Let's Explore

A letter to nobody

2011-12-08T23:44:00.001-08:00

Dear Nobody,

My mind is filled with so many questions that I thought Ibetter spit them out. You might not be able to come up with answers to them, ormaybe to some you could. In either case there is no harm in trying. So, here I begin…

Why do Delhi girls wear their dupattas like terrorists,covering their head and face? Is it because they are trying to scare people offor because they are trying to get mixed in the crowd like dust? Is it becauseit lends them some invisible anonymity or because they don’t like how theylook?

Why is it that sex is associated with nights? Why only whenyou spend the night out it also means you must have done that? Is it not possibleto make out during the day time? Then why is there such a big hullabaloo aboutbeing out at night?

Why is it that people get shocked when a girl is out atnight? Why is it that the ‘night’ is owned by men? Why is it that good girls (Ifind these words offensive, but I am making an exception right now) can’t walkalone on the road at night? Why restrict our lives to the days and retire atnight?

Why do people keep pets? Why don’t they keep other people? Hungrypeople, poor people, old people, orphans….there are so many breeds to choosefrom.

Why is it that the very birds which we write poetry aboutirritate us no end when they start living in our air conditioner?

Why aren’t there windows anymore? I shall not even mentionthe ventilators.

Life is full of sound and fury and has no meaning. Every onehas heard that. Then how come everyone is chasing something or other always? Wellthis is not making sense anymore. I shall stop here and now. Thanks forlistening my dear Nobody.

Stories in 55 Words

2011-10-26T12:04:00.000-07:00

55 # 4

“Lovely my dear… pretty earrings” complimented someone. A smile touched Amina’s lips but didn’t reach her eyes. She ignored the guilty drone inside her head. All she wanted was to look beautiful. That day too she wanted the earrings. No reason, no excuse. She didn’t have the money to buy, so she just took it.

55 # 5

Today I retire. I have been drinking since morning. I am not unhappy. Good retirement benefits always help. They have found a successor for me. I am not unhappy. People don’t respect my job. But my father did it and my grandfather too. I am not unhappy. I will be hanging the last man today.

Stories in 55 Words

2011-10-19T12:23:00.001-07:00

55 # 3.

“Isabel you cannot leave”says Aaron weeping. “What will I do without you dear? It’s all because of thework. When things are not under control I just lose my temper.” Isabelremembers the numerous times he had got drunk and spoken like this. Yet likeevery time she replies “I know… I know boss”.

Stories in 55 Words

2011-10-18T10:58:00.001-07:00

55 # 1.

I didn’t know I would find her address like this. Four years after I came back. Not in any yellow pages. Not even from uncle. I found it on the temple steps. On one of the worn-out marbles steps. “Pridarshini Rai, 6.10.1985 - 16.03.2009, 41 Mandi Road, Madhopur, Madhya Pradesh.” I was a year late.

55 # 2.
When she slept like a child with her mouth slightly open, it evoked certain tenderness in you. A sudden urge to protect her. She resembled someone, maybe my cousin, maybe someone else. She is stirring awake now. I better hurry up with another doze of camphor and make that ransom call to her bastard father.

Glimpses from Assam

2011-07-18T03:08:00.000-07:00

Infinity

2011-05-25T02:44:00.000-07:00

Like the stars
Who shine at a distant a horizon
Like you yearn for them knowing well
You can never reach them
I love you
Accepting with heavy heart
That this distance is important
That pining for you is just
A trivial part of loving you
It can never encompass
The emotions that have been travelled
And that this endless tale will be experienced
With the knowledge that
Far away in the distant
You are shinning with glory
With simply your memory
My life is infinity.

Hangover

2011-05-24T23:19:00.000-07:00

Your thoughts, your words
Your lopsided smile, your tears
Your silence, your banter
Your fact, your fiction
Your ego, your stubbornness
Your touch, your dreams
Your eyes and the mole within
Your presence, your absence
I am living with all of them.

Glimpses of Lansdowne

2011-04-25T21:35:00.000-07:00

The view from the cab

Ting Tong

Leisure

Leafy way

The nest

A visitor

Living on the edge

The winding way

A stolen shot

Once upon a bridge

Hope

2011-04-25T21:24:00.000-07:00

Stooped by the little burdens
I walk ahead
Finding my way down new paths
If I stumble, I shall get up
If I am lost, I shall find a way
But the truth is...
I will keep looking back for your shadow
And wonder
If your eyes are still on me?
I wish not to meet you again
But only that
Hope will keep me going.

How To Watch Your Brother Die

2010-12-03T10:14:00.000-08:00

(A moving piece I happened to stumble upon)

When the call comes, be calm.
Say to your wife, "My brother is dying. I have to fly
to California."
try not to be shocked that he already looks like
a cadaver.
Say to the young man sitting by your brother's side,
"I'm his brother."
Try not to be shocked when the young man says,
"I'm his lover. Thanks for coming."

Listen to the doctor with a steel face on.
Sign the necessary forms.
Tell the doctor you will take care of everything.
Wonder why doctors are so remote.

Watch the lover's eyes as they stare into
your brother's eyes as they stare into
space.
Wonder what they see there.
Remember the time he was jealous and
opened your eyebrow with a sharp stick.
Forgive him out loud
even if he can't
understand you.
Realize the scar will be
all that's left of him.

Over coffee in the hospital cafeteria
say to the lover, "You're an extremely good-looking
young man."
Hear him say,
"I never thought I was good enough looking to
deserve your brother."

Watch the tears well up in his eyes. Say,
"I'm sorry. I don't know what it means to be
the lover of another man."
Hear him say,
"Its just like a wife, only the commitment is
deeper because the odds against you are so much
greater."
Say nothing, but
take his hand like a brother's.

Drive to Mexico for unproven drugs that might
help him live longer.
Explain what they are to the border guard.
Fill with rage when he informs you,
"You can't bring those across."
Begin to grow loud.
Feel the lover's hand on your arm
restraining you. See in the guard's eye
how much a man can hate another man.
Say to the lover, "How can you stand it?"
Hear him say, "You get used to it."
Think of one of your children getting used to
another man's hatred.

Call your wife on the telephone. Tell her,
"He hasn't much time.
I'll be home soon." Before you hang up say,
"How could anyone's commitment be deeper than
a husband and a wife?" Hear her say,
"Please. I don't want to know all the details."

When he slips into an irrevocable coma,
hold his lover in your arms while he sobs,
no longer strong. Wonder how much longer
you will be able to be strong.
Feel how it feels to hold a man in your arms
whose arms are used to holding men.
Offer God anything to bring your brother back.
Know you have nothing God could possible want.
Curse God, but do not
abandon Him.

Stare at the face of the funeral director
when he tells you he will not
embalm the body for fear of
contamination. Let him see in your eyes
how much a man can hate another man.

Stand beside a casket covered in flowers,
white flowers. Say,
"thank you for coming," to each of seven hundred men
who file past in tears, some of them
holding hands. Know that your brother's life
was not what you imagined. Overhear two
mourners say, "I wonder who'll be next?" and
"I don't care anymore,
as long as it isn't you."

Arrange to take an early flight home.
His lover will drive you to the airport.
When your flight is announced say,
awkwardly, "If I can do anything, please
let me know." Do not flinch when he says,
"Forgive yourself for not wanting to know him
after he told you. He did."
Stop and let it soak in. Say,
"He forgave me, or he knew himself?"
"Both," the lover will say, not knowing what else
to do. Hold him like a brother while he
kisses you on the cheek. Think that
you haven't been kissed by a man since
your father died. Think,
"This is no moment to be strong."

Fly first class and drink Scotch. Stroke
your split eyebrow with a finger and
think of your brother alive. Smile
at the memory and think
how your children will feel in your arms
warm and friendly and without challenge.

Michael Lassell

Another night

2010-12-01T09:22:00.000-08:00

The wait was long

Hide and seek

The moon was being naughty

Let's Explore Fan Page is here!

2010-11-30T10:31:00.000-08:00

106 followers is good enough to start a fan page? Do join Let's Explore on facebook.

A promise

2010-11-30T08:53:00.000-08:00

"A dog is not a good dog because he is good at barking.
A man is not a good man because he is good at talking."

-----Found this written behind an auto. Philosophy at an unexpected place. Consider it for sometime. What does it say?

Does it caution us against smooth talkers? Does it ask us to believe in the deed and not the hype? Does it say a man who has a way with words is not to be trusted? Does this saying work? Is it archaic? Can it work in advertising?

Think about it. It's been a long time. And here I am back with sad quotes. Will do better next time.

Less

2010-07-07T03:10:00.000-07:00

Let everytime drown in sometime
Work become amusement
Winter somewhat lost in spring
Nightmares like moments
Wars mere disagreements
Tears only sighs
Life, let it just get over
Come,
Let’s make
Every thing lesser

Cuckold I

2010-05-05T00:04:00.000-07:00

Writing a review is a really funny thing, because it begins on the presumption that you know a book better than writer and therefore are in a position to judge it. Nevertheless, I too am making this presumption. The book is concern is Cuckold by Kiran Nagarkar.
Here’s an excerpt from the book’s intro.

“The time is early 16 century. The Rajput Kingdom of Mewar is at the height of its power. It is locked in war with the Sultanates of Delhi, Gujarat and Malwa. But there is another deadly battle being waged within Mewar itself. Who will inherit the throne after the death of the Maharana? The course of history, not just of Mewar but of the whole of India, is about to be changed forever. That is the bare plot-line. It is a singularly inadequate description of the scope and richness of the novel.
Nagarkar subtly plays with form and tradition and breaks new ground, enlarging our notions of fiction. He takes the sweep and breadth of the epic with its panoply of war, intrigue and action and introduces a deeply introspective and reflective note into it. He sets up the old triangle of man, woman and lover and pushes it to the edge to make it a love story like none other.
At the centre of Cuckold is the narrator, heir apparent of Mewar, who questions the codes, conventions and underlying assumptions of the feudal world of which he is a part, a world in which political and personal conduct are dictated by values of courage, valour and courtesy; and death is preferable to dishonour."

Nagarkar picks up the legend of Meera, and turns it into an analysis of a wide spectrum of complex characters, political upheaval, Rajput patriotism, Mughal ambitions and finally the huge ramifications it has on the course of a country’s history. The story told from the viewpoint of the cuckold breaks all conventions of the stereotypical hero. It allows us to explore the possibility of having a God, none other than the Flautist as a competitor.

Nagarkar takes the liberty of drawing a hero who is sensible, progressive despite facing unrequited love. Yet he too is a Maharaj Kumar, and his definition of love does not necessarily mean a monogamous affair. He has no qualms of have an incestuous relation with his Dai who breast fed him, and also seducing the woman who is under trial for adultery and he the presiding judge of the trial to boot.

Maharaj Kumar, despite his accurate intuitions failed to curb the power of his brother and secure the thrown for himself. One may also doubt the actual role played by him in the wars against Gujrat and Malwa. And yet Maharaj Kumar is no Othello, there are many redeemable qualities in his character. The fact that he shunned second marriage till the time it was possible for him, and even donned on the garbs of the Flautist to meet Meera on an equal footing are some of the endearing facets of his persona.
The story of Maharaj Kumar raises the question of many possibilities had he succeeded to the thrown after his father. Would he have successfully conquered Delhi from Babur? Would he be a cruel heartless murderer as the wars he fought against Gujrat suggest? Wondering these possibilities one may very often forget that the character of the Maharaj Kumar one knows, is actually nothing but a figment of the writer’s imagination.

To be continued…

Mad about Mukteshwar

2010-04-14T21:42:00.000-07:00

Somerset, the place to sit and watch time walk by...

A quaint little hut by Somerset

Devotion lurking everywhere...even high atop hidden hills...

The Nest, right in the middle of the hills, no lights to guide you at night, no clear road to lead you there...utterly unbelievable

Oak trees playing with the sun...amazing forest to get lost

A lonely cloud afloat

Bird house, so reminiscent of farmville

Treetops meeting the morning eagerly, 2kms before Nainital

Lament

2010-04-11T22:03:00.000-07:00

The place where we met
Under the shade of the trees
Is lonely today
The seat where we sat
Looking at the green
Is home now to someone else
The days which kept us company
Are long gone
The sun that shone on our head
Feels cheated
The bird which brought tidings of the day
Wander lost
Seasons sigh in remorse
Impatience reigns the path
The place where we met
Is lonely today
And still waits for us…

Dimensions

2010-03-24T23:07:00.000-07:00

I remained in yesterday
You moved on
to a strange today

-x-

The curtains lived on the edges of the day
Silent and somber watching
As deadlines rushed in & went away

-x-

The cat dragged in something
Stinking, broken and bleeding
It was but yesterday’s dream

-x-

The splashes from a butterfly fell on my days
Golden were the ways
When I flew where I wanted to

-x-

There was struggle between the identities
Me was different everywhere
Twitter, fb, orkut, buzz all agreed at my strangeness

-x-

Hunger pangs attacking the tummy
Tummy punished
for all the secret obscenities
it contained

-x-

Pain is the most
random thing in the world.
It’s everywhere.

-x-

What was stress called
when people hadn’t coined that term?

-x-

The grammar of love is confusing
Even practice may not
make you perfect

-x-

One by one they leave me
no rhyme no reason
betraying hair on my head

-x-

Burden of holding up millions of
thoughts & counter thoughts
so long bow down my neck now

-x-

A writer needs to write
A doctor needs to practice
A lover only needs to dream

Mayajaal

2010-03-11T22:29:00.000-08:00

Recently one my colleagues explained to me the profound philosophy of the Mayajaal of Appraisals… Appraisals are perhaps, by far the most mysterious and dreaded word in every professional’s life and this philosophy expounds the workings of the dreaded appraisal word….how THEY, the slave drivers of us slaves, have developed this philosophy…how THEY have successfully implemented it despite the best efforts of lesser mortals like us to rise above it.

This philosophy depends on a number of givens. First, those who have to leave will leave. They don’t care about whether they are leaving before appraisals or vice versa. They are driven by greater emotions to find greener pastures. This aggrieved lot usually believes that it is a grave injustice that they are stuck at such a place. Basically they feel they are much above the place and also that if they continue in the so not happening place the world might miss out on a legend. This lot also includes calculative criminals who nurse grudges and leave with a sadistic vengeance. Their triumph often consists only of the shattering slap on the faces of their detractors when they drop their resignation letter.

THEY, the makers of the philosophy also don’t worry about the lot who will not leave unless given the pink slip. This bag of loyal losers will stay put, crib, cry, mull, and even dream about the forthcoming appraisals. For them THEY create a Mayajaal of the forever coming up appraisals. Next month… next to next month… next Diwali… next year…next campaign… next promotion…next this…next that...next next…The anticipating losers happily or unhappily thus have many reasons to stick to their place. They don’t want to experiment, they don’t want to work hard (funnily enough they may anyways be working hard in the same god forsaken place). Some of them have even discovered a most innovative excuse for the prevailing scheme of things, namely – “too many changes reflect badly on your CVs.” The morons don’t realize with a mindset like theirs no one would anyways be interested in their CVs.

Stuck between the two lots of criminals and losers are the mixed bags. The poor souls who are neither here nor there, and are basically a confused lot who can’t tell black from white, right from wrong and often are the followers of the herd. In this Appraisal Mayajaal they are the lot who are struck worst as they can’t make up their mind where to look. And if and when they do break out of this confused territory they infringe the former territories.

THEY, the makers of the Mayajaal are not bothered with the first lot. THEY direct their energies in amusing the losers lot and also giving the confused mixed bags regular dosages of confusion. The Mayajaal continues to thrive. And if ever anyone falls out of the losers bracket to the any of the other two territories THEY don’t take tension because there is never any scarcity of new fools waiting to be recruited.

pure inebreation

2010-02-25T23:12:00.000-08:00

Came across this piece one day...see if you like it...

Sitting here
thinking about you,
wondering if you're
thinking of me.
We've been down
this road before
and I know where
it ends.
Hypnotic dreams,
so sweet,
of you.
Only to wake up
to nothing more than
an unforgiving
blank wall.
Secrets shared in
silence,
deafens me.
Self sedation
brings me around,
to kill the
painful thoughts of
you.
The less you say,
the worse it gets.

....

Michael "Kemo" Bingoff

Agra for all

2010-02-07T03:15:00.001-08:00

What can be said about a place which resides in poetry… which every Indian who can afford has visited at least once in life.

Fortunately for me this was the second time. When I left for Agra I wanted to leave some things behind; I wasn’t expecting much. The bus was not quite what I had expected. But the crowd was an odd mix - an Assamese family, a Belgian, a Korean, two Moslems, two unclassifiable could-be-any-bodies and Bahadur & me.

I realized yet again that looks are so deceptive. The person you believe is the most sensible of the lot often turns out to be the least. The Belgian who looked completely self-possessed chose to pile on with us without any rhyme or reason. And by the time she got our message the journey was over.

In the beginning the journey seemed to drag; our first stop was for breakfast at an over priced restaurant. Hogged on chicken cutlets and utterly unnecessary bread toasts. The bill was so much that it happened to be more than the lunch and the dinner bill. Couldn’t help myself from wrapping the leftover cutlet in a tissue paper and putting it quietly into my bag ;o) Good thing the place had a swing …made optimum use of the time I had in hand. And surprise of surprises no one came to say that the swing was meant for kids under 12.

It was almost 1 pm when we reached Agra…first stop was Agra Fort…2 kms of area open to visitors and only 35 mins to cover it. In spite of this I seemed to be the only person finding it a grave injustice. I tried to salvage whatever was possible in that short span of time that too with the Belgian tied to our tails...she needed translations of what the guide had told, every sentence we were talking in Hindi & every sentence we were talking in English, not once but at least thrice. To top it all she was paranoid the bus would leave us stranded.

Punctual that I am, I reached on the stipulated time but the rest of the lot didn’t seem as obliged. The Belgian was busy cracking jokes on ‘Indian standard time’ while I was lamenting the fact that I can’t differentiate between the diwan-e-aam & the diwan-e-khaas and also because I couldn’t spend more time there.

Next stop was for lunch. Some more commission into the dear driver & guide’s pocket. Food & bill both were fine this time. I won’t tell you anything about the amazingly clean loo. Lunch done the journey once again began in earnest. Our dear guide began an elaborate speech on the mini Taj Mahal, built by the UP Govt by the descendents of the aboriginal artisans of the Taj Mahal. He was also quick to add we shouldn’t shop on the roads as the stuff sold there is not made of authentic marble. After such a prologue our expectations were sadly mocked when we discovered the mini Taj Mahal was just another art & craft shop and not even a govt authorized one. So shocked were some of the visitors that they never realized they were being duped.

I and my Bahandur performed the infamous fuming walk out post which the dear guide & driver were perennially sour faced. Once outside we recovered our spirits by taking some pics. But here too the Belgian appeared.

At Taj Mahal we managed to give the Belgian a slip. Later on she said that Taj Mahal was quite an experience for her, better than the other wonders of the world. What a proud moment it was for me.

There too I got some real nice pics, beginning to think of myself as a budding photographer… (trying to humor myself). As Taj got dressed in the evening and the aroma of a distant “Budham Sharnam Bhikshamdi” wafted into our minds I rediscovered the charms of the evergreen song. There gazing at Yamuna and a flock of cranes we enjoyed few quite moments. For once the idealist in me prevailed and I declared this to be a great example of unity in diversity. In contradiction, Bahadur argued that this is actually propaganda.

After dozing for about an hour and half we reached Mathura. As is the case with every temple visit, I was in two minds whether to enter the temple or not. In the end purely with a tourist instinct that I might miss something I decided to enter the temple. There was nothing much to do or see inside except see devotees in different stages of madness. When we came outside the temple we found that Bahadur’s pretty white sandals were missing. We made a valiant attempt to buy a new pair but couldn’t find a shop. Finally when it came down to either sashaying on cow dung or stealing someone else’s pair Bahadur’s good sense prevailed. She chose a not so attractive pair of slippers…and we left the place thinking something about poetic justice ;)

On the way to Vrindavan a new guide cum pandit came on board complete with a Brahmin ka chotti. He was good orator and pretty convincing one too, won’t go into the details of his sermon. While he gave a lot of info about Lord Krishna and unlike the previous crude guide even at the end of his speech there was no reason to doubt his intentions.

He took us through various gullies to a shady temple…I m still researching to find out whether this was really the main temple. What we found there further reinforced our belief that tourism is in fact fast becoming organized crime. From the guide to the pujari at the temple everyone was busy emotionally blackmailing people. The guide solemnized “purify yourself with the tap water (which he claimed was from Yamuna) because you are coming directly from the Taj Mahal”. Yet another intolerant speech “Mughal Emperor Auranzeb’s pride was broken when a temple was built here”. Like it or not I sulked through the entire episode with folded hands while all the while my mind was screaming hypocrite! hypocrite! Who was I trying to please? Even mom wasn’t around :D

The pujaris, “pay Rs 1000 and your parents will become immortal” was the last straw. What my inconsistant beliefs couldn’t do the threat to my precious money did…lol.. There was a second walk out, this time from the temple. I cursed myself for being part of this hypocritical mono-act. I really envied the two Moslem guys and the Belgian who decided to stay back in the bus.

Outside I had a glass of rabri garnished with pure ghee outside our bus. The bus finally reached Delhi around 2 in the morn…the next day despite everything I was very happy. :D I am so confused. Must have been the Taj …

Moderately Insane

2010-01-26T02:45:00.000-08:00

Was I a poet then that I believed you
Or am I mad now to doubt

-x-

Whole day the money plant sat talking
To the window panes
The sun smiled on
And when night came
The exhausted stars too did their bit
Until the money plant dozed off

-x-

You brought me a little heart
Crooked n crumpled
And I a fool
Kept it under my pillow
Not knowing it will
Steal all my peace

-x-

The dirt from your eyes
Spills on my plans
And kills your bloody chances

-x-

Rub me rub me the wrong way
How I dare you
Do so…

-x-

The tar is set to conquer memories
The sweeter the worse
To remember
Save! Call in the fireman
Record! I want to play them again

Time replied it’s ok to keep some
And to let go off some
But what if the good is gone
And the bad remains?

-x-

Scavenger, scavenger
Don’t distribute my pieces
Don’t tell my stories

-x-

Restart the brain
Re-pen the thoughts
They have slept for long

-x-

Keep your eyes open
Don’t wink don’t breathe
The mosquitoes might attack

Another way to begin

2010-01-13T09:58:00.000-08:00

I was always partial to low key New Year celebrations…ones that had family dinner snugly tucked in, bonfire, friends and relatives wishing you and the ever bankable idiot box for entertainment. But this year, I tried something different. I rang in the New Year from Mussoorie. I actually started the journey bang at midnight…explored Mussoorie throughout 1st of Jan and moved on to Dhanolti the day after…

Here are some memories that have spilled all across my thoughts…something I saw…enjoy them and wish you a very happy new year.

we are tall

living on the edge

girl on the rocky hill

mother and daughter

point of view

retro lover on mall road

Some Words

2009-11-18T00:56:00.000-08:00

Litter…
Litter everywhere
You have trampled
all that I gave thee
Moments, memories,
hopes let to the wind
Crushed under your indifference
And strewn asunder gifts of love
Now they lie hurt
With their eyes on the doorstep
In the long lost memory lane

-x-

I am the end
I am the means
I live through my dreams
I play to the extreme
The conversations we share
Are nothing, nowhere
I am their creator
In form and fiction
You speak what I dream
I hear what I want to

-x-

Tepid…Tepid…
Is your love rascal
Tepid…Tepid
Young fool
Innocent of dark
Depths of the heart
And love games of the mind
Tepid…tepid
Your embrace
Half heart
Half feelings
Tepid…Tepid

-x-

Blur…
…Fog
Wipe.
Love…
…Delusion
Cynicism.

-x-

The morning hummed
On a sunny Monday
And yesterday when I slept
He left his music by my pillow
Two drops of salty tears
And many little stories on my sleepy smile…
sigh…
Vikram Seth is a magician

-x-

Life is like an ashtray
Where you drop your dreams,
And very often the one’s of the others too

-x-

Nothing

2009-09-30T22:02:00.000-07:00

I am here,
And yet I am not.
I have covered my frozen consciousness with a white sheath,
And let go off time’s strange grasp.
I have donned the garbs of a traveler,
And gone beyond.
I have seen the yonder skies.
I have seen the rain denied.
I have felt all that I never dreamt about.
I have drowned in despair.
I have emerged mellower, perhaps stronger.
I have enjoyed much blazing sun.
I have smiled at the icy winds.
I have risen above strange words called…
Desire, ambition, love and friendship.
I don’t feel the need to be,
Nor do I feel the need to not be.
I bask in my emptiness,
And all that I once found drab and boring
I rejoice in their glory.
All that is superficial and shallow,
In flip side is not so.
All that I mean to say,
Tomorrow may not be the same.
So I have gone away…
To nothingness.
Nothingness I embrace you!

Yet again...

2009-08-26T02:40:00.000-07:00

I have got an extraordinary capacity to forget, misplace, lose or do something wrong with things. While my friends have conferred me with celebrity status in this aspect, I am not quite kicked about it. Sometimes it makes me feel why me?... Makes me feel so frustrated that I feel I should list down my stupidities and invite people to tell me their stories which are equally stupid or worse than mine…

Let me begin with the latest one… Smart that I am I ignored half a dozen HDFC ATM’s around my office of which I have a debit card and chose to withdraw money from an AXIS bank ATM. This despite the fact that my colleague had just conveyed me of her inhibitions in using her ATM card at another bank, because her father had recently lost his ATM card to some moron ATM machine of some other bank. I not only refused to listen to her sound advice but also bragged that I always withdrew my money from whichever ATM was convenient, be it of HDFC or any other bank. Now it so happened that the ATM machine which we went to, had the good sense of refusing my card for the first couple of times when I tried to forcibly feed it my card. But persistent that I am I invited my own doom, and tried to insert the card by twisting and turning the card at various angles.

Finally, seeing my single-minded dedication the moron swallowed my card, only to flash a moment later “Sorry link with satellite broken…” the screen continued like this for 10 minutes and finally when it went back to normal the only thing it had to say was “welcome to axis bank”…it is pointless to say here that my card had been very conveniently digested.

(I will do another write up on what happened post this and how caring the customer care personnel are)

Let me tell you there many more such bank related incidents which I have had. I have had the good fortune of forgetting my ATM pin on one other occasion, and having used the wrong pin doggedly for more than three times got my ATM card blocked for good. On yet another incident, after withdrawing the money and being super excited to spend it I forgot my ATM card inside the ATM machine. But that is not the catch I went ahead and did my shopping without even realizing I had forgotten my card inside the machine. It was only while I was returning I happened to cross the same ATM and the good old guard returned me the ATM card.

If you are not yet thoroughly disgusted let me tell you of the another filmy instance when I thought I lost my pan card. That day too I was on a shopping spree, lost in my own world. Suddenly, I realized my wallet had disappeared, along with it my debit card and room keys. After much cribbing I went to the police station to write a report. A month later, I realized my pan card was nowhere to be found. I ransacked my whole room, delayed a number of other urgent processes which required a pan card. My roommate suspected that I must have lost it with my wallet, and suddenly I found it quite a plausible reason. I cribbed again and went to the police station again, paid money and got a duplicate pan card made basically doing the same thing twice. But the story doesn’t end here. In utter disdain and mockery of all my efforts, my original and so called lost pan card resurfaced in an unseen corner of my suitcase just a few days after I got my duplicate pan card made.…and the current status is that the duplicate pan card on which I had spent extra money is missing.

Let’s move on to other stupid anecdotes. Every morning when I half-wake-up, (‘half-wake-up’ because I do everything before reaching office wordlessly as though I am sleep walking) I either make breakfast or lunch or nothing…err that sounded unnecessary. Anyways, the food / dabba we get at office is awful. So, sometimes I take the pains to prepare lunch on my own. On one such fateful day, when I had good home cooked food lying right on my desk, I conveniently and absolutely chose to forget all about it. I went ahead ordering my dabba as I did on all other days when I didn’t get lunch from home. At lunch time, I obviously had surplus food on which my friends happily feasted on…

This is the last story I am going to tell you…While on the road whenever I have to attend a call I forget to keep back my cell. Once I continued to walk almost 200 yards with my cell phone pressed to my ears even though I had ended the call long ago. Much to my embarrassment I realized every one was staring at me as I looked like a dumbo…

Now, the turn is yours…

Life sans ambition

2009-07-12T10:25:00.001-07:00

How important is it to have an ambition? Why kids are asked again and again what their ambition is?

I never believed in ambitions. My fierce lack of ambitions surprised people, sometimes even me. The only ambition I ever had was to become an engineer like my father, simply because my sister also said the same thing. As I grew up I was less and less convinced of it myself and finally by the time I opted for arts I was convinced I was not cut out for it at all.

I entered advertising like a lot of other people, people who didn’t know what to do with there lives. I don’t see myself becoming a Prasoon Joshi or an Amitav Ghosh. I am not sure I want to either. The truth is I am too lazy to do anything, too bored and sometimes… I confess, the thought scares me…But mostly I am least bothered about it.

Then one day someone asked me, “What do you expect from yourself? Don’t you have any expectations from yourself?” I didn’t think twice before answering “

Later when I thought about it I realized there was much truth in it. My expectations more or less and even my moods depended on what others would or would not do.

Perhaps it was during those moments of self-realization I remembered the lines from one of my most favourite movie- ‘The Revolutionary Road…
“I want to feel things…. How’s that for an ambition?”

This is how I want to live my life…I want to see things, experience things. And yes I don’t really need an ambition, ‘an ambition in the strict sense of the word’. Now that I have made this crucial discovery I find myself at complete peace. I don’t think I will need to dependant on anyone ever.

I feel liberated. I feel excited for the life ahead… I think I have finally discovered myself…

A la Gifts

2009-06-24T22:08:00.001-07:00

Yours truly has been shopping like mad, recession all but forgotten. With the two of my closest friends birthday’s just round the corner I have bought loads of gifts. I have also discovered there are places beyond the tried and tested places like Archies and Hallmark. Anyone in a similar mood or just in the mood to spend must visit some uber-cool places I am going to talk about “seen it done it”. Also those who want their gifts to be creative but haven’t got the time to make it themselves must check out the following cool places---
Happily Married – www.happilyunmarried.com
Play Clan --- www.theplayclan.com
Pylones@Taabir ----couldn’t find the website

Packed with lots of interesting goodies these places are a relief for gift hunters.
Some of my personal favourites are listed below:

Cool Radio: Spotted a funky multi-coloured done to death yet cute polka dotted Radio with a little antennae. Also available lamp shades in similar shades. Perfect for those who love bright colours. Downside found it little expensive.

Nariyal Box: Made of a real Nariyal shell complete with a zip in between. It’s crazy and fun. You can gift chocolates in it.

Cushions: With vibrant illustrated maps of Delhi, Mumbai, etc. it’s super sexy…Also available cushions with funky illustrations of desi cars, buses, mobikes and more…

Notebooks: In nice thick paper with nice illustrations…Hand made? May be, maybe not.

P.S.: Sorry if the piece sounds like an Ad…can’t help it anymore…Wasn’t paid for it though ;)

Shorts

2009-04-14T22:37:00.000-07:00

I tried telling myself it’s over
Smiled that happy smile
Which said, “Shut up liar”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I felt it coming
Running hot through my veins
…inspiration

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deep inside the crevices
Must be their filthy mind
On second thoughts it isn’t filthy
Lol coz’ it isn’t dere

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think a hellva lot
And then think why do I think hellva lot??
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I fail to find the music in life
Live in semi-deaf madness
And there you sit in a corner doing nothing about it
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Life set in a shoe box
A nano hole to through which to see & regret
what could have been
Stiff suffocation for a roommate
Dwarfed hopes and malnourished emtions

Hours & days to live minus life

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

U said ‘no’
And bled to death
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I sprinkled the seeds of little madness
It grew up into a full blown tree
And ate me up one day
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and I went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
I fell down and broke my crown
You felt sad
Went little mad, when you saw me dead
Sometime later people said
You found some water
And lived happily ever after
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
You walked on unsteady feet
Wobble bobble
Damned love, stand confident!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I beat you like mad
And said, “Will you love me now forever?”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The signboard said,
“Don’t disturb”
And still you came barging in
With your awful heart
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
You kissed me dead
Threw me in the ravines
A crow came and ate my love
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Volatile winds beat my mind
Bring the fire extinguisher
Less I scorch your face
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Running running
Between tyres and papers
Squeezed in a little happiness
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
We both sat
on the crocodile bench
…fighting
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
You bought me a Barbie
And called me baby baby
I banged it on your head
And said screw you
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I protested write poems to me
Sure he gave a reaction
His ‘have you lost it’ look
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I said,
“Psycho it’s my turn to be depressed”
He laughed his silvery gurgle “Ya right”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
It’s turning yellow
Stale and diseased
From the soft blush of the morning sky
To the rosy insides of hope
To the hues of tipsy red passion

Finally,
Poor ol’ love is turning stale yellow
It’s time, to press the refresh button

Wall murals at Shilpgram

2009-03-04T10:33:00.000-08:00

The Tiger

2009-03-04T10:28:00.000-08:00

View from City Palace

2009-03-04T10:26:00.000-08:00

City Palace at Dusk

2009-03-04T10:11:00.000-08:00

'Chandni' at Daylight

2009-03-04T10:04:00.000-08:00

Chandni is the rooftop restaurant at Lake Pichola Hotel.

Udaipur Unmatched

2009-03-04T02:14:00.000-08:00

It’s been sometime since I have written anything. It’s pretty late to even say that I was on vacation, since I have been back long ago. Anyways, something to fill the void of the past days…

“Chali jo jhoomne galiyon
Mein uss rasiya ke
Bhool gayi main bawri
Raah apni
Uske chal mein”

Enchanting. Mesmerizing. Impish. Mysterious. Proud Udaipur.
Pick up a paintbrush. Colour its many-hued characters. Elephants, camels, peacocks, horses, donkeys, deers, lovely lakes, palaces and people. Experience and embrace!

Carry your bucks: The moment you step into its heart, the tangerine coated Udaipur cunningly draws at your purse strings, beguiles you with its many attractions. You hesitate; count your precious money and then part with it happily, be it for the lip-smacking food, street shopping, sight-seeing or the palatial hotels. They are worth every penny.

Paint the town: The city breathes of blues and reds and yellows... And hangs on every shop window. It will muddle your head with miniatures, abstracts, madhubanis, etc. In case you have never ever painted all your life, let Udaipur hold your hands and help you make your own miniature. Most shop that sell miniatures also teach you to make a miniature, all in 2 hours!

Ponder at Palaces: Every home in its land is grand, since every home is either a palace or a mahal or a haveli. Udaipur shows off swollen with pride, the abode of Maharana Pratap, City Palace. The City Palace Museum takes you to another era completely, as it is adorned with its treasures of Rajput armoury, King’s Throne, Queens’s bedroom covered in posters of child Krishna, many intricate palanquins, large vessels for cooking food for the royal feast, ancient miniatures and recent photographs of the members of the royal family and, so & so forth. Little away on the Pichola is the elusive Lake Palace, mischievously showing its tongue at you and laughing at your inability to reach it. Post terrorism attacks at the Taj, Jag Niwas or the Lake Palace is open only to the people who are staying there. Lucky if you can afford to stay at the Jag Niwas.
No matter how tired you might be feeling of the palace routine by now, Udaipur will still be dragging you to yet another palace. This one’s on top of a hill too - Sajjangarh. Undergoing renovation which it desperately needs, this hunting retreat has a spell-bounding location and the drive through the sanctuary is unparalleled. As you gaze at the orange minded sun setting against the bird’s eye view of Udaipur and wonder at the beauty of nature, the city gives a ‘I knew it smile’.

Laze at the lakes: Udaipur unleashes Pichola on you, the magical nymph in the full splendour of a chameleon. Disappointing at times because of the moss green carpet on one side of the lake and people still bathing openly at the banks. Captivating at other times, when you realize it’s all so real. Evenings it conspires & hypnotises you with its beautiful attire, dressed in nothing less than the stars of the heaven and the crystal lights of the surrounding palaces kissing it. Waste hours sitting by it. For once, you can forget the pen and papers. To borrow from Wordsworth “The music in my heart I bore, long after it was heard no more.” And just when you thought the magic is over there is Badi Lake or Tiger, the only natural lake in the city. Villagers claim tigers from the nearby hills still visit the lake for a drink at night. Clear and natural, it’s simply breathtaking. Also in the city’s armory is the Fateh Sagar Lake.

Still more...

Shilpgram: A crafts village with live performers and artisans. Must visit for those who love places with old world charm. Take your cameras along.

Nehru Park: An island park in the Fateh Sagar Lake, great place to relax especially if you love boating

Sahelion ki Bari: Or the Queen’s Garden complete with a fountain

Shopping: Beware of expensive leeches aka emporiums. They will trap you till you settle for a ‘bandhani saree’ you get at half its price at apna Lajpat Nagar. Udaipur will, however, entice you with wall hangings with a lot of detailing, interesting sarees, traditional juttis and sandals, fabrics of various kinds, wooden sculptures, earthen crockery and paintings. Also try the tailor shops that work at break-neck speed to create great fusion ensembles.

All said, Udaipur is steeped deep in romantic rajput culture even it wakes up slowly to urbanization. The magic of golden city, Udaipur will surely keep your heart captive.

Untitled

2009-01-27T09:38:00.000-08:00

How do you name that little selfish realisation?
Which drops on your cold terrified heart
In the fraction of a second
Sweeping relief
Breathing life into you
Telling you that
It's not you, not your home
That calamity has chosen to visit

Even Kareena Kapoor is not getting married, why should I?

2009-01-17T01:20:00.000-08:00

I think the title itself says it all….
In the Great Book of Virtues for Indian girls there is an infinite list of dos and don’ts. Like the utterly irrational correct age for marriage. Inadvertently, all Indian girls (I pity the abused male lot equally if not more) are like pieces of floating ice on icy cold water, floating from this virtue to virtue, do’s to don’ts, here to there until they finally melt.

It’s seldom that Indian parents wish for a girl. And if and when she is born, with sad resignation they will tom-tom “a girl is equally welcome”. The moment she is born, the girl child is supposed to be fair, a dark one is treated to frantic home remedies supposed to magically change her by the time she grows up. And if she does not have brothers there will be sad sighs “no brothers”.

Too old to stay home alone. Too young to go out alone. That’s not the correct shade. Boys are not the right company in growing years. Oh he is your brother. (Relief) Outings = Family visits. The hem is too high. He is just a friend??? Did he call for notes? You have a bf, so marriage is on the cards. The colour too loud. Voice not right. Back not straight. Attitude unbecoming. Temper so alarming. Interests so weird. Subjects are so unlady-like. That’s a hobby not a profession. Don’t believe in god?? Ever heard of something so strange? Won’t wear salwar kameez, then what will you wear? Keep pulling your nose to make it grow longer. My she looks like her father.. Tut! Tut!. No brother to look after. Come back by evening. So late??? The where were you stares… So you have finally came back from your tuitions?

How will you do house work? Little bit of house work is a must. Save money, it will come handy. You want to join a gym. Please do. Internet, why don’t you sign in at some matrimony site. Digital Camera = Click your wedding portfolio. Another birthdayL. You want to wait for another couple of years??? I also got married at your age. Ya but we have to look from now. The suspicious do you have a bf stare? So and so’s son got married to so and so’s daughter, the girl was younger than you. Or worse still so and so’s son aunty told about is getting married. Implied- you missed the golden opportunity!! This is the right age to get married…f&^$%## O**^%$ who are you to decide?

SCREAM!!!!!.........
Won't offer any reason. I simply declare a No-Marriage Mission!
I won’t float into marriage.

Welcome again

2009-01-01T07:29:00.000-08:00

Congrats everyone! For seeing through yet another year. Of living and believing in life. We deserve a beautiful year ahead. Happy New year.

I hope I dance

As I breakfree of the cobwebs

I hope I play, with dreams dripping on my face

Playfully falling out of my palms

I hope I dream again

I hope I play :)

Running around the garden

With no one to scold

I hope I sleep

...Away my difficulties

Little by little

I hope I remember

The hands who helped me stand

Love which was unconditional

Some Disjointed Thoughts

2008-12-20T07:30:00.000-08:00

Vomit
Spill it out
Spill it out
What you kept buried for so long
Words that you have been chewing
Never letting escape
Vomit it out

............................................................................................................................................................................

I am pissed
A cheap pirated DVD and a Linda Goodman
Suddenly kept away
Have decided my day

...........................................................................................................................................................................

Bland tasteless minutes
Multiplied by directionless hours
And more hours minus you

............................................................................................................................................................................

Let it itch
Let it itch
This urge of touching where the hand doesn't reach
This moth eating into my mind
Let it itch
Let it itch
This awareness is like life
Like oxygen to my sleeping dreams
Let it itch
Let it itch

............................................................................................................................................................................

It's not fair
Think of my humiliation
I bear with patience
The mishaps of your temper
Its not fair

..........................................................................................................................................................................

I live in a valley of bliss
Where there is a no one to disturb me
I live in a silence of peace
Where there is a noisy little heart
I live in a deep well
With an earful of gurgling ideas
I reach out to the water of the deep
And travel many mindless forests
I wander through many forests
Some green some dead
I meet many animals
Always ready to pounce on mine
I live in a valley of bliss

Dawn

2008-12-03T22:51:00.000-08:00

In the wee hours of the morn
When I wrap the misty coolness around myself
And hear the crows caw in the distant corner of my ear
When truth and illusions have naked conversations
I hear you alight on the soggy layers of my consciousness
As a smile plays on my lips
And half dreaming
I hear you whisper...I love you

Embracing the shadows

2008-12-02T05:15:00.000-08:00

Tides of Naukuchiyatal II

2008-12-02T03:24:00.000-08:00

Right after the lunch began the activities. We split up in our allotted teams. First was the intro round for which no one had prepared any thing. Then began the quiz, in which my team played really badly. We didn’t pass any question, as a result of which we got a lot of negative marking. So while before the quiz we were at least the third best team, after the quiz we were nowhere.

Thankfully after the quiz was over, we were given an interesting brief. We had to name and think of a TVC idea for men’s and women’s undergarments. For this we were given 45 mins. It is really so funny that all advertising people tend to think alike and most of the teams came up with the same brand names- Adam & Eve. It was total chaos, once again the TVC was practiced for the first and last time on the stage. I obviously played Satan besides prompting various other dialogues. The story went thus:

Raihaan (Adam) and Pia (Eve) are sitting bored below a Tree (Rakesh and Dinesh with few branches). Adam walks away bored, just then I (Serpent) enter the scene with an apple to tempt Eve. Eve shockingly continues to ignores the apple. Confused I return with another idea. I present the new brands ADAM and EVE. Both Adam and Eve grab them in much confusion. As the voice over starts they go behind the tree and the tree starts shaking suggestively like those 60’s Bollywood songs. The cut back shows a pregnant Eve (Courtesy a towel rolled under her tee) appearing from behind the tree with Adam..

The amount of laughter our TVC produced told us how funny it really was. While our branding was common the way we presented it and our TVC idea wasn’t. After the TVC’s we were given a one hour break. In that one hour I had to choreograph, synchronize, learn, teach, get dressed and blah blah blah... Doing the item number was great fun since I love dancing. Everyone was very surprised to see me dancing. I am supposed to be this boring serious no-nonsense girl. After the item numbers was Antakshari which we again lost miserably. And finally we were free to hit the floor. From the minute the DJ started playing I never stopped. Sadly, they stopped the music as early as at 11pm. After that we had dinner, dinner as expected was good.

All evening I had the great opportunity to unveil new characters. Characters who come alive after getting drunk. It’s amazing to be an onlooker in such circumstances, an onlooker who is sane always. Afterwards Diggi Parul, Sreena and me sat chatting in the balcony. Others also joined us soon. The group soon turned adventurous and starting smoking grass. I retired to my room unwillingly. Got to know the next day that everyone had gone on a laughing spree after that. Missed it!
The return journey was really low key compared to the onward one. Even the ‘Nana Party” (the group who ended any para of any song with Farhan Akhtar’s song Meri laundry ka ek bill…nana nana) was quiet. Maybe this was also because a lot of us suffered from motion sickness. Avomin couldn’t help much in this respect but at least it put me to sleep. When I woke up I was feeling much better. Lunch was amazing because it was yet another picnic. We stopped in the middle of Corbett and had lunch on the open roads. More pics followed.

Next halt was for snacks at Hotel Skylark where we hogged yet more. As the journey was neared end, energy also sapped. Old jokes were revived but they lost humour. There was a last sutta break and sadly we were back to the humdrum of Delhi.

Tides of Naukuchiyatal I

2008-12-02T02:29:00.000-08:00

Naukuchiyatal is a still, pristine natural lake stolen from the hustle and bustle of daily life. I had some doubts whether this was the ideal destination for an office trip. I was pleasantly surprised to find it to be otherwise.

Why is it just after the moment is over you don’t want to talk about it any more. Probably you feel words won’t be sufficient to describe the beauty of the moment. The beauty of Naukuchiyatal something like that.

It was an excellent trip. 10 hours of journey. 10 hours of going. 10 hours of coming. In all, we just had a day in our hand. And I am glad I made the most of it. No regrets at all. The theme of the trip was Pirates of the Carribean. The names of the teams were Jack Sparrow, Captain Rake, Boot Strap, Red Beard and Davy Jones. Not having seen any movies of the series I had to use a lot of my imagination for the activities.

I woke up around 8.30 am when I heard voices of some of my colleagues outside my room. Though I was dead tired after the journey, I couldn’t stay in bed for too long. The reason was the lovely place, not to mention the rooms. The girls had the special liberty to occupy the spacious lake facing rooms. Once again I was glad I am girl.

Coming back to the morning, I freshened up and rushed to the lawn where everyone was having tea. It was quite cold, much colder than Delhi. I lied down on a hammock, a fantasy come true. Soon photo sessions began, our organisation has quite a number of photographers. Prarthana made all the models really pleased with themselves. None of us had had our bath yet, we were not even dressed properly and hence were quite happy with the snaps.

Photo session was followed by breakfast. And what a spread the breakfast was. It had toast, butter, cutlets, upama, cornflakes, fruits, tea / coffee, juice, omlette…Considering my no breakfast or milk and skip lunch working days this was heavenly. After breakfast, we sat under the shy sun with little gossips and giggles for company. Some of us then set out for a trek. The trek was beautiful, everyone went mad taking snaps. But when I thought about it, I felt almost 70% of Assam is like this. There we don’t have to go out for a holiday. Our life is a holiday.

Anyways we soon reached a dead end and realized that we had taken the wrong way. We retraced our way back to the resort. On the way back there was this particular Brigadier’s home, a very pretty bungalow with yellow and red roofs with lots of flowers in the lawn. Reminded me of lost times. They also had two big dogs, observed desi dogs in the hills have furry coats.

I broke off from the party at the resort for a quick bath. Kishore came knocking on my door afterwards. The smiling lake had beckoned for boating. I hadn’t expected to enjoy boating all that much, boating turned out to be a really soothing experience. Absolutely beautiful nine edged lake embraced us in its lap. Sleepy, hazy, sun kissed, legs in the air, with the infant gurgles inside the ear, and a deep warmth inside the mind we got off on the other side of the lake.

Now it was time for horse riding. Pawan and Sikandar were two of the handsome horses. Pawan was extremely well behaved. As far as I can remember I have ridden horses only once or twice before. To get up on the horse was quite a task, horses being tall and me being short. The first time I got up I thought I had torn something in my thigh. But thankfully it wasn’t anything I remembered after 10 mins. I realized I quite liked horse riding and I didn’t feel like getting off once I was up. We went to a height from where we could see the entire lake. As we laced the treacherous edges of hills, I learnt the difference between a trot and a gallop.

We crossed a big Hanuman mandir, I didn’t make the effort of getting off the horse. Around 12.45 pm we reached the resort. The headache of group activities was still on my head. I had to collect all the truant team members to practice the item number for the first and the last time. It was not even 1.10 pm when we had to split for lunch. Lunch was again amazing, with everything one could wish for. I didn’t know what to have and what not and ended up having soup after the lunch.
...contd.

Happy Bacha Day

2008-11-13T22:25:00.000-08:00

Everyone out dere...let out the kid in you...enjoy every little thing...and do read my new blog..,.

http://yellowbutterfliesandredantz.blogspot.com/

:))))))))))))))))

Untitled

2008-11-05T21:54:00.000-08:00

On a dried mat of tears
Who can write the story of shock?
It doesn't register
Doesn’t pain
Doesn’t scream
Doesn’t cry
And still it was written

It does matter

2008-11-01T05:27:00.000-07:00

I lie, I deny
But I don't know why
It does matter
Sweetheart its the little things
which matter
I try to overlook the miniscule
But they always leave a stain,
between the cups and the plates
Always a cobweb in the corner
Yes it does matter

You say its pointless to talk about it
You don't care, you don't need it
This obtuse way of feeling
Bland complaining you call it
But it does matter
Yes it does matter to me

The Sexiest Diseases

2008-11-01T04:39:00.000-07:00

I know the title itself sounds very funny. Diseases are something we curse, we abhor, we pity, we fear…they come stubbornly, sometimes with tell tale signs, sometimes without any warning. We don’t have any choice in them. But suppose we did?

What would you choose? As a child, I for some reason found certain ailments really fascinating.

Super Sinus / Sinusitis: Sinus was always this attractive nerdy disease to me. I related it to people who read too much. My eldest sister who was in a boarding school at that point of time was the epitome of a sinus veteran. I remember how mom used to tell all and sundry about her sinus problems, whether it was the drawing room or the market place, almost as if it was something to boast about. I always thought if ever I wanted a chronic disease I wanted Sinus. :D now that I have also inherited the legacy of sinus, I don’t know if I am really enjoying it. Still it gives me a regular workable excuse for absence.

Admirable Asthma: Another cool disease in my childhood imagination. I remember one of my cousins who dropped out of school because of acute asthma. The idea was quite appealing to me; I thought if I had asthma I too could avoid school forever. I heard of attacks where people made him sniff leather sandals. Lots of fussing over, pampering sounded quite nice. I have changed my opinions.

Magical Myopia: This is one disease I heartily prayed to acquire. Both my sisters took specs while still at school. My mom explained it as “Academic pressure”. No wonder I wanted specs too, half of it was probably to hear my mom say “academic pressure”. I took specs in 9th standard. I somehow couldn’t believe it had finally happened and my best friend who was by then fed up of my asking what was written on the black board complained to my mom. I was the happiest girl when I went to the optical store with my father. But all the compliments that I got for the prized specs was a frowning “Too much TV, Too much lying down and reading novels” courtesy mom.

There is actually a part II to the myopia story - the lens story. After conquering the specs I was obsessed with the lens. My sister had already graduated to lenses. But I was still not worthy of it. I kept persisting for it to no avail. My sis lost her lenses and was awarded with yet another pair. Hell broke loose because of this injustice. I cried, I wailed and created a great ruckus and achieved one of my few (and I hope final) adulthood thrashings. Within a couple of months, however, I was the proud owner of a pair of lenses. Sadly now, I find lenses more of a botheration unless I am in a mood to dress up.

Exotic Eye Flu: Ever heard of something so strange. Bird flu maybe yes. Let me tell you it’s the most attractive eye disease I have discovered recently. It’s nothing like its gross cousin conjunctivities. To begin with eye flu is not visible; there is only a slight redness in the eye. You keep putting eye drops like rose water. The doctor tells you to avoid the PC. While this may not be enough to take a leave, you can at least flaunt it in front of your boss.

Fantastic Fainting: I don’t know what else to call it, but fainting seems to be the most romantic of all diseases. Especially if there is a Mills and Boons hero around ;). It can save you from any situation. Besides if you like being seen as a delicate darling it is the ideal solution. And even if that’s not what you want you can also faint in a fit of anger.

There are many more attractive diseases. I can hardly write about all of them like low pressure, fever (that’s the only time mom fed me rotis), anemia etc etc… you see little illnesses are not such bad things. So, next time you are ill use your imagination.

The murder of the perfect day

2008-10-15T22:57:00.000-07:00

Now,
Birthdays are so FAKE. A shortcut to please someone. An excuse to drink till dawn. A competition who can give the most expensive party, the better gift.

Birthdays why are they so fake? Why would I want someone who doesn’t even like me to come and wish me? What is everyone pretend to be so happy about such fake birthdays? Why does anyone have to be embarrassed about not remembering my B’day? I seriously don’t want to remember them myself.

I don’t think there is anything to celebrate my B’ day. The people who care nothing for you, why should they make such a fuss about you B’ days. And yet why do people who mean a lot to you forget your B’ day. Is it something to do with growing up? That simply, for no apparent reason you start forgetting them.

What is it with birthdays that people don’t remember them and yet don’t let you forget them?

This time,
After the disappointment of the past couple of years, I decided to forget my B’ day. And hoped everyone else would too. As always the date was hidden on all the so called social networking sites.

I also planned to switch off my cell for the entire 24 hours of the day. Because I believe phone is the main instrument for mischief. This would serve several purposes-
1) I wouldn’t be disappointed that no one called, as I could easily presume whoever mattered had called
2) I wouldn’t be reminded of my B day again and again, and by extension I wouldn’t feel bad that nothing special happened
3) It would help me treat it like just another day and last
4) It was my vengeance on those who forgot my previous B day.

So, at the stroke of midnight I began my experiment. Some over excited people had msgd before 12. I heartily ignored the sinning souls. The day seemed to start well as my flat mates seemed to have forgotten everything about it.

I went to office and was disgusted when I was given a card by the adm guy. This is how they exploit your B day, by making it official. They actually send a mail to everyone’s official ID to remind them. I still kept graciously mum, however, some of them found out and came to wish me. Some friends continued to chat with me throughout the day completely forgetting the day.

Another one thought, it was ok to ask me if she had missed something. This after she had forgotten it last time also. Well in the evening there was cake cutting. I didn’t know whether I should be flattered, as it was for three people together, whose B days had gone long back.

Well after I came home, I was pretty curious and switched on my cell for a couple of minutes. No one called L and there were just a couple of msgs. That’s it. I switched it off again and went out with one of my flat mates. Suddenly, another flat mate of mine calls up on her cell and starts apologizing me about how she forget it. I just lied its too late. It was yesterday. He He! Another experiment. Thought it would shut her up, from doing something silly like getting a gift.

After dinner I came home, trying to tell myself it’s was after all just another day. There were no frantic phone calls from my BF at my friend’s number. Its 12 am, the day ends.
My experiment is over.

Suddenly I hear the rest of my flat mates returning home. Expecting foul play, I quickly switch off the lights and jump to my bed to feign sleep. But they had to embarrass me with a stupid cake. It was probably the saddest part of the day. I had to cut the cake, I tried not to be rude but couldn’t help much. Hoped it would be over quickly, at least that bit happened pretty fast. The minute the cake was finished they left me alone.
Why did they have to do this formality? Why couldn’t people just let you be?

Its so sad birthdays aren’t anything like what they were when I was 10. I can’t ask what I want. I can’t expect everyone to be excited about it. Only now I realize how lovely things were back then and all because of my parent’s efforts.

With age why do we change? Why do I want everyone to forget my birthday and still am disappointed when nothing special happens. Why this dichotomy? Why can’t B days be same forever? And what pray is the point of this write up???

- The point is I am trying to accept the inadequacies of this fake concept. The vast difference between what is and what could be. I am accepting my hypocrisies.

P.S. I don’t want anyone wishing me belated Happy B’ Day.

Come laugh at my poverty!!!

2008-10-03T23:24:00.000-07:00

Extremely poor.
That’s what I feel right now. This is no mockery of poverty. It’s the bloody real thing.

It’s an irony that since I have started earning I have seen more poverty than ever before. Right now I have a 100 rupee note in my pocket and that’s all. Tomorrow I have to pay my home rent, the maid’s salary and of course money for food.

In my present status, only my dear roommate Mr. Rat gives me unfailing company. Much as I want to, I can’t get him anything i.e. the rat kill and spend a precious Rs. 38 on him. So, I let him feast in some corner of my room on some valuables with the constant terror of his squeaks.

It is so funny how even the dependable things in life also cheat you in a moment like this. Like the ATM machine. The last time I withdrew money I was quite surprised when my balance read Rs 300 something even after I had withdrawn Rs. 300. Because my original balance had been Rs 400. I went home thinking my memory has forgotten something sweet, I had more money than Rs. 400 and that I can actually spend a couple of more days without borrowing money.

Didn’t realize happiness would be so short lived. Yesterday when I went to the ATM, it wasn’t working. Thinking what the hell, I walked down to the next ATM. Punched Rs 300, it refused to come out and said insufficient balance. Completely zapped and a little suspicious, I punched Rs 200 the second time. The stubborn machine popped out a slip which said insufficient balance. Shocked curious and scared that my account might get blocked (ya even that has happened with me) I checked my balance. Surprise! It said Rs 128.

I was so mad, I didn’t realize that I simply stepped out of the ATM and started walking towards home, some 2 kms away. I didn’t have the heart to take a rickshaw with just 100 bucks in my pocket to keep me going till I don’t know when.

Sometimes I feel this is the bane of all my excesses. But come to think of it what excesses do I indulge in? I don’t drink anything apart from water, milk and cold drinks. I smoke but only when forced to passively. I go clubbing scarcely. Then where does the money go?

I am comforted by a common line on Tees seen long ago “My dad is an ATM”. I am not at all ashamed. But again it’s really a catch 22 situation. Money couldn’t come from home yesterday because the banks had half yearly closing. And that’s the reason they gave today also. Tomorrow is Gandhi Jayanti. So, I will have to wait till the day after.

I won’t say something similar has never happened before. I remember last diwali. I was alone in my flat. I had 500 bucks; you would say that was much better than the present scenario. Wait a minute. I took the same 500 bucks to the recharge shop and what do I find out? The note is fake.

That’s what my regular recharge guy tells me, this when I think he owes half his property to me. He advices me not to use it elsewhere and also warns me someone might call the police (bastard is really concerned about me). But I had no choice, I was alone at home. There was no one to lend me money. I went ahead and probably did one of the worst things of my life.

I bought some dia’s from a small road-side vendor. Like a mad woman scared to be caught, I then ran home and decorated my home with those lamps. To top it all I had the shamelessness of feeling relieved for not being caught. Perhaps I am paying for that.

Well I don’t know I can’t do much about it now. Will have to wait till the day after for the money to come and feed myself and Mr. Rat.

Unconcious

2008-09-22T02:20:00.001-07:00

Little drops of memories
That trickles through your mind
And lie on the crevices of consciousness
Why don’t they erupt forefront?
And make you do things which you want
Uncertain wishes that follow you like creepy shadows
But have no form in reality
Why in drowsy slumber
Are they neither awake nor dead?
Little drops of memories
That clings to your mind’s ceiling…

Who said I can’t write happy poems?

2008-09-19T05:36:00.001-07:00

I can smile
As I rub off the layer of frosted sadness
That had dully settled
On life’s window panes
Who said I can’t dance?
Like a carefree bee
In delicious smelling anticipation
Who said I can’t shine?
Even if like the quivering candle
And light up the nude darkness of your life
Who said I can’t smile?

Fairy Princess

2008-09-19T05:36:00.000-07:00

Am a fairytale princess
Surrounded by delicate tendrils of dreams,
Which I grow out of little pages of magic.

Am a fairytale princess
Who shuts the eye to thorny reality,
And lives on the edge of romantic illusions
Writes sweet sad poetry
Waiting for her prince charming

I am Rapunzel
Locked away with clipped wings
Ready and eager to grow new wings
I am Cindrella
Fighting the world’s atrocities
With my innocent thoughts
I am Snow White
Who shuns fairness creams
And is fairly impartial to films and books
I am Thumbalina
Small in shape not in stature
A school girl trapped in an office
I am Sleeping Beauty
Asleep while awake
Awake while asleep

Am a fairytale princess
Surrounded by delicate tendrils of dreams,
Which I grow out of little pages of magic.

Seeking Shillong

2008-09-09T04:39:00.000-07:00

The trip to Shillong. Circuitous roads through dew laden rain forests. It actually began on a dismal note.

Excited and ready since 8 in the morn, it was upsetting to wait for the driver to turn up for more than an hour. More so because the particular driver never turned up. Our dear Prime Minister also chose this fortunate day to come to the city. As a result all the roads were jammed. Finally driver no. 2 arrived at 9.30 and after much deliberation with Naurin we went ahead with the trip. I was fuming, patience not being one of my virtues and waiting for 2hrs one can hardly expect to show that. The later we started the later we reached and it being a one day trip we couldn’t afford to be late.

Anyways we began and as we eased out of the city, the weather became pleasant. Luckily even the otherwise stubborn rains didn’t play spoilsport. My eyes drank in all the green. Though I won’t say I remembered much of my earlier trips to Shillong, I was filled with a strong sense of déjà vu. At lightening speed my mind embraced the lush foliage, slopes of pineapple plantations, khasi faces, ‘khublei’ written on every writable place. Jorabat now boasts of a ‘Red Ranch’. Bernihat is much more crowded and later in trail is Nongpow.

The driver somehow turned out to be quite a nuisance. Mr. was really not in the mood of wasting any time any where and wanted to rush us away. Inspite of his protests we got off at Nongpow. I started clicking all the shots which my mind was anyways clicking. Nongpow is the land of pickles, pickles in big jars, pickles in little jars, tangy pickles, spicy pickles, hot pickles, sweet pickles, all begging to be eaten.

I bought plenty. Bamboo shoot and chillies, Naga sour fruit, only chillies and garlic. After buying these slightly expensive pickles I felt appeased, just like how Kumbhakarna must have felt after his hearty meal every 6 months. Shopping done, we settled at a small tea shop/restaurant. We snacked on chops and hot tea as I mused about the old world charm brewing along with every sip of the tea. I also bought a pack of White Rabbit while Naurin bought Malaysian onion rings. In half an hour, refreshed we set out once again.

To meet Shillong. Shillong dripping from pine trees. Hiding in the meandering paths. Peeping from behind the hills. Wearing a foggy shawl. Gushing from the small streams. Sitting on bamboo shoots, hanging on bamboo sticks. Suckling pineapple.

About an hour before we reach Shillong is Barapani. Naurin and I spent some nostalgic moments remembering Class 10 picnic. Barapani so blissfully still, so serene it evoked something in you. Though I wanted so much I dared not to ask the driver to stop so I could take a few shots.

In another hour we reached the Scotland of the east. The high and low roads of Police Bazaar. The interesting crowd lost in various nooks and crannies. As I listened to mom I realized how it could have been 10 -15 years ago. Chiller, greener and more beautiful. I can imagine khasi women in dresses covered with woolens all hoity toity in black pencil heels. Men in suits, long over coats and ties all the year round going to the cinema or sitting by the fire sides reading. I can imagine the pretty umbrellas on the ladies arms and the pitter-patter of rain on the tin roofs. I can hear the guitar strings, the smoke coming out of chimneys and the pavements washed with rain.

What I see now is a shadow of the past culture, no way lesser. Pretty girls in bling attires, boys with cheeky messages on their T shirts “I want money for alcohol research”. I won’t say I was overjoyed with the market, but it was a different experience altogether.

Shoes in Shillong are really dainty, just like the pretty feet of the gorgeous petite women there. What’s even more surprising is that they are found even in size 4 and 3. Unluckily I could buy just a single pair because of the dirty looks mom was sending my way the moment I drifted into any shop.

After literally walking up and down Police Bazaar we had lunch at Hotel Broadway. Nothing less than chicken with bamboo shoots and chilly fish. The restaurant was done up tastefully with lanterns covered in bamboo frames and little cozy alcoves. It was again nostalgia time, this time for papa. This was the hotel where he had fallen sick with hernia.

After lunch we headed to Shillong peak, Upper Shillong. It was 4 in the evening and we were skeptical about being allowed in the restricted area. Nevertheless it was worth it simply because of the breath taking view.

As expected we were not allowed to go to the peak, but what we saw on the way made it worthwhile. It was definitely the highlight of the day, another round of pictures followed. Mom shopped fresh vegetables, Shillong being famous for potatoes. Inspite of it being the height of summer it was so cold up there that I regretted not having taken a sweater.

From there we headed to the Lady Hydary Park. That proved to be a slight disappointment as it too had closed down at 5pm. Thus exhausted and left with no other option we began our return journey homewards.

On the way I renewed my acquaintances with “Vicky James Memorial tombstone”, Grace’s Café, Naba’s rice bowl, Super Bazaar, various pickle shops on the roads. I also made friends with Po-po Horn, Horn do please, Father truck (a truck painted in all white and with Jesus’s photo in the front) and various Hanuman trucks, Guru Nanak trucks all the while wondering how trucks came to have religions.

Little drowsy, I bit into onion rings now and then, and gazed at the flying tree tops in the twilight. We flew through the darkness and saw clots of light interspersed with night. Tiny specks like fire flies saying bye bye…

Hard Decisions ????

2008-09-02T06:17:00.000-07:00

What is more important company or employee? Where does the ethics fit in the gamut of survival and churning money. It’s true all professionals behave like chameleons or rather like frogs “JUMPING FROM HERE TO THERE”. In such a world how does a company behave? More so when the company is drowning.

Is it fair to just come and announce that starting tomorrow we begin downsizing the company. What if you are given a termination letter which has nothing to do with your performance? What if you know your name is on the list? How is it to listen to a thousand rumours? Your name dropping in out of the list? What if only one person has to be chosen between you and a colleague and you know the other person has been doing really well. What if they keep you and chuck out someone else just because you are less expensive? What if you don’t know if you really want to continue inspite of not being in the list?

What if this is the second month of your job and this is the kind of disillusionment you meet. What if you know that the person you are gossiping with is going to be sacked, but you don’t have the guts to say so? What if even without asking for it you are given the assurance which is nothing but a lie? What if you find out that from the very next day you are not supposed to come to the place you came everyday? What if you come to know you have been terminated with immediate effect?

What if you start feeling bad for a person for whom you felt no real love? Why even today I fail to give a hug to the person who needs it? Why do I fail to console someone? Why this hesitation? Why is it so difficult to say what you think?

Where does one leave behind the idealistic virtues which you had forever nurtured? Why don’t you have something called savings? Why can’t you resign? Why if you resign you have to fall back on your parents? Why wouldn’t anyone believe why you are resigning? Why does it matter so much what others think? Why will you still take the selfish way out and not resign immediately?

Who is responsible for all this shit? Why is everything veiled under the word “hard decisions”? Why am I asked not to be emotional? Why have I been asked to be selfish and secure my position?

To hell with everyone, I would rather be emotional. Only that makes me feel I am alive.

Away with company loyalty

2008-09-01T22:49:00.000-07:00

As you chart your growth in the unchartered terrains called ‘career’ do you leave company loyalty far behind??
10 years ago working at the same place for 7-8 years was perhaps called loyalty. Today it is called lack of ambition. 1 year, even 6 months is enough for one place. Things have so changed that they have actually done away with the concept of a loyal employee. But what of stability? Even stability has no value whatsoever. Today as I go for an interview, people ask me what I have been doing at a not so happening place for so long, “so long being 1and half years”. It is taken as the first sign of not belonging to the so called successful lot. It is a little embarrassing if not difficult to explain that I am in the same organisation out of choice because I am enjoying it and not due to lack of opportunities.
I am really old school in these matters; I had rather thought I would be appreciated for being stable. But it doesn’t seem so. Now jump I will, and just watch out how.

Punching Bag II

2008-07-16T00:50:00.000-07:00

Can you beat the thing you love
Till it is half dead
Then strangely hold it in your arms
Wait for it to wake up
And with a drop of tear
Wipe its scorched lips
Smile tender
And before it weeps with relief
Scratch its bruises with a scalpel
Open raw eyes of disbelief
And let it be so confused
That it neither bleeds nor cries
Awashed in numbed grief and dumb pain,
Baffled it looks at you
Neither in hope nor in trust.

Can you kill the thing you love most?
For a reason you don’t understand,
For a reason that doesn’t exist
Can you?

The birth of my baby

2008-07-15T23:44:00.000-07:00

A baby brought into this world
Through my sole will
Furnished with only my love
A baby whose reason I need to
Explain to all ignorant souls
I pity those worthless lives,
Who know naught
About my darling
And kill them with my pride
My baby, not made out of my flesh and blood
But my imagination and perspective
A baby which I create with my own hands
I give it to my partner
To give it life, the way I see it
And the way he understands
And when our baby is born
The joy is mutual, until the first faltering steps
With mad pain I see
Many deformations made
To my babe
I defend it like an angry tigress
And how glad I am
How proud I feel
When my baby is finally sold…

[All my ads are like my babies]

What can a movie do to you?

2008-07-14T00:01:00.000-07:00

It can change the entire layer of living, the complete life coated over some days. And how important is a weekend? How important is it to spend it the way you want it?

Very!!
Specially if you do nothing all week long, except writing meaningless kilometers of copy, wrecking your brians, thinking interesting concepts which you hope your ignorant and stubborn client will find equally interesting. And not to mention trying very hard to remain sane after doing all sorts of household chores which normally a housewife does. More so a maid does.

Very!
This weekend I saw three movies... Jaane tu ...ya jaane na. A teeny bopper laugh riot. I love the movie not because I identified with it, but because after a long time I really felt my age. Carefree. Crazy.For once I didnt feel like I have matured before time. I laughed like a mad woman. Genelia is absolutely adorable and to a great extent the character she played is like me. Imran is also cute.

The second movie I saw is Aamir starring Rajiv Khandelwal. A brave attempt for a debut. The raw butchering of beef lingered on my mind and somehow reminded me of my visit to Nizamuddin. The whole storyline of kidnapping, blackmailing in the name of religious fanatacism is fresh, I believe. The main terrorist was'nt really convincing. The bile yellow of the vomit after visiting the most unthinkable toilets was something striking. The ending was quite predictable but nicely directed. In all gripping but not all that moving.

Santa Mesa, Philipines...was the third of the set. Saw it at the Osian's film fest. A young kid loses his mother and goes to live with his grandmother. The culture shock, the unability to communicate with anyone, his efforts to fit in, how he meets aphotographer and helps him unite with his adopted daughter. Won't go too far to say that the acting was excellent. But a strong script.

And when you mix concoctions as varied as these, what do you get? You get my present mood. Absolutely refreshed and ready for the week ahead! Ready for more!

What??

2008-06-16T04:44:00.000-07:00

Change is inevitable. Nothing remains.
I do not blame you. I blame everybody. I blame this damned cycle called life. The innate curiousity of man. This sick habit of trying new things out. Of the old dying a silent death. Do not know whether to love or hate it.

You do not understand. Why should you? Even I don't. This coating of projected image defeats the real me. This plastic smile in posy photos, this bull shitting on social websites. Why see beyond this? You don't see beyond this. And when this projected image will meet my real self, it will have naught to say. Except to shed poor black tears at fake life's false misery. Of letting things happen. Of letting things happen the way they happened.

What remains is false pride. Meaningless principles which mean nothing to anyone.

So?
What to do?
Sub merge sensibility and practiality with philosophy. Force them and beat them into emotions. Do I do something stiff and rational? Or pull my hair to bits crying over dead emotions. Or like a block of ice let the emotions pass by. Or look at the philosophy behind all this. Look at life.

What do I do with life?

Void

2008-06-16T04:00:00.000-07:00

I knew this would happen. I was scared of this strange feeling.
Of waking up one morning, of beating sleepless dawns and knowing this feeling of having lost everything. Of being very alone.
Of nothing to give, nothing to take. What world is it? Nothing to look forward to. This ocean which doesn't engulf you, nor does it pass by silently.

Life which smiles at you from the shore, comes forward to meet you and rushes far away from you.

Which continues to tease you as if you are a baby who is being tempted with a rattle.

Ah! But life is such a personal thing.
Yet so common.
I was scared to find myself on the other side of one such morning. But sadly its time, and I have waken up.

2008-06-16T03:50:00.000-07:00

I set out to spend a day close to nature. It turned out to be something else.
A day of gross sights…?

Began at Chirag Delhi red light. I am sitting in an auto, just before the flyover. And I am staring absentmindedly. I see a puny little rat come out of nowhere and start crossing the road at breakneck speed, as if his tail was on fire. It was actually a ‘kid rat’ for the lack of a better word. As it reached across the road in great speed it suddenly stopped. I was wondering why it was lying quiet, and low just like me a crow too had noticed it. The crow comes pouncing on it, picks it and is gone. Grossest of sights I have seen in recent times.

In the cab again, we have this discussion about pets. Proma starts by telling how a cat had scratched her mom last night and how when her mom screamed the cat got so scared that it decided to use the bed as a loo. Disgusted, we whole heartedly condemn the situation. I especially go out to say that even cats need to be tied up just like dogs. Even better if they are put in cages like birds and hung up in the air. When another animal loving colleague heatedly disagrees I go on to declare:

“I hate pets. Animals are animals, Period! I do not believe in the idea of liberating them by keeping them as pets at home.”

That’s just how the day began…there is more to come. After office I and my colleagues head towards Nizammuddin, a highly Moslem dominated area. And are greeted by all kinds of culture shocks…skull caps everywhere and smell of the unnamable something. Wasn’t quite prepared for it. Like a crude joke there is slaughtered beef mocking and staring at us from open stalls. Two minutes of hell included kids pulling us about here and there, to come and eat at their restaurant.

I finally breathe a sigh of relief at Humayun’s Tomb. But there too this strange dog, more like a huge wolf had to very irritatingly come and sneeze right behind me. Not even once but a couple of times. And then we enter this relic of Sher Shah Suri. Real relic, I must tell you. Inside the mausoleum, there was a dark, steep and narrow stairway. In the excitement, without thinking twice I dash towards it followed by Proma only to realize the horrible stink that was with us for quiet sometime now was bat shit. Like a B-grade horror movie a bat flies by just millimeters above our heads. Once outside in the balcony it was much better. But climbing down turned out to be even worse than climbing up. A really unnerving and maddening affair. While the staircase was quiet dark from below, in the dying sunlight of the balcony we could see innumerable bats hanging from the roof. To add to the eeriness Proma took full five minutes to take one step down and I had to wait till she took the next step. Completely psyched out I wanted to jump right away to the last step.

It was really enough of animals for one day. But everything was not so bad. Like it is very difficult to say what it felt like watching the ever busy squirrels or even the beautiful exotic bird with a crown on its head. Or the proud and royal peacock that went strutting right past us. And there were the lucky birds and the parrots too. Words can’t describe how it felt to sit alone on the stairs facing the birds, the squirrels and listening to nothing but the twitters and flutters.

Though there was a beehive in the distant and maybe bees also, there must be honey too. In all, it did turn out to be quite an exciting day, one amongst the birds and beasts of nature. It felt as if all of them together coming one after the other were trying to tell me something. What?? I can’t say.

Suspended Pain

2008-05-22T22:32:00.000-07:00

Postpone postpone it till tomorrow
Today I am busy
Taking it little too easy
Disbelief. Indifference. Feigned Ignorance
And a sleeping conscience
Postpone postpone it till tomorrow
Today is busy
Tomorrow is heavy with weight
Let it be tomorrow
Oh let it be tomorrow!

Flying agains't the wind

2008-05-15T05:39:00.000-07:00

Must be one of the best days of my life…
I went to see the Cannes Ad Fest show reel 08’. Wearing what clothes I wore to office. Err…slightly embarrassing. Well that’s an understatement.

My entire team was there. We waited to catch up with Rati on the way. And still we couldn’t keep up with Baliram flying Rati’s Honda City. Lost once, we had to take another route to the venue. Within that short way to Maurya Sheraton there was a lover’s tiff, lots of momo hogging at Chanakyapuri, Manmeet coming in a rocking new red car etc. As if that was not entertainment enough for the day we came to know at the venue that one pass admitted only one. As we were figuring out what to do, Bugga sir came to our rescue and we were in, in no time.

Starters started, drinks started, hobnobbing starting, and the show started. It seems I was one of the few people who saw the entire presentation. Met Proma inside.

Most ads were obscure stuff. I simply loved the Amnesty International Ads, the Yellow pages ad, and the Nike woman – Dance. They were some ads. There was apna desi gum ad too.

As for improving my PR skills, sorry to say nothing happened on that front. Just met a classmate. Rest of the K – Factor gang caught up by the time the presentation was ending. And of course everyone looked really nice as they had come from home spending a couple of hours in front of the mirror.

Food was pretty decent. But as usual I couldn’t enjoy much because I was already full having been quite generous to the starters...chicken something something. Deserts were yumm though, especially the Blueberry cheese cake and Kheer.

Heard later that both Chennai and Delhi IPL teams were at the hotel. Some of my colleagues saw them. But wait what takes the cake is how I came home. On a bike. Sharad dropped me home. Complete bliss racing against the wind. Looking at the deep azure sky above just when a jet was flying in the opposite direction. I stretched out my hand to reach out to the plane which looked so puny from below and yet so powerful.

As it went away I felt it took me up on a journey of fame, of the unknown…
I don’t think I will ever forget this moment in my life.
Very conveniently I forgot the way, me being bad with roads and al. We finally spent some more time on road.

Flashback

2008-05-15T02:01:00.000-07:00

It’s like traveling in time a few years back. Life lived. Engulfing me in dust covered shelves and dishevelled cupboards. Where does the past live? Where? A patch of green land which was free of moss last year? Or the next window where someone else lived. And now is inhabited by curious faces who look at me as if I am the outsider.

Why does change always change you? Why is there a new building on the field I used to play? So many mobile snatchings, chain snatchings. Old engagements breaking to form new weddings. Why does life move on? Why do juniors grow taller than you? Why do they take my place in my college? Why is my friend getting married? Why is my room no more my room? Why are all things paralyzed in my room? As if with my absence they too have become immobile. Why doesn’t mom keep my stuff clean? I only told her not to throw my stuff away. Why is my room treated like a common lobby? Where are my childhood friends? Where are the silly games?

Where have the idyllic days disappeared? Why can’t I wear the blue uniform and have 7 Rs worth veg chow and Rs 20 chicken roll?

Past maybe past, it still lives in the present sometimes. Despite the Vishals, Big Bazaars of the world. Fancy bazaar is still fancy and Maligaon is Maligaon. We still meet the old people with a few new faces interspersed. Jubeen still sings in Bihu. Only difference is this time he came on stage as early as 10 pm. I still call my friends in the middle of the night from my fathers phone – Reliance to Reliance and silently keep the phone back in its place in the wee hours of the morning.

It still rains cats and dogs. There are more posters around the city. There is a News Live – news without compromise and there is Big FM, Gupshap and SFM and there are is CCD right next to Dighalipukhuri, there are multiplexes….

2008-03-20T02:10:00.000-07:00

If you ask me how is a writer's life? I will tell you it is difficult. You have to be loner to be a writer, at least in some way or the other. I cannot write unless I am lonely MENTALLY. The inner life is alone. Somewhere or the other, it is inevitable for the writer to have faced some tragedy. A happy man is no writer. As much as solitude is important, it is equally important for the writer to fall back into society for periodic spells. To experience real life, to be inspired. To come back to the normal world.

The Inner Life

2008-03-20T01:47:00.000-07:00

The place where you dare to be yourself - in all your oddities and eccentricities. Where you swim ashore away from the incepient madness of this world. Where you dare call your boss 'a blood sucker' and your closest friend 'the biggest flirt'. Where you dare to face your shortcomings. Where you can forgive your failings. Where you can atleast try to live like you want to.

Living the inner life, the life Lawrence talks about and loves so. The life I live, oblivious of the world that moves around.

Where has the winter gone?

2008-02-21T03:35:00.000-08:00

Wearing the snowy Alps and smoky little barbecues. Little chimneys and firewood. Whistling pines and nuts. Wooden floors and red wine. Roast corn on burning coal. Mungfalis in black iron vessels.
Icy wind on vaselined lips. Cozy caps, naughty toes jutting out of torn socks and bright mufflers. Shivering baths and blowing vapours. Hot coffee mugs and closed windows. Roses and carnations. Tell me where has the winter gone?

Tick tick…Ma’s knitting. My wind beaten cheeks. Dressed in a wide smile. Crack creams. Meji and bihu. Popping popcorns and teelor laaru. Christmas trees, gifts and cookies. New Year resolutions.

The sun and the clouds playing hide and seek. The fog falling in love with the sun. Embracing it with love. The sadness is gone. The love is shinning bright now. O where has the winter gone?

Dear winter, I do not know if I love you. I wait for the summer always. Wait for the warmth to take over my heart. But I feel something for you. For you are my own. You are me.

2008-02-19T03:59:00.000-08:00

Can an agnostic be superstitious? What has atheism got to do with superstition? How much does collective memory affect a person? How important is a person’s upbringing in molding one’s beliefs? Or is it one’s individual choice. What
I do not know. All I can tell you is my strange behaviour.
It was a normal day. I was returning home in the office cab. It drops me midway to my home everyday, at Chirag Dilli red light, by far the most crowded point in South Delhi. From Chirag Delhi I catch a bus home.
Coincidentally I am alone in the cab. Listening to music and dreaming. The cab turns into a lane parallel to the main road. A cat crosses the road in front of the cab.
The cabbie drives on without a blink. I try to look at the incident casually but its sticks to my mind. I tell myself I don’t believe in such things. After all that’s how I have been always. I reach Chirag Delhi; the cab gets badly stuck in traffic. I get off in the jam itself and started juggling between the cars. Bang! I hit a car. Ya, I hit a car, the car didn’t hit me. Stupid the car was static it couldn’t move in the traffic. I hurt my leg a bit, not enough to stop and look at it. I can see my bus in the middle of the jam packed road. I know it won’t stop at the bus stop. In a matter of minutes the red light will turn green yet I remain rooted to my spot. I have already hurt my leg and I have a premonition something worse can happen. The voices of my parents telling me about the cat keep coming to my mind. I am paranoid. I simply cannot walk to the bus in the jam packed road.
Me who laughs and has no patience with people who can’t cross roads.

The light turns green. The bus leaves. Another one comes and leaves. I take an auto home.
All education, rationality, scientific progress goes boink! Why did I do it I still can’t answer myself? I don’t believe in superstitions. Then why? And what has it got to do with atheism?

Random Ramblings

2008-02-07T01:05:00.000-08:00

Woke up at 8.15 am. Lingered some more. Pushed myself out of bed. Am so much in love with my bed. Freshened up. Ransacked the kitchen for something to eat.
Geyser? No such luck. Thankfully the immersion rod is working. Put it in a bucket of water, plastic bucket. Ignored the heap of dirty clothes lying in my room. Began cooking my lunch at break neck speed. Egg, rice and potatoes into the cooker, all in one go. Peeling, cutting, frying. Done! Dal chawal etc. Curse mom half heartedly for getting me addicted to proper food.
Water boiling, have my 7 mins dip in the Ganges aka my bath. Brainstorm if I have to at the same time. Today is not the day to look good, coz I have time either to eat good or look good. I chose the former. Will look good tomorrow. Still won’t wake up any earlier.
Utensils washed, all set. Rush to the recharge shop. Man the recharge guy is getting richer by the day. See bus no. 419 stop 50 yards ahead of me. Have the urge to run and catch it. Decide against it. Saunter to the bus stop as though I have all the time in the world. Wait for another 10 mins and panic oh lord why didn’t I run. Finally catch a bus and am off to office!

Welcome! Beinvenue! Nomoskar!

2008-02-05T22:53:00.000-08:00

hello people...welcome to my blog! This is my first post and I am pretty excited. Hope you have a gr8 time.