Defining The Elbowroom
18.2.07
I spent most of the day wondering what I could blog about. Still surprising how this seems to have become harder work than it used to be.
Surely, there's as much to share now as there was earlier, if not more. The dimensions of my life in Bangalore bordered on claustrophobic, but there were still moments of modest consequence that quickly and surprisingly turned into posts on the Manifesto. Why is it harder coming by words now?
My scene has changed now. The scope of my everyday interactions has broadened to include people of alarming variety and temprament, situations that never quite manage to attain a balance between placid and violently hurried and far too many powerpoint presentations. Ofcourse, I am more involved here than I was in Bangalore- so my view too has changed. I don't feel like the cynical outsider looking in any more. Infact, I don't much feel cynical anymore.
In a way, although my view has broadened, the dimensions are more compact than they were. The campus is a welcome home. I've grown surprisingly attached to it over the past eight months. And it is a generous environment, responsive almost. I've seen it offer in abundance to whoever seeks it: refuge, company, enclosure, exposure, friendship, courtship, laboratory, family. It is what one will make of it. I'm still figuring out what it is that I seek from it.
But though the campus is generous in offering what we demand of it, it can be equally and very frustratingly enclosed at times. We're so far from everything, it wouldn't be much of an exaggeration to call us some sort of voluntary pariah camp. No TV, some news, little non-electronic contact with people from the city and back home, limited mobility beyond. Perhaps I make it sound pathetically secluded- it isn't. But when you go 'home' and feel odd when you pick up the remote, trust me, something has most definitely changed.
It's like everything is more intense, a little more dense than it was before. Like although my immediate world includes a veritable mob of people, the world itself seems to have condensed. Emotions and opinions are more intense, friendships more accelerated, conversations more random, frustrations more pronounced and addictions more vivid. We bounce and feed off each other, our little community. Come to think of it, my view hasn't really broadened all that much, has it?
Anyway, this is the new elbowroom; minimal in size, scanty with privacy, but generous in tolerance. I'm still struggling with exactly what emotions, frustrations, loves, addictions, conversations the Manifesto can provide a safe outlet to without violating the elbowroom of others. It will be seen. For now I suppose I have enough cause to be happy. It would seem that the words are making a comeback and the writing may begin.
Surely, there's as much to share now as there was earlier, if not more. The dimensions of my life in Bangalore bordered on claustrophobic, but there were still moments of modest consequence that quickly and surprisingly turned into posts on the Manifesto. Why is it harder coming by words now?
My scene has changed now. The scope of my everyday interactions has broadened to include people of alarming variety and temprament, situations that never quite manage to attain a balance between placid and violently hurried and far too many powerpoint presentations. Ofcourse, I am more involved here than I was in Bangalore- so my view too has changed. I don't feel like the cynical outsider looking in any more. Infact, I don't much feel cynical anymore.
In a way, although my view has broadened, the dimensions are more compact than they were. The campus is a welcome home. I've grown surprisingly attached to it over the past eight months. And it is a generous environment, responsive almost. I've seen it offer in abundance to whoever seeks it: refuge, company, enclosure, exposure, friendship, courtship, laboratory, family. It is what one will make of it. I'm still figuring out what it is that I seek from it.
But though the campus is generous in offering what we demand of it, it can be equally and very frustratingly enclosed at times. We're so far from everything, it wouldn't be much of an exaggeration to call us some sort of voluntary pariah camp. No TV, some news, little non-electronic contact with people from the city and back home, limited mobility beyond. Perhaps I make it sound pathetically secluded- it isn't. But when you go 'home' and feel odd when you pick up the remote, trust me, something has most definitely changed.
It's like everything is more intense, a little more dense than it was before. Like although my immediate world includes a veritable mob of people, the world itself seems to have condensed. Emotions and opinions are more intense, friendships more accelerated, conversations more random, frustrations more pronounced and addictions more vivid. We bounce and feed off each other, our little community. Come to think of it, my view hasn't really broadened all that much, has it?
Anyway, this is the new elbowroom; minimal in size, scanty with privacy, but generous in tolerance. I'm still struggling with exactly what emotions, frustrations, loves, addictions, conversations the Manifesto can provide a safe outlet to without violating the elbowroom of others. It will be seen. For now I suppose I have enough cause to be happy. It would seem that the words are making a comeback and the writing may begin.
