And because I have to 'keep' this on my blog- To Alice.

Oh, I don't know why she's leaving, 
Or where she's gonna go, 
I guess she's got her reasons, 
But I just don't want to know, 
'Cos for twenty-four years 
I've been living next door to Alice.


Smokie said these a lot of decades, actually more than a century later. Lewis C figured who the fk Alice was much before that. And how!! Stoned or not, he did a fab job. I can spend hours reading and re-reading Alice in the wonderland. I almost believe if people understood this book, there would be no more warring in this world for the sake of power. Really believe it.

"If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does.” 

And read this:

“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.” 

I cant tell you the number of times I thought of 'me' this way. Over the years I changed- for better or worse, time will tell. Theory of relativity will tell. But Lewis figured it for Alice long time ago.

I wont attempt writing the review of this book, mainly because I wouldn't know to end it. I wouldn't even know to stop it. But I will try and re-write some of my fav lines of this book.

“Have I gone mad?
Im afraid so, but let me tell you something, the best people usually are.” 

“Alice:How long is forever? White Rabbit:Sometimes, just one second.”   
I couldn't have told the answer better than the white rabbit. I really could not have. Take a pat on your rump White rabbit. You are not only clever but also wise.

“My dear, here we must run as fast as we can, just to stay in place. And if you wish to go anywhere you must run twice as fast as that.” 

Queen of hearts- Take a bow. This is the race I chose to run in and struggling. I know the answer. 

“Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.” 

I love it too. No one can control me in my mind. Its 'mine' own. :-)

I cant write enough about the book as I mentioned. I cant read it enough either. After the book you would also wonder and hum "Alice?? Who the fk is Alice??" Wouldn't blame Smokie. 

Lewis C- Please please take a bow and a kiss on your feet. I do love you- enough!!! :-)

Predictable state of my mind

Contrary to all beliefs, I think I am fairly predictable where my state of mind is concerned.

If you were a part of my family, you would know that I have an OCD about cleanliness. Yes, I exactly need to have everything in their designated place and have a place for every thing that enters my home. If I dont know where to place certain object (or people too- ouch!), they dont enter my house.

Any clutter that I see at home will reflect my mind immediately and I can feel my mind cluttered. My emotions cluttered. Thats how bad my OCD is.

Stay away from me. :-) Totally not worth it.

My father... Let my country awake

Another trip to Delhi. The feeling of insecurity and the feeling of being unsafe in the city just emphasizes yet again. 

Not that I faced anything bad or out of the ordinary. Infact I dont have any data points to back me up on this. Its just a qualitative hunch. Gut instinct that keeps telling you time and again to run. Take a flight. 

I could have easily walked away from places where there is hazaar security. The amount of 'watching' and staring as if you were an alien is just ridiculous. To the point that even when you collect all the wits and stare back hard, the lookers still wont look away. Unfortunately when they refuse to look away, they have won a psychological war over me.

An astrologer once mentioned to me that my dad is my strength. :-) I did free ride over him all my life and still continue doing so. If I can still step into places like Hyd and Delhi it is only because my father is around somewhere watching my back. But father, please let my country awake. 

Nagila...- Alaipayuthey

Hear this fab song in full volume of your-whatever-range of sound system.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHu-T6s5_u0 

 I love the song... I love the video. I loved Madhavan. I am in love with the girl... Her name is SHalini. She acted in 2 or 3 movies (to my knowledge) and married the actor Ajith (Tam actor)...

They are both so natural and so not conscious of themselves.. Very dancy song for me.. If I were a dancer or atleast even if I were a wee bit comfy about the idea of me dancing, I will dirty dance to this- easily.

A sharp contrast to the song in Hindi that Rani Mukherjee and the joker Ash's ex by friend... And the song was murdered in Hindi by both the singer and the BGM adaptation.

The song in tam was sung by SP Charan- SPB's sonny. I love his voice for this song.

In short. Please watch it and tell me what you think?

Indolence

I figured more than half of my problems are because I'm a lazy bum. But I want to be like this for the rest of my life. Not the problems bit, but the laziness bit.

Someone please take up the entire ghar ka work and operational load from me. I will just go make money and win the proverbial bread and butter. I will be a happy camper. That in itself will make my world a better place to be.

Only I will not call me lazy. I shall be known indolent. It almost sounds classy. :-)

The case of the missing ring

Oh the ring looked absolutely stunning on her finger. A solitaire. Curiosity killed the feline and he walked up to her and asked her where she sourced the ring? Was it an engagement ring? If so, can she ask the fiance where he got it for her?

She looked at him puzzled and lost at the engagement bit. He still looked at her hopefully. She realized he was still expecting a response. Snapping out of her reverie she told him there was no engagement really. A bit dazed he again looked at her and then asked her about the ring. He ignored the broken engagement bit.

A week ago there was a sapphire. A big dazzling, royal blue rock. The finger did feel heavy with the weight. But the relationship felt heavier. She walked along the streets of Kalaghoda when she saw this solitaire ring and thought why not? The only doubt in her head then was that the ring was as heavy in weight as her previous one. Infact it was a few grams heavier than the royal blue.

After pondering a few moments that felt like aeons, she bought the ring. The sapphire ring found its way into the sea like the 'Queen of oceans'. Solitaire replaced the empty space on the finger.

A week passed by. The finger almost felt naked despite the heavy ring. For once she fondly looked at the purchase she made for herself. The moment was almost symbolic and metaphoric. She gave him a bright smile that reflected her spirit.

And then told him where she bought the ring. Some moons ago and some seas away, she bought the ring with whatever life was left in her.

Beautiful Hamsanaadam

Both lil K and I love Hamsanaadham (meaning Swan's call/voice) as a raga. She probably doesn't understand the ragam but she loves all the songs of this ragam.While they are more classical and beautiful compositions in this raga, lil K loves the song here.

The song has some fab lyrics. It's a typical gult wedding song for a girl. Typical in a lot of angles, but the song stands the sands of time. Raj Koti did some fantastic music in this movie. I love almost all the songs and my fav ones are this one and another one in Durbari Kaanada sung by Yeshudas.

Coming back to the song, wont bother tranlating the enitre song, but the first two lines should be a great random sample for a testimonial.

"Muddula Jaanaki pelliki mabbula pallaki thevalane,
aasala rekkala hamsalu pallaki mosuku povalane"

Roughly translates to:

"Bring a pallanquin made of clouds for pretty Janaki (Seetha's) wedding
And swans with wings made of wishes and hope will bear (carry) it"

I so wonder lil K understands the meaning too! :-) Here's to Hamsa naadam. And to know more about the raga some of the signature songs are:

1. Om Namaha Idayathai Thirudathe
2. Hamsa Naadhamo pilupo (Check the BGM of this song- It's my fav, esp the transition between the pallavi and charanam)
3. Classical song- Bantu reethi koluvu
4.   Thendral Vanthu ennai thodum

Talking is overrated

It really is. In my view when someone tells us talking solves problems, I will vehemently disagree. I disagree because nobody, and nobody absolutely will have the honesty to talk and solve problems. The inches will never be gained.

Talking involves more than one person. Picture this. If even as a person you talk to your self , to your body, your mind and soul, you know it's never the truth. You cant (atleast I cant) admit the stark naked truth to your own self.

When we cant admit things to ourselves, how in the hell would we be able to manage a conversation to solve problems? I am truly cutting myself off from the world. I know the friends who I stopped talking to. Really close friends. I do care for them still. Worry for them. But unfortunately I am not a great person to be with right now. I need to sort myself before I make a full on entry into the people/social scenario again.

I feel the restlessness creeping in. Yet again. Last time it did not help me. I am sure as hell that this time it wont help me either. And no, this is not my rant about what is wrong with the world. This is my rant about confused statue of mind. A place where you really dont know if you are running the right race. And even if it is right, this time for a change you just dont feel like running anymore. But because you soo like this race, you just want to walk along the track when others are running. Is that slacking?

Talking- pah! who needs it? Losers like me dont. And cant ever do it right anyway. Lots of stakes. But well, the gamble was made. And I am lost. I think I will lose. But this time, I am not OK to lose. I am not prepared. I cant let my soul die.

The chimera that died

Where is the limit? Sky? Beyond sky? What are the last few inches we fight for? Where are they? Ultimately I have my home. I have my boundaries and there is safety in these boundaries. Sometimes you get away from the safety. You crave for uncertainty. Good or bad? You need open spaces. You need wider areas.

Death hits you in the boundaries. No wonder most of the dead find their way home underground. I am not dead. I wander around in the universe. I truly believe i am earth's kid. But I am more dead. There is no resting in peace in being a little more dead unfortunately.

Where else do you find peace? Not here, not there. Neither up, nor down. It's just never there anywhere. Was never there anyway. The chimera. It died.

The man who ate the blue whale

Admitting to personal failures is not difficult. Ok, it's a bit difficult but there- I said it. I do admit that I failed in a lot of stuff. Problem is I never learn the lesson.

Yet another failure. And another day of indigestion. Unfortunately life moves on leaving  bit of itself in the burial ground.

So then... Does a new life come into picture? Did the man who tried swallowing the blue whale live?

Check boxes

There are check boxes and there are check boxes in life. Obviously a lot of us want them all checked at some point(s) before the soul gives up.

Serendipity is strange. Sometimes there are invisible check boxes that star in the list. The best thing about these boxes are they get checked the minute they become visible. 

Oh, the list!! Why can't we operate like this? 

Wistfully,

Yours truly.

Life moves on...

Picture this... I sit with my laptop frantically searching for words and tying a plot together. And yes, I am sitting by myself. Lil K is sleeping. Husband is at work. I have the house to myself pretty much. For a second or third person, the atmosphere around looks quite peaceful, silent and serene. Perfect setting really to think and write that story that is lurking somewhere within my soul.

I type the first word and then I can 'feel' lil K wailing in her sleep. I put the lappy aside and rush to check on her. She is sleeping like any other baby does- like a baby. I am almost slightly disappointed that she did not need me. I go back to the lappy and I look at the first word and again pick up the previous train of thought.. Wait a min.. Where was I?? Aaah, the first word.

So I try typing the second word- an article now. Easy peasy. Did I smell something burning in the air? Was that fact of reality around me? Or was it the fiction cooking in my mind? I again rush into the kitchen to make sure it is not in the real world. I sigh in relief that it is not real. But the relief is obviously short lived. I come back to my second word. If clutter could be defined then one would just need to peep in my head. You'll find it.

Again, I try and get back to the third word. By then I lost my train of thought. Did I hear a click of door? Is the husband back from work? How was his day today? Bloody why is my work stressing me out? Why cant I speed up my last few meters when swimming? Oh shit!! The cook gave me marching orders. Is the maid going to come tomorrow atleast? What do I give lil K in her box for snack break?  Is my dad's health going to be ok? I hope my mom gets her promo this year atleast- it's long overdue. When would my bro get a decent job? When am I going to get out of the peer pressure? Why did the maternity break cost me so much? Is it fair that I take *so much* of pay cut and struggle to come back to what market owes the mean population? When, oh when will I reduce the last 5 kilos of weight? You see the baby is out 5 years ago. And more importantly there is nothing inside me now to justify the 5 month old paunch.

Get the drift? When will I find my mind space to write? And more importantly graduate to finishing the book that I have never started so far?

The Great Bath

Exactly 6 years ago I went to this place called Bath in the UK. It's a place where there are these huge great Roman baths constructed with stone and have hot geysers flowing through.

Romans I thought were conservative folks, but these baths are meant to for community bathing too. Ahem, Ahem- still conservative?? Atleast no, by our own desi standards. The place is beautiful. The colors of the water is astounding. Truly a sight that is etched in my head forever. I still remember how I imagined being in it when I saw it the first time. It truly felt royal.

The heat and the swirls of the water is enough to get anyone to sleep on the floor of the bath. If there is a place that I 'd like to visit again, it has to be the great bath.

As a side track conversation btw, Jane Austen lived in Bath for a few years before she died. An incomplete story in tow, she was also depressed in the place. I wonder why?

Incomplete story... maketh does not anyone's life. It is just unfair. She writes beautifully according to me. The books have spunk. I wonder why she gave up on life at 41.

Am I a good person?

Not really. Not at all infact. Quite the opposite.

I lie. I am angry.
I sigh. I am manipulative.
I cry. I am negative.
I can be many things not considered right in this world.

But...

I am happy. I try.
I will make sure you are happy if you are my friend.
I will eat with you and make you laugh.
"I do not not agree with what you have to say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." (Evelyn Beatrice Hall)

And no, in difficult times, I cant promise I will be there for you. I may be fighting my private battles which are bigger than yours in my head. My mindspace is quite limited.

I will apologize from the bottom of my heart for this. And pretty much it.

I am still bad. Dont come too close. You see, I can vanish.

Brush of the water

The haunting tune was beckoning him. He walked along the shores of his favourite beach. A deserted one. All he could see was the horizon and no distraction to his vision and sight. His sight told him there was nothing to see during his slow walk. But his vision showed him another track next to his foot prints. Slowly and steadily his gait picked up speed.

A small smile started creeping on his intensely hard face. The foot steps next to his, they dint look too bad you see... They had a track of their own. They had a min of their own. For a few moments, he thought maybe his reverie was disturbed. No sooner had that thought crept into his mind, the foot steps vanished along side his. They took a sharp left into the water. and the steps did not make sense anymore.

A strange sense of emptiness filled him. He looked at them almost wistfully and continued his walk.  Only this time the solitude did not feel right. It almost resembled lonliness. The long walk suddenly felt tiresome.

His sight still told him there is nothing to see. His vision told him he probably made a mistake.

He stopped for a minute. A long minute that felt short enough. He took a deep breath and after a contemplating moment, took a turn left into the water. His mind told him, his sight might not have seen it. But his vision surely did. 

The time of the month

When the blood just leaks, making your body tired and weak...
Oh the waste blood in me, why do you also make me meek?
If you dont take care of the peak, beware of the havoc it can wreak.

My pathetic attempt at poetry. :-) We had a fun conversation between the women folk today. I wrote it once on my blog before, and I will write it again. Women are hormonal. We cant help. You know what?? Fk, we dont even want to try doing it anymore- helping ourselves I mean. It only adds to the stress. I am a woman and I have to atleast respect myself for who I am and what I possess.

Fk it is true we have them periods. And it is also true that we PMS. Well most of us do. So men might as well get used to this fact. That not just wives, but also women colleagues have all the womanly problems. :-)

So next time I am pms-ing, I am going to tell my team not to bother me because I am PMS-ing. It doesnt mean we will work any lesser. You duffers, it means just be a little more sensitive to your surroundings.

Male clan- you dont need to protect us anymore. We moved on. Yes we love it when you care for us, but please dont be too intrusive when we dont need it. :-) We have our moments. Respect them.

Yes, I am PMS-ing. There. I said it. :-)

The Penultimate Judgment

These are never more than a second away. How do bullies thrive in this world? They are not too many. But the few around make their presence felt.

If you are bullied whose mistake is it? Yours? or the bully's? Well, the answer is quite simple. If someone raped you, whose mistake is it? Of course the one who got raped. Why even think so much?? You see the person never stood up for themselves at the time of need.

Does it sound right? From a neutral aspect it sounds right to me. Sometimes the one fight is necessary. But sometimes the one fight is never enough. Infact it is but counter productive. Because you showed strength, he may not only rape you, but also kill you. Well life is precious for me.

I'd rather get raped and live and than get raped and killed. Yes, that makes me passive aggressive. Yes, that makes me an angry person forever. Yes, that makes me bitter. Yes that shows me that I am not assertive.

But hell, I still am alive. Every moment of my life. Only fking difference is my ego and pride have taken so much of place in me that I dont have any more left.

Yes- pretty much today I admit to myself that perhaps, corporate life is not for me. Today is probably the day that I will admit that I was always a misfit. Today I am just some more dead. With the nature of humanity. The weird idiosyncrasies of life.

The beginning of an ending- Yet another one

Ultimate death (if not accidental) comes when body wants to die in my view. As you grow older, some portions of you start dying. Your beliefs, trust, some habits, faith, some views, opinions, some soul, spirit, some health and wealth too. Paradoxically, you also re-build your system based on all the new changes.

I dont know if this is good or bad. But this is just a fact. I may want to buy a house now. 10 years later, I would probably want to buy a bigger house. Or based on the metamorphosis I have gone through, I may sell the existing house and move to the smaller one. Take rest of the cash and travel. Or indulge in charity. It could be many things. But accepting that your body, mind and soul will go through these changes is important.

I am not the same as I was at 20. But sometimes, amusingly enough, I feel I was like this at 10. I dont know if this is cyclic. Meaning at 40, I may end up like 20. Or not. But unfortunately enough, I cant even predict it anymore. What causes turbulence in life is that we are never enough prepared for these changes. The not-so-logical endings and weird and bizarre beginnings mostly because the body is never prepared for it.

The roles are not so clear anymore. The grey areas are only widening in life. Life is no more running on the basis of SOP made on the categories of caste, age, creed, race, economics or place. Its just a void in the grey. The more prepared we are to assume the unexpected, the better we are able to cope. And hope.

Life is crazy, but heck I signed up to be living it. To experience it to the fullest. To live each moment to the fullest. The day I dont feel like it, is the day I am dead anyway.

Here is to another ending. And new beginnings. 

Destruction of construction

I wonder at times what drives people to be destructive? Look at the recent killings- Syria, Paris, and Malay. I deeply wonder how the motive is so strong. Like imagine you are angry with someone or something. To the extent that you really want to murder them. The moment I get this feeling in my head, I have already killed the person. I would probably even look at myself as a murderer. I may even feel guilty sometimes for thinking like that. But after a day or two, the intensity decreases. The mids space is used up by something else. So basically, the motive weakens in my case. That maybe because I am not considering the event itself not important after a period of time. Thats the assumption I like to live in else I wont be able to move on.

For a person like me, seeing Hampi destroyed little hope that I had in human beings. To be fair, it was killed long time ago. a life time ago. But life teaches you some stuff and you start believing in goodness again that maybe, maybe there is something good. Only to be knocked off by events like this.

Hampi is only ruins. Lots of art that was destroyed. I am a fan of Sri Krishnadevaraya even before my visit to Hampi. In his rule, fine arts and culture flourished. What threw me off about this in a good way was he really ruled only for 20 years. In 20 years he brought so much to history that after so many centuries we still remember the 20 year old rule. I digress though.

Everything that I saw, the fort, the relics, the temples, the courts, you name it, everything has a mark of destruction on it. Elephant figurines where trunks are chopped, tails are chopped, the statues where Lakshmi is chopped off from the lap of Narasimha.

I see it and I cringed inside. That someone wanted to destroy it so maliciously and violently disturbs me. That we have people like them still around us disturbs me. That I worry rape, murder, theft, and corruption is still rampant and shows no signs of reduction. Violence is always on the increase.

I dont even have the right to crib or write about this because I have not really contributed in reducing anything. I am a scared fool who will not be able to ever stand up against any of this and take a strong stand. This means I will never have the right really to crib about it. There goes another piece of me to death.

The Hampi diaries

If you know me, you would know that I will immediately raise my hand for a road trip. As long as I even remotely know the person I am going out with is safe, I am ok. As long as I know silence is on the agenda during a road trip, I am game. The trips make me think. Lots of things. Randomness.

Parents, brother, husband and the kid. The car and yours truly. All of us started off from Hyd to Hampi at around 7.30 AM. Late by my dad's standards. :-) We should have hit the road around an hour earlier, left to him. But heck, how would you predict the potty time of the kiddo? On empty stomachs and slightly sleep laden eyes, we zipped along the first 50 Km driver by my dad. You should know him. He is a smooth driver. He is safe and he is also stylish (well- he is my dad, d-uh!). We took the first stop for breakfast at a nice drive in on the highway. Bangalore highway is beautiful. Wide and smooth roads. We hit the road again to reach catch the Mahboobnagar- Raichur road.

After a few kilometres off the highway was a 2 lane road. Basically single on one side so we started trudging along slowly, yet steadily. The drive to Hospet took us around 7 hours with no lunch break. We booked into Royal Orchid and had a light lunch/snack. The family that we are, we usually do a patel trip. So we touched upon Tunga bhadra dam. Little K was thrilled beyond limits when she saw the musical fountain. She almost started dancing to the fountains. :-)

The next day an entire day, we dedicated it to Hampi ruins. How I felt about Hampi is another blog post altogether. We saw destruction. We saw ruins. We had lunch at a place called Mango tree. Supposedly the best restaurant in town. Unfortunately it's horrible. To my standards, its bad. And you can easily miss lunch.

We went back to the hotel around 6 ish. I am not someone who likes souvenirs. It carries a lot of emotions and I hate living in emotional clutter. It makes me attached to a place. That drags my life. My office desk for example is not personalized. My house is not. No photos. But for the first time in my life I liked some stone statue kind of things. I bought them. And gifted all of them. But I liked the process of buying them. :-)

On the way back, we chose another road. We went through Bellary. And touched Mantralayam. To be honest, I was'nt too interested in the mutt. If you are devotional or know Raghavendra Swamy's stories, you may find some solace in the place. So after my parents grabbed quick lunch in the mutt there (I cant eat in places like that- the snob in me can starve but eat in a place where I am not comfy in), we found our way back to Kurnool. Around 70 Km from Matralayam. It took us 3 hours. No kidding. It was absolutely horrible. Single lane roads which were muddy and were under construction and extremely bumpy. The moment we touched Kurnool and saw that 6 lane highway, all of us breathed a sigh of relief.

Kurnool Hyd is 220 Km. It took us 2.5 hours to reach Hyd. Easy peasy. It was beautiful and exciting. With my bro on the wheel, you should expect it. He is a master on the highway. Hitting the home mile was a much awaited event for all of us. You see it took us 12 hours on the road for us that day.

Road trips are interesting. Infact fun, when it's with the right people. I dont like to go on them if I know the agenda is bonding with someone. I would rather get off and walk. I dont like talking during trips. Maybe few times when I feel like it. Not empty chatter.

Here is to one more experience in my life.

The snob and I

I am snobbish. I had the access to some of the best hotels and clubs (hell yeah, the memberships were exclusive) when I was growing up. We were not rich. But most of my family had powers of office. I have seen them never misusing it. Infact I have not seen them even use it to the fullest.

I consider myself a hard worker. More than that, I bring my all to the stuff I choose to do. Thats an advantage I grew up with. I had choices and I made sure that I exercised them thru out to the fullest.

Today. I made a choice that perhaps was not right. It bothers me immensely that I did not pause. Makes me personally feel like a dork. Maybe I am a certified A grade snob. Today I know my hunch about me is true.

I promised to myself I will not tread into waters I have no business to sail in. Its not profitable. 

Manasarovar

One of my friends made it there last year. Said it is excruciatingly painful to do the trip. You need to train for it and you need to be mentally fit to take this up. It's not a challenge on your physical self. But you need to be prepared for eventualities and casualities like death too. Yes, death is a casualty out there.

So.. I pondered over it for a few days now. Yes or no? The problem with me is if someone throws a gauntlet, I will pick it up. I have to pick it up. But sometimes I wonder if that's foolish. I wondered and thought about this. I decided not to do it. Atleast not the next year.

I decided not to put my body through undue pressure. I did put it under the bus this year. It takes a bit of time to get over the tiredness. To be fair, my repair is still not done completely.

Hence... 2017? Maybe. Tough luck!

Today is yet another day

Another marathon. Imagine a work day where you are able to actually take 2 hours off from a busy working day to just go to the beach? Catch a meal with your very interesting company... Like a dream right?

I work at making them come true. I will. Life is fun.

Well not really fun, but alright. You know what I mean? It's a private secret, but indulging yourself every now and then have benefits. Next time you are there steaming your ears out, relax. Sit back. Think. Dream. And then run to make it true. It works every bloody single time.

Who doesnt have problems in life? Meh??- Nah! :-)

Here's to another marathon. Another day. Oh, and some more pride. Because today is a day well accomplished. I not only fked someone's happiness, I raped it too. There. I said it. In my view bullying is mental abuse. So... are you empowered enough to overcome it?

Princess DN- XIV

Yes. In real life, I dont have a title really. Didnt matter ever before. You see real princesses dont need one. They rule the world in general and their surroundings in particular.

I rule my life. I am a princess. Today a king from the other kingdom asked me why a commoner like me was questioning his rules.

Today the lack of title pinched me. All that I said earlier and they said earlier about these titles being overrated is wrong. Dont believe. No title, no respect. You just have to soak in all the rudeness that is possible because you are just a commoner. You are almost deserving this treatment for the lack of this title.

Oh my might might king, I am your dirty dirty pig. What can I do for you today?

The swim, the song and the stress

There were events in my life that happened in Oct. Just to clarify, these were much awaited and important enough events- important enough, to manage friction and disturbances in our lives. It was not average Joe problems. Some may have resulted in permanent cracks. I wonder sometimes if the events were worth it. And an undoubted, resounding YES comes to my mind as an answer.

There are a few things in my life that are non negotiable. Fk the rest of the world, but I need to achieve some levels of my greatness. Yes, the swim was important. Yes, the song was important. Yes, the stress had to be managed.

The decision of going back to swim the race after my fall took a toll on me. I did not practice as much. My form was terrible. My fitness levels were in general fked up. But I had a weight on my shoulder of representing my state. Suddenly the weight had new boundaries. There was pride. There was passion. I had to go back to race. I had to complete the race. The seconds were important enough. To have a stress free mind was important. With the amount of clutter I collected in the last few days/weeks of the race it almost looked impossible. At this point, I need to acknowledge 2 people who made sure I went to the race and also went with a clear mind. Thanks! It helped. Tremendously. Like you guys wouldn't believe. The completion of race was empowering. The moment in itself was an emotional one for me. A culmination of a lot of things. I am glad I did the swim. I got the 7th place btw- there I said it. I am recording this for posterity.

Things I realized are not easy when major events are in life occur. The concert- the hour long concert for the first time in my life needed 5 months of practice. Needed a lot of juggling. A lot of shameless bargain and plead for support at home- to look after my daughter, to get some chores done. It created an imbalance in a lot of minds. I dont regret it- ashamed of myself that I had to ask favors perhaps, but these were the moments that I realized I am not a super mom. My voice took a toll just about a week before the concert. And a week earlier that I had work related travel where I could not practice. Amidst my voice quality challenge, between heaven and earth I struggled. I truly did. To the extent that I lost motivation and sank in depression- there I admitted to this as well. My health took a toll. I did all the right things to get my voice right and probably the goodwill in general in the universe helped. The concert day dawned and my voice cleared as much as the body could repair. We sailed through the 9 songs- yes we made mistakes. But we completed it.

Challenges are thrown. I dont want to be didactic. But I ruffled the balance around me. I am not proud of myself for it. But these events were important enough for me to ignore my surroundings. The next year, I will time myself for the race and finish the concert in style. The stress hopefully will be managed better. That K was travelling thru these events did hurt. The important people in my life were not witness to this. As they say, we all learn our own private lessons. Better stuff, next year then?

Words unlimited

Sometimes there are few moments when words truly are never enough to express. Silence is the best language. Thoughts are beautiful as long as they belong to the mind. Once they come out of their abode, they are often not the same anymore.

The course takes the shape of others minds. 

The day before

The day before is always powerful. The anxiety, anticipation, excitement and nerves are beyond any imagination. It's real and true. The flutter and the rush is real and true too. And so is the rapidly beating heart. It's not poetry.

The moments through the day actually has nothing to do with the past. Not the preparation or the lack of it. The hope that the situation still has a probability of working out in my favor. Low, but not impossible. Thats the power of the day before.

The hope that tomorrow brings something good is profound. Things could go wrong too. But losing is not wrong for me now. The race is important enough. Against all odds this time I am still going to race. Despite the injuries, I am choosing to go. Lot of them said it's foolish. Lot of them said I am irresponsible and I dont care enough.

What lot of them dont realize is the fact that this race is important enough for me to hedge risk. What lot of them can never ever understand is that I am what I am. Judgment may affect me, but eventually, unfortunately, I will move on. I have moved on. The decision to race this time ensured I killed some more people but hell, I want to live too. It's my life.

Thanks S. For that one last trigger. It means a lot and beyond for me. You were one of them who believed in me and understood how important this is for me.

Child rearing

The title sounds a bit derogatory and also didactic. I fully understand the importance of bringing up children. After all if we cant keep our pants up, the least we need to do is to bring them up. I do have extremely strong opinions on this subject and none would be rubbed on to anybody. Ever. That's the only rule.

In my view, there is no concept of my own flesh and blood and hence will receive special treatment. So if you leave your kid with me and should I agree to babysit them for say 1 or 2 hours, then I treat them like I do my own. I truly think we are only physical mediums to produce children but really they belong yo this earth.

This means kids do understand hunger, sleep, peeing, pooing and everything else. Earth will teach them through evolution anyway. Then what is my role truly as a parent? Honestly only to foresee the whole process. Monitor it. Pretty much. I dont and am not a great fan of forcing, coercing, feeding the kid every 2 hours, running behind them and so on. I believe in giving them space and silence. Infact I will fight tooth and nail to get them these. I absolutely think world would be beautiful and fascinating in their eyes when they see it through their wisdom. Not because I told them that roses are beautiful. That in my eyes is sacrilege. We just killed the views of the kid by saying it for them.

This doesnt mean I am a good or a bad parent. This just means I am trying yo make the kid find their rightful place in this universe.

I dont think I am a person who can connect with kids really. But the few kids I do interact with, I ensure that they get to see the true spirit of life. Thats freedom. 

Why dont you??

I have terrible sense of fashion. But in my head I am a fashionista by my own yard stick. I like the idea of completely dressing up or completely down. And to give my brain some credit, I do think I manage to pull off both the looks ok ish by my standards (which are anyway fk all,  but that's for another day).

I drive my dressing only by comfort. I need roomy, airy, loose fitted clothes that'll allow me to stretch as much as I want to without running the risk of tearing. So on a weekend waxed legs or not, I do like my faded, worn out shorts and comfort tees which are no less than 5 years. I stick to earring studs most of the times. And no other jewelry absolutely.

On a dress up day I choose sari hands down. I love the textures, colors, prints, the borders, the blouses, the everything of a sari that when draped looks and feels like a beautiful story.

The problem really is dressing to work. I end up wearing salwar kameez most of the times and trousers and skirts when I feel like it. My hair is anyway doomed for life. Its on of the most unruly mop I have ever come across. If it were a kid it would be apt to call it a brat with a mind of its own. Horrible thing that. But thats not my problem today.

Do not tell me I havent matched my handbag with my shoes. Or my earrings with the dress. Or my hair do or lack of it with the specs. Or lipstick to nail polish ( thats exaggeration actually, I wear neither). Oh, btw, dont ask me to wear a deo that smells like the toilet freshner in my head.  I really, really dont care. Pretty much, thats my fashion sense. Thanks.

Why dont you instead try it yourself??

The unthinkable...

Today. I broke one of my most important code in life. I lost my temper. Not anger. But temper. In some ways, this is still considered ok. But I lost my temper on a five year old girl with no defences built yet.

I made her build one today. A large part of me is resting in peace. Again folks who know me would know that a lot of my emotions are expressed through silence. Especially the not so happy ones. Today my mind gave up containing this in the name of silence.

Silence said I was misusing it. In reality, it said I made a lot of noise that is unbearable to it. It gave me a punishment for life. It made me lose it in front of a kid. I could have hurt the kid. A violent streak in me was unleashed that even scared me out.

The list of unanswered questions only increases. That the violence in silence.

Posterity

There are somethings happening in my life that I want to record for posterity. They are important. They mean a lot to me and they are enriching experiences.

My first concert for an hour with 2 other ladies is happening on the 19th Oct. We are singing 9 songs, none of them I knew or even heard before. The challenge was to learn, practice and sync with the others to make it sound good. Today I do believe the challenges culminated and I heard richness in the output. The practice was brilliant. I am a pantheist and I saw all gods showering. The concert day matters too, but I know in my heart I achieved the greatness I wanted and wished to in this milestone. Cheers. Here's to music. My first savior.

I am swimming in the national aquatic championship this year representing Telangana state. If you know me, you should know I am a patriotic person. I really am. While I am not regional, I will be lying if I said I am not excited. I feel proud that I am representing hope for the state that chose me. I had a few set backs while practicing. My timing is terrible. I slipped and hit my head and shoulder and neck. All of them are needed to get me from point A to B. I am swimming on the 11th of Oct.

Why are these events so important in my life?? I dont really need them to prove I am good/bad or ugly. But if I dont commit myself to events like this, I dont prepare well. I slacken and thats a road to disaster. I let go things easily. These practice sessions though are stressful on my life at times, I still enjoy them.

These sessions help me glimpse into a dream that looks real. And reality that looks like the truth of a dream.

I aint a barbie doll...

A snail got washed to the shore. It started crawling. It was lost. The world that the snail knew was its home with the ocean. What was its real world? The ocean or the shore?

A baby was pushed out forcibly from a womb. He started wailing like his life depended on it. Ironically it did. He finally landed in the real world. Oh wait a minute, wasnt his past home that too??

Circumstances change. Motivations change. People change. The entire world changes. If a person wants his immediate world to be constant, is that not a real world?

Real world is often dark, deep and constantly evolving. Am I ready for it?

What is this real world that people need to be at peace with? Do I always get it wrong? If real world means I need to see more challenges, then I give up on life. I want to be away and above and beyond this. How else can I cut myself off from the world?

Maybe its true. There is no place as a true place to be. Its only the real world. And only the greatest of the folks understand and thrive in it. Rest just fight and squabble for the inches in the make believe.

I guess there needs to be more dose of reality for me. And I thought it was dead forever. Forever is as forever does.

No pain, no gain!!

A slip is all that takes to get a blip on the head. It wont just take your body to the floor, but also your pride and ego. And the worst thing especially for people like me, there is unwanted attention from onlookers.

It could be that my eyes were on my head. It could be that I wasnt focusing on my walking. It could be that I was lost in my performance. Which was terrible. I started day 1 with 50 s for 50 mtr. Day 2 took a sharp dip to 1.20. Day 3 I ended with 60s. I was wondering how to get to 50s with consistency. And the slip took a life time opportunity with it. Almost is.

Gritty eyes, fever, broken pride, shattered ego, muscle pain, head ache, funny vision. I hope its all worth it.

Tears can be welcome, but the body refuses to budge. Oh, and the passive onlookers who have loads of advises and judgments. Thanks, but no thanks. I just need silence in this goddamn world. 

The bumpy ride

I cant rave enough about the bump pictures of my pregnant friends. Did I forget to mention the cute, pretty dresses, make up, hair designing, and the preening, proud daddy?? I have to say this with a hint of wistfulness. I wish. That I had them too.

At 25, I had a sheltered bump. All the values and traditions with a hint of tradition bordering on orthodoxy ensured my bump was safe and hidden from the world. I played along. Ultimately I was only a pregnant mom. I was a minor stakeholder in the bigger scheme of things. I got suggestions and advices from moms who behaved like they had half a dozen kids. Which they didnt anyway. :) :)

My rant is why cant a girl enjoy her pregnancy? Feel proud of it and show off the bump? After all, isnt it hardwork? But no... we all love our fk all values so much, that we dont bother to concentrate on ourselves. Selfishness was always bad.

But I.. am turning pages of a book called myself. Slowly yet steadily.

Value System. Wtf??

What are the values that we believe in and live in?? I live my life in a way because my dad said so. I have a predictable reaction to most of the things around me because my mom said so. We had kids because it was an expected thing. You see, my great grand parents had them. My grand parents had them and my parents had them. So well, I have them too. Get the picture?

What makes us practice these values? Elder folks told us to do so. Society dictated these to them. Society said there was a difference between human beings and the rest of the other million species. So we made rules. Rules which were illogical and binding. Trapping and tripping. And we became proud of it. Somewhere we started calling this culture.

Why does the same value system not recognize harassment? Incompatibility? Why does it not focus on things like personal happiness? If each of us took the responsibility of being happy for ourselves, wont the world in general be a better place to live?? A happier place? In the whole battles of keeping others happy, each one of us is forgetting their own special greatness.

And there goes another generation down the drain.

Unblocked. And unleashed.

Finally the drafts are unclogging. And how. I can feel words. Hear them. Think them.Eat them up. Brace yourselves.

The dog is unleashed. 

The green walls

The girl was hardly ten. A little less innocent than an average ten year old. A lot more wiser. The noise of the waves, the hoot of a distant owl. Not the wide open spaces, not the dinosaur outside the apartment. Nothing really disturbed her.

There was a jacket in the corner of a room. A jacket on the floor. A jacket sleeping on its stomach. Smoke came out of it continuously. There was no fire. Not a trace. The smoke could take various forms and could speak various languages.

In its full glory one day, it called out to the child. It called out to peep into the jacket. Alice in the wonderland must have been as curious as her. As fearful as her. After contemplating for a few moments, she peered into the jacket for a moment. A moment was all that the jacket needed to suck her into the smoke into the darkness.

A strange alley with no allies did not help. She found a trash can. A green one. The only cover where she could tuck, hide and pray that she falls asleep and this nightmare would go away. She found her haven, little did she know that it was only temporary.

There were noises. Some male voices full of abuses and laughter. What a strange combination, she thought. They appeared into her line of vision. She was further confused. Male voices but dressed as females. Not just male voices, but male bodies too. Strange is the world really. But a voice caught her and sought her from the hiding place. Is this what being naked meant?

 She took a long breath and braced herself for the longest, darkest and the most needed run of her life. She ran and ran and was still running. Her breath was burning her lungs. She desperately tried to scream. Her vocal cords were holidaying in the Bahamas. She finally found a green door that was open. A small stall. The wooden door looked and felt like the doors of the paradise. A small, dim red lamp illuminated the room, albeit faintly. It also had a queer smell. Of burning candle wax. Of the raw flesh of a goat. Of incense.

She found a rope which held all sorts of shiny, new shoes. One of the pairs called out to her. Red canvas slip-ons with white polka dots. Her weary feet felt perked instantly. She immediately plucked them off the main branch of the rope and wore them. A perfect fit. Was that a hint of a smile on her face? Maybe. Maybe not. Nobody could decipher it. Because in those lighter notes, the woman-like man's hand landed on her tiny shoulder. The other hand pointed towards a board.

Red light. Board. The ten year old now understood the deal. She truly would be a meal in the green walls. It always happened in a lot of movies. Why should life be any different? 

Its waffles

Waffles. They have to be the eggless ones. I hate the ones with eggs. They stink of it. The eggless waffles which are crisp and brown and with deep creases are the stuff that I love.

With freshly sliced strawberries, walnuts, chocolate ice cream and sauce. I cant eat two quarters.

With blue berry compote and cream cheese sandwiched. I can eat 2 more quarters.

Make it cinnamon and powdered sugar with a mild spice. Pour maple syrup and please, please make the maple syrup strong in flavor but weak in sugar. I can eat up 3 quarters.

Put some discs of fresh kiwis, chocolate sauce, apple syrup. I am not a great fan of fresh cream unfortunately. Its a bit weird, but scoop of cherry sorbetto on this.

I rest my case. Its all about waffles.

Turn me on...

I had to make a few important decisions that minute.

Do I want it long, slow and thorough? Or short, quick and instantaneous?
Do I want it hot? Or cold?
Rub? Squeeze?
Fast? Faster?
Front? Or Top?
With soap? Water? Or anything else more creative and interesting?
Inside? Or perhaps be the neighbor's envy?
Use hand? Or maybe can manage without it.

Choosing a washing machine to buy and to programme it so I can wash clothes is actually a big deal. Sigh! Machine, turned you on. Start the action.

The famous block

Officially I hit the writers block. How else do I explain this? The need to write vs. Words are not flowing syndrome?
Lots to write. Lots of views and opinions and stories. But block it is.

Btw. I celebrated my 5th year budday as mommy. Yay. I survived and so did the daught.

And...

One more wicket down. It's run out. Third umpire gave the verdict.

The player felt torn. This was the 75th time he got out, the same way.

The coach will give him the same piece of mind he gave the last 74 times. Some lessons are never learnt.

The unsaid tales

Remember the host of unsaid stories always haunt peoples mind. Curiosity kills the cat.

But the unsaid stories have power to kill people. Is murder the ultimate destination? Destiny? Or plain, simple truth?

Some truths and some tales are best left unsaid.

Revenge

The ghosts she ran away from for a quarter century finally accelerated their last few strides in an effort to catch up. 

When she told me about it, I said they will back off if you slow down, turn around and stare hard at them. She exactly did as I told her to. She trusted in me. A blind trust and faith that comes out of belief. 

Unfortunately for her, over the years the ghosts multiplied in number and intensity. She turned and was caught under the headlights. The number was astounding and unlike what I told they ran faster to catch up.

In just a few minutes, her life started slipping out of her. Demons became fatter. One of them burped. Her life drained by sight. Other one farted. She lost her vision.

What she did was listen to me. I was always a liar. She was my bitter enemy. And revenge is always sweet.

Athana

Is a raga in carnatic classical music. When I hear it anger comes to my mind. In its purest form. Fun times.

All you have to do is just hear it and get ready to chop heads. It works. Every bloody time.

The protection

There are layers and layers and defences and barriers. Our mind builds them so they take care of us during the flight and fight moments. I consider them good. They are important. All of them work as a team to win.

But as it happens in all wars, some we win and most we lose. The layers become weary. Ironically the layers thicken after every battle lost. Mind undergoes an excruciating process of mourning the loss and helps the defence mechanism.

A new layer added today. Some barriers strengthened. The one safety haven, a shrine got ripped away. Strong gales blew it away. There was not a wee bit of a chance for survival. Nakedness saw the world and decided to take a stand without its haven.

The world is a cruel place with desires of its own. Its instant, rampant arousal refused to budge. A brutal transgression happened they all said.

 It was called rape. It was also called death.

Lost haven, where art thou? Save me.

The murderer

Everytime anger surfaces, it hisses. Loudly. And the body resists it silently. The violence and rage hence internally break functioning cells and ions of spirit. Result?? Inches die. Few and far. But they die and take the piece of soul away.

Why do we need one anyway..? Soul I mean. Strange are the ways of nature where it demands a balance between body, mind and soul. Who needs these three elements when a body is alive and functioning? As I say always, so many things in life are overrated. This is one of them.

The taste of greatness

In life is not always sweet. Fortunately or unfortunately.

The unfinished essays

I have a couple of drafts that have been on hold for some time now. I sincerely hope and wish that a day comes in my life when I complete them and publish them. I dont just need time for this but also energies to deal with the reactions.

Oh, the drafts,  do get to see the light. It will be worth the expose. 

On a lighter number...

I ALWAYS find the lingerie section in any store that has one amusing. According to me this is the only place in this whole wide world where the stammer, sputter and stutters are at their best, no matter what the gender is.

Teenager looking for undies without using the word bra asks the shop keeper for one of those slips which have elastic. :-)  Btw not far from where I was as a teenager too. That way I am glad world has not yet changed. :-)  The shop keeper actually obliged and showed her whatever she wanted.

The next in line was a man who hung around the corner helping his wife (assumption made) choose some non functional, racy lingo. Guess what some of us losers thought?? ..... What active night life they must have? :-) :-) :-) The guy was actually stroking the material to check. I mean if he is paying, he might as well test the goods. :-) All I thought is how blessed and cursed the assumed wife must be.

And then there are a bunch of people like me who just can be privately amused and have a laugh in our minds and go about silently sifting through the bits as anonymously and discretely as possible.

Oh. Did I mention the measurement part yet? Where the tapes and numbers are brought out in the open?? Its free. This measurement service I mean. :-) :-)

The pause

My life is on a pause. My stomach gave up on me. My mind gave up on me. Things are saying I need to really think hard before I continue.

So.. holiday? Sabbatical? Change of job? Profession shift? Or really do what my soul is asking me to? Drop everything and just get a back pack with a pair of jeans, couple of tees and undies. And travel. Like there is no tomorrow. Like I have no other care in the world.

I want to respect the pause. This time, I want to sit up and notice and pay attention to the well meaning pause. Like I truly should have done in the past.

The famous pauses in my life taught me expensive lessons.

Platform no. 6

Folks who know me would know that I love Mumbai. The crowds, the trains, the hangouts, the roads with dusts, the shopping and most importantly the liberation factor. This is the city where I can protest if someone gropes my crotch. Here is a place in this country where you get to buy food even with 10 rupees.

Today I made a trip to SoBo with a friend and we decided to take a train. And I usually take a train when I go there which is almost once in a week on an average. The most amusing and perhaps slightly annoying moment today was for 2 engineers and smart ones at that to hunt for platform no.6. I swear try hunting for this platform. If you are able to figure this out the first time in less than 5 min, Id say two smart alecks are useless. :) :)

I almost thought I had to go through a pillar or something- a la harry potter style. Did I just say I love Mumbai?? I love it I say. Quirks and all.

Dear friend... Next time which station should we go to from Andheri? CST or Churchgate?? :-) :-) 

Life of a death

And then life moves on... The value of any event is hardly three days. Either in the microscopic or in the macroscopic radius. So picture this. An unalive body comes home. People wail. For some time. For few days. For a few years.

Will the loss ever be filled? Operational stuff kicks in. Time to mourn reduces but will the chasm be filled? Time is supposed to be a fking healer. But what does it really do? It makes sure the person has no more of itself to think or worry about the loss.

The children wont know of the meaning of this gap. The parents? The living parents of dead children, however old they are, can never fathom this loss. They will have time enough for an entire life to grieve and mourn.

A friend is gone. The kids, they shall try and survive. The parents, they will try and die.

A child was still born. The child never knew reality. The unborn father suffered. But the mother- she lived to be a mother.

A dream triplets died. 2 boys and 1 girl conceived out of love found their way out before they were informed of their shape. The father tried coping. The mother hoping. The parents mourned forever.

You see, losing children is against the nature and evolution. 

The short tale

There is a place on this big, wide, unugly earth that can make even the most numbest person feel. To be touched in places that never existed. To be caressed in places that dont see the light of any other day.

And then slowly, very slowly, the unthinkable can happen to the unshakable. They not only shiver but also break. Beauty is capable of this you see. It's a vain thing that will hoist itself at the most unassuming moment and kill you from behind.

The death is natural. Painful. But necessary. Beauty is powerful and commands that respect and attention.

Jamma Masjid- Ahmedabad is heaven on earth. A soul broke down.

Those 'type' scenes of South...

The draft has been lying low for a long time. Surely it is time for it to come to light atleast now. Seriously, have you ever seen South movies- any language, including Kannada with scenes where the pair either have to depict their carnal feelings to let the audience know they are having a physical relationship or have to show a rape scene where the man has to show his carnal side? It's a scary world out there. I'd rather take the bees and flowers,or birds flying together or worst case scenario- sun set and sun rise or any sh*t like that.

I saw a song today where one of my fav actresses starred in. It's kannada. The less said the better about the song. While she is undoubtedly beautiful in the song, I wonder why she was fine with getting her blouse hooks removed by the sad looking hero? And also end up showing her br* which is btw not even the racier ones or posh lingerie. It is a plain, functional one. The one which you can easily picture under a teen's uniform. I just wondered what drove her to even act with such a guy as the lead? Leave alone get her blouse removed. JC! Really, I tell you.

Now for the other ones. Have you seen how directors go berserk with the navels of heroines?? The deeper they are the better. I wonder what is the symbol of those navels? Like the gult movie where the hero releases (?? Is that the right word to use a top??) A top from a rope onto a heroines navel. Like seriously??? Wtf is it? Erotica? Or romance? Or just what it was- a bet in the movie? Who bets like that?

If I directed a movie scene ever like that I will cringe and die of embarrassment. It is another thing that these are all famous people who are contributing to the filmdom apparently in a big way and we all pray to them day in and out. Demigod- Zindabad. We grew up watching these movies and another generation will grow up watching the same. Thanks btw. :) It was truly entertaining. Atleast enough to be written about all over in my space. 

Cliched jokes

Some of the best jokes that I heard and had a hearty laugh is undoubtedly the raunchy teenager ones. Till date I can still laugh at them.

Say what?? Did you just say, "sex"?? I did laugh.

Come again??  "No, I come only once". Laughing. Again. Loudly.

Get the picture?? :-) :-)

The watch

I did own around 4 watches in my life. I have only one of them left now. It's Titan Raaga steel one gifted by the husband in 2006. This was the last watch of the 4. The 3rd one was my most fav watch and breathed its last in 2008 or probably 2009 beginning. I was never a regular watch wearer anyway.

I have a very deeply ingrained body clock. It's often in sync with the current time in the time zone that I am in. Which means I can pretty much tell the time, +/- 10 min at the max. I hate time. I really do. I hate it that we all have to race with it and often against it. This was the reason I stopped wearing watches. The tick reminded me of a time bomb.

Today. I felt the need to buy a watch. I killed my body clock. The tick of the body was louder than that of a clock. So there, I bought me a watch. I will have to get used to wearing it again. Here's to going back in time. To travel with the time. To the times I wanted to miss. 

My lord Ganesha...

Picture this... I stuff myself with rice and sambar. Fully. Unfortunately when you sit and eat, and are preoccupied with your soul, you end up over eating. So much that, I can feel food even in my throat.

Ganesha on his birthday must have felt exactly like this after his meal. And when he was walking in the down town streets, the moon laughed. Laughed his guts out. That brought the guts of Ganesha out.

Today, I am struggling to breathe. I am staring at the moon. Hard. The moon was laughing rather facetiously at me. As if it knew all my secrets. Not Victoria's secrets. :)

 I spilled my guts out. Surprisingly, there was only salt and water. Nothing else. 

The howling dogs

The air around thickened due to the rains. The sudden shift was felt by all the sensitive souls at play. The cheekiest of the soul enjoyed the wetness and called out to the others asking them to continue frolic in the rain. Some refused. Some accepted. Most could not make up their minds. Souls also had a mind of their own, you see?

They were fascinated to see these circular tops floating in the air. Some colorful and a lot of them black. Lace, frills, dots, patterns. Rain seemed to dance on these tops. The cheeky soul went to the body that was once its own and tried figuring out the circular top. Nostalgia hit it. But the body seemed to be strangely unfamiliar. The soul forgot about the reason it slipped into the body. The body felt it was soulful. Was it the body or the mind or the other arm? Soul felt the presence of company. 

Funnily enough, body felt lighter despite the souls. Souls lived happily ever after despite the little voice. Little voice began to fade to give way to silence despite the howling dogs. 

The souls thought, what beautiful things the umbrellas were. 

Of beauty sleep

There are somethings in life that Master card and heck, any other card cant buy. Surprise. For a person like me, this is a revelation. For me mostly money can be an answer to a lot of things. I dont believe that poor, little rich girl syndrome is a real one.

And so, after a night's sleep that made me die and then brought me alive, and which had nothing to do with master card, I almost wonder if the opening statement is true??

Hyd... Dont get me used to this luxury. I may start missing it. My dad's arms, the true home... be there for me. You eternally star in my weakness and strength list.

Dear baby, momma tells you that being earth's kids will bring in more happiness than you ever thought. All you need to do is to live a life beyond the realms of common socially accepted barriers. Your mind knows no boundaries.

Operational aspects in life should never be all consuming life in itself.

Money is needed to get by. It is needed to live life in the way you want to. It is not inconsequential. Unfortunately it does not shut the little voice in your head. Beauty sleep does. It really does. 

Topic close to my heart

If you dont get the joke, you should stop reading my blog. No it's not the porn bit. :) :)..   It is about the 'whole' family. 

Chakravakam

Also called Ahir bhairav in the other house that the raga likes living in. There are huge stories that ragas tell. Even without being in the form of a song, composition, or lyrics. I am especially not a great fan of raga malika, which are songs where ragas are mixed.

The fundamental structure of raga itself emotes and gives it a shape. In the same way that hamsa nandi is for angst, subha panthuvarali is for sadness, kalyani for happiness, mohana for romance, chakravakam emotes too. I consciously veered away from google for this one. I formed my own opinion on this without bias. If it matches with the generic opinion, I am probably right in the eyes of the rest of the world. If it does not, then it means I am right in my own eyes. It is more precious to me.

Chakaravakam reminds me. Reminds me of memories which are heavy. Which are intense while they last. Exhausting. Not always dark. But not light hearted. They are around some important debates in my life, some I won, most I lost. They are about close friends, of friendships that have drifted apart. Are they negative? Perhaps, but its just another view.

My fav classical song of chakravakam has to be pibare rama rasam. Hands down.

Some of the more popular songs include Albela sajan aayo re, tu hi re from Bombay (remember the interlude where Manisha K runs and her burkha gets stuck to the tree?? The aalaap there is my fav piece), telugu song called ye nadu vidi poni (my fav movie song in this raga).

Here is to all the heavy moments that I have had in my life. The moments themselves are not bad. They contributed to my evolution. 

And they lived happily ever after...

Thanks for being there for me. The last six years would have been a riot without you. In sickness and health, in troubled times and happier ones, in richness and poverty, through the geographies and time less travels, you have been there for me. Protecting me from rough weathers despite the body odour, rains and muck and grease and dust and grime. You have seen me grow older and fatter; especially felt me getting fatter. You protested silently but accommodated me with a soft sigh. The night outs, the hangovers, the tears, the laughs, the sweat from my work out. My faithful companion. My friend who I put through a tough regime under water and wringed the life out of you. I put you through harsh substances and you gladly took them all for me.

You have been my best buddy readily cuddling me when I needed comfort. But, I can see the age wearing you out these days. You are no more firm and fit. You are becoming shapeless. It is ok. I understand. But please, please do not die on me. I cant imagine life without you around. From the bottom of my heart, I will do anything, anything at all to keep you happy. Including indulging your, "Yay, I am a shopoholic" lines.

Dear green t-shirt, please dont leave me behind. I love you. Really. Promise. 

Nostalgic...

Absolutely nostalgic. My mom truly believes that I write well. And she tells me I write well because of her. It is strange because I have not seen her write. I remember her talking about writing when I was a 10 year old. She and I used to discuss the skeleton of my essays, in both Telugu and English. Actually, language does not matter. We were discussing thoughts. Debated. Argued. She never used to read my essays. She said she may find something she does not like and that would hurt me. That the essay was mine and she has faith that I would write well. Strange.

Years later, she started reading my essays. She started enjoying them. So much that she said whenever I write something, I should tell her. That she finds them most interesting and she loves reading them. That she does not look for mistakes anymore because I dont make them. :)

She has kept some of my essays with her still. The tattered, battered, stained paper which now smells is still at home. They are not my best. But she says they are handwritten and hence good for her. She says they were more honest. The writing made it real. That I dint strike anywhere told her I had clarity of thought. But I fooled her. That I dint strike anywhere meant I cheated by changing the train of thought. The essays and my writing was never real. It was fiction.

Fiction when intertwined with truth is reality.

Finer arts

There are times... times when music and poetry does not make sense. Times when words dont make sense. Times that are just times with no meaning or moment attached to it. Times that dont add up to anything. That dont have an adjective. What are these times? Are they trying to explain reasons?

Finer arts dont exist in these times. It is vacuum. Nobody is allowed able to think anymore. Arts, go figure. 

Which flavor..?

I have to borrow a brilliant line Sammy.

"I only had a vague idea how even vanilla sex actually worked."

As compared to the current reads of 12 year olds barely into a sanitary pad or 2, who have doctorates on shades of grey. :)

So, I wonder how a conversation would go between 2 thirteen year olds.

Girl1- Have you checked out the latest flavor in the market??
G2- The bubble gum one?? Oh its too sweet. I dint like it.
G1- No re, I am talking about peaches and cream?
G2- Hang on, are you not talking about the dull-dos??
G1- Ummm..no!! Damn, is your make love life so boring?? Dude,  I was talking about cone- domes!!! D-uh!

:-) :-)

The incomplete...

There are thoughts, ideas and dreams sometimes that do not know an end. The open ends are liberating yet frustrating. There are only so many words to express. What happens to the rest? 

Limitations are fore runners of any race- often mental and at times physical. Can mind remove the barriers? Is pen really mightier than the sword?

The power of incomplete is ,,,,,,.

Finders keepers

If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own backyard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with.

-The wizard of Oz.

I wont even try to interpret this. A beautiful sentence like this should not be raped with words and murdered with attempted meaning. 

What??

Hunger focuses on making money.
Ego on scaling heights.
Pride on achievements.
Spouse on the spouse.
Parent on the child.
Revenge on vengeance (Duh).

Whats the focus of a mere person?

Anger vs. logic

Logic has to kick in when body loses the much expected control. The quicker the better. Body is fuming. Teeth and gut are clenched. Mind is shutting down. In such moments, what drives logic to surface? Not so gentle words of a little voice called conscience which tells what is perceived right or wrong by values of self and others. Anger has to meekly meltdown.

But the poor soul that anger is, where does it go? There is no physical form or space for it in the universe. It become helpless and unimportant to the body over time. One fine day, it surfaces when mind is not watching. You see it was always lurking inside not knowing where to go.

An element called rage be-friended anger and gave it a form. The form was in the shape of shattered glass pieces on the ground. Battered bodies soaked with blood. Tumbled and crumbled buildings on earth. Fires in the forest. Whoosh of swishing waters washing away everything on its way. In logic that died. In mind that failed. Of tears that otherwise knew nothing.

The candle joke

This joke is a private one. The one which gets me some amusement. Its like a template. See the steps to make a joke out of candle.

1. Wait for a disaster to happen (Mostly man made, can be natural at times).

2. Disaster has to bring in some elements of sensation, meaning there should be atleast half a victim who has to either battle for life or lose the battle. Oh, we dont need to bother if there is survival.

3. We need to do some bashing so we can get more candles.

4. The more candles, the merrier.

5. We need to involve all forms of media including word of mouth.

6. Most important step is this has to be timely, else the fun is lost. Decide a time and date.

7. Cook this up for around 3 days so everybody gets attention and watch the candles flickering and dancing.

8. Are you smiling now? Not yet? Go back to the first line of my post and re do the whole process. Dont worry. Try hard till you succeed. We have no dearth of disasters. Joke is definitely there.

You just have to learn to be amused. If you get the joke, you will laugh till you cry. Disaster is dead, long live the candle.

Lappy anyone?

Husband in NY on phone: Can I please get a lap dance.. in those private confines?? Pretty please?

Wifey in WI on the same phone: Do you even need to ask? Go right inside. And come, back. :)

Kanmani (Darling)...

Three movies in three days should have screwed my mind. I consciously chose to go to these movies. Dharam Sankat mein, Margharita with a straw (or something) and OK Kanmani in that order. The worst out of the lot has to be a tie between the last two.

Margharita shit is an arty movie which turned out farty. The movie has way too many problems for its own good. Bisexuality, Cerebral palsy, blindness, colon cancer and to top it all major, mega confused emotions. So while these subjects are taken care of, we also need to introduce a bit of disgust in the movie (we love it). So then the diro must have pondered over different elements of disgust and decided to start at L0, which meant  mother gives a bath to a 20 year old. Then diro thought, hang on, this is normal in many pockets and decided to swap roles in L1. So daughter gives a bath to mother. Diro looked at scene and got disgusted with himself. There was still some element of purity in the scene. L1 also failed. Ultimately diro decided some erotica wouldnt be amiss. So he let the heroine use the vibrator. Crew replayed the scene and then thought, oh, this is erotica and while we like to act disgusted with this, this is not disgust. Diro got pissed and decided to teach each of the bstd in the audience a lesson. So he made the heroine piss. I am still pissed. Oh, and then she indulges in moments of passion with the man post the pissing scene. I gave up. The movie is a drag. Queen is still a top scorer in my chart. Good riddance bad margharita. I am still hungover.

So then I decided hangovers are beaten only with hangover. I went to the movie o kaadal kanmani. I still have to say that Mr Mani Ratnam should have stopped making movies right after Kannathil Mutthamittal. Guru was bad, Ayutha ezhuthu (yuva) sucked and so did kadal. Same with AR Rahman. Why o why do mighty folks dont exit gracefully. Where do I begin the review? That Nithya Menon only had one expression, her wholesome smile, and she thought it was enough to pull the entire movie. Subject is passe. Couple who live together fight, make up, make out and make out some more. And decide to get married. Marriage is anyway the best way to resolve singledom. Music sucked except for one song in raga behag sung by Chitra which was fab. So you are forewarned.

There goes my weekend.

Priceless moments

The pic brings memories. Old ones from around 14 years ago when I was this naive 17 year old junior Civil engineering student staying in the hostel for the first time. Battling homesickness, ragging, course work and senior boys was quite tough. If you were a junior girl in Civil or Mechanical engg, you would understand my plight. :)

When I stumbled upon this pic, I got reminded of two very fond memories- the eating competitions in our wing of the hostel and the inter college sports fest.

If you were a boarder at some point in your life, you'd know how precious food of any form is. We were almost always hungry and the 'mess' usually runs only at specified times. And all other needs are taken care of by the expensive tuck shops inside the campus. One of the students or perhaps a day-ski got us watermelons for us. That's 'louve' overfloweth moment for boarders. As a general norm, nobody, nobody 'supplies' food in volumes outside of the said 'mess'. All of us thank day ski and start the hunger games in the wing to make it fun. My friend in blue and yours truly were the final candidates. Jokes aside, I always take pride in mentioning that I have been winning eating competitions at all capacities and this is not gender specific. Not sure who ended up eating more in the watermelons instance though. Whatay moment. :)

Other memory is the time I admit to myself that I was like any other teen girl (ouch!) driven by hormones. I can never forget the day I went to the tennis match to ogle at an NIT guys' legs. To his credit, his footwork was amazing and he won the final match. I flunked the Electro magnetic fields paper the next day. All that I could see was legs floating on the question paper. Serves right for a sheepish me. I swore to 'god' I will never ever do this again, and I never did. :-) Not even once.

The only difference between boys hostel and girls hostel is the case of missing 'pawn' to play chess. And despite all the demons mucking around, I was happier then. It was not a clinical world.

My old fav from my mom's guest blogs

http://thoughts-in-dreams.blogspot.in/2009/11/my-moms-post-all-credits-to-her.html

http://thoughts-in-dreams.blogspot.in/2009/12/my-moms-post-2-based-on-her-experiences.html


Slightly senti of the trip we had. :) I am glad she enjoyed the trip. Re-visiting this post after almost 6 years. 

Bhaag aunty, bhaag

I like running in the gym. On the treadmill unlike my dad. It gives me a rhythm with all the necessary crazy numbers. I think it's quite fancy.

Now when DN runs, she is extremely finicky about the setup. She has 2 sets of worn out shorts and tees that will be used which are atleast 5 years old and seen around 1000 washes. Same set of songs on the pod and similar speeds set. Did she mention the same set of Nikes which celebrates 7th year in Sept this year?

Starts with a soft tap, tap, tap and progresses to slight thump, and then ultimately reaches the thunk. She runs and runs till she gets smoke out of ears and lungs. Physical exhaustion creeps in at a rapid pace. When she knows for sure that when the next thunk hits, she will pass out, she reduces. Its another matter that over the years, the cycle is quicker and the kilos piled on don't help.

The cycles however do their duty. They make her body release endorphins to make her happy. And ultimately nice aches that put her to sleep.

The unfortunate part of the gym is that she has to share the space with others. Aunties, uncles, hunks and models. The most painful sight of them is that of the aunties. She will one day walk upto some of them and explain to them the concept of sports bra. It is in DNs best interests that she does this. Watch out aunties- L, R, and 802. Your life is going to change.

Broken wings

There is a difference between flying and soaring. With clipped wings, if you can still soar, who wants to fly?

Fowler, don't foul it.

Brick boundaries of Nomad

The rootless person called Nomad walked upto a real estate agent and asked for a flat that can be bought. The efficient and famous broker took Nomad to as many houses as could be seen.

Nomad walked into each of these houses and felt many things. Peace was not one of them. The rooms were too closed, or too empty or too big. The right equation never was achieved. Just like Nomad's relationships. Houses never reciprocated feelings harbored-a bit like unrequited love.

Houses never budged despite the persistence. World looked bleak. And then three things gave light for flight. Tequila, salt and lemon.

Secret letter

There was a letter doing rounds in the school. A single ruled paper torn off from a book was used as a base to scribble that secret. Access to that secret was highly classified. Nobody knew what it was about except the author herself. She refused to give it to her non-friends. I was amongst one.

I was always a sucker for secret anything. The unknown bits intrigued me to death. The only way to unearth that was to be-friend her. My values were better than the temporary friendship which never begun. I shared no chemistry with her. I went under cover during the sports period praying nobody else stayed back in the class.

Curiosity killed all values. I stole the letter from the gutters of her tattered bag. I wont even bother mentioning the contents. Suffice to say, the P&G folks would have had a field day. Safe in the pocket of my skirt, I ran out and decided to read it at home in full privacy. The destination was not miles, but hours away. It weighed too much in my pocket. I was worried it might cause a hole.

School washrooms are the only next best places to do anything dirty (incase you havent figured, nature's calls are dirty esp in schools). Safely locked in one of them, with the stench surrounding me,  I opened the letter. Silence for the next few minutes. I could not believe it. I read and re-read and realized that the contents were not going to change, no matter how many times I read it.

I tore it to pieces and flushed it. I opened the door. The stench still surrounded me. The world did not change. My inner world changed. I was wiser. The bees buzzing around the flowers made more sense.

I knew how babies were born. It was not out of thunder struck nights. Nerd in me understood sex. And decided, nobody else should carry the weight of this secret. Letter was no more. 

Just do it

Why should we not give up in life? Endless energy reserves are actually tiresome. Times where you want to say f#$& all and get out are far too many. At times like this, what keeps a person sane??

Insanity does the job. :) For a few moments, when you ditch logic and analytical abilities and stop thinking about solving a problem, the body and mind sync up. When coupled with soul, its an awesome threesome.

I always think about this. Is solution the only answer to a problem? Why are moments of eccentricity negative? 

Oh naive pink

The sound of a sniffing child draws me to the origin of the sound. My eyes unmistakably stumble upon the tears. The fear clearly etched on her face and crouched body. Her body looked well guarded by the position she took.

She fears no darkness. Knows not death. She liked chocolates like most other kids. She usually disliked school. Fussed over food at home. Loved the pink dress. Like most other kids did.

She hated the devil that refused to go away during playtime. Most other kids did not know.

Sigh, Sigh...

I'd throw an open challenge that if you ever saw this video here, you will grin. Not just smile but grin. I usually prefer the layered way of story telling to the straight forward, bang in your face variety. And to direct a shot like this, you need million layers in your mind.

It's easy to think of this in a sugar candy romance way. Atleast that is what they show to the eyes. Take it from me. It's much more than what meets the eye.

I give all the points and some to Madhavan for under playing the role and making his presence felt even in silence. Simran should definitely go with the no-make up look. The chemistry is something that dreams are made of, but well- who's looking at the chemistry. :)

The movie Kannathil Mutthamittal will probably need 10 different posts to cover each of the parts of the movie and another 10 posts to describe and review the whole one.