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...