Gmail Blues

I'm back. I'm so sick of Gmail. Why did I give everyone the stupid Gmail address. Firstly its immense! I hate being called P.... M ....: makes me feel like I'm back in school and in big trouble! Secondly, there are no b folders! Cant tidy up! Nightmare for us compulsive-tidy-up-ers! Thirdly, it filters out mails from my friend. Taj sent a mail to gmail copy to work id. I got it in the work id - no trace of it at gmail! Fourthly, if I write you a mail, and you reply, and we do this over and over for about 6 rounds, I would like to leave your last reply and delete the rest. I cant! It drives me nuts. Its like sitting down to dinner with the mornings dishes in the sink.

i want to see 'in her shoes', 'elizabeth town', 'harry potter'. this weekend i watch ae fond kiss (sweet), the first knight (ok-nice), the prince and me (cute), the runaway jury (had cussak), salaam namaste (had saif)

i'm reading a book on the underground city under edinburgh!

went out for dinner on saturday. had a nice fillet mignon, perfectly done, medium rare with a lovely sauce, some haggis, with a nice wine. walked around the old town. grass market. then finished off with a drink and a chat. sunday, had planned to go to ocean center, but went for lunch to the dome instead. had mussels in an exquisite sauce and a warm chicken salad that i just loved! followed by a chat at starbucks with my favourite chai latte and a walk down george street. on monday, I stayed home, slept through most of the day. received my webcam. it doesnt have a mike. i must have imagined that part, then! its been less cold since the snow day. the city lights have been lit. the german fair has arrived.

hows that for p.c?

incidentally, p.c., here, is politically correct, right? so whats polite conversation, here? you must have some term for it? i wonder ...

addendum: check this post, if you havent. I liked it. Its intense and at the same time, its neat and finished. i'm not sure i can get across what i mean, but it really impressed me bcz it sounds like she means what she is saying, and yet she is saying it nicely, which i find a rare combination. or maybe i'm just cynical ;)

listening to music on my comp after a long time. my old mp3 collection cd's. re-intro session today with: murder, he says, a million miles away, whats love gotto do with it, radar love, sometimes when, pinacolada's, atlast, tomorrow never dies, send in the clowns, kokomo, take a walk on the wild side, 2 out of 3, summer wine, set adrift, knife, eye of the tiger, war pigs

cant find clothes i like even on yahoo avatar! damn! how hard is it to find a decent, non pansy T! :(

someone walks in to my enclosure and ignores me. woe is me :(
and now, i will to bed.

btw, does anyone want to buy a brand new un-used webcam with a built in mike?

Originally Posted at Prerona.

Archie Andrews, Where Are You?

Its snowing this morning! Started earlier than ever! The sky is think with fat, white, speeding flakes. Sandy and me went downstairs and spent a while looking up and feeling dizzy ... cool! And I'll have my webcam today! I'm happy and excited. Feel like calling up everyone and telling them :)

Song in my head, he said are you married I said no man! u can do the job when ur in town. sleigh bells ring, are you listening.

Someone came to my desk and asked me, where's Archie! Freudian? Well, I'm wondering too! Have you ever felt like you need to get in touch with someone to make some mutaul decisions, but you just cant get in touch with them? I feel like that right now. Except, the someone is me ...

Its Friday. 'Someone' is back at work. For whatever good that might be. I have a rash again. I think I'm allergic to misery!

I got my birthday books. They couldnt get hold of Beautiful Mind yet. I got the history of philosophy and 2 moleskin notebooks. One for me, and one for the little girl, who lives back at home.

I'm tired. I'm listening to corny old pop songs. I broke it up in pieces and sold it down the road, looking for someone with resources enough to buy it back, and brave enough to call me friend.

I'm tired.

Went clothes shopping but couldnt find anything. Everything seems so retro and shabby today. Or more likely, I've become harder to please. I dont like frills. I dont like girly. I dont like pansy. I dont like inelegant. I dont like too dressy. I dont like too stiff. I dont like over bright. Its the harder thing for me to know what I want, and what I like. No wonder I live in frayed basic jeans and polo type t-shirts (no logos, please) in dark blue or dark lilac or maroon and sneakers. or white shirts and grey suits. I always thought once ur grown up enough, you live in saree's and jeans.

You dont realise how lonely it is till u fall seriously ill. and u never know how clueless we still are about the human body till someone falls ill and noone knows what the hell it is.
I might be down and out a few days. Or then again, I might be fine tomorrow. In case I am, will post or mail again. asap.

Bhalo laage na

bhaalo lage na
bhaalo lagchhe na

khaali, khaali
shaara din

rasta haara
badhon chhara

All Out Of ...

Its less cold than before. Maybe, I just wasnt so well that day. Whenever its too cold, I think of the times in the past when I felt like I'd pass out from the heat. Freezing is better any day.

I wonder what decides our personal preferences. I like cold better than hot. I dont feel cold easily (If u know me, u'll have remember my std jk on the subject).

Somepeople hate the cold. They wear 3 sweaters in a Calcutta winter. How do we get these preferences and charecteristics? Is it something we are born with or is it something we aquire? Is it h/w or s/w? It could be a self modifying thing.

What was the space movie where they have left a weather monitoring robot behind somewhere in space. it has ai, and it can repair itself. somehow, it learns how to attack, when threatened. When the guys who made it come back, for some reason, it starts attacking them. So this attacking thing was aquired. The self repair was built in.

I have 4 certs I should take this Quarter. Dont feel like doing any of them. Maybe 2 of them. Does anyone else feel the PMI registration is more painful than the exam?
The b FPC is now split into 5. Whats the point giving it? It feels so forced. I'm so, so ...


In between 1PM and 5PM, Inbetween 4AM and 8AM, In between 8PM and 12PM ... thats when ideas come to me. Those are my awake zones. Guess bcz I used to study during one of those times. Why? I dunno. I felt awkward studying when people are around. Too easily distracted. U dont even have to talk to me. If theres a living, waking being in the room, or even the dorm, I'd start focussing on them, instead of some horrible thing I was reading. Actually, not horrible. I never studied horrible stuff. In college, I happily ignored my malvino for my gibson. in school, i ignored everything for physics and history. i hated any language study, as far as I recall. And arithmatic. And economics.

Stayed up till late last night. Some people had said they will come and stay but after I rushed home 'early' from work (8PM), vacuumed, cleaned the house, got dinner; and then they called and said they wouldnt come.

After that, I kept going to bed, but kept being woken by a natures call or by words in my head. Had to get up and write it down. Will put them up sometime on the other blog. Which reminds me of Henry and June: where she talks about the intersection between her diary and 'the journal'.

I'm so bad at punctuation. I remember when I was writing the description for Ricercar (my old blog): "i seek something more, something elusive, like silver sand. now I think I found it, and there, its gone again.", I had this sentence and no clue how to punctuate it. Had to stay up late and get Oni to look at it and punctuate it for me. I feel so proud of her. Though we're not in touch. Was thinking of her and Malo and Rahul and Rahul Bhaiya, and I was thinking maybe I could do a post on the people who influenced me in life, but it felt so fake and pseudo. Ships in the Night? So fleeting, 'friendships' are! Is the moment worth the pain of the passing?

I'm out of PC. I think.

PS - added after this morning's outing, I saw one of the famous foxes of stockbridge, atlast. It ran across the road, bright and clear, in the dark!

PPS - I have a cold! I'm tired and sick. i'm ill. i'm dying. I'm just kidding. I'm black and Blue.

PPPS - Today, this made me cry!

Originally Posted at Prerona.

Glittering all the way

The pavements were grey concrete
On the pavement, was a thin layer of iced frosting
In the dim glow of the street lights
The ice gliterred like crushed diamonds,
In the moonlight.
It was everywhere
on the pavement, on the fallen leaves
On the trees,
On the little red berries and glossy green leaves

Thank god I'm not a little boy
I'd have so fallen for the Snow Queen
And there'd be no beloved friend to find me and get me back
to our boxed window rose garden

Someting reminded me that when I was a kid
my Uncle used to say, "when God was making you, he was making a boy.
At the last minute, someone called him away. When he came back,
he was distracted and he made you a girl by mistake"

10 K - 65 mins. Not bad.
Have 2 more story ideas. And one new recipe
So watch out for them on the respective blogs ...
What did you say? I didnt need to know that :(

I have shifted fom breakfast bars to oats and raisins
And I've gotten over the strawberry-milk-fever!
And I've started loving Just Shoot Me

Bought myself my b'day gifts. Well almost
Went to the shop.
Bought a beautiful mind for somone (cz he has such a dirty one - j/k)
Lusted after 4 books for myself, bought 1. And bought my self some notebooks.
But they had run out of nice copies of the BM so they asked me to come back on Wed :)

Originally Posted at Prerona.

A Dream

i have a dream ...

i want to find a good man.
have a caring relationship.
a pretty house.
2 kids.
and adopt 2 more.
call them lila, taara and 2 boys names that i havent thought up yet.
a big dog (but not a german shephard, bcz he wont be like leo).
a small cat.
watch tv.
have flowers on the table.
make biryaani.
listen to music late at night.
volunteer at an old age home.
study cognition.
have a study.
have a yellow laundry room.
live in the same city as chatts, adit, juls, sauce and munal.
and mommy.
and baba.
have long hair, and wear nice saree's (like mummy).
have a house with lots of huge windows.
have more muscles.
row like a star.
run very fast.
write loads of books.
make cookies for my childrens friends.
take care of mummy and daddy.
see munal do really well and become a famous artist (yes, barbie ... 5 lakhs).
be really good, grown up, and understand everything, something, not sure what (!)

there's only one catch.
i think i'm allergice to 'good' men and
i O.D on 'caring' very easily ...

Originally Posted at Prerona.

7 Answers for 7 Questions:

For the Austere one:

Seven things you plan to do before you die!!
1. Have kids (ideally 4)
2. Adopt kids
3. Have a great dane, boxer and some cat
4. Learn to face people / things
5. Learn to forgive / understand myself
6. Aquire a PhD
7. Make it big (no ... I dont know what that exactly means)

Seven things you can do!!

1. Chat up anybody (in small numbers)
2. Vanish
3. Cook
4. Read a good book through without getting up
5. Eat ANYTHING (except Kathaal / Jackfruit)
6. Make fountain pens work
7. Untangle knots

Seven things you can't do!!!
1. Fly
2. Tolerate bad company, gossip
3. Control my temper
4. Explain why it hurt, or even admit that it did
5. Be 'nice' to people i like
6. Be 'rude' to people I dont like
7. Confrontations, Post-Mortems, Explanations
8. Waste food

Seven things that attract you to the opposite sex!!
1. Goodness, Kindness
2. Personality, a certain air of wisdom, weltschmersch, maturity
3. Intelligence, Knowledge, Capabilty
4. Sense of responsibilty
5. Cruelty / Strength / I dunno!
6. Language, Diction, Voice
7. Bravery, Recklessness, Arrogance

Seven things you say most!!!
1. I dunno
2. Cant explain
3. Lets see
4. Leh!
5. Listen
6. It doesnt matter
7. It depends

(actually, also FCUK, Dumb F, SOB ... but only in select company :))

Seven celebrity crushes!!!
1. Anthony Hopkins
2. John Cussack
3. Colin Firth
4. Ajay Devgan
5. Manoj Bajpai
6. Saif Ali Khan
7. Rahul Bose

The Bachhans, Senior & Junior were on it too, but you said 7 ...

Seven people you would want to take this quiz!!!
1. Pleo
2. Jo
3. Bird On the Wire
4. Shashankh
5. Ash
6. Neil
7. Anumita

There was 'my favourite blogger' on the list, but he'd never ...

Originally Posted at Prerona.

Lazing on saturday afternoon

Prove that you're a human

well, that was easy!!!

started a new blog ... like i
didnt have enough already.

chatted with dost-maddie, and little-pom. Now
i'd just bump into mommy-mira, bhai, tiny-pix and
guru-ji online, and it would be a perfect day!

i'm confused ... is that the printers comma?

weird nightmare last night
i was wearing a awesome saree
and a hideous sweater, and then i dropped
my camera into a lake, by accident. and
someone had died.

listening JC after a long long time
'dil mein taqaat, jigar mein haal' kahaan ...

heard sumon after ages this morning
'mon kharap kora, shokal maane megh korechhe'

bought some new cd's
metallica, savage garden
now obviously i dont want to listen
feel like watching fightclub
why do i keep going back to the same movies,
the same music, same books, same people ...

struggling with my new friend: GMAIL
i HATE it! but the, i always hate the new

woke up to friends. love it whenever
rachael and ross get married. sigh!
love watching but never buy the dvd's:
i'm scared i'll stop loving it then

mood? quiet. thinking.
i like that part best!

everything you see, everything u hear
nothing is as it seems

everything you see, everything u hear
everying is a test

everything you see, everything u hear
everying is a clue

Struggling with this, its a bit stuck. If you think it macabre, blame it on my guru ji and my bhai.

I finally saw Salaam Namaste, half. Its not bad! What was all that fuss about! Actually, its got Saif, so I'd have loved it anyway, but, nevermind.

Someone has started a blog! Some who calls my little girl Munal Didi. Seems like just yesterday they were frollicking around in fink frill frocks and there they are now ... so grown up, and calling me bebu!

Originally Posted at Prerona.


Everyday I am reborn,
No one day like the other.

As I transform,
the zeitgeist,

A curtain,
of snowflakes

Each, fleeting and unpredictable
Out of control

Each form unreal
Each picture, drawn

As I wander,
along these passages

& halls, of my memories;
I stare at frozen images, in struck awe

Trembling fear,
Shameful sorrow,

Gentle protectiveness,
Shivering love,

And I draw the curtain,
with trambling hands.

On the window
of the kaleidscope.

and tweak the folds shut
and hide my quivering shadows from ur eyes.

The Red Sunrise

the black, stone* ground* shone and blinked with frost*. it was still dark. the street lights cast an orange glow. infrequently, a freak car whooshed across the deserted roads. in the corners, yellow, brown, orange and red leaves lay literred, frosted* a sparkling white by the nights frost*.

it was cold. when the alarm rang out, i was already awake, waiting. i shot out in the dark and turned it off before it woke anyone else. pulling on my warm flannel jacket, i padded over quietly to the window and looked out.

in a few mins she came into sight. she was regular, like the days. come rain, come snow, or an ordinary boring day, she was there. at a few minutes past five, every morning, she walked up the deserted street-corner, outside my window. i had seen her by accident, a first. Then curious about why someone was out so early, in the cold, i kept looking. Fascinated, I kept looking on. She went through her stretches. i couldnt see her face from where I stood, but she had an elusive grace about her. an air of a love song, in her every movement. Or so it seemed to me; i was half asleep.

we fell into a routine. every morning, i set the alarm and waited for her. every morning, i watched her in the dark. at first, she fascinated me. then, it became an obsession. i wanted her. after a few weeks, i felt that the time had come to go after her.

she gave the impression of a lonely song bird. existing, as if in a world of her own. a creature of the early morning darkness. to fade before the sun rose and shone. there was a halo of sadness and tragedy about her. i could feel it. she was someone who wa born to die; beautifully; poignantly; dramatically. she was seeking a grand end. i was born to give it to her.

i had everything ready. it was all in my pocket. the rope; the nails; the blade. sharp, shining, pure. it would be a glorious. a sypmphone in red. A Red Sunrise.

It was still dark. The orange lights, from the faithful street lamps, collected in tired pools at intervals; their glow making the paved streets, slick with dew, glow in shiny black.

It was very cold. Winter had begun earlier than usual, this year, and the cold had sprung up, almost overnight, with precocious vengence.

Somedays, it was really eerie. Some mornings, it was a pain, to get out of a warm, snug bed, and throw herself into the cold morning air. Usually, however, it was just exhilariting. It was the best part of the day. It felt like the world and she were sharing a few quite moments, before the hum of another busy day began. She was alive. She was thinking clearly. Her best ideas came to her at moments like this.

A sharp wind rose, clean, fresh, new. It stirred the dried leaves in the street corners in little dancing balletts, swirling and flying like playful children. Brown, Orange, Yellow, Russet; a symphony in Red.

The whole world seemed breathtaking sweet, and life, infinitely beautiful. At moments like this, she wanted to live forever.

She had finished her run and come back to her starting point. Checking her watch, she smiled; she had done good time. She pulled out the nozzle from the water carrier on her back and drank as she slowed to a walk.

The shortening days meant that it wasnt fully light yet, though it was past six o'clock. She felt a little nervous about going into the heavily wooded Water of Leith walk-way, but it was a shortcut and it was pretty walking through, with the river gurgling next to her as she walked, swollen with a nights rain.

The carpet of wet autumn leaves below wupid out any footsteps. The tree's joined overhead to block out any light there was in the sky. There were no steet lights in this stretch.

She was always felt a little uneasy crossing this stretch, today, for some reason it was hightened. Was she being intuitive or just silly. Probably the latter. She tried to shrug off the feeling, but walked faster all the same.

Halfway down the path, she had an unshakeable feeling that someone else was there, nearby. She turned and looked. Atfirst, she didnt see anything, but then she could make out an outline. There was a figure in what looked like a hooded jacket with the cap on, some distance behind her.

She told herself that it was just another jogger. She tried to calm the voice in her head which had a distinct urge to panic. But there was no helping it, she was really, however illogically, scared!

She walked faster, trying to reach one of the exits, but the nearest one was still several minutes away. She looked back again, and this time, the figure was a lot closer, just behind her. She forced herself to be calm and slowed her walk, so that the other walker would overtake her, and she could tell herself "look, you were making a fuss out of nothing!".

As the hooded figure approached her, she had a strange, surreal feeling. There was a sense of fatality in the moment. She could feel her hair on the back of her neck standing up.

She turned, one last time, when she felt the figure right behind her, about to pass her. As she saw the other joggers face, a wave of relief washed over her: it was just another woman! There was an added brightness in the smile she threw over her shoulder, as she silently greeted the lady, because she was smiling at herself and how 'sure' she had been that something was dreadfully wrong. The other woman smiled back at her.

Still smiling, she kept on walking. She had been so silly. It was just the atmosphere of the place and her imagination, playing tricks on her, after all. Like a trick of light.

Suddenly, she felt the other girl close in on her. Before she even realised what was happening, she had been pushed into the greens on the side of the path. It was so cold, it took her a few seconds to feel the blade slice through. It felt wet. And warm.

TO BE CONTINUED ... (and edited - the stars need replacing) :)

The Frozen Hand

its seriously cold. its about -5 and its only begun. add to that the fact that its the windy city of uk.

i woke up as usual, at 5, and went for my morning run. i was wearing my cool running tshirt (which i got when i particiapted in my first ever race) and my new orange cycling shorts.

it was cold and dark as i stepped out, but its always cold to begin with, so i didnt pay attention. about half way through my run it got really bad. i couldnt feel my hands anymore. i couldnt reach out and change the track and it was playing something horrible, loud, and i seriously thought today i might just make it. even after i got home, i was frozen for an hour and a half. it took me a serious amount of effort to get my keys out and into the keyhole. My hands are still paining from then, and its 2000 hours now and Im just home from work :(

it was terribly exciting. i guess i really need a life.

once again, that feeling is upon me: i have an urge to close to blog. its a periodic thing, i guess. comes on from time to time. i'm running out of things to talk about. i'm running out of imagination. maybe i'm running out life.

i keep trying to answer this question to myself, why do i write the blog? is it really still what it started out as, 'writing practise'? she set me thinking. she says i talk to myself. dunno. much. little. less. anything.

was looking for something i wrote after he left, the first time, and found 5 old posts. :). i love reading my old posts.

someone asked me why i always ask people if they are happy, if they have friends, if they are enjoying life. i dunno. i'm just weird i guess. i'm curious, about things like that.

they are talking about it.
my blood stirrs a little,
i feel an urge to add my 2 bits,
share the things i've thought, and seen
and learned:
that things will always be like this.
that things have always been like this.
each layer of people,
on the scales of time,
see it,
for the first time.

then i remember and i feel,
the urge and verve,
slip away."

Ray S. Guelph

Image of the day:


I am going to Perth on Sunday, to visit Abigail. Looking forward. Bebu's day out. Does it feel any grown-up-er, now that I'm thirty? No! I still feel like a baby or sage, depending on who I'm with.

Trying to work on this, dunno how it will come out, or if i will complete it. If you think it macabre, blame it on my guru ji and my bhai.

There's a Joan Baez concert in Glasgow in March. As usual, I want to go but I dont wanna go alone and I dont know a soul I could beg to come along. It always plays like this. For the Roger Waters show had to go with someone who my best friend found for me, all the way from Cal. For the Deep Purple concert, I had to beg and bribe a colleague with a elaborate dinner. Theres only one concert I actually had a friend to go with, and that was the Rodeo thingie. Thom, where are you! Dmn, wish I knew how to make 'friends' ...

Originally Posted at Prerona.

For the not dying

they are talking about it.
my blood stirs a little,
i feel an urge to add my 2 bits,
share the things i've thought, and seen
and learned.

then i remember and i feel,
the urge and verve ,
slip away.

when u went away,
with the black crow,
that flew till it filled the sky.
u took away my last links,
and pretensions,
to being one of them.
the face behind the masks dissolved,
in that one tear.

why did u make me,
and like this.
and then leave me,
and like this.
with nothing left behind,
not even the right to cry.

how do i dare mourn you,
my dead?
how do i dare,
say i care?
how can i mourn you,
i'm dead.
how do i dare,
even say i loved you.
cz i never lived my love,
so now you, my love, lie dead.

i fold away the memories
with mothballs, and oldclothes
the woollies u knit me
and him, to match
and he calls u names.
yet again.
i darent even cry.
yet again.

look, love, he's calling u back
i dared not even call you back
i dared not even cry out loud

u brought me up to be good to them
but u never taught me to stand up to them
so when u went away, trailing long black hair
and clouds of white cotton
that i clung to
you shook me off
u wont take me
just whatever had been alive
u took the best with u
whatever of the patchwork-me that was urs
the best patches.

rough cut

do u know i see through you
that im not so dumb, im kidding you

do u know how much i love u
do u know ur too good to be true

do u know u're disgusting,
and yet, fascinating

do u know im crazy about u
do you know i wanna hug u

infact, i can feel it now, while i hide
its a hollow sucking feeling inside

the only way i can identify it
is i wanna hug you really hard

like we were stuck with fevicol
before we heard of quickfix

do u know i'm hurting and scared
wanna tell u but dont know how

do u know i just wanna stay
do u know i just wanna run

do u know how much i miss you
every day. every hour. or almost

do u know how much i hate u
wanna shake u, scream and shout

that i wanna fight with u
do u know i never fought with anyone before

do u know i've never been nasty before
do you know i've never been mean before

everything ive ever known
feels like it led me to u

every road i ever took
takes me farther away from u

do you know, ur the only one
i ever told my secrets to

i dont know, if i'm sad or glad
that u turned out to be another fool

Cold Winds

Its cold. I was hoping it wouldnt be very bad while my dad was here. It was sunny for sometime on Friday and Saturday. We had a blast. The way my life is here, anythings a blast. Empty. Cold. Clean. Cool. In control. I like it.

We pubbed at every pub we found. We found plenty. Ate out. Drank champagne on my birthday. Threw a dinner party on the next day. Called everyone from work. I got a little high. We talked into the night. We went to the ocean terminal. Sat at the bar and looked out onto the sea. Went to the hill. Climbed. Took silly snaps. Took nice snaps. Stayed up late. Made mad plans for the future. Fought over whether he is balding. Traded shares. Traded cribs, how miserable it was staying alone. We did our me worst - me worst routine. We talked about how hard it is to find a friend. To save money. Buy a good house. Start a on new road in ur career, when its everything you have. Open your heart and be urself. Its funny how we are so close. All of us. In our own strange ways.

For four days and four nights, life, the world, this silent house, transformed into a crazy happy cosy homey place. Now its back to sqaure one. Although, now I got a comp at home. So now I can chat on msn and yahoo. :) Also got a new black cape, blacl pants, green-brown overcoat. Half a bottle of Glen Fiddich, very old. Some new hindi cds - andaz apna apna. Some cognac. Some champage. Some perfume. 2 books. Loads of chocolates. Happy Birthday to me. Older, not much wiser. Someone is still missing from work!

Originally Posted at Prerona.


how do you say why it hurts
the wind blows
the cold seeps slowly through, to your bones
theres a fire, out of reach
and its moving
but when you reach it, crawling through the dark
its just plastic flames blowing, in the wind
theres no warm in it
theres no heat in it
how do i make it go away
the hurt of knowing
it will never be okay?
How do I tell myself, to grow up
when i'm still waiting
for a little peace
when will the fighting stop?
when will ur wars be done?
when will loving be begun?
when will we have a happy home?
happy families
fun and games
just a little game

on another shore
i hear the laughter as children play
the sand flies
as the run around
their mamas and papas smile
then turn to each other
and disintigrate

if i could rhyme
i'd write pretty words
to make u smile
and cry

instead i just bubble inside
with words and cries
i cant hide
nor wear outside

i dont know how to say it
it was all always broken
i dont know how to say it
there was just the end where we began

In the Dark

passions and emotions
rage inside u, churn u up
like a storm, that goes on and on
murdered voices echo through the night

u feel it might have helped perhaps
if u could pour it out to someone
but far and near, now and then,
theres noone

swimming in the troubled waters
of ur warring times
i slipped with welcom song
into ur world

with pomp, and honour
ceremonies and valour
ornaments and flowers
u cut me up, and hung my pieces for trophies on ur walls

always torn
loved. and loving
shared, by mortals enemies

torn in bitter pieces
as u fought
to make me love u
and hate the world

u want to know my secrets
i sing them to my walls at night
u want to know the lies and lives i live
i cry them into balled fists, in silent screams

inky blue and velvet dark
as the night
shining, twinkling, remote
as the stars

why am i blue tonight
why do my eyes look like rain
why do i sigh and turn away
why do i smile? i forget

if i told u u'd say
lifes that way
still in the heart of my heart
something wishes why

Something smells of Happiness

I was tagged by Teleute. Its a blog-story started by Rohan. Heres the story, with my bit added in bold, at the end: The blog story. I'm tagging Peg, bcz she said she had fun doing the other one I tagged her into :)

My limit was supposed to be one line, but I overran it. Could'nt help it, as usual! Why do all my transgressions find me holding up this little balloon above my head? It's either this one, or "I didnt realise".

It's a nasty blue-black-purple day. Like the mean reds with a little less of the anger and little more of the w-t-f-does-it-matter-anyway thrown in. I was excited this morning, after I came back from my run. Its my birthday on the 10th and I dont belive I'll be 30!!! I feel like I'll just wake up and be grown up, come Thursday!

There must have been a leak somewhere, though, cz all the pink air was gone by noon, leaving me deflated and defeated. Its reading the papers, I think, that does it. Someone still hasnt come back to work. Ill! Eloped? Evil.

How does it matter anyway? I'm out of words. Or rather, I am out of things to say. Or rather rather, I'm out of PC things to say.

Sometimes, I get so angry with the world and everyone in it. Why cant people just let people be. Just bcz they are different? Anyway, whats the point? It will all go up in smoke. 40,000 people! And you are classifying and justifying. Is someones pain any easier to watch bcz he deserved it? 40,000 people. I dont blv its not even causing a stir! And now this! They are showing endless programs and documentaries on them on BBC. Will it help? I dunno. Please god let it help. Please god, let something help. Anyway, I dont want to talk abt this.

I'm on a Byron trip again. The first thing I learnt about Stockbridge, when I moved in was that, he was born here. The God of Brooding Verse. I'm reading his letters to Shelley. Incidentally, I could never get over the fact that he wrote that silly poem (she walks) as well. I have nothing against the poem, but its just, 'did he who make the tiger make thee'? I can never decide which part of Childe I like best, but this comes close:

Yet must I think less wildly: I have thought
Too long and darkly, till my brain became,
In its own eddy boiling and o'er-wrought,
A whirling gulf of fantasy and flame:
And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame,
My springs of life were poison'd. 'Tis too late!
Yet am I chang'd; though still enough the same
In strength to bear what time cannot abate,
And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate.

Sometimes when I read his writing, I feel like I could never write again. (And if that one word were ... but its not)

The song in my head: Teach your children well. To someone who made me feel she was there, love you, sweetie. Thank you for being a friend. I'm missing a certain someone so much today, that I've been chirping like madness. The best friend, that I've ever had (The Queen)

I finally put up a post at the Calcutta blog! Someone there reminded me of this post and I hunted it out again.

Originally Posted at Prerona.

The Journey

He thought it would be an ordinary journey. Standing behind the pillar he watched the train snort arrogantly into the station. With each snort he was reminded of his grandfather's words "You will fail in the city and return penniless"; with every heavenward whistle, he heard his cousin, "Don't worry. Come here and I will get you a job at the construction site." Now he had a 34-hour journey to prove one of them wrong, and he expected the excitement at the end of the journey. He looked at his ticket once again: compartment S9 berth 23.

Pushing his luggage under the seat, he sat close to the window. "Papa, when will you be back?" - his four year old daughter Munni asked innocently. He stared into those soft brown eyes of the motherless kid. He held her frail palms in his, through the window. "Munni, Papa will get you a nice gudiya from the city..Say tata," his sister spoke to the kid, to avoid an emotional outburst. In a minute, the train pulled forward, and Munni's little fingers parted from between his. "I need to go..", he thought, "I have to, at least for Munni's sake.."

The humid summer breeze and the rattling train coaxed him into an uncomfortable state of drowsy consciousness. He dreamt that Munni ran away, the closer he ran to her, the farther she was, like a mirage. He woke up with a start and squinted at his watch."What is the time please?"A smallish woman, a meek voice as if she was scared that her existence would annoy someone. Her only noticeable feature was her rather large, expressive eyes."4.30"Something made him look at the woman again. He had stopped noticing women long back. Ever since Meenakshi passed away...

Four long years. His daughter’s birth. His wife’s death. Joy and sorrow in an instant. A heady cocktail. He had hardly recovered from it. He barely had a chance to. You can’t be a poor farmer in Andhra Pradesh and have time for emotional upheavals.Life betrayed him once with the death of his wife. Life betrayed him again, three years in a row, with the failure of his crops. Every year, the debt increased and it felt like a noose tighten around him. Tightened till he could not breathe. He shivered with the memory of the night, where he took a bottle of poison in his hand …

He threw the bottle away when he heard the small voice behind him, “Papa, whats beyond the big well? Sanju says that’s where the world ends.”His then-preoccupied answer had satisfied Munnis innocent curiosity, “No, beta…That’s the railroad to the city…There’s a lot of world beyond the big well.”He had repeated the answer to himself, “No, it’s not the end of the world”.Maybe some of that same innocence in this woman’s voice or eyes made him rephrase the answer to her question. “What is the time, please?”In a crystal-clear flash of certainty he realized…“It was time.”

It was time to put the scattered pieces of his life together. Just like the marbles he picked up as a boy. That he won and collected one by one from the ground, his pockets laden and bulging with his precious treasure. He had to play the game of life again. He looked at the large expressive kohl-rimmed eyes once more. Shy and downcast at times, hesitantly observant at others as she gazed out at the rushing landscape beyond the rusted iron rods of the second class carriage window. He suddenly heard himself asking, "Are you going to the city?"

She shook her head, and looked away, out of the window. She looked tense. Almost a little scared. Balbir wanted to ask "whats wrong", but hesitated. He'd been too friendly. He turned away and looked out of the window.

The train slowed. Radhapur Junction. Dusty. Near-empty. Interchangeable with so many rural stops. Just one man got on board. He wore the bright, colourful pagri of the region above his sunburned face. He had a happy face and no luggage. As he walked the corridor his eyes scanned the berths. He reached their compartment and stopped in front of the woman.


Everything below the dashed line above should be copied and pasted with every accepted tag)This is a Story Tree and is best nurtured as follows:

1. A blogger can add only 90-100 words (not more or less) at a time
2. All previous snippets of 90-100 words need to be copied before the new set of 90-100 words are appended.
3. Each entire snippet should be linked to the respective author (and not just the first sentence or so)
4. Characters, scenes, etc. can be introduced by an author
5. Bizarre twists, sci-fi, fantasy sequences are best avoided.
6. A tag must be accepted within 7 days else the branch is a dead branch
7. After appending 90-100, the Story Tree can be passed on to at most 3 bloggers.
8. If more than 1 branch leads to a blogger, s/he is free to choose any one of them but cannot mix the snippets of the individual branches.
9. The Story Tree is best left to grow than concluded
10. Please attach the image of the Story Tree below with each accepted tag (the link address can be copied and used)

For mercy's sake

He had always known that silence spoke volumes, unfortunately it was in a language he failed to decipher on most occasions. A long pause. He stared for what seemed liked ages. It made little sense. May be it wasn't meant to be. He shrugged and looked at his friend. The pregnant silence was ruptured by his friends intermittent sobbing. Today was Diwali, it was supposed to be the "Festival of Lights", but things were different tonight. "Lights out", yelled the Jailor. The lights went out and the virgin night was silent and dark again. But, then was he reminded of his lover whose murder brought him here. All of a sudden, the summer heat in the cell, felt dreadfully cold, when, every moment of his past life flashed in front of his eyes as he stared at the writings on the wall. It was scribbled all over, by previous inmates of the cell. Murderers, as they called them. But maybe there were not murderers, he thought, just like him. Maybe they were just misunderstood. After all, he had to kill her, so he could be sure, that she would never feel pain again.
He had loved her from the moment he gazed into those blue green eyes, he had loved her when those very eyes had looked at him beseechingly for the last time and he had loved her for every passing second in between. But all this was lost on the anti euthanasia lobby who had vehemently screamed murder as his case had hit the headlines.
It all began on a silent winter morning. The cold had crept in without its whistling army of winds. The small town slept. Wrinkled in cold, as glowing fireplaces let out splinters of warmth. Unexpectedly silent.
But he was awake. He was always awake. Sleep and he had parted ways three summers back. Since then every time his eyes closed, the mind played stage to that dramatic night.
It had been there, too... the silence. Agonising. All-pervasive. Alive with things unsaid. He had known that the she was in pain. Excruciating pain. He had called in A long sequence of doctors. Unable to believe 'the verdict', he kept taking 'another opinion', desperately seeking someone, somewhere, who would say something different from what they were all saying. Desperately seeking one doctor who would give him some hope. Desperately seeking a straw to clutch at, as he felt himself inexorably drowning deeper. There was no hope. There was just a time limit.

Dream Tree

I was tagged into this by Aparna. Thanks, it was great fun!
Would like to tag "anyone who would like to give it a shot". I'd love to see where Sriramana, Parna, Hyde, Stark, Belzeebub, Maddie, Austere, Peg, English August, Jaded, Teleute, GreatBong, JAP take it. I'm a bit scared of tagging these days as some people get quite violently offended. Please dont get mad if I have tagged you and you dont want to do it ... just ignore me :)

Here's my attempt at the Dream Tree

Originally Posted at Prerona.

Burnt Offerings

i stand in a corner
cradled between to walls
and contemplate

on the floor,
strewn around
all my muklti coloured masks

which one will i wear today
which games will we play
i turn my head and look in the glass

acid burnt and ugly burnt
black, and drak putrid
ugly, vain, selfobsessed
attention grabbing seeking whining
week, social, playing games
ugly, unloving, selfish
trembling, fearful, shivering knees, quivering flesh
salt, mingles with blood, mingles with acid
weak, clashes with suffering clashes with bitter

past hope
past dreams
past lies
past touch
past tears

tasteless, but bitter

and looking for feet
to fall asleep at

looking for feet
to cry again at

looking for hnads
to hold again

looking for eyes
to see forgiveness in

looking for life
to live again

looking for heart
to feel again