Infinity

Reel

2010-04-17T14:35:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel I'm living a reel, a badly edited one.

Yours and mine

2010-03-04T11:07:00.001-08:00

Let’s remain this way. Let’s not look for names. Mine whispered in your ears and yours in mine. That will get us by. We are entities, we will remain, intertwined, separated, even distant. Our whispers will unite, our bodies, our names too. Sometimes I try, I can’t distinguish the smell of my perfume without yours, mine without yours. We’ve spent many nights, days even, holding on to catch our own breaths, touching just for reassurance.

Nakedness is a giveaway, clothes keep your from being, wires from breathing. Let loose, and all pours out, somewhere between yours and mine our space takes shape. This territory we tread with care, your ways are different from mine. You want me, body and mind; you want me not to look away. I stare, at all these times I stare into nothingness, I look for thoughts, and they are all over. I can’t gather them and it troubles me. The lines on my forehead betray, with a little practice I can keep them away. The images are transient, of you and me, our silhouettes in darkness. The sounds brief, of breathing, churning, of bills floating on the floor. Your skin feels warm against mine, it always does, and I know when my feet are turning cold. A story is building in my head, I wonder how it will sound when I write, and it makes me smile. You see it; you tell me I’m warm inside. I believe you, I let your fingers trace me; let you engulf the warmth you say you can feel.

I’ve thought of names, just as you have. I’ve remembered and let myself forget. I’ve never wished to see, speak even. I let the touch wander until I can feel it no more. You say I’m beautiful; I don’t want to hear it. Your hands speak enough; mine are numb, just as I am. Strangely, I can feel your breath; it’s a rhythm I can’t forget. A memory perhaps, I can even count. You crush me against yourself; my breasts feel tender when pressed against you. I feel the space diminishing, and then there is none. I hold you tight; my hands feel small on your back. I don’t want to give away; I don’t want to give in. I could keep this moment and every smell it brings. It’s now when my thoughts vaporize. I know it wont last, the memory of it will. I can feel your lips against my skin; I know you can taste it. We’ll remain, etched in time, etched in these walls, the sheets, our bodies our hands. Your lips suckle mine, I can’t get to close my eyes, I can’t soak in them, I can’t disconnect. The thoughts linger, I take time. I feel your hands on my body when they are away. My lips entice you, I can barely kiss. Kisses are for keepsakes, they stay for long after. I know you can feel it, you know I am shivering, you choose not to notice. I clutch and you know you don’t understand. We separate.

The space widens, mine and yours, ours barely visible. You lie on your back, the rhythm continues. I ache to feel you closer, I rest on you, your armpits ease me, your frame clear in the morning light. The sheets are soothing, our clothes a tangled mess, straps and fabric, I push them away. We drift into our worlds, yours and mine, separate. We let the gap widen, reaching out for embrace, a few times. My hands feel trapped under yours, my body is frozen, pain and numbness take turns, and I am scared to breathe. My fears lurch outside the door; they lie slumbering in those clothes. I can feel your pulse settle, I can feel ours unite, I can even hear the throbbing, rhythmic, a single rhythm. I lie awake as you fall asleep, I always do. I can almost feel it, as it takes over you. You are warm, still warm, it’s settling on my body. I remember heat transfer theories; I know I’m making you cold. I drift to school and back, I think of my backyard, I think of only one. I wonder what you’d say if you could read my thoughts, I wonder if you will talk. You turn away from me; I do the same, almost in reaction. We are now, you and I, two different worlds.

I’ve been there before, I’ve returned. I dread you being awake, I dread stepping out. The hours are passing; I can feel the sunlight on bare skin. I want to keep you from it, I want to protect, own perhaps. I fear too much, my body weakens me. I wait for sleep, long for your gaze. I reach out for you; you keep my hand and turn away. I’m afraid to move, afraid to think, scared of what touch can do. I know when you’ll be awake; I’ve watched you wake up. You hold me close, I know it’s time. I fight the thoughts, I want the moment, and I can’t hold it. I always hold you at the door, I’ve never known why. I know you will leave, the space will be mine, mine alone. I’ll sleep with your smell and wake up to it. I will sleep naked.

How do you do

2010-01-31T14:34:00.000-08:00

Me (to friend who just moved to London): How is life there?
Friend: You can smoke in bed and kiss on tubes, the rest is the same.

No Oreo for me

2009-12-28T14:15:00.000-08:00

I pick Oreo cookies and put them right back on the shelf. Thank you Rana Dasgupta!

Me.Now

2009-12-22T14:23:00.000-08:00

They told us back in school, everything had its own time. There was no paying heed, the time was ours to kill, the days were ours through wakefulness. Four and a half months since I last held a job, about two since I last wrote something and perhaps a year since something accidentally meaningful resulted out of a compulsive typed babble. When in a rush life sometimes has its own ways of slowing you down. For now it's my time to sit and watch things pass, for life to take its course as I settle into every day. Every day is an event, almost an achievement to pass with about two items in my to-do-list. Everything comes a full circle to indicate its end in the most explicit way, there is little one needs to wait for hints to. Perhaps it's time, to build myself a new contraption, a brand new series of events that will eventually come back to right where I started from to its natural end. There's a passiveness that has built over the years to bring it to its present state where there is not much that calls for reaction, there is very little that does not lead to something familiar. It's all seen, all done, I can almost feel and taste everything that is mentioned around me. Most writing feels bland too, most days plain dates. The cycle of change will soon begin, the rush will soon be back. I will be back on my feet to tread a stranger aimless path. Little things will soon be little again.

Me. Now
1. Awaiting Xmas
2. Watching sitcoms clad in my nightgown
3. Loving December rains
4. Postponing work
5. Ignoring the state of my house
6. Rediscovering Come Undone- Duran Duran
7. Driving
8. Sleeping

Phew!

2009-06-14T14:34:00.000-07:00

I've concluded I need recuperation after a day of this sort, where every one of your strongly held beliefs is proven the other way....Murphy presides over the happenings of each day of mine...Hail you...but let me be!
1. 'Twinkies' are kids I discover after being subject to 150 of them, with their parents in a single room, all screaming at the same time and relentlessly clad in sarongs set for a fashion show that was about to begin and never really did. Worse, I was there looking for something to place on my much esteemed page 3 for the next day.
2. After a series of American interns I've been subject to, I've been able to establish a rough pattern in the average questions per minute with them going as high as 10 for the American non-jews. After the aforementioned encounter with the twinkies I was subject to oversee one such at a film screening cum exhibition cum socialite-we-are-all-arty-farty-get-together where so many linked into one was a cause of much concern and many more questions.
3. All seemed within limits of handling until an outbreak which was to reveal the lack of anything page 3 worthy for the next day. Now Sunday in a sleepy Tam-brahm driven city is not particularly the perfect day to catch the skimpily clad in the photographable spots. Without much ado the emptiness of the watering holes was established and other options were witnessed being explored. Three hours of solving dire P3 crisis finally ended in the arty-farty posing p3. The next task in hand of course was to explain to the wannabe- journo- art critic- suddenly enlightened American that the to-be 500 word art piece was going to make it no more than a 150 word 'party piece'. And this I miserably failed at resorting to offering to do the smaller piece myself and letting him divulge as much info he wanted to through his first-hand journalistic attempt.
4. After the p3 for the next day was tackled, we headed out for coffee, in desperate need of it to calm my achin nerves I paid little attention to the road ahead, ending up crossroads where I was lost on my way out. The firang graciously offered to guide me back by directing me towards a cow he had seen on his way in. Screaming at that point and location did not seem advisable.
5. Coffee was a story in itself when the American, met the very American-like by far the two people who get onto my nerves the most in this city over conversations bordering around everything and leading to absolutely nothing.
6. There was little left to be done except down my coffee as soon as I could and vanish from this otherwise attempt to relax.
7. Leaving the American under the care of a friend, I said, "Please take care of him, and make sure he gets nowhere but home". To which he retorted, "In what way". Every bit of sanity and patience seemed to have escaped my nerves and I darted out of the door.

Ramblings

2009-04-08T16:27:00.000-07:00

I look outside,
sunshine demands sleep
I wanna look out but I refrain
I spend the hours in slumber
there's so much demanding attention
the early hours, are tender
there's a world outside
waiting to gobble me,
waiting so I don't sleep
so I feel, unlike me
the warm baths are easy,
the warm water, the soothing aromas
caressing, a memory of some perhaps
there ain't so much to do
there's no time to watch
run run, its the buzz, its another day
the world outside is pleasant
welcoming at first,
harsher soon, there's no sparing
the sounds are beautiful
the sights regular, passing magic
its second nature, to just keep going
no directions, none need taking
i drive, i walk, i think little
a swarm engulfs you
the keyboards start ticking,
the tv blares,
the black n white papers are all around
as far as I can see
I drown in them, in a flurry of escaping thoughts
the red marks are a blur,
I dream of them sometimes
I see many faces, I barely stop
I laugh, the pen empowers me
there's so much beneath it
there's so much I could do
with what lies beneath it
with the world tomorrow
a flick can do the job, sometimes lesser
I refrain, I work, I do the ordinary
I run away sometimes,
when the text begins to blind me
the last command is a relief,
an accomplishment, small yet fulfilling
the rhythm outside, a signal
the cycle now begins
ends only when the damage is done,even undone
the rustle is nostslgic,
the evenings are bliss, heady
the flickering lights ease me
the music makes me merge
in a bigger swarm,
in the life of a city
many spent at places
that remind me of times
many I can't remember
many play with my memory
I can't stay, and I do
I wait, I dread the people
I talk with ease,
my mind plays tricks, there aint a brink
on thought, on action
I've stuck the face on, with care
it doesn't fall so easy, it stays
it will, as long as you will
I've let it slip, rarely
I don't want to remember
Here I've discovered myself,
Here I've lived, loved and learnt to forget
Here's where all has been lost
here's where I matter
I am no speck in the swarm
I've seen heads turn
I've turned away
I know I've let it grow
I know I've always known how to fit
I know I could alienate
the sights are overwhelming
there's little knowledge of tomorrow
too much small talk, too much to keep from hearing
I've wanted to grip at some hand
in the remote crowd, squeeze just to keep there
I've walked out too many times
I've returned,
there is nowhere to go from here
there's this consciousness that rules
there's alwas someone who waits
always someone who cares
understands even
but there's little to talk
little that can be said
much else to share
the day ahead will not wait
the night will die
the glitter will fade
my dreams will resort to monochrome again
I wish to wake up
to colour, to voices
to a smile, even anger
the tears have stayed
the vague pictures too
there's much I dream
there's little I ask for

Notes to myself

2009-04-03T15:41:00.000-07:00

I write notes to myself every night(my phone lets me do that) so I wake up to read them and let them stay in my head.
I am going right back to my workaholic self, little sleep doesn't bother anymore, the heat yes, has tanned one arm to a shade I have never seen on myself.
I set myself on a light board for the first time, it was a gallore I had never been exposed to before, the switches, the dimmers, gave me a weird kick, much unlike the high of performing on stage but an incomperable appeal. It was a world of possibilites, like a canvas, where I could play around and render a perspective to an entire performance. I would love to go back and do it with a tad bit of expertise, but this aint the time. Theatre is slowly taking a back seat. Time is running out, for what I can't see, but I can hear the clock ticking somewhere and every moment is a rush.
I am not writing much, I am waiting for something, something big that will make me fall in love with my work again and it's taking time.
I don't read the papers, I haven't missed much, its phenomenal how much one can learn by just over-hearing.
I love the drive back home more than ever, the music is a given, it calms me enough to get back in contact with people.
Every day lived is like a landmark, life is getting unpredictable, the moment will never return, and I don't want to let any pass without a notice.
I've sipped endless cups of coffee alone, it's become a soothing part of my otherwise non-existent routine. The smell of coffee is enticing all over again. There are a few places that make you get away from the rush and watch time stand still. Amethyst will be etched in my memory for longer than I can forsee.
The more I rever this city, the lesser it demands reverance from me. I can never belong, but I feel inseparably linked.
I am beginning to regard Rasam rice and curd rice as regular food, and I give into cravings of it at 3am or some hour as unearthly at that.
The ECR will remain my little unexplored secret, something I shall traverse once surity sets in.
I can't get myself to switch channels when Tamil music plays on the FM, it seems to have seeped into deeper levels of acceptance, almost synonymous with normalcy.
I am safe, undoubtedly, and that's a feeling beyond expression.
Colours still speak loud about my moods.
I am hooked to Tere Bin by Rabbi, it plays on loop on my comp and phone, all day long.
I've seen so much wear off, I've begun doubting anything stays. I've developed an ability to detach, something I considered myself incapable of.
I've begun sounding busy when I am, or would rather not talk.
I visit art galleries more often that I ever did, I spend hours in them and I can tell an artist by a painting.
An unsettling feeling grips me at the mention of a place in the city I haven't visited.
I've developed a strange, almost obsessive liking for mushrooms.
I've begun disregarding corporate culture and flout every norm I thought I couldn't.
I haven't slept or worken up on the same time on two consecutive days in a long long time.
I love walking barefoot on the office floor, I love standing outside the press in the evenings and listening to rhythm.
I take an intentional detour almost everytime I drive in the evenings.
I dream of a getaway all by myself, and I can't seem to supress the urge.
I haven't tied up my hair in a month( I've lost every clip/ band) and the smell of my own hair makes me heady.
I've spent an evening where everything I sipped or ate had a flavouring of cinnamon from whiskey with cinnamon to crepes to cakes.
I've left quite a few calls unreturned, and I still remember the date and time of each.
I've decided to spend an entire day shopping for things I desperately need, it includes clips, a tin opener and many knick-knacks I've been listing.
I still wake up wishing it rained. I dream in the mornings and don't disconnect for hours of wakefullness.

Chocolates can be psychic

2009-03-22T14:29:00.000-07:00

What do you do when a chocolate wrapper tells you You need to get your feet massaged or Look at yourself in the mirror and smile! I don’t know how anyone else would react to that but I am convinced they can see and are psychic, and also mum’s little prank on me (this is what happens when you have a mom who can look through and has a sense of humour to make matters worse).
It’s perhaps those times when every thing seems like it has underlying signals, books, music, billboards, places, conversations, smell…..even chocolate. (And then they call me paranoid!) For now its been four days of Zara’s, chocolates, work, a purple obsession and Dev D uninterrupted!

I watch

2009-03-06T14:12:00.001-08:00

I've been watching films lately, watching everything around me actually, with an eye that perhaps never existed before. Everything feels different when you don't evade the many layers it might have and create an illusion entirely your own, finding in it a meaning that is so specific to your life and yet seems like it is out there in the open put together perfectly by someone who you don't and may not have any relation to. Its beautiful to let something symbolic remain symbolic and not a means of leading you on to incidents/ parts in your life. Its true nothing really evokes emotion strong enough unless related to something directly affecting your being/ evolving at some stage in life.
The point here being sometimes it helps to just watch, be that silent spectator, without a set of preconcieved notions or expectations. It's perhaps this they meant in all those lessons of objectivity towards being the oh-so- perfect journalist.
In about two days I have watched four absolutely diverse Indian films that take you through a plethora of communities, customs, religious associations and circumstancial concerns.
From Kaya Taran, a film on a Sikh-Catholic conversion during the 84 anti-Sikh riots to a documentary Sole Voice, Soul Voice about the first Rajasthani Manganaik female performer all the way to a documentary about Gulmohar Avenue, a Muslim dominated residential locality commonly called mini-Pakistan in Delhi and a feature Naseem set in the times of the demolition of Babri Masjid. The diversity of the films in itself left me warped and gazing into space for long hours merely trying to recollect all that I saw. There were times when I felt a connection, a deep relation to the movements on the screen which disappeared in a short span the moment my attention shifted to other details that made the words disappear to sound nothing close to understandable, almost inaudible. My mind seemed to be playing tricks with images appearing in flashes to never appear again, and voices, a babble of sorts. The little things I noticed made me laugh to myself, almost giggle loud enough to let the person in the next seat spring up in surprise. Devoid of thought attached to them films are a string of disconnected images that cloud your vision, with subtitles doing the trick with the speed making it feel like one optical illusion after the other.
More often than not I've drawn meaning out of things I have watched, tried to at least, making the visual display fade into nothingness with hours of discussing concepts and forgoing almost everything in filmmaking that comes in the steps to follow.
It's a rare feeling, a rarer chance of it staying, for now everything I watch is giving me a high and beckoning me into a new dimension. I can't help but enter the theatres with child-like excitement and douse myself in cups of coffee as I stare at the screen in complete rapture.

Bangalore!

2009-02-28T13:02:00.000-08:00

Its a lil surprising how drunk and dumb a city can get, you seem to find humour in the smallest things everywhere you go, anorexic women, guys wid gelled hair and low-waist jeans who look exactly like each other. Makes you wonder if there is anything people here do apart from stepping out in fancy clothes and gracing the draught counterpart of what we call beer, not that Chennai gives you anything worth classifying as actual beer.
The past few days have been a weird mix of random things, a forced vacation or rather the inability to keep up to what I have taken up as a job brought me here at a mere half hour notice.
- Shopping at the Leela Palace, a wannabe palace like just like most of the city is, satisfied with a lil glimpse of what it could/ should have been
- Three girls in a liquor shop at the Leela (no I refuse to call it a friggin palace), bad bad idea. Sula was the only thing we could settle for without risking a bad liquor day. And which one came more out of a recall of a gift I'd rather not remember.
- Purple Haze, and the singing out loud. Chasing Cars and Caesar!....aimless talks....endless beer...kicks out of an old couple getting cozy adjacent to our table.
- Aimless drive to the faaaar away airport. The aimless search for a tea stall in the middle of the night...
- Roof top curd rice
- Ice Spice and the dumb boundaries, the waiters who felt shifting a few inches would make them fall right in the legality of the smoking ban. Honestly save the few inches I salute you for obeying the law.
- Wine at the shady Scottish bar, the friendly and not-so-efficient bar tender. Golconda wine with the unusual sweetness.
- Sula on the balcony and the silence.
- The tears and the hugs.
Bangalore, subtle and loud in its own way, dumb in another. The city doesnt really make you fall in love with it or anything about yourself but the strangeness of the streets is a comfort I haven't felt in a long long time. Its soothing and scary at the same time. Walking on the streets is comforting, crossing roads isn't. No one seems to look ahead while walking the roads, looking around seems more in vogue. Metaphorical as it may sound, looking behind is worse perhaps.

History starts now

2009-02-27T00:54:00.000-08:00

Anonymity shields...laugh at yourself...cry at crossroads...and walk out feeling you are one amongst many...you are not alone...
Trying to gather and restore pieces of myself....rather whatever is left of me...
Hooked to 'World' by Five For Fighting... "Careful what you wish for, History starts now"

This takes the cake

2009-02-22T13:52:00.000-08:00

This had to be it I realised while I was driving around not paying so much attention to the ever-blaring song-repeating radio station in my car. When a famous city doc (my job teaches me witholding names for fear of running/bumping into them and have things fired straight back at me) who was being interviewed went into mode senti as her husband called. Also a doc by profession he was asked to drop a message for his wife, and he ever so sweetly went....she is a good wife, mother...blah...blah. The smart RJ cut him short saying I can see her blush here to which the dude reacted saying, "Am I on loudspeaker?" There was utter silence untill the RJ realised what had hit him and went, "You are on air sir". Silence again until the dude said, "So she can hear me?" The conversation was obviously interrupted by a track that had been played a few minutes ago. The loudspeaker bit indeed took me by storm and I laughed for quite a while until I was back home. It beats me, How stupid is too stupid?... And how is the extent of it always proportional to the number of people witnessing/ listening to it?

Notes

2009-02-21T13:13:00.000-08:00

Today's not-so-happening events :P

- I woke up claiming it was 10...to discover it was 2 in the pm :0

- I sat on a flight of stairs listening to SPB crooning away 'Dil Diwaana' with orange juice and red balloons for company.

- I threatened to take a cop to the police station, and laughed like a maniac.

- I sipped coffee alone at Amethyst...only to run into someone about four times.

- I watched Slumdog, finally, and it reinstated my belief in gujju potential.

- I sang crazy old hindi songs aloud on Chennai streets...

All this and more...I am 21 now...and this once I feel older.

Ma knows best

2009-02-16T14:28:00.000-08:00

Ma very cutely put it, "Your English muscles begin to ache" when I tried telling her I wanted to be home again. It may not make much sense but it couldn't get more apt. Ma you know it all. I concur.

Just another week

2009-02-11T13:48:00.001-08:00

Here's a mere list of things/ people I have met/ rubbed shoulders with/ spoken to or rather encountered in any way through a week at work. Also I would like to mention this has been but an ordinary eventless week and could be considered a representation of any other.

- A man , an artist who paints lingerie...I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, it was lingerie indeed but distorted in a way one could easily ignore as just another painting that needs either too much effort or too much time to comprehend , (no I still don’t call it aimless modern art, they almost always have stories behind them, which though might sound the utmost irrelevant are whacky nonetheless).
The same man paints headless figures, and writes in his paintings owing to an incident from his childhood where he accidentally blinded a man.
Intriguing? Crazy?....I stopped short of going hysterical

- An Algerian DJ, in shocking red pants and a red jacket, hair a mix of grey and white tied in a bun on top with strands sweeping his face which he whisked away with his hands tucking them carefully only to do it again in a few seconds. Plays Indian devotional music in clubs remixed with Afro sounds. As cool as it may sound, the result was chaotic sounds in all directions with sudden jarring noises that made people give up wanting to dance at the club. Also the man took suggestiveness to the next level winking as he completed every sentence making me wonder if it was an actual defect, one amongst his gay attributes or plain attempts aimed at me. The entire experience left me quite aghast and in a state of trauma until long after.
- Amongst other things was yet another p3 gathering. A noted artist’s daughter launches a line of soft furnishings. Owing to my stint with a property supplement and a string of home décor oriented stories I gladly took this as an opportunity for a comeback to that line of specialization. Much to my amusement, the celebrated line of furnishings that was cause for the gathering of the who’s who of the town was a display of 20 cushion covers. When I humbly appealed to be shown the entire line, I heard a very astounded, “This is it”, from the ‘creator’ herself, making me feel like a lesser mortal who perhaps did not realise the art work that went into the piece of cloth. She further went into explaining the various themes she had chosen to segregate the pieces and her inspirations. Sure enough she went back to the Vedas, dropping words the sound of which I categorise as tantric and do not probe further into. All this for cushion covers, surely I was a mere illiterate to this field of knowledge. After the enormous display along trees in the courtyard, I happened to pass the tea counters where many a designer clad women who someone with a normal vision would clearly regard as hefty stood by ordering, “No sugar for me please, only sugar free”. Some even exclaiming to the mention of that sinful component. Sugar is indeed sinful; brownies of course aren’t classified similarly. Indulgence was never so guilt-free .
- As an aside came a regular day of work when I was required to attend the weekly meet that starts at an hour as earthly as 12 in the noon. Having skipped these weekly work piling, lame table discussions out of sheer laziness a few times I decided I was going to be goody two shoes this week, what if I had had a few drinks and kept awake till the wee hours, I couldn’t possibly be late for something that began so late I thought. Not surprisingly I woke up when the clock struck 12 to rush myself to the meeting by 1 (it finishes by 1:30 J) Shabbily dressed, hung over and yawning like I hadn’t slept in a week I quietly made my way to a chair realizing of course that I couldn’t really prevent being the centre of attraction after committing a crime as big as that. My absolutely modest boss displaying his faith in me, simply smiled and said, “I knew you’d come, I was quite sure in fact”. In my zonked state I looked up and smiled, hit by another bout of yawns which I made a much unsuccessful attempt to conceal.
- The icing on the cake came with my day at the circus. Here is how it went. I was sent to the Gemini circus for a press conference. Yes, you heard it right, circuses have press conferences, true to their nature, in tents surrounded by camels and many other animals you stand a risk of running into if you are late. I was escorted to this tent after my frazzled looks at the verbal directions. The tent house a swarm of mosquitoes and a bunch of groping old men all in serious conversation about tigers and monkeys. I decided to find a way out of cracking up by making conversation about the Russian artists I was about to meet. I must say, I wasn’t exactly humoured. Stubborn as I can get, they conceded into letting me meet the artists a half hour prior to when the show began. The first one I was introduced to was called ‘Maxim’. He seemed to be very amused with his own name and suggested I should call him ‘maximum’. Clearly the jokes don’t help when everything in the vicinity does not belong to the distinction of Homo sapiens. After this I was taken to their living spaces, on what seemed like an endless walk with clouds of DDT blinding us enough not to notice the route or even a presence as humble as that of an elephant. I stopped a few steps short of Maxim waiting for the cloud to clear only to discover I was facing an elephant a few inches away who did not seem particularly amused at someone walking straight into him. My brief moment of mortification was interrupted by Maxim warning me about the mounds on the way, elephant shit he said, you might not notice. We made our way over planks propped over uneven ground and potholes at places. I was finally shown into a room with about five Russian women and one man besides Maxim himself. I could smell something distinctly familiar and unsettling; I knew it was the smoke, weed not tobacco that reminds me of an unpleasant experience. The room was full, full of everything one could imagine and never imagine in a room. Clothes, cigarettes, tables, chairs, raw meat and mosquitoes which probably covered the larger part of it. A few brief moments of conversation that revealed their roles in the circus and their experiences and I was itching to leave. I said my friendly goodbyes and gestured to Maxim to show me the way out of the trap-like place. He smiled and said, “I hope you will find your way back, it was nice meeting you”. The look on my face went from a paleness to complete horrification at the thought of the daunting task of wading my way out surrounded by elephants. Thankfully, before my imagination leapt any further he offered to escort me to the exit, I admit I didn’t leave him much choice.
Jokes apart, the trip did give me a jolt. After my endless trips to government hospitals I had concluded I couldn’t see worse until I visited the circus. I cringed with the images I had seen hours later, every flash sending a shiver down my spine. Specialised artists being treated like scum in something one would not dare call a ‘living space’. As they prepared for their next show, ten minutes away they seemed content with the surroundings, much at ease themselves minus the embarrassment of my horror at every sight. I felt a sudden sickness in my gut and ran out through the exit. Thoughts of not having probed into the issue with the authorities made me feel guilty, my work was half done, I tried but couldn’t walk back, I was for once scared, scared out of what I had seen. I craved for the comfort of my home, of the walls, the familiarity, the lack of stench, the sickening odour of life in all its many forms.
I am back home, I am safe, what I saw today will stick in my memory and replay itself to make me cringe over and over again until I go back, back there and do my job.

aaaargh!

2009-01-21T14:29:00.000-08:00

Writing is liberation, from a claustrophobia that comes out of too much in the mind perhaps. A little sorting helps sometimes, somethings always need to be directed right into the trash can, ya, the one thats spilling over already...

Random things

2009-01-21T13:20:00.000-08:00

A week in Delhi...back...happy...

1. Its not cold anymore...no need for a quick fix...no matter where you go at what point in the day or night it can't possibly get any close to what you have been calling 'cold' all this while...the heat somehow feels like a blessing
2. The roads seem wider, wider than ever. Driving on them bliss...nothings a tough squeeze anymore. I feel like driving all over town with a rare overpowering confidence that comes outta having seen the worst.
3. No more contemplating where to go and when based on parking speculations which almost always give into Murphy's divine law.
4. I don't cock my ears to the sound of a few words of Hindi dropped about anywhere in the vicinity of where I am located. Hindi music now sounds normal, not an unusual luxury.
5. Windows don't need to be closed for fear of prying neighbours (read Punju women) who somehow always manage to catch you doing or saying something that can be fit into any context in any way and used to their best advantage.
6. People jostling on the roads IS cause for concern...and cannot be undermined/ ignored as a fight over stupid (read utterly important) things such as parking space.
7. It is absolutely normal to wear a jeans and a tee!...a visit to the local kiraane waala (panwadi) whatever the case may be does not require matching earrings! Flip flops are wearable and not regarded as signs of tam influence.
8. A gurudwara is a landmark! You aren't posed with daunting questions like 'which one?'
9. Surds suddenly CAN be counted without the risk of being beaten up at their mention.
10. Swearing is serious business, not way of conversation.

Things that make me wanna go back
Rampyari chai
Fruit mojitos
socks
Heaters
Quilts
Aloo tikki
Radio Mirchi
NSD
India Gate
Fab India
Costa
CP

Memory

2008-10-09T13:11:00.000-07:00

' I don't wanna move a thing....
It might change my memory'... Dido

Amongst the many weird things I relate to.....I wouldn't move a speck to let those memories remain.

In monochrome

2008-09-24T16:58:00.000-07:00

Someone said I should write...a little more readable, minus all those continuities...sentences, grammar driven. I am beyond repair, I am over writing to be read, reminds me of work. Work.. none now.
There's nothing predictable, the things you do, the results and whatever comes in between.
I love my home, I love the way it looks, I love how it screams out ME!! from every nook of it. I hate unlocking doors, doors that open into darkness and hardly a world beyond. I love noise, music sometimes sounds like a blurr, early after a sleepless night when you lie close to a speaker, maybe its just my disorientation.
There's nothing on my mind, except the thought of the next day, the new morning/ afternoon, the after-taste of the night and a tingling pain.
I can't define my needs, I've spent days in yonder, I've cried over and over in shock for someone I barely knew but can't ever forget.
I've walked out of a show coz I couldn't contain my tears.
Will I ever stop associating people with the places I see everyday, the clothes I wear, the sounds I hear? The distinct smell?
I want to write more often, I am sleepless enough. I want to sleep, but that's another thing.
The course of my life might forever change with the things I do today, now. I refuse to take notice. There's a passivness, in my voice. A detachment, it's a part of me. Nothing seems to deserve reaction. Its a world in monochrome, a life in black and white as he put it. Clear lines, hazy at the edges yet devoid of any bursts of colour that evoke reaction.
Days and nights are passing, quick, I want them to be fuller, fuller so I don't lose them so soon.

in love...again

2008-07-07T13:40:00.000-07:00

Two months have flown, literally...work...forms a part of me...somewhere within...occupies my being my consciousness and fills the bits of the lack of it...its like living work...the life non- existent...
Hate to admit this...but I love the constant pressure...the paradox of each day....and the city..making me fall in love with itself...over and over again....at the end of everyday...
As immaterial as the person who said this to me would be I find it the truest ever....this city grows onto you...into your conscience in a way it's almost a fear gripping you...the thought of having to do without it....of things that make you connect and disconnect surpassing your own existence..
And sometimes the realisation strikes you at those moments you'd truly call nonchalant...a discussion...where I see myself defending it in a way I'd never do for something I held onto and would refuse to let go...
It is perhaps something about letting go that makes me fall in love...clutch harder...grow fonder...relive...recall...
I've loved...lost...broken...rebuilt...learnt....felt...thought...realised ..grown....and in everything it seems impossible to isolate...far from remove the city...the backdrop...its being...as patient as ever...waiting...perhaps longing for acceptance....like I did...
The small changes that came with everyday...make me sit back and notice....of the changes that developed in me...out of habit...and yet a certain consciousness that comes out of calling something my own.
I still have my share of cravings....of wanting to go 'home'....to a place where belongingness surpases the fondness...the viability of living with it....and its capability of fulfilling what I now call my needs.
It's a marvel...looking back at a day at the end of it...just one day...and the every little thing I've learnt throught it...the little warmth every thing/ person made me feel through it. The paradox of co-existence...the extent of it...boggles me...and yet it has turned unspeakable..more now than ever before...
A time when I felt expressing the difference in me was the hardest thing to do...has turned to one when the simple things that have crept into me have turned harder to express.
Concealed on the surface...like the charm of that first crush...that you fear might lessen when expressed...I refuse to open up with this long embedded - new found love
Art as it is...an inherent part of a being...is burried deep...in the core...in every aspect of the life of this place...spurting out at the edges in forms unimaginable...in ways that strike you and baffle you with how close you are really to it.
Observing your surroundings..in a large way enhances the learning..of yourself...of the hidden parts in you that need perhaps excavation which comes out of relating to an existence in front of you.
Enough and more...in all days has brought me to this...back to those times...I speak less...write lesser...the words cease when the boundaries of expression become seamless.
On a lighter side...I am at a loss of ways to describe how just a typical day leaves me at a high...
Its the signs....the exploring beyond my restricted physical boundaries...when I take a step ahead...and I am shocked at the lack of the anticipated fear...of the very little or no resistance I receive to them.
My room is back to its... paranomal...cleanliness deprived...paper littered...smoke filled state...I feel at home...
I am up at night...with a day ahead....and work enough to fill every minute I spend typing this....and I feel at ease...
The longings remain...the forgotten ones...the newfound ones...and I plan to blog more often...

Phew!

2008-06-05T08:47:00.000-07:00

Its another phase...this too shall pass...like everything does....does it?..
There's very lil that stays till the end...how does it matter?...nothing does...

P.S:- Demands another drink( hands thrown up in the air)

this day deserves marking

2008-05-29T15:23:00.001-07:00

Marked.

Read it.period

2008-05-29T15:01:00.000-07:00

Read My Mind

On the corner of main street
Just tryin' to keep it in line
You say you wanna move on and
You say I'm falling behind

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

I never really gave up on
Breakin' out of this two-star town
I got the green light
I got a little fight
I'm gonna turn this thing around

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

The good old days, the honest man;
The restless heart, the Promised Land
A subtle kiss that no one sees;
A broken wrist and a big trapeze

Oh well I don't mind, you don't mind
Cause I don't shine if you don't shine
Before you go, can you read my mind?

It’s funny how you just break down
Waitin' on some sign
I pull up to the front of your driveway
With magic soakin' my spine

Can you read my mind?
Can you read my mind?

The teenage queen, the loaded gun;
The drop dead dream, the Chosen One
A southern drawl, a world unseen;
A city wall and a trampoline

Oh well I don't mind, you don't mind
Cause I don't shine if you don't shine
Before you go
Tell me what you find when you read my mind

Slippin’ in my faith until I fall
You never returned that call
Woman, open the door, don't let it sting
I wanna breathe that fire again

She said
Oh well I don't mind, you don't mind
Cause I don't shine if you don't shine

Put your back on me
Put your back on me
Put your back on me

The stars are blazing like rebel diamonds cut out of the sun
When you read my mind

And there's nothing more I can say...m speechless...tired...tipsy...sprained necked (ignore the patheticness of how i came up wid tht( n tht too)) neway... :P...

I am Bored....

Conversations

2008-05-22T13:08:00.000-07:00

Conversations give me a high...real ones ...everything else is what I would call mere 'accompaniments'. They leave you calmer, softer and wishfull... losing ground into a strata above, differentiated, disconnected, dreaming....they make you heady

the transience of my thoughts

2008-05-20T14:04:00.000-07:00

Like a few other things, I tend to get addicted to certain words for a while, not the kinds I speak over and over again just the ones I spend time deciphering, scraping their depths past every layer, its weird and I sometimes wonder if its only me. The most recent one being 'Transient', saying it to myself I marvel at how aptly it describes everything, everyone, a time, a place, life itself and how badly we actually wish it didn't exist. Maybe these thoughts are transient too. And we try so hard, mindful of the actual inevitability of the inevitable. Why don't we ever stop?

P.S:- Maybe I should stop. I am getting a lil too philosophical. I just need a drink :P

I am giving up on the 'titles'

2008-05-19T13:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes everytthing bites you...real hard....keep moving...and you look back at how much farther and quicker you've moved....i feel old as the unpredicitibility of everyday reduces

P.S:- And now I'll have to name this post...half the reason to why I give up on blogging so often...maybe thats why I can never get those headlines in place...its a pain

attempt to write a nonsensical post in a stupid senti mood

2008-04-25T14:51:00.001-07:00

Okay...here's what it is...
For all those people who can't get past/ get their eyes off 'bad spellings'...to an extent that it feels like an illness...and then you are bombarded with all the being cynical at all times sorta taunts...
Frankly...its never hard...and I've found enough and more of my kind...even the ones...who pick the phone right up just to break the news to me...share the feeling...laughin no end and the unbearable urge of wanting to do something to it.
Its a fact, i haven't gotten past a single book without having spotted such 'mistakes'...
I touch the papers and my eyes are away from what I am reading and over one of these 'errors' in a fraction of a second...I have once spent all my time in a 'Copy Editing' exam highlighting spelling errors in parts of the paper that weren't required to be edited...leaving this at that...
The point is...I plan to make this list...list of the most amazing ones I've heard...read rather...there are a few I'l list done instantly...the ones that inspired me to dedicate a post to the cause....and ya...I plan to mention the source...the fun lies there...

Siniyars (the pronounciation couldn't get closer could it) - on an otherwise gujju 'lets make franship' kinda scrap...

On a restaurant menu- Fresh Lime Soda (Sweat/ Salt)...eeewww...really...but...where's the difference then? :P

On the same restaurant menu- Meet kadhai ...to which Dad shot an instant...Say hello to Kadhai...

There are others...like the tiny one I manage to notice everytime...on my way home from Chennai airport...Puncher Shop....seriously?...

These are all I can think of right now...dead of the night...add to them if you remember any...

The Brick Lane

2008-04-24T15:43:00.000-07:00

And mum said, " But we are only women, what can we do?"....and I said, " Many things". - Brick Lane by Monica Ali
One of the most profound movies I've ever watched...
Completion isn't in a presence around you, in the lack of it or getting used to the lack, it is when you look back and smile at your present...at 'freedom'.

(The movie deserves a post in itself...coming up...)

Choices...none

2008-04-21T13:59:00.000-07:00

Never got to choose...not when it mattered....happenings....happen...
this once....I decide....me....yet i feel...powerless....

In the name of?

2008-04-18T15:59:00.000-07:00

I just discovered, playing games with Google, in some part of the country, actually some part of Orissa there exists a river I share a name with....and a valley by the river which is named the same.

I couldn't help but spill this out...trying as hard as I can to not be narcissistic....after all a similar name strikes a cord...n in most cases more than just that...

One mention of your name...could be another's too...and you wish to hear why it was in conversation.

We are all hungry for recognition, and once recognized approval...its constant...stays within us, defines our speech, action...even writing...

Its been a while, yet my face brightens up everytime I see my name in the papers, the excitement of every byline is still so unique, childlike....something I look at and smile...forgetting whatever was on my mind.....sometimes I like to wait till morning just to see the papers, my name...glance long enough to let the picture fix into my mind....just to sleep with that smile on my face...

What kind of world do you want?

2008-04-13T14:22:00.000-07:00

What kind of world do you want?Think AnythingLet's start at the startBuild a masterpieceBe careful what you wish forHistory starts now... Should there be people or peoplesMoney, Funny pedestals for Fools who never payRaise your Army - Choose your SteepleDon't be shy, the satellites can look the other way Lose the Earthquakes - Keep the FaultsFill the oceans without the salt

- Five For Fighting

The thought on my mind…quite similar.
As I left the city, a vague sort of unsettling gripped my gut, something very unlike the usual travel anxiety I have. Its gonna take a while untill I am back, weird, I cudnt help but feel I’d miss this place. Maybe not, maybe I was just too lazy for that entire transition untill I’d be a place where I can slumber again without having to spend the day travelling.
I reached the most dreaded place….the airport..I have a knack of makin a fool outta myself at this one place…every single time..every airport I step into…is it my fault?
Anyway…like always…I went in running only to discover I was at the wrong check in counter…and then to discover the right one I was standin at had a terminal prob jus wen it was my turn…until the third time I realised I hadnt screened my baggage…so ya…I FINALLY check in…to reach the security check where I feel terribly awkward with all the suspicious looks…for heavens sake…stop them…if i was actually caryying a bomb I wouldn’t give it away by looking so freaked!!....To top it airports are full of paranoid first time flyers…people who feel a boarding call is the be all and end all of things…and if they dint somehow jostle their way to the plane they’d miss it, little realising that the queque behind (and ahead) is their co-passengers. So I got pushed by one such paranoid woman in bright pink who jostled her way into pushin my poor laptop off the screenin to land, thankfully, in my hands….
Another I fail to figure out, is this, people on airports are constantly on phone calls, presuming, the louder they are the more important they appear, especially while on the coach to the plane, embracing their phones untill enough and more announcements have been made and the cabin crew has (almost) threatened them to switch their phones off.
I boarded the flight…after having exchanged looks with someone who either was or resembled my senior from school…a guy who I met just once, he sat next to me during my 10th standard boards….whoaa…kudos to my memory…I remember his name….my memory is a pain!
I was seated in between an elderly woman and a man perhaps in his forties…the woman extremely interested in where I was headed to in Bombay and the exact pages I would stop to look at while flipping through a magazine. Much to her bewilderment I din’t know where I was headed to, untill I remembered the remote mention of Chembur in my conversation with dad at some point. I turned to her relieved and spurted out the information carefuly, until I get yet another glance of ‘Now you are making it up, and I’ve discovered you aint no resident there’.

I like to sleep through flights…and wake up to a destination..right at landing….and I love take offs…its as thrilling as a roller coaster…infact more…the sense of speed…and that split second of weightlesness …until you soar above…leaving a city behind…the aerial view…at dusk…is the most beautiful you get to see…..twilight…mixed with the little articial lights…making the sky look magical…and everything below…fading into darkness….yet identifiable against the background of the sunset. I marvel at my own ability to recognize buildings from that height…entire areas…bridges…roads….its amazing. It gave me a sense of comfort, a familiarity, an attachment I haven’t felt with a city in a long time, the last time I felt that way was when I crossed the Palace gates at Baroda to leave…forever perhaps…I cudnt hold those tears back…I felt something similar….something close…
A few days,I was at the threshold trying to decide which side my world for the rest of the year will be, today I felt doubtless….happy…about my decisions…looking forward already…to being back…to something which isnt, perhaps will never be ‘home’ but was getting closer and closer to the bare minimum that would make me call a place that.
I was leaving, suddenly I dint feel like, a strange wish, of wanting to turn things back which stayed…making me heavy untill I fell asleep.

I woke up..well in advance of the landing, sleepy..cranky like I am when I wake up without someone familiar around.
A while…tea sipped…magazine flipped through twice and given up at….keeping my eyes off the old woman’s gaze I looked down…from the window….as we circled Mumbai…the darknes…the lights…the high rise buildings…each one of them…siginificant yet lost in the huge sea of their likes…reminding me of the last scene of the movie ‘Babel’…unforgettable…and I could feel it…see it…everything fade into the larger picture..slowly…significantly…I felt small, insignificant…unwelcome…to something so huge…I’ve always been put off by the pretentiousness that forms the staple of this place, of how living in anonymity doesn’t seem to bother people, and how perhaps they are unmindfull of the anonymity that surrounds them all the time, through the distances the city houses.
I’ve secretly desired to live here, to give myself just enough time to taste this feeling, of being no one….to anything…or anyone around…to be one amongst a million others…to make a place for myself…here…in this city of dreams. I can’t get myself to, I can’t seem to want more than I have/ will have. One profound life, in a distinctly familiar world, that recognizes your presence beyond your outwardness, beneath the realm of your thoughts, categorising at times, widening at most,paving a way, throwing things your way, getting you addicted….to life…to yourself…its just the kind of world I want
Very reluctantly to myself, I admit I've found it in the least expected ways, throught these times, there's no place I'd rather be than here.

Its True!!!

2008-04-10T16:31:00.000-07:00

Its been the happiest day.....everything...every effort I made has paid off...
yet its an end...an end to a whole life...the beginning of the new...the fear of the unknown...the looking back...the smiling....the reasons...its been a roller coaster...all worthwhile...to this day...i've smiled....i've laughed....i wanna scream...for myself....for all that i have...for all those I love, love so much I cant express...for all that I wish I had....for all those who I left behind...who left me behind....
Its soon...its been too soon....time flies....pinch me...it doesnt seep....
playing in the background...trying to find myself- lifehouse...cudnt get more apt...yet another coincidence....
all the talkin...makin myself believe....of another phase...passed....
the time...i gave myself....the time...that made me think...gives me a high...
I wept....cried....hard...it hurt...it felt....its me...its true...!!!...
Cheers to today...to yesterday that started it...cheers to ME!!!!!

Here...now....

2008-04-07T13:00:00.001-07:00

Its ironic how one of the most hilarious movies I have watched can make me write a post of this sort, the nature of things around you sometimes makes you perceive things in a context that goes either completely with or against them, or perhaps it is true that coincidences happen to be the most inherent part of our lives, something, someone always makes those things happen that make you wanna smile to yourself when no one’s looking and go ‘No one can really understand that’.
Coming back to the movie, ‘Outsourced’ as it was called is based on the increasing trend of BPOs in the country, which has reached an extent of having penetrated villages and redefined the basis of its functioning, with minimum resources and man power, anyway all this is more history now. I would love to review this movie, but I guess I’ll leave that for later, movies can wait!
Three long years in a city, life, freedom redefined, it has been a quest, of wanting to learn, to grow while still surviving each day, it continues in a way except when I decide to look back. To all the things and times I detested, to all those people who seemed to be no more than a farce of existence around me, so different from ‘home’, though home is something I have never really been able to define, a lil sense of belonging is all it takes, anything beyond is only for the dreams. Life moved, one step at a time, the periods of stagnation being the longest, seeming so at least, things changed, gradually, then rapidly from time being a boulder needing clearing to it turning into the rarest of those commodities.
It was only a few years until I am back at the threshold, time zooping past closer to it, looking back into an abyss, with no memory of where it all began, with no signs of being able to trace the end. Change has been a constant, perhaps the only thing that was/ is, times went past, people, places, homes…houses rather…relationships built, broken, lingering, straining, to newer ones, snapped, scraped. Maybe they mattered, maybe they do, the moments hold, memory fails to deceive you.
The utter eventfulness of the past year, thinking about it can drive me into madness, of how rapid events, pitfalls, rewards, brought things to what they are today, a perfect jigsaw, a complete picture, yet visibly separable at the borders.
I wish sometimes, to prize apart every one of them, in the order to trace things back, reverse a few, perhaps not.
Everything is relative, there aint nothing greater or smaller without that, just how you never realize how far ahead you have moved until you look back at someone/ something you left behind.
Learnings of the city, of times, of people found, people lost and a rare few found again, above all myself, its been a journey of odds, its now time for realization, for once looking around and not behind, for once at the ones who stayed and not those who left, for all that which fills my treasure box every single day making it deeper and deeper.
Time is a factor, so is a place, circumstances, events, coincidental, people a result of all put together, living, loving, leaving you with lil moments all along.
What lies ahead, and what behind, the spaces I fill, the vacuum I still create, doesn’t seem to matter. Wishing for nothing more than I have now, for no one to fill the gaps left, for all those who are around, I wake up each morning wanting to live the day. Could there be anything/ anywhere better?

they were signs

2008-04-01T16:26:00.000-07:00

I miss the rain
Did it rain?
They were signs
Mebbe I woke up
a few times, dint matter
dreams persist
between wakefulness
dream back, the rythm
no full stops
the little jitters
ease, comfort, fright
they were signs
the fullness, plush
devoid of a lack
and the attempts
and the cries
all missing? all complete?
profound....neither
dawn speaks, reminds
its bright, its day they say
i need the sleep
i need the time
takes a while
signs again...
look back, perhaps not
memory's a faint tool
scrapes the wrong places
distance...acceptance
live on, grow up
takes a day
only one
untill you know its come
untill time binds
its a thin line
and blindfolded,
you step over
silence, not that kind
the uneasy one
transparent, visual only
not enough?
perhaps, it feels
distance numbs?
hardly, perhaps
recognition fails
ability to connect, time
they are few
they live on, they grow
with you, even without you
they come back
wake you up
people? never is
its change
the thought of it
the antecipation
the words, trivial ones
look back
smile, another day?
another change!
tiring, the slumber
consistency
the only comfort
questions
not again!!!

The (post) rant

2008-04-01T15:39:00.000-07:00

And the hangover remains...the only thing that does...perhaps and the emptiness...the evenings...
Life's back on the move....literally....3 days since I've been home...and now that I am...it seems lost...the preoccupation begins....weird thing....the running things/ events through your mind of what has been happening and what you are gonna do...keeps me so occupied at times...I forget to react...seriously...is it only me?...and those notepads to list down the things I have to do never help...I lose them every friggin time...and ya...those purple post it notes on my yellow wall...they remind me of the least important tasks...coz the most important ones always fly away...land upside down on the floor..creating a 'purple' mess and proving Murphy right...yet again!...Murphy you are god....I accept...its time the rest of the world did too...
So...from the 3 day dreaded joblesness...which seemed to pass quicker than ever....with more to do than I could ever imagine...I am back in work mode...a launch to look forward to...those huge hoardings at every possible nook an corner...that go 'Next Change?'...give me a sense of satisfaction...even sadistic pleasure...of the insecurities it has brought to a lotta ppl in town...I cant help but look up everytime to each one of those boards....and smile with a wink....its gonna be BIG...real BIG...and we all secretly look forward to the official beginning of the battle ;)....mebbe jus the stepping into the battleground....its been a while since it began....
Hope to stay here...hope to see it happen....though the fear of being idle makes me rethink....ironically...it never really happens!!....life is about packed days (and nights)....and I conclude it will NEVER change...hmph!...
And ya....I am working for the BIG day....and I will be a part of it...in print of not in person...hush hush...yay!...
An 'art' story....been a while...a dreaded afternoon drive inclusive...yet...the excitement is back...craving to get started....the rest in paper....21st april.... :)...
For those who doubted, continue to doubt me at this....m supposed to be working on some tech crap....oops...a tech story....ironical...I cant get myself to operate my own goddamn phone....hats off to those in office who continue to trust my writin...despite bein at my worst...and ignoring all the threats of 'I'll kill you if you don't send me the story'....I love you guys for not adding to the mess in my brains....
the rest remains the same....being on the run....exploring the slightest opportunities for the much needed quotes...regardless of what or how important the topic of conversation at that point may be....lil visits from friends...lil surprises...make way for those unexpected smiles...
and the ranting shall never end...arent blogs meant for it?...
anyway...go on...live....stay put...give in....stop by sometimes and smile....life comes a full circle....there's no escape....I am where I can see the beginning...distant yet clear....hurrah!....

It IS the TRUTH

2008-03-25T14:42:00.000-07:00

Witness the The TRUTH...on the 27th and 29th....
at Sivagami Pethachi Auditorium...
Its World Theatre Day!!!.....and its finally here....

the journey

2008-03-22T13:58:00.000-07:00

And times pass....and days go by...
and lil moments....the changes that v watched...grew with....turned a part of...
the reading...the laughing....the stupidity....the profoundness....
the screaming...liberation...insight....the days...the days that seemed shorter....that u wish u cud hold on to...
the trust...the bonds....the pushing each other forward....
the break downs...the frustrations...the surge...the emotions left behind...the emotions that built....
the cigarettes....the spell....the shortlivedness of it...the longing...the overcoming...the surges...the control...the memories....the tokens...
the flowers....the downfalls....the sensitivity....removed yet evident...
the wanting...the craving....the counting days....the wait....the fear of the end....the longing for the day...the fear of its end....
fusion...recluse....remains...revisits...past...present...days gone by...days to come....days that might never come....
its like a life lived...a journey...the end seems distant...its not far away...

Only if I had a title enough!

2008-03-07T14:41:00.000-08:00

'Hear yourself speak'....ever heard someone say this to you...perhaps yes...but how often does it actually make you think and do what it really means....said to me in a completely different context by an absolutely different person who probably has no relation to what I am talking about (or perhaps he does)...leaving it at that anyway...no direct relation...
But ya....I've tried doing that...speak out loud...not conscious of what you speak...but conscious while you speak those words...its alarming...especially now...
Sometimes you see a little....perhaps a lot of someone brush off on you...so much so that...when you speak those words you can almost hear them say it....jus the way you did...rather just the way they would have (the 'way' aint yours anyway)....like those conversations when you narrate something to someone...and both those involved in the conversation know the third person...its a picture that emerges in your mind...so perfectly imaginable...
Its this that I've been feeling lately...those words come out....and make me freeze the moment they do...and I wish I could say this aloud...but there are things that can't be understood...related to...but I feel like giving myself that lil whack and say....did you just say this?....and didn't it just sound soooooooooo like him.....so friggin like he'd have said it....ah!....this post is probably quite incomprehensible...but what the fuck...now that I've begun I guess I'll finish it to satisfy myself...
its very strange...n then you begin making efforts...to sound like yourself...all the time...and then it makes you try and shut yourself up...which is very very torturous for those like me who'd die without the yapping....actually not so true....but ya...thats how I am with most people...and I'd like them to know me that way....silence is more expressive...and works only wen someone fills it up without actually putting in those words....anyway...these are just diversions...blame my being completely disoriented...with those sudden highs and lows...the times in between these extremes make me wonder what I should be doing...
And again...there are things running thru your mind...like those mental flashbacks...split seconds at a time...n u seem to remember tiny things...gestures...looks given..exchanged...n they seem all muted...the words are a blurr...not all though...the words which felt like you'd remember them for a lifetime...but no...its not those...its those tiny things that remind you...its those things that come to you and make you relate them to every thing you say or do....every visual that your eyes witness...every thing that passes by...your thoughts just seem programmed to pick out of a particular slot and relate every moment to it...its just weird...
you really wanna erase that part of your mind...like it never existed...and skip to another...and start all over again...conscious....speculative...and yet everytime your words sound like its him who spoke them...it makes you smile...and every lil trip back into memory...gives you a rush...and you only wish your memory was more in your control...yet secretly hope it never really was...

To these times

2008-03-02T14:03:00.000-08:00

How often do you get to see those extremes in your life?
From the moment when everything came crashing, the brief lonely spell, the most dreaded…to the surge of people, making their presence felt, crying with you, laughing, holding you together, making you realize your worth and much more…
From the lows of losing it all, all that you have ever earned…to raising a notch above where you were placed, giving you a high…
Three days, every hour, every moment, lived, remembered, and cherished, to be etched in memory for time to come…
When you long for yourself, for those reasons, for control, for that rush, when you could die just to feel alive…
cheers to this life…to all these times…and for those to come
This is what it takes…perhaps…just to feel…alive!

addiction(s)

2008-02-28T15:59:00.001-08:00

Amongst others pain is an addiction...and unlike others....it never fails to give you that kick

Yesterday

2008-02-08T04:50:00.000-08:00

I lay here….just like I did…but alone..
The music plays…the same one that did…it was just yesterday…I miss it already
Felt so complete…them…me…things said…and those unsaid…
The cup of tea lies abandoned…
Bliss he called it…bliss it was
And the emptiness now…

On days like these.

2008-02-06T11:42:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I feel like the luckiest person on earth, writing, writing my heart out and having people read it, respond, and at so many times recognize you by it, its a great feeling. Makes you feel on top of the world, the fact that you define peoples’ staple for the morning, their views, a lot of their conversation, times when you make an impact. And at more times than this it feels like a responsibility that you carry on your shoulders all the time something weighing you down, making you feel you just can’t take your life easy. Nothing can be excused, misinterpretations, analysis, bias. Trying hardest to come out with the truth, precise yet complete, there’s a typical low I experience before I put pen to paper, rather fingers to keypad (blame technology for making us lose such phrases). Like now, I have it all, everything in place, the data collected over hours of calls, quotes obtained after having put up with a million tantrums by so many people. All it needs now, is the consolidation, the writing, the (very) little bit of creativity (almost restricted to the beginning and the end) and the flow. Its weird when your mind just refuses to wanna write, flip sides of writing for a living I presume. Writing for a hobby, for expression, for covering up those vocal limitations, is such an inherent yet a voluntary part of our lives, when forced to with a set audience hits differently, a sort of stage fear, when you go weak in the knees at the thought of the world watching you, judging you by it. And being in the field, there’s little liberty, no lack of inspiration, no writer’s block can ever be excused, you, are expected to be like the machines churning out the crap you write, giving out the same quality, the same amount of work, infact even the little personal touch with every story. Such are times when you wanna sit back, relax, read, write perhaps, vague things, everything except what you are ‘supposed’ to write about, like now.
Three stories await my attention, my completion, and the night’s calm, the music, the supple, perfect weather, everything seems so deprived of the power to inspire you, to make you write, the way you are wanted to, those perfectly chosen words, the lack of (almost) perception, the objectivity, and yet again the responsibility.
I want to write, I wanna continue writing, just this way, where I can write what I feel, where I am myself, devoid of the fear of judgment, the demands. Being fed with the right things to say, the way to do so, I am now itching, itching to be heard, as myself, with everything that I wish to say. It’s a game, the one with words, and I am addicted.

Ummm..music?

2008-02-04T04:55:00.000-08:00

Music is back in my life…

Perception changing constantly

Feelin the same way

2008-02-01T08:08:00.000-08:00

Running through my head…

Feeling the same way all over again
Singing the same lines all over again
No matter how much I pretend
No matter how much I pretend
- Norah Jones

Will this pass?

2008-01-27T11:29:00.000-08:00

I've started talking less, or rather stopped speaking as much as I used to, explains the staying away from blogging for a while. Its perhaps coz I don't feel like doing so or maybe just don't find the need to. There are times, rather phases in your life when you wanna talk, loud, to be heard, to be understood and others when you just want the silence to seep deeper, deep enough to your core to let all that has happened slowly engulf you. There are times when you lose your own grounding, the very thing that defines who you are, makes you feel yourself and then you don't want to speak up, you want it to stay, to heal it all you need to feel it first, sooner or later you know its coming to get you. You feel like holding your breath, to let it settle, to numb yourself, and the moment you let go, you feel it, a gash harder and deeper than you imagined. And then, nothing helps, talking the least. Much worse than it seemed at the surface. You tend to look around observe, you get to know people, things about them, the way you never did, you notice things about them, eventually about yourself. Surprised at your own gestures, what they convey, the way they do you wanna call all those words trivial, all those ever said or heard. Watching, feeling and reliving everything in my head, its another world coinciding with the reality that holds you, tries to grip you, losing grip and failing every moment. I know it'l be over soon, and the light isn't too far away, it won't be long before I 'speak up' again. Listening, watching, feeling, living there's not much that remains unexpressed, the eyes betray you more often than not, mindful of the rest of you. I wait, and wait longer to wake up to another day, another world, for the numbness, yet wanting more of this phase, of letting it pierce, shake me up and remind me of what I am. Or will this as they say just pass?

Beyond the window

2008-01-16T13:37:00.000-08:00

Little as I was far far away,
Dreary and puffy eyed,
Beyond the windows it lay
I looked, I smelt, trying
To taste it in some way
Felt like an illusion
Of sleeplessness,
Long hours of prying
Until one day, I stumbled
Across reality,
The world they called ‘real’
A dream it seemed like
With those who rushed past, and
Those who wished to stay
Lurking inside, the pleasure of return
Staring at the window,
On the outside this once
Hopeful longing of
A past preserved
Wishing to turn around
To run, to leap into it
With every step taken,
Every addition to the distance
Blurred, yet sights of the window,
And beyond beckoned
Fast forward
I still look back, my eyes
Are weak with the strain
Of living, perhaps trying
Every act of,
Keeping oneself alive
Of treading on the same path
Outwards
Of losing ground, with every step
Of trying to fly,
To return to that day,
When the world outside, lay
Forbidden by the walls.

Wake up!

2008-01-15T13:40:00.000-08:00

Ever done something outta sheer impulse? Ever just stepped out, left everything that was more than just important almost necessary and followed your heart? Ever felt the excitement that runs through you outta the unexpectedness of your reactions? You get back to the 'task' of life and realise, regret, look back at how things would be otherwise, yet take pleasure in your decisions, that little time when you could cut yourself off to do silly things and smile like a kid, like waking up to the sound of rain on your window sill and looking around giving yourself the liberty of a few more minutes of slumber when you can least afford to. Just being impulsive for a few minutes can make you feel so alive, so much different from the so-called lives we force ourselves into. Step out, feel the wind, everything can wait, but these moments. P.S:- Thanks Caesar, it took that little push to wake me up :)

Freedom

2008-01-02T11:44:00.000-08:00

The winding roads, the narrow lil path
an endless expanse...
standing at the edge
atop the ruined abode...those heights
and all that lay below
felt a power, a strange line
the one between holding on and stepping over
I want to stand there and scream
to stay there and close my eyes
to feel the wind
to look down and not shiver
to stand there...somewhere so beautiful
in oblivion, myself, no thoughts
no memories rushin thru
to switch the mind away from sight
for flash seconds
like dysfunctional picture tubes
no craving to hear, to speak, to touch, to feel
to not wanna look behind
or forward.
beneath...there it lies...
freedom...

a new year

2007-12-31T09:07:00.000-08:00

A new year they say
Wake me up, pinch me
Nothing around feels quite 'new'
Reminiscence, not quite
It still feels like yesterday

A lil surprise

2007-12-29T02:49:00.000-08:00

It happens everytime, when nothing seems right. Of days of highs and lows, of days spent wondering why does everything always go wrong. On the worst of them all, when I am slowly giving up, giving in and letting it all go.
From miles across, out of sheer instinct.....and my phone rings.....a while a mellow...and things seem to get figured out. The transition perfect, like always, the smile to the genuine laugh. Regrets remain of a lot unsaid, of times that should have been, of things that should be sorted. But all comes later, those few minutes are of being lost, of laughing hard, of letting the tears trickle, of being the kid again.
Its enough to get me convinced, distances don't matter, not those measured in miles at least.

A 'merry' Christmas

2007-12-26T13:07:00.000-08:00

For all those who know me and have spoken to me in the past month, have in some way or the other sensed the Christmas excitement, most of those who spend time chatting with me have jheloed (I coudn't find an equally appropriate english word) my puppy faced, looking for santa talks. It all began with the Christmas issue stories forced on me....the enormous 'Michael hunt' and the 'food story' which did turn out interesting. So, ya....this made the entire spirit seep in and make me wanna do something big this time. Began with a coupla Xmas gifts for family...stupid stuff that could be laughed on...red clothes for myself (read red with white polka dots :P)...a santa hat after all the effort in finding one for which I wasn't required to buy the sleazy, slutty Xmas dress(no offence)...
All this in place...and after all the doses of so called 'anglical talk' it was certain Xmas wasnt gonna be ordinary, not the Xmas meal in the slightest way. As they usually do, my tantrums helped, and in no time my folks were convinced I'l make them dinner that nite....despite the speculative yes from mom and her exploring 'disaster management' options at the back of her mind.
So that was that, Xmas eve began with the usual waking up late (trust me....it was 'late')...and a movie at night...which drove each of us to tears and stuff...never mind.
The 3 of us got back and when reached our gate exclaimed together....its Xmas....a few exchanged looks and we decided we should pay the city church a visit just for the 'feel' of the liveliness. Off we went, having not lived here, we(me and bro) realised we'd have to ask someone. Desperate call to mom, "Ma, where's the church?" With all the are you crazy why are you going there right now she replied giving up, "Turn right from the petrol pump and go to where the road takes you next to ******uncle's place".
Click ...and off we go...the right turn taken with utmost confidence after having spotted the petrol pump in pitch darkness. We had no idea what we were in for, shocked to see a colony with a maze of roads...we took the most likely direction....ad kept doing that for a while until we realised going on our instincts to find a church at 12:30 wasn't such a brilliant idea. The easiest way I said would be look out for the cross...with lights as I presumed it would be on Xmas eve. I recieved instant approval and was allowed to navigate following a light for a while untill bro discovered we were following a light that belonged to a TV tower. Giving up on me rolling with laughter at my own blunder he pulled over next to a poor Chowkidaar wrapped in I don't know how many shawls to ask "Bhaiya yahan church kahaan hai?"
To which he goes " Aap yahan kaise aa gaye?" I burst out laughing.
Bro goes," Bhaiya ab yahan se bataa do hum pahunch jaayenge".
"Go straight and turn left and you should find the church".
Obdeintly my bro goes straight down from where we met him....takes the first left and immediately after..takes the first left again...only to see the chowkidaar at a not-so-far from the car distance standing in the middle of the road and waving out with both his hands.
" Seedha jaake left fir seedha...fir left nahi...seedha jaane ka...yahan gol gol nahi ghoomne ka", he says...to which I burst out laughing...my bro quite offended with the remark spurted out without much realisation
"Par jaana kahaan hai?" and it sent all his audience rolling into laughter....included the poor chowkidaar...
After much effort....we reached a place...which had people crowded inside reciting prayers...numerous cars outside ...lights and stuff...we got out confidently and took a peak inside. It was just before stepping in that we checked the name at the door and paid a little attention to the interiors and saw idols of Hindu gods placed inside. Walking out in utter embarssment, bro gave up at the midnight Church idea...and I threw a few tantrums...nothing more than one puppy faced expression with a 'Please, it'll be nice'...we set out again....after about 20 more minutes of following all kinds of lights we spotted a familiar house...called mom "Ma, *****uncle ke ghar se church kaise jaate hain?" (and this uncle wasn't the previously mentioned uncle who lives almost opposite the church) Not realising we had had enough of being asked such questions ma answered "*****uncle ke ghar se church kisko jaana hai?"....thankfully without more than a few words of explanations mom guided us...we discovered not one but two of them in a while.
The fact that they were closed on Christmas eve didn't seem to matter all that much, having found them was an achievement in itself. A little look at the crib and the decorations outside and we were back on task 2...how to find our way back home...but that's another story...for another time...this one's been long enough.
And ya...the dinner turned out nice..'late' though...and slightly spicier or rather just spicier than what I expected...and needed a few glasses of something(read juice) to be gulped along...but all the same it was 'edible'.....good enough...aint it?.....

Sob sob

2007-12-25T04:34:00.000-08:00

Two weeks of endless work, the search for all the Michaels in town and the torturing Catholic families to make them reveal what they plan to eat this Christmas, and the story doesn't come. Space issues they say and make you feel your work was good enough. Good enough?...not better than a few other good things(read ads) though. Sob sob....
Someone is leaving....more reason to weep....loads....
Are these reasons enough to spend the rest of the week(read year) spent lazy without any work ?:P...
Ah!...its Christmas....n I've had a christmas gift worth jumping with excitement about. Thanks to someone....though...Woh Mario mein kuch toh fight hai...jump karte karte har baar mar jaata hai...aur bhaashan deta hai....
Anyway...a merry christmas and hope I get something to stop the sobs for all the Bible reading I've done :P....

Life's little joys

2007-12-24T13:52:00.000-08:00

A few days back...it rained and rained in Chennai...like it was the end...like itwould never stop. I had one of the most amazing days of my life, the craziest for sure. Having walked in ankle deep water, jeans drenched, folded, flip flops, battered old tees...it was just perfect. The rain splashed as we ran against it. A trip to the beach, and I felt I was four again, I ran while it poured, got drenched, screamed, sang out loud, talked, met a fortune-teller, shared an umberella with her to run to my car. Sipped tea while sitting on the sand. It seemed all so good, so calm, I felt like a child.
Aren't children the most beautiful thing about the world around us. Happiness, joy, sorrow, good sleep, everything seems more genuine when compared to that of a child's. We all lose something with everyday of growing up that children still seem to have and treasure while we spend the rest of our lives just trying to figure out how genuine something/someone is.
Nothing feels better than a baby's hand in yours, the tenderness of the little thing and the kind it brings into your own touch.To hold a kid in your arms, to watch someone trust you with their whole existence, makes every other feeling seem such less significant. Its a beautiful sensation to hold that little hand through the first steps, the sense of achievement every step forward brings.
The joy of little things, couldn't seem truer.
I wanna adopt a kid, live a life for someone, someone who'd love me and trust me no end, someone who deserves every bit of my life.

Home again

2007-12-24T03:02:00.000-08:00

There is so much to rant about, so much that happens every day that I'm dying to write about, yet once the day is done you never feel the same....never strong enough to write the way you had wanted to.Something just feels distant, unreal and an attempt to create the feeling that once existed in you but faded, with time and settlet as pieces of visual memory, like those small parts of a movie that stick to your mind days after you have seen it. No I am not going to spend hours blogging about why I am not blogging about all that should be blogged about.Sigh!
Anyway, I suddenly have all the time, all the space and a better computer which doesnt eat up my words. Its a great feeling to see this hateful thing being nice to me. Its cold outside, not as cold as I'd like it to be but cold all the same. The wind feels nice, so do the blankets that keep you from it. Its time for all those things that feel good. The beautifully textured clothes, the hot coffee, the warmth of being indoors, the wind outside, the sunlight that feels good for a change, occassional though, the clouds...its all so beautiful.
I shall write, a whole lot, with a little more time at hand....the last few traces of work need to go away. Its been a while.....

crazy things

2007-12-03T13:58:00.000-08:00

My throat is so so fucked, its funny I cant quite speak normally untill every afternoon. After more than a week I've finally decided to do something about it.I have a doc to see tomo.....I have developed a strange obsession with this set of tattoo pens that I bought for my 2 year old cuz and never gave it to him coz I loved them so much myself....but its real fun.....to just play with them and draw glittery cute things over your hands. I know I am sounding like I have lost my mind, perhaps I have....but see them before you conclude so :P. I am going for a play tomorrow.yayay!!!(dances away)

of wat i've been doing

2007-12-02T11:39:00.000-08:00

Listening to Lazarus (over and over gain) and stars Die by Porcupine tree, The drugs dont work. Reading random crap on documentaries. Trying real hard to make one. Driving like thats the only pleasure I have. Watching arbit movies and trying hard to keep awake thru them. Finally got myself rid of a hangover that seemed to last forever.Sleeping, waking up in between random dreams with random thoughts to sleep and go
back to them again. Going places alone, walking a lot, talking to myself, humming lazarus.....thats me for a while!

and time passes...

2007-12-02T10:57:00.000-08:00

It takes a while for hope to seep in, for you to see the other side of things, to realise this is not it. Life takes its time to make you feel, to let it strike, to let it heal. Like those lights you drive past, sitting inside a car surrounded by just whats inside, comforted, numb and unmindful of what will rush in the moment you roll down the barriers. Sudden feelings are unwelcome, most feared, shocks, even surprises. You dread, you anticipate. Its all uneasy, never as comforting as something smooth and flowing, something thats no natural that you fail to realise its things happening one after the other. The links sometimes get so covered, so well hidden, their existence seems frail until you stop by to consciously piece them out. You wake up one fine day to let it hit you, to look back and see so much has passed. You suddenly wanna feel it all, every moment, nice or unpleasant, you just wanna feel it happen, feel it pass, not just watch it go while you remain numb. Your actions just dont feel like your own, something mechanical that just happens, which you probably could but for some strange reason exercise no control over. You talk but your words dont sound your own, you speak coz you gotta be spoken to. You live coz its a habit. Until the day everything crashes on you, all the time passed, all that has happened, every word spoken, every effect its brought along, but the transitions are missing. They just dint strike when they were to. All you know at the end of it is, you cant turn back, you cant feel it happen, and you cant watch it happen again. You just remain secretely glad of the time that has passed. Waiting for hope to set in, waiting to anticipate, to fear, to feel, the coldeness, the warmth.

it felt like a dream...

2007-11-01T15:25:00.000-07:00

It felt like a dream all along...time flew...I was lost, consumed by what was happening. Every bit, powerful, visual beyond words. I felt like I was hit by something so hard, it would leave a mark on me for days and days to come.I could feel a tear trickle with every hand held. I wish to relive the moments, to let them pass slowly, to let them flow through me. It was over and I burst into tears, felt I had been holding them back for long. I just wanted to scream out, wail though my cheeks hurt hard. Wonder what it did to me, I still dont know why it felt so strong. Feels like waking up from a dream, like something I've lived through. Its an experience, a life lived, a painting as my friend called it......Babel...

My treasure box

2007-10-31T16:00:00.000-07:00

Last night as I sat watching a movie and looking for something to do after that, thanks to the non- functional internet connection and the lack of another bearable movie. After a while when I had given up at finding a good book I opened up drawers of my old study table, the one I had been gifted when I was in my third standard (7 years old). Out came pouring everything it held. And then it wasn't just time that seemed to have passed. Untouched as it had been for years together, I realised how it preserved small glimpses of all the years I spent at home. From pens and papers with weird calculation and notes to address books with names and numbers of childhood friends. Even their names sounded like puzzles to me now. Broken pieces of old jewellary, preserved letters, half done sketches, activity books, there seemed no end to this. Hastily pulling everything out I tried to recollect when I had acquired each of those things and how, giving up at a few times I did manage to recollect most, which included little parting gifts from friends who wept and bid goodbye as I moved from one town to another. Everything came crashing on me, and before I realised I could picture vivid images of each of them, of old homes, schools and what not.
As I dug deeper into the shelves I discovered folders stacked with papers filled with bits of kiddish poetry, of sketched and painted animals and lastly a few report cards. Pulling them out I found, they were grade sheets that belonged to me and my bro spanning every year of our schooling. It was quite funny to look through them and read those numbers which perhaps meant the world to me then, which I now laughed at. 1st grade....Maths -80....Grammar and Composition- 65....Science- 95.....I read and I am rolling with laughter even unmindful of the fact that I am at home and its not exactly the time when you can laugh out loud and let people wake up to see what you are upto and term you crazy.
Scanning through everything I collected bits of small things and put them aside to carry along. They weren't things I'd ever need or miss, but the kinds I had treasured as a kid and didn't have the heart to part with after recovering them.
I wish to do this again, collect glimpses of my life in small souveniers and stack them in a box...something like a treasure box which I can open up to look back at things and people in the past. It feels beautiful to do that, and somewhere it is a reminder of how far behind you leave people sometimes or how quickly you move on. Or perhaps simply how life is all about just moving on...

Something missing

2007-10-28T20:52:00.000-07:00

Its beautiful out there they say, it pours and pours and pours...
I am here and I am loving being here...being away....
But something keeps me there....keeps me from distancing myself...
I have been waiting for long...for this one time to set it all right.
There's something missing I know, something that will keep me from being where I am
Its incomplete...its so not the same...its never felt this way...
Perhaps its just the space...perhaps nothing...
All I know is...I miss being there and I wonder why...I long for something and I can't figure what..

(And its not what you are thinking!)

Of simple things...

2007-10-27T15:10:00.000-07:00

It seemed harder to leave than ever before, rained and rained all night and nothing could move me into gettin my bags packed untill the first light. I was stuck, in awe of everything around me and wondering why this happened everytime I had to leave. I finally did, snapping away from my 'normal' life to a break into the kind I had forgotten for a while. It felt nice the cold wind on my cheeks as I left smiling at everything recognizable, every place I'd have to do without for a while. Maybe I just needed a fag to get myself outta such thoughts, I fished one...perhaps my last for the fortnight to come, changed my mind and put it right back. I never really 'needed' one, theres never a time when I need external agents for a high...boredom has always qualified as a more apt reason.
Four and a half hours at the arrival terminal at Mumbai airport and I felt quite different. Here I emphasize on the arrival terminal coz its very unlike the experience of having to wait at the departure as all it provides you with is space to let yourself get starved, thirsty, irritated and frozen by the AC. Anways, after having spent those dreadful hours with a fever and nearly missing my train I reached at about 2am. I am forced to believe nothing important in my life ever happens at an earthly time...really...
Half a night's sleep, a 2 hour drive and I am driven to a place so full of everything nostalgic. The place I've felt a strong sense of affection towards, not really belonging just liking perhaps. It didn't seem a great deal this time, the sight of my old school, of all those places I've spent my most memorable times at, all those people who seemed to be the end of my world. I walked past everything whisking away memories, thoughts and all the contemplation they bring. I've moved ahead, way ahead of ever being able to return. Involving myself in errands I was obliged but not quite expected to do I let the day pass and then another untill I left.
The journey back, the usual time when I tend to reflect and regret the things I did not and ought to have done wasn't the usual either. I popped a tablet to get myself feeling better and grabbed the keys from dad....75 kms....an average of 100kmph on the expressway and I felt great. That sense of power, the thrill of speed drove away every other thought that would have occupied my mind right then.A drink and a night of slumber...surprisingly got me up and about a lil before noon.
A 5- hour drive home and all seems right. Cuddled in the back seat displacing all the pieces of luggage fitted around I slept 3 long hours, sleep so sound, I don't remember the last time I slept that sound. Opening my eyes to a sudden halt, a little rumble of something around me, the familiar smell of petrol, the sound of the ghazals I've grown up listening to, of mom and dad discussing something trifling I feel assured, secure and so much at ease. Suddenly reminded of how I've never felt or come close to feeling this way in a while I wish it lasts. Battling my sleep to keep my eyelids open, I wish to say something, something that would make them realise how I felt, of how everything felt just the same despite ages of staying away, of changes, the ups and downs. A glance thrown behind and I hear, " are you hungry?" To which I utter a casual "slightly" with half of it fading into insignificance. I turn away, look up at the window and close my eyes. Its just a moment, one like the many others you see everyday, where there is nothing unusual but the way you feel about it, just this once, all of a sudden. Its something you want to express, something you wanna cherish for its utter eventlesness. But somethings are best left unsaid, to let the moment remain true, as eventless as you'd like it to be. These thoughts and my eyes close humming the words of jagjit singh in that familiar passe rythm, I am drowsy again. It couldn't get better...

I wish...

2007-10-15T15:02:00.000-07:00

A piece I wrote after a very long time of not having written anything I felt like writing.
And ya posting it took quite a bit of contemplation

Tired of believing what you feel
When all it seems is just a blur
People come and leave
I am here, As I read
words pinch me to be spoken
Of what they are worth,
Of what its got, life
The dusk tugs at me
My feet, they bind
working through chains that hurt
of days, of remembrance
I feel, I think
Not strong enough?
I’ve learnt it scares
I look at the glass
Lucidity, its faint
Did it ever go beyond?
Did I ever seek to break
the slightest thing profound
A need, a reason.
Am I so tired?
It doesn’t seem right
it takes a while to wake up
its effort to breathe free
Thoughts of tomorrow, wonder beneath
Its hard to look behind, hard to try
Its been a numbness, trying to engulf me
I wanted it to stay
I wish it did
I am still in search

Shaastra, my phone and randomness beyond

2007-10-15T14:43:00.000-07:00

I didn’t quite expect myself to blog regularly…॥but I guess it went a lil too far…blame my blog which chooses to eat up words and place the second word in the place of the first and vice versa। So I get back to the dear old Ms Word, which is perhaps the only program (despite my repeated experiments with loadsa others) I use regularly and have been able to get slightly close to mastering. Its been a tiresome while and I keep wondering what exactly made it so, was it the work or was it just how I wanted to do it.
Shaastra 2007, which I thought would be a drab piece of student fest prolonging my work effort considering IIT is miles away from where I live and coz I probably wouldn’t quite figure a thing that would happen around. On the flipside, it was an amazing experience, the amount I actually saw and the times I had through it. And being not so modest I admit I did not feel lost. I felt this satisfaction of having something ‘real’ to write about for a change, which was to a large extent erased by the sheer lack of enthusiasm my paper, showed especially coz I was bursting with it. The worst being, my story getting scrapped at the cost of some celeb birthday tit- bits.
Not to mention how frustrated it made me I was given a brilliant idea of featuring it in the education supplement as a ‘trend story’! Just when I was likely to scream about it I was loaded with some celeb stories in connection with Diwali which apparently deserved priority over the rest. Ya I agree papers can be drab.
So while I ‘work’ at them life churns out more. One night while I was out for a nice dinner, my phone switched itself off for the lack of sufficient charge. I ignore do my thing; get back home enjoying the silence of my phone not ringing (which somehow annoyingly happens once every hour). How was I to predict the rest of my night (and day) would go in me dying to listen to it ring. It refused to switch on despite having been on charge for long. After tampering with it for about 4 hours I discovered some strange tactics to switch it on exactly for a minute (after which it resumed to its dead sate). So, ya after making a million dumb engineers go over it again and again, waiting like one would outside a friggin ICU, I get the answer. My contacts are lost, the whole 500 of them, 3 years of work, and 4 years of life with a phone!!! Giving up on everything I took things to myself and finally recovered every single one of them. What if it took 5 whole hours and a 100 times ( literally) of switching on and off my phone I have them all scribbled in a notepad which I now have to carry wherever I go and pull out at the very mention of having to call anyone. To my relief, I have been lent a ‘spare’ phone by a benevolent flatmate. The story ends with my phone being declared dead! So, if any of you reading this happen to call me and don’t hear the friendly hello on the other side, you’ll know why.
I don’t believe I’ve actually spent as much time as many words over blogging about my phone. Perhaps I am just bored, or its perhaps me getting used to writing about things that aren’t in the faintest ways meaningful. So folks don’t forget Diwali is round the corner as unfortunately no one lets me forget and the papers are gonna keep rubbing it in :)

Here I go!!

2007-09-04T10:37:00.000-07:00

So...here I go...this post is titled so because of the sheer finality of the task of me starting a blog.
After days and months of having been told to do so, I decided its time I began. And the vigour I now begin with nothing will stop me from doing this, even the shit loads of work that remains piled and demands completion.
Not that I believe anyone would bother to drop by my blog for a glance, but for those some who incidently, accidently strayed by here is something about me.
I am a student though nothing can actually make you look at me and say so, I neither study nor will I be spotted loitering around college. Come to think of it, I barely ever get there.
The other big thing that I do, amongst many smaller ones is write for a paper and no amount of odds in life can keep me away from doing my work for it.
I like my work, the entire process of working for a story, meeting people and having myself heard. Isn't that what we all look for at the end of the day?

Coming back to the day, a simple paradox makes me get back to this blog after having abandoned it for quite a few hours post the beginning. On one side, I am thrilled about having a huge story published, tedious hours of work, all the running around, and bugging all those people involved beyond forgivness has finally paid off. A half page sweep, with my name in 'big bold red( literally) letters' and I am satisfied. I look at it and feel this sense of pride that I rarely get after the editors have laid their hands on my 'piece'.

With hope of some response, if not towards me towards the person who the story revolved around I get back to the day's work hunting, begging for quotes। While most people welcome me with open doors and awestruck looks (thanks to the big
brand name)
there are who fail to understand the sheer impact of written words.
An incident that happened just about a few hours ago both discouraged and strengthened my already strong resolve to get people to realise the
worth of the 'print media'.
Here's what happened, I sat like I usually do with my flatmates munching on dinner( if whatever I was eating can pass off as that or even close to it), brooding over how I was short of quotes for yet another story, threatning I'd use them as my guniea pigs if I
didn't find anyone who gave into my pleadings. Just then one of them uttered, what difference does it make, just take a picture off the net and make up a quote, how is it gonna affect anyone, no one would ever know. Looking back m surprised at my own reactions, but I was aghast, immovable, wordless for a moment untill I finally retorted with a how can I do that its gonna go into paper. To which she said, how would someone know, I can even come up with false names to help you. My reactions of how I never resorted to any such stuff and how journalism and ethics were more than just inseparable was taken with a hearty laugh and a blow to the sternness with which I held my gaze and opinion.
I walked out, with part dejection and part work beckoning me to my comp, and being honest an online friend who I had been ignoring for a while now hoping he feels my comp was abandoned.
This did not end with the mere trifling conversation. My thoughts had the better of me as I sat working. How and where people and their thoughts are headed? and how news dosent seem to matter to a person in the process of it being created or rather collected.

Suddenly, I seemed to realise the importance of local news, something I always cribbed about having to read in a paper, especially in the first few pages। Its true people do not realise the worth or the credibility of news

or a reporter until it hits them in the face। It is indeed true, the harder the blow the more you turn to your paper and realise how it is not just
an aid but a way of life. Ironically, it is the same people who get up and claim with examples right out of the book, of journalism losing credibility, of corruption embedding our very news making process. 'Making' thats what I call it, news aint quite the same until its collected, organized and 'made' palatable for the reader who is just about to consume it.
Having seen and heard the same from a million people around I enter an organization completely disillusioned and expecting every bit of wrong doing amongst people around. I hate to admit but it has made me half suspicious and I spend more time watching what people do while they work to catch a glimpse of the 'so-called' corruption in a media organization. frankly, I haven't incurred much. A 'little' would make me seem and feel too biased towards my industry of work. But really its not an easy job to work on something that might jus seem light to you when a million (literally in number) people might take what you write to be the final word and use it in conversations and examples for generations thereafter.

So, while my thoughts wander from this to loads of other things, and my eyes watch the clock strike 5......I end this post here....
Waiting for more to provoke me to continue blogging (I aint relying on people reading it)
I hit bed with fears of nightmares of yet another bright and sunny day (I hate them) and slight underlying hopes, that the clouds jus might be generous enough to show up early in the morning tomorrow.