amounts of work due. Stupid psychology report. Apparently we needed to have a sample size of 20- I managed 16. Time to fabricate some data... One reason why I hate humanities is because they make us write. Heaven forbid. I already write enough in maths- ironically, I hardly ever do any writing in English. Anyway- we need an introduction and proper discussion for the report... I despise writing proper reports. The chemistry one was fine- no introduction needed, half-assed discussion was acceptable. No need to reference anyone or anything. But noooo, psych you need to research and design your own experiment from scratch. Pain in the A-S-S.

Oh yeah, then there's maths. In fact, there's always maths. Man, fuck maths. I managed to fuck up one of my maths tests today, because somehow 2 to the power of 2 was still 2. Man I'm fucking retarded. That was a component of a massive equation- which of course ended in a mess due to my error. I feel like if I had banged my head against a wall and concussed myself, I could not have made a worse error. FML.

But I guess I've pretty much gotten over it by now.  Yes it was a pretty retarded mistake- but I am comforted by the fact that the stupidity of other people far outweigh my own. For every mistake I make there are 10 dimwits fucking up 10 times worse, to ensure that my grade is still tolerable. I guess I've fallen- I no longer aim to be clever- I just aim to be less-stupid than everyone else. Given the fact that our school is full of retards- it's not hard to accomplish.

It is rather comforting after all- even though the general stupidity and ignorance of the people around me piss me off- it is in circumstances such as this that their merit shine through. Stupid people exist for the sole-purpose of making me look better, I'm sure. 

The world DOES revolve around me, after all.

Start: 1.32am

Once again, I'm up at a stupid and inconvenient hour. I don't even have anything *important* due tomorrow- and I'm still awake and blogging. See how dedicated I am to my one-post-a-day schedule? Don't whine about the fact that because it's post-midnight it's a new day--- the world revolves around ME. A day doesn't end until I go to sleep, and it begins when I open my weary eyes. Therefore, it is still the same day as it was 2 hours ago.

So there's a maths assignment due tomorrow, which I've finished ages ago. I did all the work- all that was left was to copy it to the actual assignment sheet. Can't take that long, right? Boy was I wrong about that. I wrote it  in pencil- and because I was trying to be neat, it took longer than usual. I didn't actually realise how long my working was, until I had to write it out again. Then I had to trace over everything in pen- I wrote it in pencil first in case I made a mistake. Whiteout isn't allowed.... Thank God for computers and their delete keys. It's so much more convenient- I don't think blogging would be possible if I couldn't delete the stupid things I accidentally type.

Oh yeah--- there's also the draft of a psychology report which I have to write by like... now. Oh I can't be bothered. I don't think I'll hand in a draft. Fuck it, really. I don't even care about my stupid psychology marks. I just want the lowest A, and I'll be satisfied. I really should have done another English instead... this is so stupid. I don't have enough data for my report, and I wouldn't start it now even if I did.

My midnight oil burns low.

Now the time rapidly approaches 2am. I suppose it'll be at least 2am by the time I fall asleep. Which means I can get 5hours of sleep at most, since I wake up at 7am. Oh this is dismal indeed. It better not rain tomorrow- I have to catch a bus. Why am I getting almost no sleep? This is ridiculous... then there's that stupid validation test tomorrow...

Argh, screw everything. I'm going to fail... and I don't give a fuck. I just want to be able to sleep for more than 5 hours a night....

I just realised.... WHOOOOOO FRIDAY.

Teacher's Pity

So as you guys know, I've been behind on my maths homework despite my constant efforts... Now I'm roughly one week behind, so what I'm doing now is technically last week's work. In class today, my teacher walked over, glanced at what I was doing, and shook his head sympathetically. "Listen, I think you should probably move off that exercise and do some of the other stuff." Our class is up to.. the one after 15? I was doing ex.12 in class... which I should've done last week.

It felt fucking awful, when he came up to me and told me to just move on. It's like he thinks I'm retarded or something. Well on the bright side, I will have surpassed his expectations when the tests come around... but on the not-so-bright side... MY TEACHER THINKS I'M RETARDED.

*so cut*

After my not-very reassurances about how I'll manage, he walked off with a doubtful look on his face. See, I DO appreciate his kindness- I like it when other people are care about me- but duuude, there are heaps of people who are eons behind me... I'm definitely not the worst-case scenario. It just feels super awkward when he does that to me...

It's like having people come over to pay their condolences to your dead father, when in fact he just passed out drunk and people thought he was dead. (My analogies are fantastic, I know).

Moral of the story: I should probably do my maths... but it's 11pm already. I could try to finish this exercise which I definitely won't finish... or I could squeeze in a round of games.

There really isn't a choice before me, is there?