Bitching

... did you think we didn't?
Would we be girls otherwise? :)


Stupid woman. Skinny as hell. With her Big boobs in your face like that ...bleagh!
I hate her.
She's a witch.
She got married and then got impregnated ... no wait ... she got impregnated and then got married - but before that she killed her baby coz she kept puff puff puffing away at her cigarette ...


Hmm ... are all middle school classes that informative.

No!! All other classes are fun. But this class is all about Boobs. Stupid Witch.

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

Ali: Anchi, don't you worry you won't get married?

Anchi: Heyyyyy!!

Ali: No no! I'm not saying no one will marry you ... I'm saying you might not fall in love

Anchi: Oh. See I intend marrying someone who loves me. Yes. Thats what I'll do. *looks decided.

snort of laughter from the Twit.

Anchi: Heyyyyyyyyy!!!!

Ali: There are loads of guys Anchi can marry...

Anchi: Its true. *looks decidedly unsure.

Ali: The way I see it we have 6 options... but you can't marry the first guy coz I hate him, you can't marry the second guy coz you hate him and you can't marry the third guy coz Twit hates him.

Anchi: So that leaves us with two guys *carefully doing the math

Twit: You can't marry Him!

Anchi: Why not?

Twit: Coz he's your friend. Besides he looks like a teddy bear.

Anchi and Ali: Since when is that a bad thing

Twit: *grunts

Ali: And you can't marry the other guy because he doesn't look like a teddy bear.

Twit: *nods agreement

Anchi: I think I know where this is going

Twit: Now all you have to do is accept it

Ali: Oh wait, theres still one guy left

Anchi: Shalome things he is an egoistic pig

Ali: Perfect. Thats settled then.

- - - - - - - - - - -

A babysitters prayer

Dear dear God,

Please make the day longer, so I may get some sleep.
May my clothes repel food and drool and may they self destruct on formation.
Along the same lines, may the 2 year old's clothes repel everything except his body (which tends to be the case always)

Please send enough distractions throughout the day - especially at meal times.
Give me the strength to explain for the three hundredth time that sugar does not have vitamins, coz vitamins are sweet too!

I beg you to eliminate the 2 year olds predilection towards downward tropism
The 14 year old's mood swings
and the 8 year old's shrill voice.

I'd also like you to know that I don't see the point behind giving kids a perverse sense of humor. If you think you're funny, think again.

Please send Telly Tubbies to hell. I need to know Telly Tubbies die and go to hell.
Also, if you must send me to hell, please don't send me to the same hell where the Telly Tubbies are.

However God, I'd like to say thank you for everything else.
And yes ... you have again reasserted the fact that you exist.

much love,
me

Hot cocoa, toasted marshmallows and sap

Being an only child was good. Too good!

It was also, apparently, too good to last.

I love my sisters. Even the one I grudge her trip to India for. A trip I didn't get to make with her. But I'm happy nonentheless. Happy she gets to be with the ones she loves, eat the things she missed, smell her favourite smells, laugh her laugh and be generally happy or miserable depending on what the moment compels her to be.

See up until now I've had my sisters tucked away in safe niches. Places where I knew they would be happy (if they let themselves be happy) and well looked after.

But now I've been shifted from the designation of honorary sister based in remote location and acting important from far far away to being in the middle of it.

The transition, I assure you, has not been entirely smooth.

Trouble, they say, comes in twos.

I think that statement is flawed. I think... that it should be troubleMAKERS come in twos.

The past few weeks of my life have resulted in
... loss of sleep from pointless conversations that go on into the wee hours of the morning
... unfogging the bathroom after two hour baths
... waking up in the morning to find a tangle of limbs on top of me
... accounting to the grandma possible causes for the disappearance of cookies
... covering up for tardiness
... arranging and rearranging bottles of shampoo/moisturizer/conditioner
... hiding objects in spite
... fighting
... hugging
and loads of giddy headed laughter

Yes, yes ... couldn't be better and all that...
thats what I was going to say too.

Best kept secrets

To me you are perfect.
You, and everything about yourself.

You are everything I've wanted.
You made me feel everything they talk about in songs.
You've made my heart swell with the symphony... lifted my feet off the ground... read into the words.
And you're not the medium, you are always the cause.

For giddy highs... spontaneous smiles and impulsiveness ...
I owe you.
For joy that I can never begin to explain.
I owe you.
and for every ray of sunshine...
... you are loved.

Thanks also for fine wine and clean linen.
Here is to you... I wish you cathedral bells and grateful tears and of course... sunshine in whatever way you may want it.

Math

This calculator doesn't work.

How come?

I don't know.

Somehow 1 + 1 is 11.

Hmm.

Oh wait. No. I just forgot to press +.
Its okay. Send the troops back. Its okay. The situation is under control.
The day has saved the day. And today is the day.
Wait... what?

You know math was invented in India.

No, the zero was invented in India.

Why would anyone invent a zero.

I guess you need nothing before you have something. You know. Like contrast and such.

So is that why math was invented? For philosophy sakes?

Nooooo... math was invented to ...

...make my life miserable
...I agree!

Wait wait... the calculator isn't working again.

tell me lies... tell me sweet little lies...

He broke my heart! I'm never talking to him again!


Well at least he was honest ...

Pft! Who wants honesty! No one wants honesty!! Every one I know want stars and music and... and... cotton candy!


Yeah Right! I remember only yesterday someone with a remarkable resemblance to you was sitting on me and screaming, "tell me the truth!! tell me!!"

I think I'm growing old ... I don't deal with honesty as well as I used to.

No, I don't think it has anything to do with age. I think he should have lied to you. It was only appropriate. Like you'd have know what really happened!! You'd never have a way to have found out otherwise. So he could easily have kept the truth from you and there would have been no problem. He could have made something up too! Something all gooey and happy! Everyone would have been happy.

LIE TO ME!! Is that how your mind works!! You'd lie to me!! Why don't you just kill me instead of lying to me.

Wha?? You just said you didn't...

But that would break my heart!! If someone lied to me!!

..... silence .....


Aaah!!

So which would be the lesser of two evils?

I guess the one option he didn't pick.

Life is just too hard

Word Perfect

So being an older sibling in excellent academic standing warrants that you teach your younger siblings that which is a challenge to them.
Being well aware of the fact that on the grandmother's scale of comparison we were the ones accused of being good at English, the Twit and I were forced (against our will and to Alisha's dismay) forced to review vocabulary with Alisha.

It was a trying afternoon... a steady drizzle... nothing on TV... job searching had my nerves raw and my fingertips sore ... Twit wanted to go out, but the weather unfavourable to be engaged in any outdoorsy activity and Alisha had seen every episode of Family Guy ever made...

It was like, life had no meaning anymore.

So we resigned ourselves to studying vocabulary.

Anchi: Give me synonyms for the following
Alisha: pft!! Vacations are meant for fun ... studying is what school is for
Anchi: alleviate
Alisha: I don't wanna... I don't waaannnnaaaa...
Anchi: Alleviate
Alisha: NO!
Anchi: Alleviate Alisha
Twit: (slaps Alisha's arm)
Alisha: How dare you twit!! (pounces on Twit)
Anchi: (tucks book under arm - tears two apart) Alleviate
Alisha: TO LESSEN!! DECREASE!! MAKE EASIER FOR SOMEONE!! GEEZZZ!!!

Twit: See, how hard was that!!

Alisha: I almost died!!

Anchi: Acrimony
Alisha: I'd rather die!
Anchi: Acrimony
Alisha: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!
Twit: Alisha!! Stop acting like a dufus!!
Alisha: You don't know the pain!! You'll never know the pain!! You skinny twit!! I hate you!! I hate you both!!
Anchi: Acrimony
Alisha: Does it have something to do with matrimony?
Anchi (thinks): You know... it almost always does.
Twit: Anchi... not helping.
Anchi: erm. No. Try again.

10 words later...


Anchi: Animosity
Alisha: I don't care
Anchi: Animosity
Alisha: Enemy-ness
Twit: Thats not even a word
Alisha: Well I think it should be


Thirty minutes and three hundred whines, complains and taunts later ... the twit and I retired.

Alisha: What? I are we done already?

The Job Hunt

Anchi (screaming and stomping around the room): Alishaa... Alishaa... find me a job Alishaa...
Ali: Aww... my poor baby ... come let me help...
What is it you do again?
Anchi: I'm a biologist
Alisha (typing): uh..huh...
Highest degree obtained?
Anchi: Two dratted Masters degrees... TWO!! BUt no one will HIRE me Alishaa ... (great big pretend sobs)

Alisha (ignores Anchi's over dramatization and peers at the computer screen most importantly)
Here you go ...

Do you want to be a Chief sta... sta.... tis... kishien?
Anchi: a what??
Alisha (serious look): a statiskishien
Anchi: thats statistician

Alisha: what?? whats that?
Anchi: Someone who does statistics
Alisha: Oooh that is what a statisti-k-shin is
Twit (walks into the room): Whats a statiskashin?
Anchi: a statistician
Twit (looks at Alisha grinning wildly): Ah! Of course! You know, you could start your own dictionary at this rate.

10 mins later ...
Anchi now lying on her back, her head hanging over the side; Twit's on youtube, Alisha still job hunting.

Alisha: Do you want to be a CRA
Twit: Whats that?
Alisha: A Cynical research associate
Anchi: thats clinical research associate
Alisha: oh ... thats right. It is clinical.

5 more mins later...
Alisha: Whats an A-Sock?
Anchi: I dunno. How is it spelled?
Alisha: A-S-S-O-C
Anchi: Thats Associate. ITs the abbreviation.
Alisha: How hard is it to write the whole thing!!

The Invitation

by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon ,"Yes."

It doesn't interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will standin the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

Alisha-isms

Strolling in suburbia
Twit: (bending over rose bush) Smell the roses
Anchi: I can smell them from here
Twit: (looks skeptical, sticks nose next to my face) I can't smell them from here
Ali: That's coz you're deaf!
Eh?

Boy-talk session # 289
Ali: Oh he's a keeper... in the garage.

Boy-talk session # 334
Ali: All the best guys are either taken or gay ... Why ME!!

Anchi showing remorse
Anchi: Twit told me to do it that way, which is why I did it (looks dejected)
Ali: (puts reassuring arm around shoulder and patronising voice) What did you learn?

Fight # 231
Twit: (said something)
Anchi: Your so vain twit
Ali: THATS RIGHT TWIT!! YOU'RE JUST VAIN. V-A-Y-N - VAIN!!
Anchi: Err... that didn't come out right.
Ali: No? Why?

Two lazy louts and one twit climbing up Hyde street in San Francisco
(Hyde street is very very steep)
Anchi: F***!!
Twit: (grunting)Walk backwards its easier
Ali: I hate you all, I hate life! Why couldn't they level the city before they built stuff. But NOOO!!! They had to have mountains. It's all your fault Twit!!
Anchi, carry me. Is there a short-cut? How much more do we have to walk? Why can't it be flat? Ooh this is like trekking! Ooh that guy is hot! WHAT!! that slope is steeper than the last one. Where did the hot guy go? Oooh ice cream... No No, I don't want any. Anchi, dont spend money. Is that a cable car? Can we take the cable car? I've never been on the cable car. Damn its full! Idiots. All want to ride the cable car.
Anchi, twit - looooveee me, hoooold me. No No its okay, I'll only pull you'll back. You guys walk, I'll catch up. Or not. Whatever. It doesn't matter.
Why are taxis so expensive?

(What wore her out? the banter or the walk... is still in debate. Luckily its a beautiful city and there are "so many hot men")

Joyride

I was in a car today. I was driving.

It was an empty stretch of road. We were doing 45. And when I say we, I mean me and three others.

It seemed a comfortable speed to me and I think the others would have agreed.
Our windows were rolled down, the wind was strong and while it didn't serve to deafen, the only thing we could hear was the radio crackling and our own thoughts.

I wondered what was similar amongst us ... we were all women, who hadn't come to terms with the fact that we were, indeed, women. Some of us ofcourse had more catching up to do than others, but that doesn't mean anything special, does it?

I looked in my rear view mirror. I saw her... head thrown back... the wind blowing her hair across her face... tear tracks...
We knew what she was thinking, but none of us wanted to talk to her about it. None of us wanted to comfort her. That would mean having to be part of the misery, sorting through the chaos in her mind. None of us felt like it. We were either too tired or too self absorbed. I had tried, worn myself out and given up. So now I avoided the topic altogether, I was beginning to resort to distraction. It worked. Sometimes.

So I drove on knowing that she was sitting there behind me, being miserable for everything that those who mattered did wrong to her. Plotting revenge that involved self-destruction ..."when they see how I've ruined my life... that will show them... then they'll be plenty sorry..."

I wanted to tell her it wasn't important what people did, the biggest wrongs were being done by her, unto herself.
I didn't say a word though. I just shut up and drove.

I looked at her sitting across me and behind.
Her hair tied high at the back of her head. A pencil holding it all together. She typed and shuffled through paper.
And with every crisp click of her keyboard and every sheet she skimmed through I knew she was driven farther and farther away from us. Away from that car and the company, into a world where it was her and work. She was in absolute control and as long as she did her bit, everything else worked out.

I knew we were losing her. It was increasingly hard to get her to go out these days.
She pushed her glasses higher up on her nose ... I just shut up and drove.

I then looked across, at her sitting next to me.
I looked at her darkening the kohl around her eyes. I thought how simple it must be to be her. How complex can the world be when you believe the globe revolves for you and because of you? I wonder.

... and then I asked myself, whats the point?

Suddenly, the wind got gentler, it smelt sweet ... like driving through a field of herbs, the sun stayed hidden behind clouds.
Life was good.
The moment was perfect.
My favourite song played on the radio and I smiled.

*Explicit warning/ reassurance:
Any similarity to a person living or dead is purely coincidental.
Dorothy and Twit, none of these characters are based on you.

24+

little girls have an understanding with god... it goes like this...

'God either gives you what you ask for ... or he says, "wait." and gives you something better.'

the problem is big girls stop talking to god.

Literati

.... hours spent in absolute conviction of what the author was thinking when the book was written.

the benefits in the event of accurate deduction are good (although for me personally, they add no additional value to the reading experience)

Consider now the hazards of abstracted surmise?

Consider also biases and blinkers ... how many do we have?

Not bad eh?

It's all over. Everything.
And sure enough I came out alive. A little tired, but alive :)

Alma Mater(s?)

For someone who felt like she never belonged .... I don't understand why I feel like I have left...

Stranger still is this big lump in my throat

Perfect Harmony

So I realize ...

I write bad poetry ... really bad poetry

When I sing I sound like four and a half pigs being tortured in an iron maiden ... filled with hot oil ... and an amplifier

I am tone deaf

and I usually have too severely affected a throat to hum clearly

If I were in a choir ... I'd sing falsetto (talk about short lived carriers)

... ah well, such is life...

I also can't get myself to sleep ...

Dying Roses...

... do not have powers of prophecy but are an absolute delight in warm bathwater

:)

Chaos

And we froze all action ... like leaving things unchanged would bring back moments.
Used glasses ... worn clothes ... a tall orchid plant inconveniently placed ...

It was like riding a bike ... going forth with the thrust of a wind that pushed you forward on a downward slope...

... tomorrow we'll level the pedal ... jump on to a seat thats higher than ideal ... and this time ... we remember to keep pedaling and not lose balance...

Another ditch in the road ... you keep moving ... another stop sign ... you keep moving on ...


This time I'll stop being involved in the Brownian motion of people and feelings around me. Should I be the root cause of entrophy ... steading myself should cure it ... shouldn't it?

Also ... here are the "default" answers as of today:
years
handshakes
retail affection
conviction
static noise
bruising
unnecessary distance
dreams
athena

Of common sense, bad poetry and subtle threats

Someday we'll look at all of this and laugh ... so why not laugh now right?

Must I wait ...?
for two thousand and eight?
Curse my fate?
Berate?

... and write bad poetry until then?

tsk tsk ... I'm going out in the early morning sun...

Note to My Life/ Reality:

... here is some kite and here is some string...

Come to me when you're ready to talk or make a deal.

You'll know where to find me (as always).

Decisions ... decisions...

years or moments?
hugs or handshakes?
wholesale love or retail affection?
confusion or conviction?
silence or static noise?
bruising or blushing?
unnecessary distance or embracing arms?
dreams or delusions?
athena or aphrodite?

vhat wantage?

However hard opportunity might be to spot when you meet with it face to face, you can never miss it looking at it from the back ... it looks like a swift kick in the butt, self-inflicted... followed by four hours of moping...

Congratulations on your achievement Dorothy

This is as much yours as it is mine... because.....

.... you walked these paths with me in my heart ... dragging your feet, with your nose in the air, gasping, cooing, smiling and being happy in the sun

... listened to me rant

... made disappointments seem trivial

... cribbed remotely

... shared my victories

... made classes seem interesting just by your curiosity

... and because now that its over ... along with me you too, sigh :)

I love you baby girl.

Why not?

"Maybe a more pertinent question than “How did it all begin?” is “Why am I conditioned to believe in a system of beginning and ending?”

in my opinion... it helps ...
in my life however ... I realize nothing really begins or ends ... things just blend ... one into another ... no distinct borders ... all fuzzy boundaries ... but then again ... does it have to be one or the other? Or in that seqeunce?

skyline boulevard

Today I realized that God is a hopeless romantic .... an absolute sucker for romance if there ever was one ... I'll have to admit I am surprised ... surprised I hadn't noticed ...
Suddenly I fell in love with Him again.

Conversations in the fog

How about a memory?
For keepsakes?

Bend over and kiss me,
close in on the space.

That glow over there is a streetlight
That road over there leads to a really pretty place
but wait, this moment is now or never
let me again, see that smile on your face

Is it coincidence that all I can see is you?
And is it chance that all you see is me?
and the mist and fog swirls around us
... lets just you be you and me be me ...

The city is past the mist yonder ...
... and the other side has beauty untold
We may never come here after ...
Go on ... pucker up ... be bold!

(I'll finish this some other day ... when the conversation is complete)

June 7th, 2007 1:06am

I stare at the sights before me.
I see bits of reality... some in clear light, some in shadow ...
Colours spanning gaudy golds to demure gray.
Some of what lies in the light doesn't look pretty,
Some shine bright and clear as day.
The dark, as always, scares me.
But I look around me .... and I see a million ways...

I breathe in deep ... "It's okay."

"This is where I am. This is what I have to do."

Remembering peaks conquered,
Dusting my butt from the times I trip and fall.
Being happy hereafter,
Breathing easy ... standing tall.

I clean the dust off my glasses,
Push stray curls out of my face.
I roll my sleeves past my elbows,
I set my jaw like Dorothy sez.

"What I have to make, I make with this and I start now."

I am alone, but it's okay.

Waiting to exhale ...

"Life in America is so easy!".... "I think people foresake the feeling of being home because of the comforts there are here".... "You should think of settling down here, in fact, there is this really nice boy I know who works in the software industry, he's Nair too, just like you".... "the air here is so clean".... "oh don't worry, it will be recycled" .... "its okay to throw food away, its cheap" .... "look at this, you can choose where to sit and the local trains in bombay!! ufff!!" .... "So is Bombay stinkier than the last time I was there?" .... "Anisha is it. Oh thats lovely, I used to be ShreeVidya but now I just tell folks to call me Shelly, its easier you know" ....

Subtle Hint

Yo!!

I'll be expecting a call ...

Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside... :)

I love you for your straight faced practicality ...
not to mention how you indulge me... :)

M: I am thinking murder
G: MURDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

will require major planning but can be done

Mixed Singles

Prelude

I miss you. Irrespective of all the stuff I said on the train...

We still take our walks ... somehow we don't talk much anymore ... we don't even pretend talk anymore...

You said it will hurt, I never said it wouldn't hurt. We bargained for it. It was good though, wasn't it? You felt the blood rushing? Did you also think your heart would explode?

We even forgot to keep score ...

I don't know what you're thinking and I probably never will.
Not unless a moment in time like that one comes to pass again and you make your magic move. But then, how often do we let ourselves make moments perfect? How often do we let ourselves live perfect moments? And then again ... there is me and my dulling reflexes...

Game Point

I walked to the store today ... the same store we always walked to to buy chocolate.

It was strangely cold for a sunny day... another paradox, no? But this time you didn't serve. Life did. One of those little ironies I am always whining about.

I bought some orange flavoured chocolate... you're right ... it does grow on you.


I'm stopping to read a love poem thats on the inside of the cover ... who would've guessed... such a pleasant surprise...




And then again I think life's little ironies aren't bad... in fact I think I am particularly fond of some of them.

Whats the score? 40-love.

Game over. You win. But I didn't lose. :)

... and then there was ... none?

Love and hate are really the same thing. They're both passion ... in different shapes and form.


The only perceivable opposite of love ... is indifference.

It makes sense, doesn't it?

Either you feel something, or you don't.

Sure you read about it ... but you have to live it, to know it.

But I didn't want to live to know indifference ... it just seems, like such a ... waste.


And there she stood, giddy headed with joy ... "fall in love with me," she thought she heard him say... the same familiar feeling of warmth streaming over her... she could see him clear as day, the familiarity made her heart overflow, she smiled and cried and the world seemed prettier than most people saw it ... there was no better sense, none of that meddlesome common sense ... there was life and hope and all good things dreams are made of ... reliving, reviving, radiant ... stars shone in her eyes...

... and then there was ... none?

Why I think Death has it all figured out

(Courtesy Terry Pratchett ofcourse ... I realize now its not Pratchett himself I am in love with, I'm in love with Death and the Witches. Pratchett, has been reduced to ... the medium... my heart however, lies elsewhere)

__________________________________________________________________

THEY NEVER INVITE ME TO PARTIES, YOU KNOW. THEY ALL HATE ME. EVERYONE HATES ME. I DON'T HAVE A SINGLE FRIEND.

"Everyone ought to have a friend," said the barman sagely.

I THINK -

"Yes?"

I THINK .... I THINK I COULD BE FRIENDS WITH THE GREEN BOTTLE.

__________________________________________________________________

*more to come as the book progresses

The things one must do in the name of friendship I tell you!

:)

The world and its little ironies

MAKES ME SO BLOODY MAD!!

Terry Pratchett on love...

When she spoke again it was in the thin, careful and above all brave voice of someone who has pulled themselves together despite overwhelming odds but might let go again at any moment ...

love made you feel hot and cold and cruel and weak, but he hadn't realized that it could make you stupid...

The Disc's greatest lovers were undoubtedly Mellius and Gretelina, whose pure, passionate and soul searing affair would have scorched the pages of History if they had not, because of some unexplained quirk of fate, been born two hundred years apart on different contients. However, the gods took pity on them and turned them into an ironing board* and her into a small brass bollard.
* when you're a god, you don't have to have reasons

*sigh

I found .... I relate ....

A tribute to Rohan Khara

Good luck dude! And here is advice for ordering Seattle's best coffee...

double entendre

today a guy I hardly know told me he was scared. i didn't know if it was in place for me to ask, but I asked him why anyway.

he said it was because of the Virginia Tech massacre.

i thought i understood his fear. it could have been any one of us. i told him what i felt, that when i sat here and heard stories of bombs going off in trains back home, trains that people i love and i could have been on, i realize its the same everywhere.

there are angry people i said and they will try to hurt the innocent. 'cowards' i called them.
if our time's up we die, i said.

he looked at me with his gentle eyes and said, 'you don't understand me'.

i looked at him puzzled.

he said, "i'm scared people will hate me coz i'm asian"

the thought hadn't even occurred to me.

as the message screamed, barefaced, piercing through layers of delusion ... it got cold...
'there are angry people and they will try to hurt the innocent'

and thats how life's cycle completes itself.

Subbu Ray's Celebrity Profile

I found this on recommendation of a friend.
There is only one person I know well enough and is adorably narcisstic enough to appreciate this.

So here goes, will the real Subbu Ray please stand up!

http://www.myheritage.com

Taco Bell then?

To whomsoever it may concern

If I ever offer you my very own, homemade Beet & Broccolli salad with almonds, cranberries, raisins with or without salad dressing ...

However exotic I make it sound or look, do us both a favour and flush it down the drain.

What do we do...?

Thank God it was no one we love
Thank God it wasn't our self
Pray that their souls rest in peace
Talk about it, bow our heads in grief

Anger, irony, destiny, grief ... stunned ... still ...

The only thing we offer the world unkowingly, is our vulnerability... the rest somehow seems premediated, conscious decisions at some level or the other ...

The one gift we're given unawares, is our relisience. The rest we can inherit, even culture.

No one deserves what happened to them
and there is nothing I can say ...

Prized moments with Subbu Ray

Broom Hilda: Anisha
Gaylord : Arjun (HAHAHAHAHA!! So apt!)

Tale tuck

Stand corrected wrt previous post:

"Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten."

- G.K. Chesterton

Curiouser and curiouser

There are moments in our lives when we want to be rescued. When we wait and pine for big strong arms to lift us and take us away into the sunset (yes... something like that...)

Anyway, thats not the point. The point is - there is someone to blame for us getting into this "I'm a damsel in distress come help me... saaave meee.... loooovveee me!!"

And the characters to be blamed for this in my case are primarily these chaps and this charlie here.

So anyway, between this one Dane and these Germans, I realize I have become rather, well how should we say this, "conditioned" to wanting to feel like being rescued when I am faced with a demon (which comes in many shapes and sizes might I add. The worst demons I know come with deadlines... brrr...)

ALSO, its their fault that I think life has to have a 'happily ever after' and that 'happily ever after 'comes only once you find the big arms (attached to a delicious boy ofcourse).

Anyway, I am sure over time I will forgive them and should I have children, I might even run to them for help on many a night... when I don't have an ounce of creative juice left in me. (Yeah like that could happen!!)





I know I rant... but the truth is that fairy tales are a way of life with me. Minus the flowing dresses and hair that stays in place even when being pursued by a dragon.

Let me prove it.

My life is like a fairy tale and the character I am is Alice.








Reasons why I am Alice:

1. There isn't a Prince Charming for miles around. There is however a possibly inebriated cat, a pillercatter with a predilection to dope, vowels and monosyllabls (always a dangerous mix), a perinnially late rabbit ...... well, you get the point.

2. Many a conversation I have with people ends up in a Caucus race and yes, I am supposed to have the prizes!

3. As an external observer of my life, you will be tempted to think that there is some patterning and symbolism to things.
There has to be some sort of an order to the chaos ... It must be there. But you just can't see it.

4. "I always give myself good advice, but I very rarely listen"

5. On a lighter note might I add... I am rather fond of tea.

6. Just when I think the ground is steady beneath my feet, it isn't.

7. When I think I am big and invincible, I shrink.

8. Mad hatters magnetize towards me.

9. I go looking for trouble.

10. Every night before I go to bed I find myself thinking, "It would be so nice if something would make sense for a change"

11. As Subbu Ray (Arjun's alias, for the mystified) is reminded time and again - every day is my (un)birthday.

12.
World in General: "Who... R ... U? "
Me: "Why, I hardly know, sir. I've changed so much since this morning, you see..."

Oh there must be a good moral to this... but I must go to bed.

Lets Play House ... again! Like grown ups this time!

I have a home all of my own now.

It’s a small little studio apartment, tucked away in the corner of a building. Its reasonably bright although I don’t get no direct sunlight, its always the right temperature and has a big bright bathroom. If you know me well enough you will know I am obsessed with big bright bathrooms. That smell of soap!! (Well, now you know)

My only grouse is that it smells annoyingly of curry and incense. And no thats not “so Indian” and I don't like it, the curry smell was there before I got there. The incense was my ecofriendly way of getting rid of the smell anyway, it’s a work in progress…. Any suggestions are welcome…

Anyway, after hours of contemplation I have decided that homes are important for the following reasons:

1. It’s a place you can come back to after a long, hard day.

This might sound very generic to you. If it does, then that just goes to say that you haven't as yet experienced ‘long, hard days.’ Because if you had then you'd know what I mean and you wouldn't say "Mmm yeah, thats always nice" and instead say, "Duuuuude!!!!!!"

If you just said "Duuuuuude!!!!!!!" (yes, with that many exclamation marks) then continue to read, else go away (spoilt prat).

2. It gives you a place where you can dig your nose shamelessly, walk around naked, cook whatever you want, spend hours in the bathroom and decide there is no such thing as "ridiculously clean".

3. An excellent piece of territory where you can ban Linear Algebra, heavy metal, non-recycleable plastic, genetically messed food, smoking, men who don't smell nice, women who don't smell nice/ enjoy an occasional bitching session or two and ofcourse racists and lint of every shape, description and form.

4. A place where you can hide your secret stash of tea leaves and tea bags and other good tea stuff and pretend its weed and you're all cool and act like a charsi and feel very up-"beat" about it, without getting laughed at.

5. You can daydream and nightdream. Cry like there is no tomorrow, laugh the next moment, pirouette, moon walk and do the robot.

6. Where you can play 80’s music all day!! And no one rolls their eyes

Anyway, I'm beginning to get flaky and possibly giving too much away, so I'm gonna shut up.

But there is one very important thing having a home does for you and it takes not having one for a while to get this...


It gives you the guts to speak your mind. You can look someone squarely in the face and say exactly what you think.

It gives you a small spot of land you belong to, in a land very dissimilar to home. And theres a strange amount of confidence born in just that.

You might not get it, and part of me hopes that you never need to understand it … just know this much: I am so happy.

yay!

The only thing we really need to save for a rainy day

is ourselves.

You? have? insomnia? too?

You're an angel
I've heard angels are hermaphrodites
Really? Is that like... a relegion?
No, but I've heard its contagious
You don't say!

I went shopping today
ooooooooh! What you bought?
I bought a green bowl and a matching green plate
oh.
What?
nothing.
Tell me.
I just thought you'd have bought me something.
Well... its a square green plate.
Dish it out then, why don't you.

For a while there was nothing, then suddenly, there was a deluge.
NO!!
I was like... and then she was like whatever...
that is so tight...
I know isn't it?
Yeah like totally dude
like way out
way way out
cool
hey, I can throw up all my food in a single stream now
thats wicked cool
yeah whatever, you're smelly

So second base is like when you touch each other on the organs that define your sexuality right? And they all feel kinda poofy?
Right.
And is this under the shirt or over the shirt.
Umm... under mostly
And what of the bra?
well, that tends to get unhooked too.
As do boxer shorts?
Yes those too
I see... Well, whats base three then.
See, thats the whole point ... no one keeps track after that
...ah! Can you pass the salt?

So what if god was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us?
that guy sitting by the window there...?
You think he's lost?
No, I think it works the other way...
Which way?
I think we're lost.
Oh.

Do you think apple corers are brilliant inventions?
No, I think they are glorified knives for the lazy
How should you know, you've never cored an apple in your life
When it comes to women and apples, I tend not to risk it
Whats that supposed to mean?
Look at what happened to Adam
Thats possibly the most sexist thing I have heard!
Take your PMS someplace else and let me scratch my crotch in peace

"God are you listening?"
"No!! Never!! You can't make me!!"

"God hear my prayer and let my cry come unto thee
Oh Oh OoOoOoo Oo ....
I'm all alone like tarzan boy"
"what are you crying about... I told you the new outfit wouldn't work either. AFKAP my arse!"

Purity, is Obscurity

I had a huge argument today - with someone who insisted this poem didn't allow one to have a variety of voice inflections and variety in tone.

Like every other instance in my life when I am asked for my opinion, this instance too was a disaster. See, I am not the sort of person who goes about giving free advice. I don't really spend too much time thinking about how people ought to go about their business. I have enough trouble managing my own.

But here I was sitting quietly at my desk, in my bath robe, with the lillies on my desk now in full bloom, and my photographs and my post-its, feeling like the queen of my universe when someone (as mad and possibly unreasonable as the March Hare) comes around and asks me for my opinion.

Now see, just because I don't give free advice doesn't mean I don't like being asked for advice. If you know what I mean? (and God knows I meddle in the affairs of those I love)
Makes one feel important... wanted... good stuff like that...

I got too involved.

One thing I always forget is that when people ask you for advice, what they are really asking for is for you to agree with them. You are supposed to nod in agreement and assure them that you yourself, in your decidedly inferior wisdom would not have thought of something as marvelous as that. "Oh! My word! That is an excellent idea."

But like I said... I got too involved... and I told the truth ... and all the frustration that individual felt towards my unexpected dissent was then taken out on the poor poem. (Ogden Nash, rest his soul)

So vehemently did I argue, that now I realize I feel for this poem in so many ways... I can die defending it. And that Ogden Nash... such a sweetie I tell you...


So That's Who I Remind Me Of
by Ogden Nash

When I consider men of golden talents,
I'm delighted, in my introverted way,
To discover, as I'm drawing up the balance,
How much we have in common, I and they.

Like Burns, I have a weakness for the bottle,
Like Shakespeare, little Latin and less Greek;
I bite my fingernails like Aristotle;
Like Thackeray, I have a snobbish streak.

I'm afflicted with the vanity of Byron,
I've inherited the spitefulness of Pope;
Like Petrarch, I'm a sucker for a siren,
Like Milton, I've a tendency to mope.

My spelling is suggestive of a Chaucer;
Like Johnson, well, I do not wish to die
(I also drink my coffee from the saucer);
And if Goldsmith was a parrot, so am I.

Like Villon, I have debits by the carload,
Like Swinburne, I'm afraid I need a nurse;
By my dicing is Christopher out-Marlowed,
And I dream as much as Coleridge, only worse.

In comparison with men of golden talents,
I am all a man of talent ought to be;
I resemble every genius in his vice, however heinous-
Yet I write so much like me.

come and gone

I have always wanted to be only so tired that the moment I touch my head to a pillow, I fall right asleep. I don't want to be too tired, then I cannot sleep. I only want to be so tired that I fall right to sleep, the moment my head touches the pillow.

Life never really stops at the moment I want it to. Neither does exhaustion.

Then there is love. Its incredible how I could have felt more loved when I was not told I was loved. There is usually love's first kiss and its almost always (at least in my case has been) the most perfect(est) moment(s) - under a starlit sky, on a beach - throw in a sunset for good measure maybe... and while its natural to wonder why the moment came to pass, I find myself wondering why the moment came about in the first place. See I think moments passed are memories made. Good stuff, you know what I mean. I have my memories, but I do wonder why the moment came about in the first place. Because now I feel let down. Not as loved as I thought I was loved. When I was not told I was loved.

Moments have an insane need to express themselves. When caught in one, I find its contagious.

Then there is time. Something I measure with everything but a watch. I measure two days as the duration it takes for my hair to frizz up from the conditioners anti-staticky effects wearing out. One hour is the time it takes to make fifteen dollars. Ten minutes the time it takes to make a cup of coffee - just right. Oh and the recent addition is worry lines... on my forehead. That is a measure of how much time I have wasted during the course of my life.

I am stuck in a moment when I am tired and no longer sleepy, exhausted and indifferen about being loved.
But I'm not worrying about it, which must mean time's standing still.

Who decided to call it Caesar Salad anyway? He doesn't even seem the salad types.

Lunchtime.

A long winding queue of health conscious people line up in front of the salad bar.
The girl in front of me orders Caesar Salad with extra fire roasted chicken.
We sat at the same table, she and I and the chicken.

She ate the chicken and the cheese. She didn't want any more of the huge helping. She threw the leaves, tomatoes, olives, avocado, nuts, cranberries and other accompaniments in the bin not too far from us.

Such is life - a wise choice, silenced conscience, a feel-good action, wool over your eyes and lots of lettuce in the bin.

Eh?

Happy Birthday to Us!

Before the candles cremated the cake...

where the heart is

My home got burgled...
So in a series of events that have led me to being a gypsy and living out of a haversack this is the ... wait... I lost count... lets see... there was a flood, then there was leaving India altogether, then there was leaving Stonehenge Road, then Angell court, then Blackwelder, now Linaria circle is a mess... so thats 6. In two years.

And none of this was that pleasant moving into a new home and the thrill and excitement that goes with it. All of this was me being driven out. Either by the forces of nature or horny voyeurs and now latest a bunch of dim-wit burglars who don't even have the common sense not to sell a stolen laptop on e-bay.

Not that I'm upset. I don't seem to get upset about these things anymore.

What is lovely is I have realized I never once had to fall asleep alone anyplace. There was always either the comforting appendages of dubious origin when I fell asleep next to my little cousins sometimes holding otherwise throttling me in Stonehenge. In Angell court there were visitors who either jumped in through the windows and complained the room wasn't big enough before settling down on the floor (and partly under the bed), there were others still who took the entire bed. Blackwelder was a dorm, I'm not sure anyone remembers where they were originally assigned to live anymore. Linaria was home for all the children, the noise, the food, the warmth (well except the kitchen floor...brrr...), the hindi movies, the temple...

So its all good... And adaptation is a skill I have mastered.

I think I'm done venting now.

Now it's a beautiful day...

The cure to home sickness ... is actually going home.
Who would have thought of it!!!
But the timing is important see. In fact, the timing is what its all about.

There I was sitting on the plane dreading going home and yet ever so impatient to get there.

I was preparing myself. I thought the world as I knew it, will have changed. Everyone will have moved on, found other people, activities and distractions and I, will be nothing but a memory. And that was how I would be received too, with the kind of spontaneous joy you see in someone’s eyes on being reminded of an old memory. While I watched on the smile would pass and they’d be back to the present. Thus gently, I would be pushed, back to the happy place in their heads and hearts and I would stand there not daring to breathe lest I break the spell too soon.

There was some of that, but there was more of something else I thought only happened in dreams and Disney movies.

There was ROOM for me!!! In the present!! I was ushered into my friends lives and there was so so so much love and laughter.

India was magic since the moment I got home.

There were mothers (my own and the ones I got myself adopted by), friends as mad as hatters, fathers and their relentless attempt at "humor", Bacardi Breezers, croaking froggy pens, credit card payments gone wrong, dogs of every description and flea count, spoilt cats, ganna juice, rheuminating cows on street corners ever ready to exchange greetings and musings about the weather and traffic, overcrowded trains and bus rides. Happy Happy Joy Joy!

And oh! So many memories! Made in the best of places… dancing, warm hugs, walks on the beach with fireworks, dinner with people I've known forever, loving people I've just met, goofing out at St.Xavier’s, having friends fill my arms, having friends fall over me, having some of them grumble incessantly, getting tipsy at Mondegar, falling asleep on the mother’s arm, taking a "pretend-we're-together" walk while making birthday plans.

I have to say – I know the nicest people in the world.

A "thank you" is unnecessary and I know it.

.... I'm just so glad we're all still growing up together.