I'm Happy, I'm Gay; That's Okay, That's Okay!

     "Happy Pride," somebody said to me handing me over a gay nightclub invite/(card?), as I was walking along Lamington Road with a legion of about five hundred people. That is useless to me (I am not 18 yet, so, like, nightclubs aren't my place to be    and as if I were jumping at the occasion of visiting one).

For variety is the spice of life--
I shall bear all its colours.

      This was my first Pride March, and I did not know that you wished each other Happy Pride. Amazing. I mean, the March was amazing; Harish Iyer was in his regular energetic form; Lakshmi Tripathi in hers. It was a bunch, quite a huge bunch of gays, lesbians, transgenders, bisexuals, and straight people (and other sexual minorities    there could have been asexuals in the crowd (and I consider myself to be more of a homoromantic than a homosexual, but never mind the details)). And we were all celebrating being us. We were all asking for a more tolerant, a more accepting attitude. We deserve it, and we ask for it.

     Perhaps the truest words in the time around when the rally took place would be Harish Iyer's    we were rejoicing, surely we were; but what was not to be forgotten was that the fight wasn't done and over. Homophobia wasn't lost to time and effort. It would take a lot of struggle, and we must all strive for that goal in mind.

That's the one thing I truly know about Harry Potter. :D

     I recognised some people I saw in my compartment in the train I took to Dadar (I did not know any of them personally) as transgenders. I was filled with a sense of united effort, of the fact that I wasn't alone. One of them was applying make-up to her face. And some people were staring    I don't know if to call it right or wrong, but they were staring, yes. And almost as if I had seen it coming, a guy kept throwing a disgusted look at the transgender folks. I found it insulting. I did not speak up, since there had been no exchange of words. When I asked the transgenders if they were heading to the venue I was going to, they replied in the affirmative, and asked if I'd like to go with them, but I told them I was waiting for my friends who had got into the Second-Class compartment (this was the First-Class compartment)    which was true. I saw them at the March too, but I don't think they recognised me.

Need I say more? I wanna... :D

     The March, as I said already, was amazing. A cute guy (and I mean it :)) somehow seemed to capture my attention (he didn't have to try hard, even ;)). Getting a butterfly tattoo on my hand (to quote Aditya, 'the screwed-up butterfly :P), a photo session (with my cell-phone, then Amey's camera, and then Aditya's friend's camera) after that, at Girgaon Chowpatty, and then a nice long journey back home with Pranav Joshi (my friend and soul-sister's   Sharvari's   brother) made my day. :)

     What is the word that brings power to all?What becomes the harbinger of courage to stand up to the world and dare to be what you want to be? Sure, Pride may have its pitfalls, but Pride takes you there. 

It's Equal, It's Equal Not

     Geeky stuff.

Integrate the following function with respect to x.

∫ ((sec^2)x).tanx dx

           You can now substitute (secx) as t and (secx.tanx dx) as dt, bringing it to the form 

∫ t dt = (1/2)(t^2) + c = ((sec^2)x)/2 + c                                                              ...(1)

           Or, alternatively, you could substitute (tanx) as t and ((sec^2)x dx) as dt, thus bringing it to the form

∫ t dt = (1/2)(t^2) + c = ((tan^2)x)/2 + c                                                                ...(2)

            My question is precisely this:

Does that mean (1) and (2) represent the same function? My knowledge and a little research tell me that they don't. But then, if integration is supposed to be representative of the area bound by the function and the X-axis, should it not be ONE single function (never mind that some functions can be expressed in more than one form involving the same variable    and that does NOT make them different functions at all)?

     And that's all, folks. The comments section is open to geek-giri.

There's Light...And It's Clean Too!

     Today, I got down at Dombivli station from a really crowded Ambernath train (to those who care to understand) and crossed the foot-over-bridge and headed home. As soon as I reached platform no.1, I realised that what I thought were banners, were in fact banners.

     It took me not by surprise, but just by mere curiosity. And I headed towards the table they had set before the banner, and I soon realised that it was a cleanliness-awareness drive organised by a certain 'Inner Wheel Club of Dombivli West', and that they were urging common people at the station not to spit and not to litter, and how people on their part can prevent diseases from spreading by following some simple rules as those. To me, it seemed pretty trickling-down, surprisingly    as in, I hadn't really seen an awareness campaign speaking to the common masses; it was usually college-educated students (who were indifferent) or schoolkids' parents (who thought they knew just a little more than the 'preachers')    these people spoke to anybody, just anybody who came around. The women told me that I mustn't litter or spit, and that I must try to tell others not to, as well. I, in turn told them that I already did so. They smiled at me, understandingly. 

     I took a pen they offered, and signed on the pledge-chart. I was, after all, happy to see change, some change, that had come up in my rather mundane world.

Easter-ed Eggs

     I have just decided to let two eggs hatch.

     We have a lot of pigeons in our town, so there are a lot of pigeons courting and a lot of pigeon-poop, and the cycle, as a result, remains endless. I found two pigeon-eggs in a flowerpot that had nothing growing in it, and so I thought, why not let them just grow. And after about twenty days, I saw two chicks. Ugly to look at, breathing hard, and covered in a yellow, hair-like layer (of skin?). Between then and five days from then, I touched one of the two chicks once. I could feel its pulse on its back. It didn't cock, it didn't try to peck me. It probably thought I was its mamma.
     And then, around after five days from then, after I had shooed the mamma-pigeon away, I tried putting my hand down near the chicks. The chicks had opened their eyes by then, and one of the two (which seemed to be the healthier chick) tried to peck me. I heard its beak go *tut*. Then, the next day, I found two eggs in another pot that we'd left dry.

     Today, I thought I will not have two more pigeons being born in my house. And I shooed the mamma away, and instead of throwing away the eggs, placed them elsewhere, just anticipating a change of minds. And I kept standing there, and waiting to look at how the mamma-pigeon would react. During the day, what's inside the room isn't visible from the outside. And the pigeon returned, only to scratch and scratch pointlessly at the earth. 

     I shooed it away again, and re-placed the eggs where they belonged.

     I never got to choose where, when and how I was born, and I certainly don't get to choose if others are born or not.

That's All, Folks!