For something serious now. Yes you will find trickles of sense in my world.
The news channels were buzzing with reports of the shootings at Delhi’s Euro School. Eighth standard kids gunning down a fellow student in calculated, cold blood. That makes them 13 or 14, right?
This gets us all playing the blame game...
So who do we blame… because that’s the next obvious step right?
News channels flash extremely important things–Comments from viewers.
It’s interesting to read them because it shows us how far removed we are. Viewers (we) think the youth themselves are to blame, parents are losing control and violent films are clouding their minds.
Not shockingly I asked myself …Who do I blame?
The answer sneaked up on me quite quickly, and before I attempt to put my foot in my mouth. This is just my opinion.
While in school, I remember, we were encouraged to watch the news. It gave us knowledge to battle the school quiz. It helped us become aware of our evolving world. But then, we were limited to one news bulletin at 9.00 pm. We got a news reader giving us details with a little footage and that’s it. We were content.
Today, the story has changed a little; a part of it has, at least. Yes, kids are still encouraged to watch the news for the same reasons, but then what are we exposing them too. Certain scenes of news footage have the ability to shock and disgust my sensibility. And mind you, my sensibility is very numbed.
What effect then can we expect it to have on children who are evolving? What kind of images are we giving them to model themselves on? If graphic footage is to be shown, show it once not a million times. If unedited footage has to be shown (like in the Bombay train blast coverage), instead of repeatedly telling us that the footage is unedited and subjecting us to shows of red blood oozing from human bodies, dead people being carried away or lying on tracks. Please make the time to edit. One or two instances of using unedited gory images or videos to make the viewer look at your channel make the viewer understand the scene; give the viewer a feel of the situation is fine. But then who gets to decide when it is warranted.
The question here is not of delivering news, is it? Sensationalizing news, that too, we cannot blame, but my question is: are we equipped to handle the influx of such news? Are kids equipped to deal with what they watch on the news? When you show these scenes too many times doesn’t then the mind come to think of it as something common? Doesn’t it then lose what we call its shock value? When this numbening happens doesn’t it then become mundane? And when things become mundane don’t you think it can easily be translated into your life?
Here’s something to think about.
If I remember correctly there has been repeated coverage of the student shootings in the USA on all important news channels. If I remember correctly the last one was the Omaha mall shooting on CNN IBN. How many times was that shown? I don’t remember. How far apart is the Delhi shooting from that incident?
Munch on this for a while.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Take a Walk...
Who are we to condemn you? We are equally flawed… equally tainted… equally fighting our own demons, and drowning ourselves in our own tears. We too have faltered; we too have fallen and bruised ourselves. Is it fair then, that just because your bruise is visible and larger than ours, we have the right to torment you?
No we… at least I do not.
With freedom comes responsibility. With pleasure comes pain, with peace comes war, with hope comes disillusionment, and with every me comes a you. So we meander around life not knowing that this meandering is… what we need to focus on. All those parading with their theories of life’s purpose or super purpose can go fish!
If meandering is what we are meant to do then I think I’d rather walk with you. Who wants to walk each step of the way being judged and judging? Can’t we enjoy our walk till it lasts?–Commenting on the path’s direction or the absence of one; experiencing the exhilaration of wind blowing through our hair; having to cut through streams of undergrowth; muttering incomprehensible sentences and paragraphs through our breathlessness, while trying to get to the other side of the hill; crossing oceans, seas, or rivers, either by traversing through it or happily gliding upon it; to find ourselves when we are lost and then rejoice on being just there –lost.
This is what we are meant to do…right?
So they gather round you looking with contempt… eyes boring holes through you, reducing you to tatters with every glare, stare, and abuse. I feel like I’m surrounded by prickles. I know they are prickles because I can feel sharp jabs of pain on my back. I look at you. They hand me a stone too, forcing it into my hands pressing it into my flesh. The sharpened tip causes my scarlet blood to ooze out. Scarlet…
He says then, “Let he who has not sinned throw the first stone.” I assume he included me in the he, though I am not a he!
The pricks on my back are decreasing… Are there any left? I throw the stone at my feet. I do not condemn you. I walk towards you. Let’s go for a walk you and me. Let’s walk together. Let’s just be.
No we… at least I do not.
With freedom comes responsibility. With pleasure comes pain, with peace comes war, with hope comes disillusionment, and with every me comes a you. So we meander around life not knowing that this meandering is… what we need to focus on. All those parading with their theories of life’s purpose or super purpose can go fish!
If meandering is what we are meant to do then I think I’d rather walk with you. Who wants to walk each step of the way being judged and judging? Can’t we enjoy our walk till it lasts?–Commenting on the path’s direction or the absence of one; experiencing the exhilaration of wind blowing through our hair; having to cut through streams of undergrowth; muttering incomprehensible sentences and paragraphs through our breathlessness, while trying to get to the other side of the hill; crossing oceans, seas, or rivers, either by traversing through it or happily gliding upon it; to find ourselves when we are lost and then rejoice on being just there –lost.
This is what we are meant to do…right?
So they gather round you looking with contempt… eyes boring holes through you, reducing you to tatters with every glare, stare, and abuse. I feel like I’m surrounded by prickles. I know they are prickles because I can feel sharp jabs of pain on my back. I look at you. They hand me a stone too, forcing it into my hands pressing it into my flesh. The sharpened tip causes my scarlet blood to ooze out. Scarlet…
He says then, “Let he who has not sinned throw the first stone.” I assume he included me in the he, though I am not a he!
The pricks on my back are decreasing… Are there any left? I throw the stone at my feet. I do not condemn you. I walk towards you. Let’s go for a walk you and me. Let’s walk together. Let’s just be.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
The Rape of a Soul
There's a set of fingerprints on her face. Yes her ear does buzz, her cheek does sting and yes she did fall to the ground with the impact. Her cheek looked awful, the pretty cheekbone was now discoloured and disfigured.
"Do you have a fractured cheek bone?"I asked with genuine concern.
Thats all it took to trigger those words that dropped like sharp-hitting, jagged, black rocks on the pure delicacy of her soul.
"Reality here I come! Its high time I acknowledged your presence. I believe you exist. My cotton candy world has dissolved in the rain.. yes the rain is salty.
Now I see the world as it should be seen.. and hey... surprise! It isn't pink. It has other colours too. The briny water falling from the heavens stole my sight away I am blind now, but only partially... Yes, I do see forms and figures and they are quite clear.. Its just that grey seems a strange colour to be.
Is the world grey???
I hope not. I hope its just my eyes that have been affected and not yours. I hope you see colour ...pink, red, yellow, black and white.. clear unadulterated and pure.... not ambiguous grey."
She cried herself to sleep on my lap. I tried to stop the tears from coming but the child did not relent.
She transformed on my lap that night... salty tears, mixing with the putrid filth of the world. It cleansed all that was clean and pure and true, leaving... yes thats exactly it-Nothingness.
Thats a feeling too.
"Do you have a fractured cheek bone?"I asked with genuine concern.
Thats all it took to trigger those words that dropped like sharp-hitting, jagged, black rocks on the pure delicacy of her soul.
"Reality here I come! Its high time I acknowledged your presence. I believe you exist. My cotton candy world has dissolved in the rain.. yes the rain is salty.
Now I see the world as it should be seen.. and hey... surprise! It isn't pink. It has other colours too. The briny water falling from the heavens stole my sight away I am blind now, but only partially... Yes, I do see forms and figures and they are quite clear.. Its just that grey seems a strange colour to be.
Is the world grey???
I hope not. I hope its just my eyes that have been affected and not yours. I hope you see colour ...pink, red, yellow, black and white.. clear unadulterated and pure.... not ambiguous grey."
She cried herself to sleep on my lap. I tried to stop the tears from coming but the child did not relent.
She transformed on my lap that night... salty tears, mixing with the putrid filth of the world. It cleansed all that was clean and pure and true, leaving... yes thats exactly it-Nothingness.
Thats a feeling too.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
And I'll Dream
Do you believe you can have everything you want in life? Do you believe that every wild thought coursing through your brain is a certain eventuality?
I do.
Although, if I look at it outside my opulent fantastic world it doesn’t seem possible at all.
Why is it that opportunity always arises after you have made some selection? A wavering selection, is it right?
My questions: Is it wrong to expect things to come true. Is it right to want something more. Is it right or wrong that when there are possibilities or options…you may want look or even pick one up?
I saw a typical Hindi movie called Jab we met. It was one of those movies which I thought was all mush. The boy n girl meet, fall in love, struggle, and live happily ever after. It was exactly that.. and yet some more. I most often detest these movies. The mush…getting exactly what you want…. the perfect matches… they really depress me.
But here I am in post ‘Jab we met’- land thinking of possibilities and if the choices I made are really right.
Snap out
Okay…
There is this plot of land a short distance from my house. I’ve passed it each and every time I’ve gone out. It’s nothing much to look at. It’s run down; there isn’t a roof, a door or window. The walls are crumbling there’s weeds growing all round…. But it’s beautiful.
It’s wall-less-ness opens the possibility of new boundaries or even no boundaries at all; no roof means you can decide how many floors you want or whether you could have a tiled one or wether you'd like to stare at the stars while you sleep at night. No window opens the possibility of creating one exactly where you want it or saving you the trouble of opening something when you want a gust of breeze to go through your hair. And the fact that it doesn’t have a door simply means that I’m free to go into that house or remnant of a house and dream.
The other day while I passed that patch I dream of one day owning… A friend pointed out to this man who got out of his Merc and said, “This is the owner of Sunshree Builders.”
Okay this company owns a huge amount of land and has to its credit a large number of buildings. The very thought of him next to my patch sickened me to my stomach. What if he bought it!!!
I almost cried. Reality Check???
Were the Gods trying to tell me something? Till I decipher that, I’m too busy dreaming and wishing for it to come true.
I do.
Although, if I look at it outside my opulent fantastic world it doesn’t seem possible at all.
Why is it that opportunity always arises after you have made some selection? A wavering selection, is it right?
My questions: Is it wrong to expect things to come true. Is it right to want something more. Is it right or wrong that when there are possibilities or options…you may want look or even pick one up?
I saw a typical Hindi movie called Jab we met. It was one of those movies which I thought was all mush. The boy n girl meet, fall in love, struggle, and live happily ever after. It was exactly that.. and yet some more. I most often detest these movies. The mush…getting exactly what you want…. the perfect matches… they really depress me.
But here I am in post ‘Jab we met’- land thinking of possibilities and if the choices I made are really right.
Snap out
Okay…
There is this plot of land a short distance from my house. I’ve passed it each and every time I’ve gone out. It’s nothing much to look at. It’s run down; there isn’t a roof, a door or window. The walls are crumbling there’s weeds growing all round…. But it’s beautiful.
It’s wall-less-ness opens the possibility of new boundaries or even no boundaries at all; no roof means you can decide how many floors you want or whether you could have a tiled one or wether you'd like to stare at the stars while you sleep at night. No window opens the possibility of creating one exactly where you want it or saving you the trouble of opening something when you want a gust of breeze to go through your hair. And the fact that it doesn’t have a door simply means that I’m free to go into that house or remnant of a house and dream.
The other day while I passed that patch I dream of one day owning… A friend pointed out to this man who got out of his Merc and said, “This is the owner of Sunshree Builders.”
Okay this company owns a huge amount of land and has to its credit a large number of buildings. The very thought of him next to my patch sickened me to my stomach. What if he bought it!!!
I almost cried. Reality Check???
Were the Gods trying to tell me something? Till I decipher that, I’m too busy dreaming and wishing for it to come true.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
The Trinity and Me
So they say again...with awesome shocks on their face, "There are three?" Sorry, they don’t say… they ask. As if trying to fathom the madness, or perverseness of me. "Yes." I reply with a smile that actually means: It is none of your business, but yes, I am that well looked after.
Another evening, another exposure, another memory to launch me into endless giggles–just the awesome shock on their faces. Well, the men, they elicit a different reaction ranging from raucous laughter of disbelief, to obviously masked lecherous conversations, which I suspect are decent inquiries for indecent invitations to join the fun.
Most women though, they turn red. There are a few who do have the nerve to move to my side of the dance floor, or occupy the chair opposite me at the dinner table. Well, they almost never digest this fact well. I guess it stems out of social conditioning of an extremely elevated and puritanical type, or merely because they don’t have the nerve to visit those cobwebbed caverns and unleash the demons shackled to the stony walls.
Their minds are filled with light so bright that it blinds. It refuses to recognize forms and shapes. It turns fuzzy. And when exposed to such bright light for indefinitely long periods of time you unleash a faux blindness, which presumably they don’t recognize because the whiteness of the light is still imprinted in their memories. This is a dangerous light indeed!
Coming back to me. What do I have three of?
Could it be houses… nah that’s too lame and normal. How about the feminine endowment in the anterior of the human body… but then that would be monstrous, really monstrous. And it would be a little repulsive to me as well. Or how about dogs… not quite, but we’re getting close.
There is no requirement for three, convention doesn’t allow this. On the other hand if asked to look carefully you will notice that the men of a particular tribe are/were allowed to take more than one... the upper limit was five, if I recollect correctly. Then, if you were bestowed with a chunk of gold on your head encrusted with a few rubies, or diamonds, or sapphires for that matter, you would notice that you could keep as many of these as you’d like.
But mind you, this was largely confined to the breed of those who call themselves men.
Yes I have three of them –husbands, if you may…
Another evening, another exposure, another memory to launch me into endless giggles–just the awesome shock on their faces. Well, the men, they elicit a different reaction ranging from raucous laughter of disbelief, to obviously masked lecherous conversations, which I suspect are decent inquiries for indecent invitations to join the fun.
Most women though, they turn red. There are a few who do have the nerve to move to my side of the dance floor, or occupy the chair opposite me at the dinner table. Well, they almost never digest this fact well. I guess it stems out of social conditioning of an extremely elevated and puritanical type, or merely because they don’t have the nerve to visit those cobwebbed caverns and unleash the demons shackled to the stony walls.
Their minds are filled with light so bright that it blinds. It refuses to recognize forms and shapes. It turns fuzzy. And when exposed to such bright light for indefinitely long periods of time you unleash a faux blindness, which presumably they don’t recognize because the whiteness of the light is still imprinted in their memories. This is a dangerous light indeed!
Coming back to me. What do I have three of?
Could it be houses… nah that’s too lame and normal. How about the feminine endowment in the anterior of the human body… but then that would be monstrous, really monstrous. And it would be a little repulsive to me as well. Or how about dogs… not quite, but we’re getting close.
There is no requirement for three, convention doesn’t allow this. On the other hand if asked to look carefully you will notice that the men of a particular tribe are/were allowed to take more than one... the upper limit was five, if I recollect correctly. Then, if you were bestowed with a chunk of gold on your head encrusted with a few rubies, or diamonds, or sapphires for that matter, you would notice that you could keep as many of these as you’d like.
But mind you, this was largely confined to the breed of those who call themselves men.
Yes I have three of them –husbands, if you may…
Friday, October 12, 2007
Unrequited Love
She sipped her second last sip of espresso her lips gently savouring its strong bitter taste. She began to set her lucid cup down on the table when the yellow glint of sunlight hit the remnant brew. It transmuted into a glorious, almost amber brown. Amber... Whiskey...Honey...all things sweet to her mind ... his eyes.
The gentlest, kindest and most beautiful brown eyes in the world. She hadnt fallen in love with him till she peeked into those labyrinths... and yes she slipped away. She was lost.
Losing control is good sometimes, but its really scary. Everything and everyone around you yearns for that- control. And to give it up or have it snatched from you unwillingly; that scares you.
It scared her of course and she was in fact with someone else. How then could she lose herself. No matter how dark or slippery, it was her duty to stick on and stay.
But she searched for the same shades of brown in his eyes and she couldnt find it. She groped for the same quiver his touch had induced, and couldnt feel it. She wanted to laugh with the same abandon she had laughed with him at the coffee table, but all she managed was a half hearted sound that sounded more like an anguished cry. Why?
Can you be true to two loves; or does one actually eat into the other? The answer is: It does. And no mater how hard you try, the fabric of what you try to hold onto by clinging and clawing... frays into something you desire to hold no longer because it is degenerate.
So she left with all the courage she could muster and walked into the sunlight, and she smelt the heady concoction; the synergised smell that coffee and cigarettes had created. Her mind began to race with ideas, plans, happiness, words, sentences and excitement.
"So," she had said, "how are you?"
"Happy," he answered, "there is big news I have to tell you though. I met someone"
Is there a feeling worse than having a millstone round your neck and hurtling to the depths of the ocean at speeds that outdo the very limit of imagination?
Well... yes, there is and she bore witness to every drop in depth she went through. There was a smile though, a smile she thought masked the velocity of her falling.
Just then her bare shoulder felt the warmth of flesh. "Bill Madam" said the uniformed waiter at the bistro. She paid and left, stepping out into the warmth of the same sun with only that for company.
It is the strong who walk alone...the weak need their crutches.
The gentlest, kindest and most beautiful brown eyes in the world. She hadnt fallen in love with him till she peeked into those labyrinths... and yes she slipped away. She was lost.
Losing control is good sometimes, but its really scary. Everything and everyone around you yearns for that- control. And to give it up or have it snatched from you unwillingly; that scares you.
It scared her of course and she was in fact with someone else. How then could she lose herself. No matter how dark or slippery, it was her duty to stick on and stay.
But she searched for the same shades of brown in his eyes and she couldnt find it. She groped for the same quiver his touch had induced, and couldnt feel it. She wanted to laugh with the same abandon she had laughed with him at the coffee table, but all she managed was a half hearted sound that sounded more like an anguished cry. Why?
Can you be true to two loves; or does one actually eat into the other? The answer is: It does. And no mater how hard you try, the fabric of what you try to hold onto by clinging and clawing... frays into something you desire to hold no longer because it is degenerate.
So she left with all the courage she could muster and walked into the sunlight, and she smelt the heady concoction; the synergised smell that coffee and cigarettes had created. Her mind began to race with ideas, plans, happiness, words, sentences and excitement.
"So," she had said, "how are you?"
"Happy," he answered, "there is big news I have to tell you though. I met someone"
Is there a feeling worse than having a millstone round your neck and hurtling to the depths of the ocean at speeds that outdo the very limit of imagination?
Well... yes, there is and she bore witness to every drop in depth she went through. There was a smile though, a smile she thought masked the velocity of her falling.
Just then her bare shoulder felt the warmth of flesh. "Bill Madam" said the uniformed waiter at the bistro. She paid and left, stepping out into the warmth of the same sun with only that for company.
It is the strong who walk alone...the weak need their crutches.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
What Work!!!
So what does it take to get you to the very end of your tether???
Maybe it’s the dawning of realization that this isn’t really the place you're supposed to be in.
Or maybe the frustration of having no work at all.
Okay this is about work. Im finally ranting about work in public... and the tone of this rant varies from soft desolation to medium boredom to loud... extremely loud frustration.
I work as an instructional designer or ID as they call it.
Its not that I don’t like the place I work in… I really do (genial smile)… its fun! I mean the atmosphere is really cool, the people are nice…I can walk in and out of the office as and when I feel like... Its just that Im feeling a little left out..
If you ask why, then I respond by shouting my loudest shout.
I don’t have anything to do here I sit in this clinical cubicle absorbing myself with absolutely nothing.
Do you realize what this feels like?
Yeah I know your saying…well what are you complaining about? blah blabber blah... But its really frustrating… yeah!!! how long can you surf the internet and come up with things to amuse yourself…
How long can you glance onto other peoples monitors come up with ideas for their animations and be all happy about helping them... It doesn’t really get attributed to you. I want to come up with stuff for my own stories…
That my friend… isn’t happening
So I end up on the bench (swivel chair) in a cubicle with artificial lights and artificial air because they don’t open the windows…
I need to be activated…. something that isn’t really happening and its bugging…
So I end up sitting here all day reading Rushdie…who I’m in love with anyway.
My hyperactive imagination conjures weird things in my head.
Maybe just maybe im gonna be fired and maybe just maybe Tushy doesnt want to tell me because he thinks I will cry and may be just maybe they are waiting for me to get so bored that I resign anwalk away. And now Im just tempted to do so.
And why am I complaining to you.. torturing you my poor reader (if you exist) I hope you come across this, tushy, because you really ought to. ( And I don’t have the balls to confront you really... for some stupid reason.) Excuse: I’m not a confrontatational person I’m an escapist…
Maybe it’s the dawning of realization that this isn’t really the place you're supposed to be in.
Or maybe the frustration of having no work at all.
Okay this is about work. Im finally ranting about work in public... and the tone of this rant varies from soft desolation to medium boredom to loud... extremely loud frustration.
I work as an instructional designer or ID as they call it.
Its not that I don’t like the place I work in… I really do (genial smile)… its fun! I mean the atmosphere is really cool, the people are nice…I can walk in and out of the office as and when I feel like... Its just that Im feeling a little left out..
If you ask why, then I respond by shouting my loudest shout.
I don’t have anything to do here I sit in this clinical cubicle absorbing myself with absolutely nothing.
Do you realize what this feels like?
Yeah I know your saying…well what are you complaining about? blah blabber blah... But its really frustrating… yeah!!! how long can you surf the internet and come up with things to amuse yourself…
How long can you glance onto other peoples monitors come up with ideas for their animations and be all happy about helping them... It doesn’t really get attributed to you. I want to come up with stuff for my own stories…
That my friend… isn’t happening
So I end up on the bench (swivel chair) in a cubicle with artificial lights and artificial air because they don’t open the windows…
I need to be activated…. something that isn’t really happening and its bugging…
So I end up sitting here all day reading Rushdie…who I’m in love with anyway.
My hyperactive imagination conjures weird things in my head.
Maybe just maybe im gonna be fired and maybe just maybe Tushy doesnt want to tell me because he thinks I will cry and may be just maybe they are waiting for me to get so bored that I resign anwalk away. And now Im just tempted to do so.
And why am I complaining to you.. torturing you my poor reader (if you exist) I hope you come across this, tushy, because you really ought to. ( And I don’t have the balls to confront you really... for some stupid reason.) Excuse: I’m not a confrontatational person I’m an escapist…
Monday, July 16, 2007
To Drown
The mere ripples on the surface of the water excite her so... She wants to delve deeper and submerge her hand in the warm moist liquid, little realizing that the more of herself she allows it to coat, the more vulnerable she becomes. What lies beneath these exciting ripples little does she know… what danger lurks behind their tantalizing form she is unaware.
There may be sharks, or those stinging jellyfish, or maybe a jagged rock which is capable of inflicting on her tender feet a cut which may leave a mark!!!! Who knows??? Does He... but they claim He does.
And do they... are they free from slipping into the realms of those dark murky waters?
At least her bit of the ocean isn’t as murky, its clear a kind of clear only she can see... Or can she?
Freakily skimming the surface isn’t enough, she decides what use is this life if you can’t feel what you wish to feel... Can’t see what you know you can... Can’t taste the saltiness of the water…
If you want to satiate yourself by rocking merrily in your boat go on, the thing is that she was sea sick... the boat rocking wasn’t fun-the water was.
So she peered to the side and saw the blue liquid… was it inviting her to take the plunge? She’d just have to find out... to discover its hidden secrets...its treasure of blue.
Suicide!!! She was crazy". "Wanted to go deep sea diving on her own?"
“She was depressed!” piped the other...
Why??? No one knows… Maybe it was because her right leg was shorter than her left... or her left nostril a little broader than the right one... No one knows…or do they?? They claim to!!! Does He??? They say only He knows.
Fools!!! They stared on as her slightly bloated, cold, pale self was lifted out of the blue… Her face was almost wore a look of a smug satisfaction coloured by a little blue.
That blue satisfaction went unnoticed … you see they didn’t know what it was... having never even ventured close to it.
Do you suffer from fragmented thoughts that pose questions as ridiculous as dipping your hand into water or falling in love with someone?? Do you??
There may be sharks, or those stinging jellyfish, or maybe a jagged rock which is capable of inflicting on her tender feet a cut which may leave a mark!!!! Who knows??? Does He... but they claim He does.
And do they... are they free from slipping into the realms of those dark murky waters?
At least her bit of the ocean isn’t as murky, its clear a kind of clear only she can see... Or can she?
Freakily skimming the surface isn’t enough, she decides what use is this life if you can’t feel what you wish to feel... Can’t see what you know you can... Can’t taste the saltiness of the water…
If you want to satiate yourself by rocking merrily in your boat go on, the thing is that she was sea sick... the boat rocking wasn’t fun-the water was.
So she peered to the side and saw the blue liquid… was it inviting her to take the plunge? She’d just have to find out... to discover its hidden secrets...its treasure of blue.
Suicide!!! She was crazy". "Wanted to go deep sea diving on her own?"
“She was depressed!” piped the other...
Why??? No one knows… Maybe it was because her right leg was shorter than her left... or her left nostril a little broader than the right one... No one knows…or do they?? They claim to!!! Does He??? They say only He knows.
Fools!!! They stared on as her slightly bloated, cold, pale self was lifted out of the blue… Her face was almost wore a look of a smug satisfaction coloured by a little blue.
That blue satisfaction went unnoticed … you see they didn’t know what it was... having never even ventured close to it.
Do you suffer from fragmented thoughts that pose questions as ridiculous as dipping your hand into water or falling in love with someone?? Do you??
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Nothing...Really!!!
I'm stuck...in nothingness...its sad and true. Just like the incessant weeping of the Gods causes the earth to morph into a giant mass of slush trapping an erring tyre in her marshy self.... Im stuck.
The trouble... i want too many things and am too lazy or just dont know how to go about getting it. The worst thing is that I have sucked the sweet nectar of what i want and the taste has lingered ...Was i too scared too get drunk on it? or was i just a stupid lazy brainless twit. The latter.. i fear... i am.
Im happy lost in a maze of doing things mechanically. I may be unsatisfied but then i dont have to think about it. But when im slowed down maybe by an illness or the time in the morning when im in for a shower..these thoughts come to haunt me.
Stupid things like... Do i still look pretty? or Is this boy the right one for me? Will i be stuck here for eternity?
Can i escape the drudgery of who I am or what I want to be???? Can i float up and be free, or do i have to crawl and just be???
I hate having a bath it gives me time in solitude with myself. I hate it.
The trouble... i want too many things and am too lazy or just dont know how to go about getting it. The worst thing is that I have sucked the sweet nectar of what i want and the taste has lingered ...Was i too scared too get drunk on it? or was i just a stupid lazy brainless twit. The latter.. i fear... i am.
Im happy lost in a maze of doing things mechanically. I may be unsatisfied but then i dont have to think about it. But when im slowed down maybe by an illness or the time in the morning when im in for a shower..these thoughts come to haunt me.
Stupid things like... Do i still look pretty? or Is this boy the right one for me? Will i be stuck here for eternity?
Can i escape the drudgery of who I am or what I want to be???? Can i float up and be free, or do i have to crawl and just be???
I hate having a bath it gives me time in solitude with myself. I hate it.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
My Heaven
You may not have noticed, but off late I have been having an unusual craving for Bailey's Irish Cream. I dont exactly know why, but I have been dreaming about it too!!! The thing is there is a bottle in my dad’s miniature collection , but I haven’t the nerve to disrupt its peaceful standing in the show case. The second reason… its too little to satiate my appetite.
What a waste, dont you think??? People!!! How they inhibit the optimal use of a product.
You see.. Each and every precious, creamy drop of it was created for a purpose; a higher
purpose - ME. And they keep it locked up!!! for show like a bimbo.. humph!! Appalling .... really appalling!!!
As the milk was milked out of a happy Irish cow, the cream separated and artistically blended with only the finest whisky; the chocolate and vanilla folded into it, to give that scintillating, almost near orgasmic, explosive flavour . It was taught... conditioned... to make ME feel the pleasure of each and every ingredient... and you bottle it up, confine it, make it unable to fulfill its destiny!
Its just like us you know .. How we pine for our pie in the sky... In the case of my dose of Baileys Irish Cream... its heaven is within me in my stomach.
Let it fulfil the course of its destiny..Puhleez
Are you listening ????????? Is anybody listening????????
P.S: Check this link out... if this isnt heaven what is!!!!
http://www.baileys.com/en-row/TheDrinks/overice.html
What a waste, dont you think??? People!!! How they inhibit the optimal use of a product.
You see.. Each and every precious, creamy drop of it was created for a purpose; a higher
purpose - ME. And they keep it locked up!!! for show like a bimbo.. humph!! Appalling .... really appalling!!!
As the milk was milked out of a happy Irish cow, the cream separated and artistically blended with only the finest whisky; the chocolate and vanilla folded into it, to give that scintillating, almost near orgasmic, explosive flavour . It was taught... conditioned... to make ME feel the pleasure of each and every ingredient... and you bottle it up, confine it, make it unable to fulfill its destiny!
Its just like us you know .. How we pine for our pie in the sky... In the case of my dose of Baileys Irish Cream... its heaven is within me in my stomach.
Let it fulfil the course of its destiny..Puhleez
Are you listening ????????? Is anybody listening????????
P.S: Check this link out... if this isnt heaven what is!!!!
http://www.baileys.com/en-row/TheDrinks/overice.html
Monday, May 28, 2007
Her Shower
How long she'd have to wait, she didn’t know yet. It was their yearly time together and he was away again. After all these years, she no longer cared to ask him where he was or when he’d be back.
It didn’t matter as long as he spent those three beautiful months with her. Of all the companions she ever had, she loved him the most. He saw through her and she submitted, her defences all useless.
Recently though he had become a little unpredictable. Staying away for a long time and then when he did come back, he was not as gentle as he used to be. He'd have a nasty temper sometimes, and it hurt her.
People were talking about him now. Finding fault with his fury. “People!!!” she sighed to herself. “Always picking on him”. When he’d come soon they’d wonder whether something was wrong and if he was delayed they’d switch to panic mode and wonder why he was taking so long.
His unpredictability, she felt was their entire fault. She tried to tell them but then they thought they were smarter. They messed with him and forced him into the state he was in. She knew he was bothered and yet she saw him come back year after year, bringing them gifts as usual.
The hot sun forced her to come out of her musing by snatching the remaining moisture straight out of her. In spite of it all, she looked forward to his coming. Waiting, yearning and pining.
She was almost hanging on her last thread of hope.
And then she saw his light approaching.
Elated she shouted out to him - her cries magnified in the skies.
He was waiting too… traveling miles to be together with her again. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he threw himself at her, his force drenching her completely. Permeating through her porous soul. Droplets of sweet, crystal-clear water washing down on her and she felt cleansed, free and happy, bursting into a green song, for everyone to hear.
“The first rains are here” you shouted, “lets get some hot tea and bhajjis to eat.”
It didn’t matter as long as he spent those three beautiful months with her. Of all the companions she ever had, she loved him the most. He saw through her and she submitted, her defences all useless.
Recently though he had become a little unpredictable. Staying away for a long time and then when he did come back, he was not as gentle as he used to be. He'd have a nasty temper sometimes, and it hurt her.
People were talking about him now. Finding fault with his fury. “People!!!” she sighed to herself. “Always picking on him”. When he’d come soon they’d wonder whether something was wrong and if he was delayed they’d switch to panic mode and wonder why he was taking so long.
His unpredictability, she felt was their entire fault. She tried to tell them but then they thought they were smarter. They messed with him and forced him into the state he was in. She knew he was bothered and yet she saw him come back year after year, bringing them gifts as usual.
The hot sun forced her to come out of her musing by snatching the remaining moisture straight out of her. In spite of it all, she looked forward to his coming. Waiting, yearning and pining.
She was almost hanging on her last thread of hope.
And then she saw his light approaching.
Elated she shouted out to him - her cries magnified in the skies.
He was waiting too… traveling miles to be together with her again. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he threw himself at her, his force drenching her completely. Permeating through her porous soul. Droplets of sweet, crystal-clear water washing down on her and she felt cleansed, free and happy, bursting into a green song, for everyone to hear.
“The first rains are here” you shouted, “lets get some hot tea and bhajjis to eat.”
Saturday, May 26, 2007
On Babies
Babies!!!! Those cute little sweet little blobs of mass we once were.
I , though, just fail to see their apparent cuteness. Maybe i'm just not one of those women who goes soooooooooo cuuuuuute when i see the blob, but then thats me.
Its not that i'm against procreation; the process sure is fun. Its just that when i think babies i think nine months of a bloated body, numerous trips to the doctors, the inability to wear decent clothes and not to forget the never ending waiting for labour to be over.
If you thought labour was the worst part of it all, think again. You have sleepless nights of nappy changing or feeding to follow.... and they call them 'bundles of joy'
I recently heard a mother who'd recently acquired one such bundle say she had wanted to adopt. The reaction she got had me stumped.
The room goes silent for a split second. Apparently adopting babies is a risk!!!!! You see if the mother(more prominently emphasised)/father of the child had a 'bad character(sounds worse in hindi) it was genetically(assumed) passed down to the child. It doesn't matter that the child has not had any contact with her mother/father EVER.
What a huge risk it is really. As if going through childbirth isnt! The conversation also went to those women who were barren (very crudely put) but yes.
I really feel, looking after something that aint yours is an amazing thing to do.. and if that thing is a child then kudos to you cause kids are not easy things to bring up(look at how i turned out) . An additional thing is that they are readymade no labour no pain but you still encounter the joy of nurturing something..
And you talk about a higher purpose in life!!!!!!
I , though, just fail to see their apparent cuteness. Maybe i'm just not one of those women who goes soooooooooo cuuuuuute when i see the blob, but then thats me.
Its not that i'm against procreation; the process sure is fun. Its just that when i think babies i think nine months of a bloated body, numerous trips to the doctors, the inability to wear decent clothes and not to forget the never ending waiting for labour to be over.
If you thought labour was the worst part of it all, think again. You have sleepless nights of nappy changing or feeding to follow.... and they call them 'bundles of joy'
I recently heard a mother who'd recently acquired one such bundle say she had wanted to adopt. The reaction she got had me stumped.
The room goes silent for a split second. Apparently adopting babies is a risk!!!!! You see if the mother(more prominently emphasised)/father of the child had a 'bad character(sounds worse in hindi) it was genetically(assumed) passed down to the child. It doesn't matter that the child has not had any contact with her mother/father EVER.
What a huge risk it is really. As if going through childbirth isnt! The conversation also went to those women who were barren (very crudely put) but yes.
I really feel, looking after something that aint yours is an amazing thing to do.. and if that thing is a child then kudos to you cause kids are not easy things to bring up(look at how i turned out) . An additional thing is that they are readymade no labour no pain but you still encounter the joy of nurturing something..
And you talk about a higher purpose in life!!!!!!
Monday, April 23, 2007
The Reflection
There he was again. She looked at him knowing he couldn’t escape her magnetic charm. He’d made it a habit now and it paid well for her. She had nothing to complain about really. At least it helped put food on the table.
She really enjoyed her work. For all those morally correct social workers she didn’t care a hoot. They were equally tainted. If there was one thing she knew to do well it was to recognize lust in all its forms. And here they were to educate her about AIDS and how she had a better life making candles or some other low paying high labour job; she saw it in them too. They repressed and suppressed all of it as if it was a terrible disease. How stupid! She thought. She was so much ahead of them at least she acknowledged it all and had no qualms projecting those feelings.
He smiled, she nodded, and he entered into her well kept shanty. Without wasting any time she deftly and artistically worked her way with him and watched as he shuddered and writhed in pleasure and shut his eyes with elation and satisfaction. Their little tryst had ended.
This is the part she hated though, when he left. Left her alone and used up. He left her prize on the table right next to her mirror turned upside down. She looked at herself in the mirror now, adjusting the pleats of the thin synthetic fabric on her frail shoulders. Her well groomed hair now disorderly, her vermillion lips stolen of their color, and the powdery mask on her face now dusted off. She was bare now to herself in the mirror, bare enough to see the fine lines under her eyes. Her reflection reminded her of what she once was and what she had become and that there was very little of her to go on ahead.
Just then, he ran in through the door straight into her arms screaming….Aaieee!!!!
She looked into his innocent eyes, the dirty school uniform and the overfilled bag on his shoulders.
Suddenly her day brightened up, she smiled... her best motherly smile and went back to her strong frame immediately. There was no room for weakness of any kind here, was there?
“Hey, come here take this” she said gruffly, shoving the hand held mirror into her neighbour’s dirty hands the next day.
No room for reflections here, she thought, no room at all.
She saw another one in the distance and at once recognized the colour of lust in his eyes……
She really enjoyed her work. For all those morally correct social workers she didn’t care a hoot. They were equally tainted. If there was one thing she knew to do well it was to recognize lust in all its forms. And here they were to educate her about AIDS and how she had a better life making candles or some other low paying high labour job; she saw it in them too. They repressed and suppressed all of it as if it was a terrible disease. How stupid! She thought. She was so much ahead of them at least she acknowledged it all and had no qualms projecting those feelings.
He smiled, she nodded, and he entered into her well kept shanty. Without wasting any time she deftly and artistically worked her way with him and watched as he shuddered and writhed in pleasure and shut his eyes with elation and satisfaction. Their little tryst had ended.
This is the part she hated though, when he left. Left her alone and used up. He left her prize on the table right next to her mirror turned upside down. She looked at herself in the mirror now, adjusting the pleats of the thin synthetic fabric on her frail shoulders. Her well groomed hair now disorderly, her vermillion lips stolen of their color, and the powdery mask on her face now dusted off. She was bare now to herself in the mirror, bare enough to see the fine lines under her eyes. Her reflection reminded her of what she once was and what she had become and that there was very little of her to go on ahead.
Just then, he ran in through the door straight into her arms screaming….Aaieee!!!!
She looked into his innocent eyes, the dirty school uniform and the overfilled bag on his shoulders.
Suddenly her day brightened up, she smiled... her best motherly smile and went back to her strong frame immediately. There was no room for weakness of any kind here, was there?
“Hey, come here take this” she said gruffly, shoving the hand held mirror into her neighbour’s dirty hands the next day.
No room for reflections here, she thought, no room at all.
She saw another one in the distance and at once recognized the colour of lust in his eyes……
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
A Walk on the Water
The air turns a little more salty it clings to me making my skin feel like its been coated with adhesive. I walk on closer and see no one "my private paradise,"I say.. isnt it beautiful how i feel right at home in this humid, moist, sticky, salty air. I sit myself down on the shore.... sand under and all around me. I close my eyes and hear the sea breeze whisper softly in my ear saying to me, "control me.."
Gradually, i realise i have the power in this solitude to awaken my seventh sense wherin i control the elements. The sea breeze listens... i tell it to blow across the sea and cause a more noticeable ripple and it does ...the elation to see my power work. Then i tell it sway those palms ever so gently so they look like they are swaying to a silent tune. Their black silhouettes against the faded, blue background drizzled with milky white sprays of cotton, look like two lovers dancing to a tune at the fag end of a wedding party . Tranquil and content with each other and with their neighbours. So unlike me... I always want more i'm never content. i can control the breeze you see, but tht isnt enough yet... I loathe myself, how many would be happy that they can control something beyond the grasp of all... but not me.. i was created in a moment of want... cursed with the unsatiable desire to drag myself throughout my life to achieve whatever i felt was remotely possible. See, its calling out again to me..."control me" it says i can hear the underlying plea for help like a helpless dog... a new born child maybe. its not the breeze this time i know its voice well.. Its the water i can hear it... the way itss words are interspaced with the shound of foamy waves lapping the shore. The salt water is another fool wanted to be controlled by someone who can barely control herself.
The alarm goes off... yet another dream a dream of having what no one else wants. I dreamt this dream again, she said to herself. Surrounded in this desolate apartment with no one. Nothingness surrrounded her. The high orgasmic feeling of the dream snatched away, just one look of this desolate apartment and she knew, dreams are all she had.. life would go like clockwork. Wake up at eight.. rush in for a bath if she felt like or else sleep for another 15 minutes.... run get ready catch the cab from the station at 8.55.... reach work enter her cubicle, stay there uptil 6.30 occasionally taking a break for lunch and yeah the smoke break at 4 on the terrace of her office. Quite predictable the day was...and every minute she spent at it was to her ears cynical laughter at the dreams she dreamt. Dreams of glory, recognition, special powers. They were laughing u know.....looking at each excruciating second of the dream frame by frame and laughing . Making her look incredibly small stupid and idiotic.
But she will still dream... Her story was unfinished and so is her life......
Gradually, i realise i have the power in this solitude to awaken my seventh sense wherin i control the elements. The sea breeze listens... i tell it to blow across the sea and cause a more noticeable ripple and it does ...the elation to see my power work. Then i tell it sway those palms ever so gently so they look like they are swaying to a silent tune. Their black silhouettes against the faded, blue background drizzled with milky white sprays of cotton, look like two lovers dancing to a tune at the fag end of a wedding party . Tranquil and content with each other and with their neighbours. So unlike me... I always want more i'm never content. i can control the breeze you see, but tht isnt enough yet... I loathe myself, how many would be happy that they can control something beyond the grasp of all... but not me.. i was created in a moment of want... cursed with the unsatiable desire to drag myself throughout my life to achieve whatever i felt was remotely possible. See, its calling out again to me..."control me" it says i can hear the underlying plea for help like a helpless dog... a new born child maybe. its not the breeze this time i know its voice well.. Its the water i can hear it... the way itss words are interspaced with the shound of foamy waves lapping the shore. The salt water is another fool wanted to be controlled by someone who can barely control herself.
The alarm goes off... yet another dream a dream of having what no one else wants. I dreamt this dream again, she said to herself. Surrounded in this desolate apartment with no one. Nothingness surrrounded her. The high orgasmic feeling of the dream snatched away, just one look of this desolate apartment and she knew, dreams are all she had.. life would go like clockwork. Wake up at eight.. rush in for a bath if she felt like or else sleep for another 15 minutes.... run get ready catch the cab from the station at 8.55.... reach work enter her cubicle, stay there uptil 6.30 occasionally taking a break for lunch and yeah the smoke break at 4 on the terrace of her office. Quite predictable the day was...and every minute she spent at it was to her ears cynical laughter at the dreams she dreamt. Dreams of glory, recognition, special powers. They were laughing u know.....looking at each excruciating second of the dream frame by frame and laughing . Making her look incredibly small stupid and idiotic.
But she will still dream... Her story was unfinished and so is her life......
Monday, April 2, 2007
The Star
"You just wait and see Kala they’ll be here. They’ll be knocking on my door soon.”
Kala smiled, she didn’t know whether to support the old lady’s notion or laugh at it. It had become a daily routine while Kala oiled the old lady’s hair now white with a few grey and black remnants of her youth. That’s all that was left of those good old days. How could she tell the old lady that nobody remembered her any longer! There were new ones in her place now. They danced to the new beats and were semi clad, plastered with white, red and god knows what colours on those faces. They had succeeded in gaining the public’s attention. The good old days when her mistress shone in the limelight like the Kohinoor among the other small jewels on the crown were days gone by.
Then she wondered, “What! Tell her and break her poor heart.” Kala had been the old lady’s help ever since she had been living in her own large bungalow in Bombay. Now funds were short, the old lady had to shift into the small crummy flat. Her health was almost failing, the doctor had advised her fresh air. Fresh air here in the city! What was he thinking! The old womans chatter interrupted her. “They’ll definitely be here tomorrow, after all they wont forget the beauty who sang and danced her way into the hearts of millions of Indians.
They definitely wont forget me? Will they Kala? Kala, will they? “No they won’t.” Kala said reassuringly.” They’ll be here tomorrow and you have to look pretty. So get some beauty sleep now. Good night.”“Good night Kala see that you make some garam pakoras tomorrow when they come. Don’t let me remind you again.“Ok, Ok! Now go off to sleep. Kala went off to her room and slept as soon as she set her head on her pillow.
The next morning Kala put the milk to boil and applying some butter on a chapatti went into the old lady’s room. She was sleeping like a baby as usual. Here your breakfast is almost ready. She touched her and at once knew something was wrong. She was cold. Just then the doorbell rang.The next day Kala received the copy of ‘The Star’ –the famous film city magazine, it had the picture of her mistress on the cover. ‘The gem of Indian cinema passed away leaving thousands of her ardent fans in deep sorrow. Her soulful songs, graceful melodies will remain immortal in the heart of every Indian., she read out to herself tearily.
Kala wrapped up the leftover pakoras in the magazines and said to herself while she threw it into the bin. “No they didn’t forget you Malkin they never did.”
Kala smiled, she didn’t know whether to support the old lady’s notion or laugh at it. It had become a daily routine while Kala oiled the old lady’s hair now white with a few grey and black remnants of her youth. That’s all that was left of those good old days. How could she tell the old lady that nobody remembered her any longer! There were new ones in her place now. They danced to the new beats and were semi clad, plastered with white, red and god knows what colours on those faces. They had succeeded in gaining the public’s attention. The good old days when her mistress shone in the limelight like the Kohinoor among the other small jewels on the crown were days gone by.
Then she wondered, “What! Tell her and break her poor heart.” Kala had been the old lady’s help ever since she had been living in her own large bungalow in Bombay. Now funds were short, the old lady had to shift into the small crummy flat. Her health was almost failing, the doctor had advised her fresh air. Fresh air here in the city! What was he thinking! The old womans chatter interrupted her. “They’ll definitely be here tomorrow, after all they wont forget the beauty who sang and danced her way into the hearts of millions of Indians.
They definitely wont forget me? Will they Kala? Kala, will they? “No they won’t.” Kala said reassuringly.” They’ll be here tomorrow and you have to look pretty. So get some beauty sleep now. Good night.”“Good night Kala see that you make some garam pakoras tomorrow when they come. Don’t let me remind you again.“Ok, Ok! Now go off to sleep. Kala went off to her room and slept as soon as she set her head on her pillow.
The next morning Kala put the milk to boil and applying some butter on a chapatti went into the old lady’s room. She was sleeping like a baby as usual. Here your breakfast is almost ready. She touched her and at once knew something was wrong. She was cold. Just then the doorbell rang.The next day Kala received the copy of ‘The Star’ –the famous film city magazine, it had the picture of her mistress on the cover. ‘The gem of Indian cinema passed away leaving thousands of her ardent fans in deep sorrow. Her soulful songs, graceful melodies will remain immortal in the heart of every Indian., she read out to herself tearily.
Kala wrapped up the leftover pakoras in the magazines and said to herself while she threw it into the bin. “No they didn’t forget you Malkin they never did.”
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
The Meaning
Caryatid!!!! What the heck is that? Why that name?
Well its a fancy shmancy name from the dictionary I just looked up nah...Gah do u expect to think i'm that lame???? Well yes I am. Apart from the fact that I perceive myself somewhat larger than life wish and hope that some day I am reminded that I was one of the members of Greek or Roman or even Egyptian royalty who was this narcisstic, extravagant superwoman who had all she could lay her eyes on including her men!!! So what if i've subjected myself to be a freak of Greek architecture that supports a freaking building. But then I am a larger than life figure (sometimes draped with cloth) that holds things up. Apart from perversion you will find tantalising things to read and maybe a few opinions you don’t agree with .But while you’re here remember this is my world and I don’t intend to be politically correct. Ta..Da...
Well its a fancy shmancy name from the dictionary I just looked up nah...Gah do u expect to think i'm that lame???? Well yes I am. Apart from the fact that I perceive myself somewhat larger than life wish and hope that some day I am reminded that I was one of the members of Greek or Roman or even Egyptian royalty who was this narcisstic, extravagant superwoman who had all she could lay her eyes on including her men!!! So what if i've subjected myself to be a freak of Greek architecture that supports a freaking building. But then I am a larger than life figure (sometimes draped with cloth) that holds things up. Apart from perversion you will find tantalising things to read and maybe a few opinions you don’t agree with .But while you’re here remember this is my world and I don’t intend to be politically correct. Ta..Da...
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