Talking Big

One of the most damning things about small-talk is the question 'so, what do you do?' Or not so much the question, as the expected answer.
Most people spew out their year of college or their job-status..and stop there. Riiiiight! You're a first-year student and nothing else. You work in a bank....that's it! That's your big life with small, intimate spaces and infinite quirks. Not!

What do you do?

I write. I agonize endlessly. I read till my head hurts. I take pictures of myself. I listen to songs and hold up an imaginary microphone and pretend I'm singing. I think about love. I study literature. I'm also currently practicing looking people in the eye. I watch movies because I like razzle-dazzle. I perform. I touch people. I observe bodies and rain. They are beautiful. I listen. I miss.

So...what do you do?

yawwwnnnn....ok folks tis 10:49 am, I have had precisely...five hours of sleep and I see no reason to be coherent.
I watched eight episodes of the OC!!! You were right J, tis addictive. I think I might start saying 'ewww' again... Rachel Bilson style of course.
Many thanks to the Router for endless exposure to the music of the OC...I loved it.
But tis more fun watching it everyday, one episode at a time. With a dvd in hand, you don't elbow anyone aside s you can grab the remote, you whole day doesn't revolve around the 9 pm slot.
Ah well. I shall go back to admiring my new anklets and practicing my eww-ing.

In tears

Have been reading some beautiful blogs. Especially this. And this one.

After a long, long time, beauty has made me cry.

Have been obsessive the past few days. Listened to The Doors and The Police over and over. L.A. Woman and Roxanne playing incessantly.
I love it when a song hits me and I have to play it over a million times. Lean into the speakers to catch a difficult word. Hum it for days afterward.
But then, I go over everything a million times. 'Letting go' and 'getting over' aren't part of my monkey-dance. I revel in baggage.

I've been thinking about a particular relationship. We are honest, soft and sometimes awkward. We sometimes tell each other difficult things. We aren't best friends..we've had moments of intimacy and days of distance. We are gypsies.
To the Other Person in this gypsy-ness, I want to say....maybe it's meant to be this way. Maybe we don't need closure and finality. I miss you when you're drifting, and i'm trying to keep away. Maybe it's because we've built nothing between us.

I Got a Peaceful Easy Feeling...

Hello :)
So...had gorgeous reminscing session with Dee. Went back to TCS(that's our junior college) and general Calcutta days and stories of my drunkeness and consequent falling off staircases with my body at 90 degrees.
Then M called, and we giggled and bad-mouthed house-guests for twenty minutes. She also informed me that the Hindi version of 'Pirates of the Carribean' has been dubbed 'Samundar ki Lutere'.
Spoke to the Director, she has assigned me the Events page on the tnt website. I'm to learn a new software, use material from our Scrapbook and create the page. Yayee!
Am now sitting wearing herbal oil in hair and aloe vera gel on face.
All nice tnt-ians are meeting at the Store this evening for 'an evening of controlled frivolity' sponsored by Vernen.
Last night's gloom has lifted!

Study

Tired. I don't want to think ahead. I don't want to think of applications, acceptances, money, loans. I don't want to wonder if tis a waste to spend so much on a year away.
I've never doubted that I want to go. I'd be a student forever if I could. Imagine...always having access to a college library! I love literature enough to study it for as many degrees as there are.
But I do so hate forms. And paperwork. And I'm terribly guilty that a loan may be required. I need focus. Total commitment to the thought that this is what I want, and I'm prepared to work for it.
I know too well my aversion to attending to details. But goddamit, this is my dream. Other people are paying for it. I should probably do the rest!

Yeah whatever...

Am thoroughly enjoying being completely lazy, catching up on my TV-time and overdosing on chips and sleep. I miss earning though. I'm no less a part of tnt even though I'm not working anymore; and I will have a pretty stringent routine starting next month, but I miss the paycheck.

My cousin got a 97 in a chem test. Bloody hell! I don't even want to recall my Days of Chemistry.
Vernen is leaving on Sunday. He will be missed. But he-and-I is very complete, so no regrets...nothing unfinished. He and i are invited to tea at Sumi's tomorrow :) Methinks will take my own Beatles mug! I've actually started drinking tea since I got that mug :)
I'm a wee bit worried about Dee. She's known for her Enormous Highs and Great Falls...Hope all works out babe.
Ok, I've been writing this for over three hours, interspersed with intense talks with Debs, Shy and Ruta...and I haven't mentioned my two main worries.
One is that on account of my chip-binge...I have the most terrible break-outs on my face...and I'm still not stopping!
The other is...too bothersome to mention and anyway it may not be a worry at all.

To tell you...

Mum.
It's six years today since you left. For over forty years, you were daughter, sister, wife, daughter-in-law, mother, divorcee, tired.
In six years you have stepped over all the boxes,every label. You are a mother, completely. You are also living a sparky,intelligent life on you own.
We both agree it hasn't been easy. But look what it achieved Mum! We are both better people because you took a difficult decision. A shocking one!
Because you refused to remain cloistered and miserable.
Thanks for letting go Mum.
I am so goddamn proud of you!

I was at recently at this birthday party for a two-year-old. The host and hostess were running around trying to hook me up with somebody my own age.
Erm, yeah..that would be...a twenty-two year old who looks fifteen and knows Disney songs by heart. Sure!
I detest being introduced to people just for company. I was more thsn happy nibbling on cookies and cake and observing people. There was somebody who had come sixth in the State in her board exams. There was a lady who was introduced as 'quite a character'.

I enjoy being an anomaly entirely too much. And yes, i sometimes do it for effect. Why do people assume I'm bored and awkward if i'm alone? And who says I'll get along with people simply because they're my age?
Ooooofff!

The Basics of TIA

I love:
Sleeping

I hate:
Not sleeping

I marvel at:
My ability to sleep.

So...goodnight dear Void

Ok, so I gamely decide to go to the home of The Boy I Once Loved. I was paranoid from the previous night. Howled my eyes out and decided I could NOT go. Then decided to be brave and martyr-like and face up to it like St Joan of Arc.

I adore melodrama when you can laugh at it later!

I primped. I admit it all right! Wore new cotton olive-green pants and this very un-Tia top which Mum got me. It has Juicy Cherry written all over it in pink! Wore lenses which basically meant I could see only a foot ahead of me. Made up eyes and actually looked at self in mirror, something i rarely do.
But I couldn't go right away. I mean, i had to de-glamourize myself a bit and appear casual. So off I went to tnt (thank you Director for creating it!) and had a few laughs. Gave Resh and Ravi Bhaiyya their presents, talked to Resh about a lot of things. Met the Router (much happiness there as always), gave him his present...come to think of it, his presence has become so familiar now...

THEN, with blessings from J and A, I took myself off to That House. I quivered let me tell you. No, quivered is too delicate and ladylike...I SHOOK! I love the House you know. It has a jhoola and dogs and an old, old bai who always welcomes me and gives me lovely tea or Tang..or both. I almost walked past the gate (perhaps I could tell them I hadn't found the house in the dark), but St Joan dropped me off at the door.
I met the New Dog. He bit my new pants. The Old Dog was happy to see me. I chatted awhile with the Sister and the Cousins. We sing bug songs. Bless them for making me so welcome.
But I was not a complete martyr if I didn't face the Boy Himself!

So...I knock on his door verrrry politely. He opens, is surprised-pleased to see me. I am prepared to be umcomfortable, in fact I am DETERMINED to be uncomfortable.
'What happened, why are you looking like that?', he asks.
I, with my usual eloquence, suddenly snap up and say 'oh..no, I'm just jet-lagged and it's so hot and...' and sit down.
We talk. He is digitizing old audio cassettes of classical music. His room smells just the same. It hits me that smell. He shows me his new books, shows me pictures of his recent vacation with friends, explains the music he is trying to clear up.
I observe him. He has lost weight.
He tells me he had food poisoning. His hair seems less shiny. Maybe he's stopped using gel(what a relief!)
My ipod charger has been with him for months. I tell him he can keep it. He tells me I must take his in return. I refuse. He insists. 'I don't want to take anything from you without giving back', he says.
I tickle him and ask him to shut up.
He gives me two books and a cd...because he has extra copies!
The Mother comes home.
I like her a lot. We have had very good talks.

It is getting late. I need to get back to tnt. He has to go that way, he offers me a lift. An old ritual. He's dropped me home in the middle of the night even after we bacame Once Loved. I open the gate, he takes the bike out, I close the gate and hop on.
He tells me I've grown heavy. I beat him up. He drops me to the Store, rides off before i can say thank you or hug him.
We are all about rituals, him and me. The tea, the bike, the rides, him working on his computer on his beloved music, the stacks of books towering on his desk, the smell of his room...like oldness and comfort...
and touch...the one that had to be broken.

Some Enchanted Evening

Sometimes I'd like to scream and say
I hate the fluorescent lighting in this room.
Sometimes I'd like to sit out on the steps
Arms wrapped around my knees
Smoking
Scared
So you'll come out and ask me what the matter is
Looking out through these small, these millions of small
moments
Is the hugeness of touching you.

Good Morning!

I finally connected with the Router. He is away on holiday and I missed our contact.
We spoke for only a few minutes. 'This is is the place you get range out here,' he said. I was too busy making fun of him and trying to tell him about Hollywood musicals...which he refused to listen to...to give it thought.
After we hung up, I thought about it. Where he is, there is this one space where you can make contact. And he'd been there talking to me. That has made me smile.
And that itch in my neck has gone, though it is still sore.
And my original router suddenly began working.
Happy!

I guess you don't have much to show
That comes from me to you
And I don't have much to give
And there's little i can do

But if you're thinking of the future
The way you seem to be
All I ask of you
Is think carefully

For I have watched the way you look at me
And I've seen it in your eyes
Heard you whisper loved words
Breathe a tender sigh
But you think there's a part of me
I never really show
And you worry about tomorrow
And things you don't know

I won't send flowers on a Sunday
Might not call you on a Monday
Won't have the time to dream of you each day
But I'll think of you in moments free
Make your smile my favourite memory
And love you in my own kind of way.

I guess that I have never been quite the one for words
And what i have to say is less than poetry
But thinking as I do, I wonder if I
Have ever let you know
What you mean to me
So I'll sing a song just for you
My music i will play
Andmaybe somewhere in-between
Is what I'm trying to say
If you've a dream for tomorrow
You would like to share
Make a little room for me
I'd like to be there.


I don't know who sang this, I can't find it anywhere. Mum gave me a copy of a collection of songs, this was one.

A Very Serious and Proper Memoir

Tis difficult to write about a vacation once it's over. The sharpness of the everyday experience fades. The milk with Lucky Charms, seeing 7th Avenue where I crossed the street in my Belle gown twelve years ago, walking in London with Mum, the presents I found when I had no intention of buying and my delight at how apt they were for the receiver,dreaming in Downtown Disney, riding the Everest Expedition four times, Mary Poppins on Broadway....all of them so vital and yet so ephemeral.

I discovered people anew this trip.
Mum is going to be 50 in November. She's gorgeous, astute, intense. She's happily unmarried, and has her fair share of romance. I am so very proud of the unconventional life she is leading. She makes brilliant coffee and cocktails and cooks like a dream and takes pride in being pretty and is always learning. She has a stock of abuses and a sense of humour that is outrageous.
My aunt who we stayed withis...my soulmate. We can't stand people all the time, we hate being available all the time. She lives by herself in a gorgeous Manhattan apartment and watches good movies and reads a lot and takes everything with a wry pinch of salt.

I met an uncle of mine after eight years in New York. When I was about seven years old, he made up a rhyme about me...which I shall not repeat here :) He recited it when we met this time!

I also got closer to a friend from Pune, so much so that the back of my neck has been itching because we haven't communicated since I came back!
I'm glad to be back. They make such terrible chips over in the West! And I had to smoke Marlboro! And I missed Hindi music!

of People

I got some Tia-time today. Much needed, I am super-saturated with people. I can't handle being with people for days. I can't stand being spoken to all the time. My head explodes.
I actually get along far better with my parents because I don't see them daily. Somebody once said that to love someone everyday is a liability. I don't know.
I think to be obliged to love daily is tough. I love Mum, not because she is my mother and I 'should', but because I choose to see her strengths and see, but not concentrate on her flaws.
I've had problems with my father, but when I started seeing him as a person rather than just a dad, things improved. Yes, I still get impatient with him, find him trying...but he has qualities I admire tremendously.
I am deeply lucky to have friends and some relations who understand my social ineptness and make no demands of me. The less I am expected to give, the more I will.

On another note, I am feeling very important because the Router says I am :) I worried over him-and-me. Had endless talks with J, analysing all the ups and downs we had with him. I don't think that will ever stop, tis too much fun! but I don't worry anymore. There is a queer kind of magic in exploring him intimately, without prejudice. I don't shut out any part of him and I remain open to his changing.
This is a first for me in many ways. Thank you for softening, for always responding. For letting me see you...

By the way...Ruta, Jahnavi, I think he deserves a group-hug! Let's pick a date and venue and have the Ceremony!

Noo Eyork!!

There are five people sharing two bathrooms in this house. I am using liquid soap that leaves glitter on my hand. E and I are sleeping on a huge, inflatable mattress. I fall over if I walk on it. I am going to Tiffany's in the next few days to play at being Holly Golightly.
Most of what should have been on the blog has gone into emails to the Router :)

Goodbye,,,again?

Leave taking

Fragments and shadows.
Glimpses of you
framed
in other doorways,
held
by other spaces.

How should i ask
you to return,
with these hands full
of nothing
but memories?

-Anjum Katyal

Thanks Prachi. This has a lot of my current state in it.

There!

I'm in love, and always will be

Meryl Streep once said, 'I look at my daughter and think, 'They're going to blow up the world, just when I've got this little peach here.''

I know. I watch the news, see movies based on religious/political horror stories. My flesh shrivels. I hurt.
I have no religious loyalties. A colleague once asked me, 'Aren't you proud to be a Hindu?' Itruthfully answered, 'I don't know enough about Hinduism to take any pride in it.'
I recently watched Deepa Mehta's 'Earth.' I thought about E. Three days into this trip, and I have changed. I grip his hand just a little tighter when we are out. I think, 'how terrible if E has to grow up in this filthy fanaticism.' And I realize how this kind of love makes us feel so terrible helpless. Because we know that no matter if we commit every atom in our body to protect the ones we love, ultimately we might only be able to stand and watch.
They plot and they plan to blow up the world. To them the world is whoever is not like them, maybe even some who are. The only way they want the world to notice them is to blow it up. To me, they blow up people's personal worlds. Those little bits of earth on which we grow what we love best. And then it turns to blood and loose, scattered limbs. And then we grasp our last resort. We pray to the god in whose name most of this happens.

How do you know how much to let people be? How do you not gasp when you see your child falling down, even though there may be little or no injury? I'm not a mum, but I am almost sixteen years older than E. I worry about him, I yell at him to kepp him in line...and then I feel totally hypocritical beacause I strongly believe in individual choice and values. I'd like to let him be, become wild, create what he wants, not make him eat vegetables at every meal. Why do I yell at him if his room is a mess? What good is your own room if you have to keep it like other people want you to?
I often tell people that kids need to go their own way, to have uncontrollable hair, to eat too many sweets, to scream as loud as they want. Yet, I hush E, make sure his hair is flat. Do I want him to be 'of the world?' He is a social little soul and it does matter to him what people think.
I don't have all the answers. And that's the worst thing, when a child matters to you this much.

Manual of the Warrior of Light

Ok, so one-third of the Examathon is done. I wrote a paper on Applied Ethics in Philosophy today and I discovered several things.
1. I swear a lot when I'm stressed (read having a panic attack) I said 'fuck' about twenty times before the paper.

2. I have a fairly good memory. I can skate over a few pages and remember names like Lars O' Ericsson and Hadley Arkes.

3. I get bored writing papers unless it's Literature. After I had completed 30 marks worth of questions, I didn't want to write anymore.

4. I shared a plate of fries and a few words with a guy we call the Chopper because he once announced in class that instead of capital punishment, they should just chop the guy's limbs off and let him go. He said this with a perfectly serious face. I've never hung out with him and this was nice.

5. Having a decent vocabulary really helps. At least your answers read like you know stuff.

So there you go. Discoveries that had nothing to do with Applied Ethics, but are very pertinent.

I like hanging out with new people. There's so much to observe in everyone. I'm not much of a talker...unless I'm high...but it's lovely knowing there's so much newness around.
Not to mention that people you already know can still surprise you. Somebody, out of the blue, told me the other day that I was highly honest with emotions, and he liked that about me.
Isn't that a great thing to be told? And tis extra special because..well..I was beginning to think he was all matte finish. But now..I've glimpsed a tiny sparkle..and it makes me happy. Tis nice to have people who matter, and nice to discover little sparks of light in them :)

Marc Sabatella

My current wallpaper. An afterthought of 'You've Got Mail.'

The Hug

I like this :)
Thanks Jen.

Yay!

I am now a part of Mahima's Travelling Journal project. I'm to build an art-shrine for Michelle, and Linda is making one for me. Each person in the group will have a shrine dedicated to them in the journal. It's taking off from Nepal and will tour India, the US and Canada :)
Excited!

siiiighh

I'm restless today. There's a storm brewing outside, I love storms. Tis been a humid day and I napped in the afternoon without the air-conditioner. I preferred the heavy, moist air and my fan.
I'm very bleh and I don't like it. I need some major re-energizing, and to get out of the house. I need rain and laughter and nonsense and bad jokes. And attention!

Had a long chat with Neha last night. We used to have them twice a day at one point of time. Neha and Shakun are my Happily Ever After relationships :)
I miss them!!!!
I like people whose worlds I can enter and exit at will. And then pick up the threads again. I chase any kind of learning about people who matter.

Tagged

by Oliver
Hi there :)


1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:
Burn-mark on my chest. Diwali about 6 or 7 years back. On the terrace. My cousin waving a sparkler, a spark went down my neckline...grin.

2. What is on the walls in your room?
There are 4 sketches of Calcutta, a mirror with stickers and letters, a mask which looks like a fork and my sticky-board which has concert passes, cards and such-like.

3. What does your phone look like?
a flat hunk of steel with fancy buttons and a screen.


4. What music do you listen to?
recently....it's been Pink Floyd, Dhoom-2,Carnatic classical and this one song by Patrick Park :)

5. What is your current desktop picture?
aaaahh...tis that one of the moon over a volcano.

6. What do you want more than anything right now?
a good book with my name as the author,a lot of money,a lover, exams to get over


7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
Believe as in do I believe you can be gay and married or can such a marriage last or what? Sheesh! I'm not a big fan of marriage, but heck if you want to, why should it matter if you're gay?

8. What time were you born?
4:17 pm.

9. Are your parents still together?
No.

10. What are you listening to?
my fan whirring and the beeps from my computer.

12. The last person to make you cry?
is gone.

13. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?
212 by Carolina Herrera and Spiced Green Tea by Elizabeth Arden

14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?
the eyes need to be able to look me straight, hair should smell good and be ungelled.

15. Do you like pain killers?
dude, i'm a masochist ok!

16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
Dunno. If I like someone, I make it obvious, but have never actually said 'will you go out with me?'

17. Fave pizza topping?
Pepperoni and extra cheese.

18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
Lays Magic Masala, Coke, and I'd like a smoke please.


19. Who was the last person you made mad?
I'll call him the Router. Ever since I've known him, he's been the last person I made mad :)

20. Is anyone in love with you?
Nah, they prefer being fascinated from a distance.

I tag Debs, Jahnavi and the Insane Rambler
and Prachi

Ok, so I'm halfway through my papers, and so far none have been disasters. I've a massive pile of reading to do for my philosophy paper and then there are my two Honours papers.
With all this Papering about, my stomach has become unhappy and is on the run. My circadian clock seems to have adjusted itself to US time already, refuses to sleep till 5 am. Oh and I sing Beatles songs to my router to make it work.
Ah the Great Intoxication of Examinations.

I do wish people from the family would quit asking me about exams. Yes I know you all worry and you hope that I shall get into a great university and all that but....YOU JUST DON'T GET IT! OK? Unless you're my batchmate or at least college-going yourself, you really have no clue what it is in this exam, this time. So please PLEASE don't ask me about notes and how it went and am I studying ok? Cos no matter how supremely educated you are, you really have no clue about S.Y.B.A 2007 in my college.
(Let it stay that way)

Real Beauty

This is part of the Dove Real Beauty Campaign. Have a look and tell me what you think. A big thank you to the Insane Rambler.

Here's the video.

w/e

No interest in stupid psych syllabus. Dad will probably have to mortgage the house twice over and auction off his music collection to send me to university. My net connection is so screwed that this probably won't get published.
Why don't I just place an ad in a matrimonial website in the bargain?

Postcards from a Promenade

A production by the students of Wolverhampton University undergoing training in dance-drama.
As a novice in this field of theatre, what I notice most is the deliberation of the body. Even in stillness, there is no carelessness in movement or in touch. Beautiful awareness of the body, and pride in it.
Thanks Royona di, for sharing.

Love

For the young who want to
by Marge Piercy

Talent is what they say
you have after the novel
is published and favorably
reviewed. Beforehand what
you have is a tedious
delusion, a hobby like knitting.

Work is what you have done
after the play is produced
and the audience claps.
Before that friends keep asking
when you are planning to go
out and get a job.

Genius is what they know you
had after the third volume
of remarkable poems. Earlier
they accuse you of withdrawing,
ask why you don't have a baby,
call you a bum.

The reason people want M.F.A.'s,
take workshops with fancy names
when all you can really
learn is a few techniques,
typing instructions and some-
body else's mannerisms

is that every artist lacks
a license to hang on the wall
like your optician, your vet
proving you may be a clumsy sadist
whose fillings fall into the stew
but you're certified a dentist.

The real writer is one
who really writes. Talent
is an invention like phlogiston
after the fact of fire.
Work is its own cure. You have to
like it better than being loved.

from The Moon Is Always Female, 1980

Found on cdeliascarpitti. Thank you, and thank you mahima for the link.

Tragic Heroine



Ishtyle!

Right on Wendy!

I found this on Sunayana's blog.
Readers are requested to have either a not-easily-freaked-out mind or a great sense of humour or a uterus.
Enjoy.


AN OPEN LETTER TO
MR. JAMES THATCHER,
BRAND MANAGER,
PROCTER & GAMBLE.

February 6, 2007

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years, and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the LeakGuard Core™ or Dri-Weave™ absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from "the curse"? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my "time of the month" is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call "an inbred hillbilly with knife skills." Isn't the human body amazing?

As brand manager in the feminine-hygiene division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behavior. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy!

The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in capri pants. Which brings me to the reason for my letter.

Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period."

Are you kidding me?

What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness—actual smiling, laughing happiness—is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlúa and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreens armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man. If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong"? Or are you just picking on us?

Sir, please inform your accounting department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for I have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flexi-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bullshit. And that's a promise I will keep. Always.

Best,

Wendi Hardy
Austin, TX

Album

I'm looking at pictures. The ones you made inside me. The teacups arranged on a shelf in the Inner Kitchen...is it the second shelf, or the third? Your desk piled high with two towers of books. All of them have your name written inside(all except that last one I borrowed. I forget the name)

The bed with the flat pillow where I would sit and read while you slept.(Oh and the days you would walk into my room carrying your own speakers. Sometimes it would rain, and we would stand together in the balcony, hands barely touching, your music breathing in my air.)Here is one of my feet just as I heard the phone ring,the ringtone I had for you.(I'm sorry it is blurred, I was in such a hurry to answer.)
Here you are wearing bright yellow and not looking at me. You had bought me a book for no reason other than remembering that I wanted it. You hurried up the steps, handed it to me, looked away and hurried back.

These are my shoulders, the first time you touched me by yourself. I was wearing the burnt-orange kurta...you were sitting on a jhoola...you looked at me, I turned away...you came up behind me and rested your hands on my shoulders...

This is one of me, today as our car turned into your lane. Look, you can see my muscles tightening, my eyes almost hopeful...but then we turned another way...

I'd love to hold onto you forever, I doubt that's the best I can do. I'll just keep a few of these...the one I took of the scar on your chin, this one of you trying to manually restart the bike...oh and please can I keep the one of you making my bed for me when I was sick?

I love taking baths. Tis a ritual for me, and I detest people interuupting. I have atleast three kinds of shower gels, two soaps, two face-washes and a foot-scrub in my bathroom at any given time. I am a sucker for all those fancy ingredients they claim to put into shower-gels. Pearl-protein, ylang-ylang, elderflower...you should see me in the supermarket. I open each bottle, smell it and then I read the back. You know, where they write about the calming effects of lavender and how rose-hips will awaken your senses.

I don't like using moisturiser after a bath usually. The clean feel of just having had water all over you is exhilarating. But then you do get lotions fragranced with sweet-pea and cucumber and honey. Water is therapeutic for me. I cannot sleep at night without having splashed my face and washed my hands and feet. I like seeing my fingertips wrinkled after a hot shower in winter. If I ever can, I'd like a home by the sea. A little driftwood house. With an old, wooden tub in the bathroom. Somewhere I could run barefoot and taste of salt and let my hair be tangled...

Growl

At severe loss and unbelievably pissed of!

Pagan Poetry

Pedalling through
The dark currents
I find
An accurate copy
A blueprint
Of the pleasure
In me

Swirling black lilies totally ripe
A secret code carved
Swirling black lilies totally ripe
A secret code carved

He offers
A handshake
Crooked
Five fingers
They form a pattern
Yet to be matched

On the surface simplicity
But the darkest pit in me
It's pagan poetry
Pagan poetry

Morsecoding signals (signals)
They pulsate (wake me up) and wake me up
(pulsate) from my hibernating

On the surface simplicity
Swirling black lilies totally ripe
But the darkest pit in me
It's pagan poetry
Swirling black lilies totally ripe
Pagan poetry

Swirling black lilies totally ripe

I love him, I love him
I love him, I love him
I love him, I love him
I love him, I love him
She loves him, she loves him

This time
She loves him, she loves him
I'm gonna keep it to myself
She loves him, she loves him
She loves him, she loves him
This time
I'm gonna keep me all to myself
She loves him, she loves him
And he makes me want to hurt myself again
She loves him, she loves him
She loves him, she loves him
And he makes my want to hand myself over

-Bjork

Here's the video.

Little Pinpoints of Light

I rather like my current nightly schedule. Heavy doses of studying, random glasses of Tang cigarettes and blogging at 2:30 am.

I really like how tiny things bring such a lot of happiness. Prachi getting a job at Seagull, me getting a lot of love from J....and one unexpected twinkle of joy...and exchange of surnames... from the Crazy Diamond.
A hug to each of you!

Yes I have a psych paper next week, and four more after that, yes I am hurting somewhat still and yes I am getting a double chin.

But as L.M. Montgomery writes, 'there is sweetness in my cup of life.'

I send out a prayer for my little girl in Kolkata, and her guy.
Love you.

Musings of a Wannabe Terminator

Is there really such a thing as giving too much? I find it difficult to cut off from people I haven't explored fully. As though I'm afraid I'll have missed out on some amazing part of them.
It bites at me when people refuse to care. S, for instance. Sometimes I resent whatever stupid reason he may have for not communicating. Then I remember all the times he's been unabashedly honest with me. The incredible potential he has shown to be clear and open. It hurts when we are distant. I'm not accusing, tis a fact. And tis a hurt I accept.
And Him. He bites at me too. Oh, the constant bickering and fruitless doses of 'I don't care so sue me!' These are people I would like to have comfortable silences with. I'm terrible at pretending so both of them get generous doses of love from me. And they find it a leetle hard to digest.
What to do?
I refuse to edit myself.
S, I suppose is afraid I will try to slip back into my old role. I wish there was some coherent way of telling you S, that intimacy need not be stuffed into neat little Relationship Boxes.
And Him! So terrified of trusting that every bit of softness and openness we share must be overbalanced by some kind of clash.
You know what? They've a right to be scared, edgy, uncomfortable etc. And I've a right to be intense, hyper-sensitive and shamelessly honest. I'm no martyr, whatever I give is freely given, by choice. And I'm secure enough not to worry that I'm giving away more than is good for me. Or maybe naive enough. Right now I'm mad at both of them. I'm mad at a world where everything is over-casual.

Yikes!

Your Deadly Sins

Pride: 40% Greed: 20% Lust: 20% Wrath: 20% Envy: 0% Gluttony: 0% Sloth: 0% Chance You'll Go to Hell: 14% You will die from faulty botox injection.

How Sinful Are You?

Yes indeedy

Your Quirk Factor: 80%

You're so quirky, it's hard for you to tell the difference between quirky and normal. No doubt about it, there's little about you that's "normal" or "average."

How Quirky Are You?

On Nurturing

Read this.

Thanks Shankar, for complete, unabashed honesty.

Magnificent Obsession

The most beautiful 'old classic' I have read. Will put up a review soon. S, you have to read this!

Clouds and construction

More..

At Mocha




Zombied in a techno-world

Mi Madre

My funky mother with her jhakra-chool hairdo.

Touched, soft and completely in love.

Scribble from old rains

Tossing between thirsty sheets
There is rain
Fighting
Rain
Prickling in my skin
Out there
Roams a little girl
I once saw
Hidden in cloth
Carrying an axe
Rain-smell in her hair
She
Navigates
Wide gashes
Bleeding, gathering

Rain

She trips on
A broken brick
I come awake
Breathe
The salt from
The cut near her brow

And

Rain

Will befriend her blood
That
Mingling
They may explore her face
And bring it to my fingers.

1414 steals in...

Today is Poila Boishakh. The Bengali New Year. Tradition says we must wear new clothes, give sweets and generally make merry. And eat of course. We did it all the years we were in Kolkata. Calling people to wish them. Receiving calls from relatives we hardly knew. The rich lunch...hot, white rice, two kinds of maach, spicy mutton curry, posto, shukto...oh it went on. Sweets aplenty afterwards, ice-cream for the children. The gossip that would come while the women stretched out in the darkened guest-room. No regard for the new saris. What kind of Bengali sits upright after lunch??
As evening came to Kolkata, it would be time for cha. With biscuits and home-made cake and more sweets. The men would be awakened. The gossip would continue. The squeals, the laughter went on until atleast 7 pm. Very few of our guests owned cars. They would get up reluctantly, they must catch the 208 bus, or a taxi.
I don't like fish or sweets much. I don't profess much affection for the people who came. But today...in another city, another state, on the other side of the country...I miss it. All of it.
Shubho nobo borsho to all. May 1414 bring joy.

Harum-Scarum

Hurrying! Party in house. Strangely tense for some reason. I do so hate 'entertaining people.' I always get stuck organizing drinks....which is better than making conversation of course :)
Slight paranoia in study-land. Not exam-phobia, more like 'what the hell am I doing?' paranoia.
I'm happy about the Crazy Diamond. Just happy. I hope all works out.
Much love, and a kiss on the forehead for S.
Bye.

Memories of Calcutta...November 2006

Plump n Pink Shoie...the closest I have to a sister
At Cinnamon
Mum...pensive
The Reverend Spooner

who are you you managers and parents and well-wishers who profess to want what's best fme? did i ask you? more importantly did you ask me? Please..leave your managerhood behind when you talk to me please knock when you enter my room if you are drunk do not speak to me at all. don't you know how far back this goes. but how would you know what did you see? I hide it all bury it do deep that it only poisons me occasionally. I like my shape thank you it doesn't need licking. I may not be doing what you expected but i disregard your disapproval. this goes far far back to another smaller bedroom, a girl of five scared so terribly scared. things happened there didn't they do you remember? she had forgotten i had forgotten and then when i was living in as a burden it came back to me all of it. along with the fear. terrible fear unnamed unsharable for who would i tell? don't you see all of you well-wisger people....as long as you pay for any part of my life, i am bound to you. oh don't look so shocked, i have affections for you the bond is dependence. i cannot ask you to shut up because it would be ugly. i am bad with ugliness. oh i can stand it i can stand anything. that's what you all like to hear? give it to her, she will stand it. i will not fall well-wishers of my blood. blood has no meaning for me you know. whoever's relative i am please know that. if i have any liking for you, you earned it as i expect to earn mine. this goes back...tears at every meal, unable to eat the constant constant noise how very worthless, lazy, burdensome that i was....dumb,ugly,dishonest, shameless...i liked shameless. never will i apologize for any of it. you numbed me you Woman of Tastebuds. oh your hands create culinary wonders, but you couldn't create me. what to do with this silent, hyper-sensitive child who reeks of strange insolence? and i let the fear crawl back in. it rejoiced in your mental rapes of me, it devoured my words. oh but i lived. and shall live. i have cracked but i can live with cracks. more seeps in that way. i wasn't allowed to break, i lived above that. i can live with breakage now. i can be wholly joyful, and i don't do it to spite you. this goes back to the stench of that room i wrecked havoc on. that is not a happy room, well-wishers, it is haunted. four years of complete misery, so complete. four years of being stripped of all humanness, oh you rejoiced in my helplessness. this goes far back, and it caught up with me tonight. i fly with my joy, and it will pursue. tis too much a part of me. your drunkeness in that small room, your drunkeness tonight...why must i keep saying i'm fine. i am not allowed to break. if i break, all of you will go. i know myself the best, the most honestly...do not believe it is you. do not try to manage me or categorize me. who do i see when i am desperately afraid? it has always been, my words...in writing.
And i pay for my own tears and messes, my best friends haven't seen me cry. Walls watch me, corners, windows, and my words. they're ok with me you see. they trust me no matter what. and they go further back than all of you.

I am actually enjoying working on exams two weeks before they begin. Tis going steady, though I did have nightmares of Aristotle's theory of friendship last night. Twas this huge,ugly blob going 'FRRRIEENDS MUUUSSST WIIISSH EEACCH OOTHER WEEELL.'

I heard disturbing story today.

There was a girl who liked a boy. He was of a different caste and she knew parents would not approve, so she kept it a secret. When they found out, they beat her heavily, in public. Then they took her away to a distant place. On the way, she committed suicide. The parents are relieved. At least their caste is safe.

I've read several such stories, watched dozens of movies telling them...but, this is real. Told to me by an aquaintaince of the girl's. I raged. Asked why??! how? Who the hell are these 'parents?' And how helpless must the girl have felt to have actually taken the step. I've come close. I have.

Thanks Mum and Dad for being so you. You guys matter more than I realize. Such stories remind me of that...

Just

There are little pockets of joy. Long talk with Neha and Rahul, studying Andrew Marvell, partying at your old workplace, rediscovering your shorts persona, getting back to communication with S...

Happy.

I laughed last, SO??!!

This is what happens when your psychology guide-book states that pre-marital sex is a criminal activity!




1.Breaking Up

If you don't know how to break up with someone, if you're really bad at moving on, what kind of spiritual course would help you?


The Art of Leaving.


2.Batman

If you don't give a flying fuck AND a rat's ass, does that mean you don't give a flying rat's fucking ass?


Does that mean you don't give a sodomising bat?

....you start sending such things to people you love, simply because you them to know you're screwed up and you need their love desperately.

Jokes courtesy:www.nofunnyjokes.blogspot.com

Cranky

So completely sick of everything, I'd like to blow everything and everybody I know into one huge balloon and then BURST IT!!!!!!!!!!!

Dave McKean

The Black Orchid

Messages

To S..Much happiness in touching base with you. Love always.

To The Crazy Diamond...I am sorry. Please trust me again.

Tired

Heat, blood-loss,looking at sad photographs...all dragging at my energy. I'm sad about S. I'm sad about leaving tnt. I want to sit on my hill at dusk without my cell-phone.
I miss you S. I wish I could tell you but I'm afraid you're past caring. Time doesn't matter yet. It hasn't increased or decreased my thoughts of you. They are there.

Evening Talks

People ask me about you. Sometimes I tell them, sometimes I tell them even when they haven't asked. I can see more clearly now that you are only a distant body clothed in charcoal, talking so deliberately into a phone. I see you on crumpled sheets, your smile the only smoothness. The colours of you...the almost-whites and the cream-browns....the teeth-marks on your shoulder. To taste your blood and your roots and all that runs through and under your skin. To know what your name means in every language. In you I am soft and sharp, questing and at complete acceptance, holding, letting fall, never holding back, affectionate and hungry...

lists

Things I am fierce about
Privacy
Independence
Mum

Little Learnings
I cried while watching E sleep
Bittersweetness
I have realized that I hate people leaving my bedroom door open after them
Ditto people who try to talk to me when I'm having a bath
I have more attitude than I ever thought
I react badly to authority

Of Circles and Green Aprons

I know I know,I have been Very Lazy Blogger. Apologies to one who is a cherished reader and has been bugging me to be more regular.

It's been a combination of reasons, really. A load of work, a terrible cold, laziness, the computer conking off, many glamorous love affairs....

I have got my US visa finally. Raju and I went to Bombay, spent 3 hours waiting outside the Consulate and concluded the interview in about two minutes. My consular officer was rather attractive, but 3 hours of standing in Bombay heat had sapped me of all energy, let alone charm. Anyway, tis all done, and there are Big Plans of celebrating a certain close relative's birthday in London on the way back. Mum is hopefully flying in as well, so Heigh-Ho.
Before all this jollity, however, I have to confront that terrible persecutor of students,EGGJAMS(exams you dolts). And my life in tnt as I know it is coming to an end. I shall post a highly mournful epitaph on that later.
My Taker-Over has joined tnt. He is rather nice, seems very Yin and interesting. And quiet compared to the rest of us Gigglers. Methinks he will mesh well with tnt. Tis also the svet fact that he was our very first customer. Sigh. I do love circles :)

I am also writing and designing our Green Apron Book. A concepted initiated by Starbucks, tis basically an index of customer-care rules, specific to the organization. If anyone has suggestions on what we at tnt do best, please do write in.

My friend Roger.

....And I've loved him all through.

shut-eye talk

So sleeeeepeeeee. I bought myself red-black-gold anklet today from Either Or. That's 'a story not a store', and one I love almost as much as tnt. They gave me my anklet in a tiny little paper bag with red thread strung through for carrying.
I just had some awesome solkadhi which Cook Maushi made. I'm being very careful with names, as you see.Solkadhi or soul curry, for those of you who don't know, is part of the Malvani cuisine, popular along the Konkan coast. Made of coconut milk and kokam, tis very filling and very very tasty. I'm dying to try it with a smoke.

With a little help from R & C, and S.

I shamelessly invade your privacy, blow a thousand prayers towards your home. I argue mercilessly with myself about your space, wonder when to pull back when to surge forward. I visit bookstores with music in them, wonder how you would like them.
I never expect your replies, I am complete.
You mean you're supposed to love less than this?

My Visual DNA

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Marc Chagall

Had forgotten how much I like him....the dreaminess, the harmony. Thanks @d, for the reminder.

Rants of a Political Ignoramus

Have been running hither and thither for my new passport. It is very exhausting, firstly because my energy reserve is naturally low, and secondly because the whole system is geared to make you feel powerless. A grinning idiot in the hands of the bureaucracy. I have made several new 'uncles' and my politeness level has gone up tremendously. Such are the uses of this system we inhabit, imbibe and trash regularly.
Tis election day here, and I am at a loss. My name is on the list, but I know so little of any of the candidates....
It's lethargy, I know. I always have been happily unaware of politics. Well, not so much politics as the politicians. I recently reviewed a book on the life of Nani Palkhivala, written by M.V. Kamath who was his contemporary. All I know of Palkhivala is that he was passionate about the Constitution and that his oratory skills were superlative. He fought against Parliament's right to make amendments to the Constitution.
The Director has heard him speak. She says he was truly inspirational. I have never heard a political speaker. And certainly not one who inspired me. The closest I got to politics was my International Relations class in the A Level course. I don't like too many names and dates, but I liked the concepts.
To me politics is symbolizes ultimate power and a heap of murkiness. We take it for granted that people will do anything for power and money, and as long as our work gets done, we are willing to pay. Politics make it impossible for me to travel without a stack of papers which take months to prepare. Politics, now criminally mixed up with organised religion creates imaginary lines all across the globe. Stepping across could mean death. Or at least detainment. Even language has become a political tool. Should English be the 'universal tongue' or should we stick to our native languages? Certain countries refuse to speak English even if they know how. The resentment underlining this is old. Politics is defined as 'the social relations between groups'. Politicians have made it into the sharp delineation of differences between people. Differences which they use to further their power. East-West. India-Pakistan. Hindu-Muslim. Shia-Sunni. Agriculture-Industry.
I'm sure it's not easy for them. But what I am I voting for?

letter

Dear People Who Want What's Best For me.
I am a Drifter.
Deal with it.

With very genuine regards
Me.

I raise my glass

To one of the most exasperating people I know. She's almost through college and has landed herself TWO great jobs. She's making her way through a steady romance, and has grown so, so much. Very proud me is.

What I Have

Do you see? There is a scratch above my mouth, a curving scar deep in the warmth of my left thigh. My knees are folds of flesh, their shape indifferent.
I may not be featured on glossy pages, so they say.
You know.
How much I love my body.
The shuuders of it, the sharp hair and every fall it took for me. How much I love it when it moves. When it is quiet, when
it screams.
You know.
My belly, with its round, soft richness. The perfection of my navel.
The bones of my hip, when I stand before you, leaning slightly.
I love to dance. My body wriggles and shapes itself like no other. My legs awaken, my pixie shoulders scream for attention. My body with all the scent of the sea where my thighs part. The power of the eagle's eye where my spine begins. The soul of my flesh and bone between my eyes.
This, this is what sinks into your image. Here is what I love, the utmost I want to give.
Did you know?

Would the MADhatter dine with you?

The MADhatter would love to dine with you! He immediately senses that you are an excitable eccentric mess who is in desperate need of some direct madness! The evening runs smothley and you eat crazy dishes from the very corners of Wonderland. After dining you do a several tribal dances and twirl and shout war cries. After all this you paint yourself with multicoloured paints and celebrate the end of the evening by shooting colourful streamers at bunny rabbits. He then lulls you into a deep sleep and sends you home flying a beautiful bird. Take this quiz!

Yaba Daba Do (you) ;)

Your Pickup Line Is

I may not be Fred Flintstone but I can make your bed rock

The Magical Pick Up Line Generator

And so...goodbye

Cords snap, entire hard-spun webs crumble....
And nothing must stop.

This holding on has stretched and diminished
me
Your eyes have grown dimmer
As though you have tired of the insistence
Of this love

As though my every word, every step
I took towards touching you
again...
was a question asked of you
Asked..
Over and over again.
It is easier, and safer to love a memory
But the spinning cannot stop.
The dreams, the colour, the bodies we shall know
The threads and patterns on our spindle
Will go on.

You, whole,in fragments
silent in your joy and your sleep
so beautiful

I can gather up my own pieces quietly
I will not thrust my breakage on you

Honestly

I love you.
It's as simple, as complicated as that

Very sleepy and blah. Sat down to re-write and polish something I scribbled in class this morning, but.....just too tired. Pigwidgeon left a sweet goodnight msg on my bed last night. Thank you again.

Throwing Punches!

Some idiot tried to force their way into the Store today. Our glass door with its beautiful etchings is now in half.
Whoever you are, you're a major creep. A Major Creep! And I solemnly swear to kill you in the cold-bloodest possible way if I ever find out who you are. Or, at least render you incapable of ever having kids.
My colleague and I were left alone in the Store only for about 15 minutes. I spent the entire time standing just outside the doorway with my arms folded, narrowing my eyes at anyone I deemed suspicious.
And I did something I've never done before. After pulling down the shutter, I pressed my hand to the faithful metal, then touched my forehead and my chest....

Land

I want to navigate you with as much care as possible. What if I miss out? Would you let me start again? Will you?

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be...

Monday evenings are Me-Time. I snarl at intruders.
I love evening. Tis is a pity that most people are either at work or swearing at the traffic at this time. I walk to work these days, and I try to leave early so as not to run.Pune roads are too harsh for evening.

I just walked on our lawn. I removed my slippers and walked on the grass. I hate that all the apartments look out onto the lawn. With a little hidden-ness, I could have lain down on the grass. We used to do it school. During the sports season. I'm no sportsperson, but I loved being outdoors all day. I would read, counsel all those who were running and scream my lungs out cheering for my friends. I had the grass, wide spaces and the winter sun.
Lying down on grass is supremely sensual. And extremely private. You feel it rough at first, prickling in your skin. Then, gradually....it yields. Or maybe your skin yields. And suddenly, shoes seem a burden.
I miss our playground. They should make playgrounds for adults. Swings and slides and lots of space to dance around and spin with joy. Should be compulsory in all corporates.
I love to swing. Both the heavy, gentle jhoola and the childlike dolna are happy seats. In school, my legs would fly up to meet the wind, my hair falling out of its Puritan Plait. I was far more inhibited back then and didn't often indulge in the swing.
My home consists of a big library with wood-panelling and a floor-to-ceiling ladder. Hammocks, both to sit in and to sleep in, a bay window, a jhoola and a dolna. All on my very own lawn where no other balconies peep to watch me and my very own grass.

Ode to an Oliphaunt Memory

Just got back from the House of Jo-Tie. Ate, played Pictionary, hung out with the Angel and listened to some nostalgia.
I heard 'Mera Saaya' after a long time. S played it to me one night over the phone. Our house had painters and strange carpenters at the time so we were staying with friends. I came home to call him. Because I said I would. And he played beautiful old songs.

I would die without memories, and without making them.

I give smiles to my memories now. I keep them in a lavender-black tinted corner and dust them and re-fragrance them. They make me unsure, leave me laughing, crying and shove me forward. My memories don't always want me, but they've assured me that they're there even when I'm not looking.

Home

Sometimes I rent little bits of myself out to the world. It gives me ideas, opinion, stretches me, moulds me into strange shapes. I give it Listening. I uncoil my elastic body and slip and slither around firmer forms, hearing, acknowledging, sometimes agreeing....
Sometimes I go too far and some invisible root pulls me back. I return....and sit quietly. There is a wholeness in this. And this is what I keep with me, no matter how great my despair.

The Orderly Life of a Silkworm

I'm re-reading 'The Lord of the Rings'. I like 'The Two Towers' better than 'The Fellowship of the Ring'. The first time I read the series, I sort of garbled through it, lost in the maze of names.
Now I delight in 'Galadriel', 'Eowyn', 'The Nameless Pass', 'Boromir', 'Aragorn, 'Lorelindorenan...' I love how the characters introduce themselves as 'son of whatever-grand-name'.
I've just finished 'The Two Towers' and am eagerly awaiting entrance into 'The Return of the King.' I desperately want 'Silmarillion' so any kind offers from my wise and fair readers will be greatly appreciated.

I've read 'Book of Rachel' twice now. Tis engaging in its simplicity. Makes me want to wear soft, cotton sharee and smell of earth and coconut and tamarind.

Yummy Churan (see prev post) has been licked clean. From fingers, bottle and the furniture where it spilled. Goodbye dearest friend! You may not be eminently replaceble for a few weeks yet.

Outside of books and my random snacking, things are slightly dragging. Twas the Director's birthday last Saturday. Our clan walked in fashionably late, balancing three cakes. There was this great drink called Alize which I had about 6 glasses of, and hence turned very effervescent. I recall saying something about sticking a swordfish up some woman's well-you-know. Am sure twas for entirely honourable reasons.
Tis nice going to parties where you know everyone and the venue is one where you're entirely comfortable.
TnT Annual Overnight Picnic coming up in a couple of weeks. We're probably going river-rafting, so much excitement there.
College is slow but am going regularly. M has gone home for a week and I'm glad. She needed the break.
Am still wallowing, and loving every minute. Tis less now, but not irregular.

Watching the Sleep of you
the Tension between your shoulders
and your Eyes
how your Smile
insisted on Hiding
Teeth

But you laugh sometimes
and the Smile forgets.....

Forgetfulness

The name of the author is the first to go followed obediently by the title, the plot,the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novelwhich suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of,

as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.

Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,

something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.

Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.

It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join
those who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.

No wonder you rise in the middle of the night to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.No wonder the moon in the window seems to have driftedout of a love poem that you used to know by heart.

Billy Collins

Thanks Shibani, for sending this :)

happy littles

Am sittng and nibbling on yummy churan. I inflict torture on my bowels. Seriously. I can consume an alarming amount of chips, aachaar, hajmola, white tic-tac....
My mum loves fresh fruit and doodh-bhaat. Baba, on the other hand sometimes eats Haldirams's chana nuts for breakfast. And then is horrified when he sees me eating potassium-enriched sausages. Ki aar boli.

On an old, painful note....I'm over It. Tis a shame....there was much learning to be shared. But it's done. I'm well on my way to healing.

Time after time

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
And think of you
Caught up in circles, confusion
Is nothing new
Flashback... warm nights
Almost left behind
Suitcases of memories,
Time after

Sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me,
I can't hear
What you've said
Then you say go slow
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds

If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
Time after time
If youre lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
Time after time

After my picture fades and darkness has
Turned to gray
Watching through windows youre wondering
If I'm ok
Secrets stolen from deep inside
The drum beats out of time

If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you Ill be waiting
Time after time

You said go slow
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds

If you're lost you can look and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
Time after time

Time after time
Time after time
Time after time

Cyndi Lauper

I know people who roll joints all day because they're bored. Then they light up, inhale deeply, gaze blankly at each other and go 'hmm yeah.' Some kind of Stoner Language which I only half comprehend, since I only smoke tobacco.
(scratches nose, shakes head and sighs)

I'm looking forward to this year. Expecting plenty of energy, swings in hammocks, lovemaking, and definite writing, plenty of beautiful books and a goodly amount of porashona. I will live deep inside some people and make lots of Tia-time. I will kick some misshapen butt.

All looks good.

Letter

Dear 2006.
During your tenure, I have learnt to honour all that is different from me. I have become a lover, and remain one. I have had good conversations and pleasant sleep.
Thank you very much.
I believe you know your way out.

prayer

i should not be writing this not even thinking that's what they tell me they who love me and know that pounding my head is the only way to get through but i do see flashes of silver and i turn my head thinking of you in black and grey and a straight head every message could be from you you could be the next person to walk into the shop oh and we don't have the umbrellas now so you wouldn't have to bend ever so slightly and i turn around sometimes and my eyes widen and drop as though it's you but it isn't and they would tell me to work on getting over it and i must i must but i look long and longingly at the parking-spot wanting the bike to be there to walk into my room and find you and see you and see you just to see if i can and i hear old songs why i do like them the green and the dark the quiet and the grand pages pages of this of you burning black waves and your bones blood and trembling nerves the unbuttoning and taking apart all of you i saw the smell of icy orange breath and so cold my pillow i would have you on it nightly without fear sleep is overdone sleep and sleep tiring sleep touch and taste lick and bite dry loose skin yours and at this time only yours gleaming nipples and rough hair and my teeth now all weapons or maybe not i heard the fall building up again

I was composing this post on my way home, and now I've blanked out. Door chhai!!
Things have been plentifully abnormal as always.
My father watched 'Khosla ka Ghosla' and loved it. I've been seeing bikes where there aren't any.
My Christmas lunch was sans alcohol and almost sans meat.
I'm blaming it all on unrequited-love-induced-stupor.

Look what I'm reading right now:

1.Books and Islands in Ojibwe Country by Louise Erdrich
2. Women who Run with Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estes
3.The Lost Father by Marina Warner
4.The World and Other Places by Jeanette Winterson
5.Several Perceptions by Angela Carter
6.Nothing to Wear, Nothing to Hide by Fay Weldon
7.The Complete Lord of the Rings series
8.The Tao of Relationships by Ray Grigg
9.In Favour of the Sensitive Man: Essays by Anais Nin

......and there's more pending
Joy.

That's all folks!

Woman, strapped

sixpence
and I'll be a man
on his way to london
flowering fields
strewn with straw bodies
all on my road

sixpence
and i'd be a belly-dancer
loving my body moves
delighting my blood
in over my head
all on my road

woudn't you give me a sixpence
buy a dream off me
so I could go
get off this stranger's road
see the yellow bricks of the sun
follow the stem of my breath
All on my own road.

For all my loves

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that youll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance....i hope you dance.

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin might mean takin chances but theyre worth takin,
Lovin might be a mistake but its worth makin,
Dont let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to sellin out reconsider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance....I hope you dance.I hope you dance....

I hope you dance.(time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone.)

Lee Ann Womack

frenzy

should I stop?
listen to the horns, the fierce whispers
those who scream blood

can I describe
slowly and with
complete
deliberation
the smoothness of the back of your neck
the scar on your chin
where you fell

I see you
reduce you to skin and muscle
hair and bone
the colour of your mouth
reduce is not the word dearest
I see your beauty
I see it madly

in these words
on blank pages
I possess you
I writhe
lest I be gagged with what I say
I can capture you to capture me
forever
but these words
this I
must break and squeeze and ache
and never still.

I've come a long way. I would never have changed an exclamation-mark in my writing before, on someone else's request. I am fierce about my creations.
If you're reading this, I didn't do it for you. I did it so I could keep up the hope that somehow....we could be close again. At least work on it. Twasn't a sacrifice, and you still don't control what I write. I've changed in the hope that this terrible, needless hurting that we're giving each other will stop. The worst of it is, I'm beginning to stop expecting kindness from you.

A 'Singh' among men.

Read this. And this.

TnT annual sale has begun. The last week has been exhilarating....50 boxes of books to be unpacked, coded and displayed. In my case, 50 boxes of books to be pawed through, cooed over and desired! We're having a Midnight Sale on the 16th with plenty of food going.
Lots of hard work and lots of joy in getting it done.

I haven't written about my Calcutta trip yet. I did everything I had set out for and ended up wishing I could stay longer. At the same time, I wanted to return to Pune. I have a complete life in Pune and a complete life in Calcutta. So while there are tugs and pulls each time I return and turn back, I'm happy looking forward.
Twas rushed, my trip. Time with Ma was good. She's got a complete life in Nerja too. The Cousin is fast-growing, and as delightful as ever. With all the giddiness of her fourteen years, she's got an intelligence and a sense of humour that makes me love her. Not to mention an amazing wardrobe which I raided (yes we wear the same size). The Gestapo...haven't changed. I got them a cell-phone this time. The mere idea was greeted with shrieks and protests. Then when I finally bought it, twas the wrong model, the keys were set too close together, the tone wasn't loud enough......
I watched the first cut of Shampi Mashi's movie. Anuronon, it's called. Starring Rahul Bose, Rituparna, Raima Sen and Rajat Kapoor. Will be releasing sometime early 2007.

This last year has seen me living in a sort-of-stable structure. At least where the Home is concerned.
The Home has many, many spots which suck you in, simply because you're living in it. The funny thing is, I'm learning to like these spots.
Like having having domestic help, and then not having them. Like being almost completely responsible for E. Like realizing the kind of pressure WS gets under and not placating her, instead just making sure that my end of responsibility is help up. I have college, I work part-time. It's true that my Bookshop is no less than Home. And I manage to convey that to my Boss.
Both the Home and TnT are like demanding little kids. Ignore one and it goes to its room and slams the door in your face.
I'm 21 years old. I want to travel and envision Home-spots in beautiful places. I want to know that there is a steady Home-spot to fall into should I want it. I might even be able to make one myself...

Intellectuals/aatels/non-droolers please step aside.

M and I watched Dhoom-II yesterday. There are about 20 shows going in E-Square, which is the multiplex closest to home. All the shows were sold out. Well, except for the neck-craning seats. Without a second's dilly-dallying, we jumped into a rick and sped to Inox. This is the snazzier multiplex in town. The theatres are decorated a la Moulin Rouge and tickets sell at 130 bucks for a morning show. We didn't care.

Now, the movie is not as tight as Dhoom. It gets soppy towards the end, and there are issues of redemption and 'thief-turned-lover.' But Hrithik.....oh my God! He is lithe like he's never been, hot like he's never been....and THE GUY CAN KISS! Well, visually at least. His eyes change colour in a certain sizzle-scene. I am not a Drooler by nature. No, really. But.....he is utterly Droolable. And Sighable. And Crushable (er). And he's pulled off marvellous stunts and his body (gulp).
Audience sympathy lay almost totally with him. Judging by the shouts of 'Abhishek you're a loser' and 'Hrithik, kick his ass', at least. The ladies in the movie look good. That's it. Aishwarya is, like, ok in her duh, good-hearted bimbette role. Bipasha, in a seriously slapstick double-role does fair justice to Bengali beauty. Rimi puts in a pregnant appearance.
Among the lesser men, Abhishek is pretty good. His role seems to have been given a few negative subtleties, but at the end, he emerges as this benevolent-God-like guy.
Uday retains his lovable-ness....this being the only role I like him in.
The music is danceable, though the songs have been timed at rather unnecessary moments. The thief is softer, more humane with a girl whom he trusts. The cop has loosened up and shrugged off his wife a little.
In all, Hrithik stands out for sheer presence.

Maybe....

If our every meeting could be like that of strangers, full of anticipation and openness. We would know that we might never meet again, therefore we had nothing to fear. Would we make every meeting complete? Be strangers who are kind?
The previous meetings wouldn't matter. Because we would know that we're not the same people we were then. All would be forgiven, no turning inward to pout and demand or hope for apology.

Each encounter...complete and intense. And beautifully isolated and free of expectation.

just glimpsed

green sky and i walking
cover-light
so soft

Yay

Ok so it's all over. And it ended rather well. Am quite happy with S2 (English Special Paper 2). Wrote a highly enjoyable essay on Marvell's unconventional approach in 'To His Coy Mistress.'
M and I celebrated the end of exams by...well eating basically. Lemon cake and mausambi juice at the German Bakery and then on to Mocha for cherry-flavoured hookah. Majhkhane I had stopped smoking, and started again. Have realized that I don't enjoy it anymore so will stop...again.

Am leaving for Calcutta on Saturday(million yays). Mum is coming down on the 15th(triple million yays). Can't wait. I'm going to visit Landmark and Oxford and ride the Metro and buses and rickshas and walk on Park Street and meet so many beautiful people. J's concert is up on the 16th at Princeton Club so more yays.

E has started piano lessons. He's practising on my old Yamaha...tis fiercely mine!! I'm thinking of re-starting in March once TnT ends for me. And dance classes too.

Had talk with M about The Situation. Very comforting as always. The best thing about The Situation is that I'm completely clear and comfortable about my feelings. It felt wonderful to talk about it. I didn't realize how much I needed to. So thank you M, once again.