Meghna slammed the blue door and her father gave her one of those glares that she never forgot for the rest of her life. Cars have feelings – she chanted inside her head.
At the end of the corridor her five-year-old brother was playing with her colours. He had taken the reds and mixed them with the oranges and created a masterpiece on their mosaic floor. Ma would come and clean it up at some point of time.
She went to her room and stared at her new drapes – they were pink, fading to white with miniscule flowers printed on them. The massive rosewood secretary’s desk with a bottle green leather top was covered with her books. The desk was not hers though. Her grandfather left it and when he died, her room was the only one that had enough space for it. She had adopted it. Meghna went and sat on the chair and stared at Noddy staring back at her. Her tennis shoes were not dirty but she wanted someone to wash them. She liked squeaky-clean shoes; she liked the way the mirror in her room made her look like a super star and she surely like Pete Sampras who was covered with red kisses.
Her bedroom door had a gaping hole where the keyhole should have been. But Baba had taken it out because he didn’t want her to lock herself out.
And now 20 years later, she’d locked herself out.
In fact, no one even heard her.
Her bedroom didn’t exist anymore and neither did the blue car door – but she couldn’t get in. She was locked out – and forgotten.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
In circles
I really do hope there's no trouble. I tried to convince myself.
There's always trouble! He tried to convince no one in particular.
Chapter 1
She was sitting in front of me. I know she wanted to cry but she didn’t. She was trying to restrain herself from going on a confession rampage – but she didn’t really know how to stop. I had stopped listening three minutes in to her monologue.
He had rushed into my head – curses, fights, an occasional hug, rarer smiles flooded my brains.
I heard her words, but he was also talking to me. Words jumbled up and I had no where to go. I don’t remember anymore.
I don’t remember the first the day we'd met either. It was a long time ago – almost twelve years. I remember us being introduced, becoming friends, stealing glances, disagreeing, holding hands – the first time we’d kissed.
But there is so much more I don't remember. I wanted so desperately to cling on to the old sheets of memories, but there was none.
She wouldn’t shut up. She went on talking till it was time for me to leave. I hadn’t even had a shower. Darn, the girl would be waiting for me. I hate being late.
Then she left. She also left a letter in my hand. I’d read it after I got back I told myself.
Maybe it’s the age, but I have been forgetting things. That letter remained in my drawer for the next few weeks to come.
The next time I heard from her, she was getting married – to the man who wrote me that letter that still remained sealed in my drawer.
Chapter 2
I had to see him. I know it would result in nothing – but that crunching feeling wouldn’t go away. I had to see him.
There wasn’t much money left – so the train was the only option. When I reached, the house was covered with flowers. Tall garlands hung from the roof to the ground floor; it looked like a garden. The ugly stench of marigold invaded my nostrils as I walked up to the doo0r and rang the bell.
His sister – I hadn’t seen her in years. She’d changed; with a young boy by her side she opened the door. I don't think she can deal with shock very well because she stood before me for a definite five minutes before opening her mouth.
“You?”
He took sometime to come down – dressed like a true Bengali groom, I was a bit amused, seeing him like that – standing with the pleats of his dhoti in his hand.
But I didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t read that letter, I told him. But I want to know how he knew.
She told me your name, he said. There aren’t too many people by your name around.
Where are you staying? He asked next. At home, I told him.
I had lied. I didn’t have enough money to go anywhere else. I’d have to go back to the railway station and spend the night there. My train back was in the morning itself.
I want you to be happy, I lied. At that precise moment I put a curse on him and marked it with a circle so there would be no escape.
But I couldn’t say anything else. I turned back and left. I didn’t even say goodbye.
I stood at the corner of his lane for a long time, wondering where to catch the bus from. I could call my mother and ask for her to pick me up, but the family hadn’t spoken to me in years.
And right now, I didn’t have much time. Memorising the images on my cards, I stood at the bus stop – it had begun to rain.
Chapter 3
My rooms needed a coat of paint. My job was not really going anywhere and I was sinking into an abyss that I could see but do nothing about. He was going to be here soon – I needed to clean up a bit of the mess on my table.
My phone rang. It was him. They were in London. He’d stolen my number from her telephone book. I was flattered. They were going to Egypt and then to a few more countries for a month; honeymoon for a month. I had none.
I was jealous but I wished him well, drawing a darker circle around the curse.
My door bell rang.
It was him.
I was with him for an hour. He wasn’t particularly open and that made things more interesting.
He stayed on – drank some coffee with me. He left, promising to keep in touch. They never did.
Chapter 4
I met my ex husband accidentally in a pub. He was with friends. I was alone. Not the best way to run into each other. He was smiling at a rather pretty girl next to him. Then he turned and spotted me. He was polite enough to come up and ask about me – he was always so well behaved.
I was already three drinks down and to be honest, it did take a while to register that face. Then I remembered how penniless I was and he was treating his friends to drinks.
He uttered a few more words and went back to his seat and that pretty girl. I continued looking at him for a while.
I drew another dark circle.
Chapter 5
My sister was getting married – one of her friends confirmed that was guised as a question on one of those networking sites.
I was supposed to be happy. Maybe I should have called her and congratulated her. But I didn’t know where to call and I didn’t know what ‘happy’ meant.
So I just swallowed - a lot of tears that almost choked me. My salary had come in for the month; surely I could afford a trip back home. So I packed a bag with a few decent clothes that wouldn’t give away my ‘fuck it all’ self, mustered a lot of courage and decided to fly this time. The last train journey had screwed my digestive system for a while.
The door was the same Prussian blue – brighter this time. I rang the bell and a strange feminine face opened the door.
My mother and the rest of the family were out – shopping. Could I come in? I asked. But she didn’t know me so I sat on the stairs till I heard my sister’s voice twirling up the staircase.
Didi!
My mother didn’t say a word. She kept looking at me for a while. I avoided her gaze.
Come in, she said. I declined the tempting offer. I was practicing resistance you see.
I opened my bag and took out a little box and gave it to my little sister.
It’s not much, I tried to justify. But I had gotten it made and I couldn’t afford anything more.
Don’t be silly didi, my sister said, sounding all grown up. She opened the box and saw the ring inside it. It was silver, had a little star on it – the Star of David.
I always thought I was Jewish at heart.
That was the last time I saw my family. I missed the wedding that I wasn’t invited to. My sister married her boyfriend I’d never met. My father never asked where I was.
And as I flew back a long tiring flight, I realised what the word ‘single’ really meant.
It meant that there is a lot of space around you and people may or may not want to occupy it. It meant that you’re free to do as you please and no one would ask. Ever.
That night, after I'd reached home, I drew a deep dark circle around myself. And then, I uttered a curse.
There's always trouble! He tried to convince no one in particular.
Chapter 1
She was sitting in front of me. I know she wanted to cry but she didn’t. She was trying to restrain herself from going on a confession rampage – but she didn’t really know how to stop. I had stopped listening three minutes in to her monologue.
He had rushed into my head – curses, fights, an occasional hug, rarer smiles flooded my brains.
I heard her words, but he was also talking to me. Words jumbled up and I had no where to go. I don’t remember anymore.
I don’t remember the first the day we'd met either. It was a long time ago – almost twelve years. I remember us being introduced, becoming friends, stealing glances, disagreeing, holding hands – the first time we’d kissed.
But there is so much more I don't remember. I wanted so desperately to cling on to the old sheets of memories, but there was none.
She wouldn’t shut up. She went on talking till it was time for me to leave. I hadn’t even had a shower. Darn, the girl would be waiting for me. I hate being late.
Then she left. She also left a letter in my hand. I’d read it after I got back I told myself.
Maybe it’s the age, but I have been forgetting things. That letter remained in my drawer for the next few weeks to come.
The next time I heard from her, she was getting married – to the man who wrote me that letter that still remained sealed in my drawer.
Chapter 2
I had to see him. I know it would result in nothing – but that crunching feeling wouldn’t go away. I had to see him.
There wasn’t much money left – so the train was the only option. When I reached, the house was covered with flowers. Tall garlands hung from the roof to the ground floor; it looked like a garden. The ugly stench of marigold invaded my nostrils as I walked up to the doo0r and rang the bell.
His sister – I hadn’t seen her in years. She’d changed; with a young boy by her side she opened the door. I don't think she can deal with shock very well because she stood before me for a definite five minutes before opening her mouth.
“You?”
He took sometime to come down – dressed like a true Bengali groom, I was a bit amused, seeing him like that – standing with the pleats of his dhoti in his hand.
But I didn’t know what to say.
I didn’t read that letter, I told him. But I want to know how he knew.
She told me your name, he said. There aren’t too many people by your name around.
Where are you staying? He asked next. At home, I told him.
I had lied. I didn’t have enough money to go anywhere else. I’d have to go back to the railway station and spend the night there. My train back was in the morning itself.
I want you to be happy, I lied. At that precise moment I put a curse on him and marked it with a circle so there would be no escape.
But I couldn’t say anything else. I turned back and left. I didn’t even say goodbye.
I stood at the corner of his lane for a long time, wondering where to catch the bus from. I could call my mother and ask for her to pick me up, but the family hadn’t spoken to me in years.
And right now, I didn’t have much time. Memorising the images on my cards, I stood at the bus stop – it had begun to rain.
Chapter 3
My rooms needed a coat of paint. My job was not really going anywhere and I was sinking into an abyss that I could see but do nothing about. He was going to be here soon – I needed to clean up a bit of the mess on my table.
My phone rang. It was him. They were in London. He’d stolen my number from her telephone book. I was flattered. They were going to Egypt and then to a few more countries for a month; honeymoon for a month. I had none.
I was jealous but I wished him well, drawing a darker circle around the curse.
My door bell rang.
It was him.
I was with him for an hour. He wasn’t particularly open and that made things more interesting.
He stayed on – drank some coffee with me. He left, promising to keep in touch. They never did.
Chapter 4
I met my ex husband accidentally in a pub. He was with friends. I was alone. Not the best way to run into each other. He was smiling at a rather pretty girl next to him. Then he turned and spotted me. He was polite enough to come up and ask about me – he was always so well behaved.
I was already three drinks down and to be honest, it did take a while to register that face. Then I remembered how penniless I was and he was treating his friends to drinks.
He uttered a few more words and went back to his seat and that pretty girl. I continued looking at him for a while.
I drew another dark circle.
Chapter 5
My sister was getting married – one of her friends confirmed that was guised as a question on one of those networking sites.
I was supposed to be happy. Maybe I should have called her and congratulated her. But I didn’t know where to call and I didn’t know what ‘happy’ meant.
So I just swallowed - a lot of tears that almost choked me. My salary had come in for the month; surely I could afford a trip back home. So I packed a bag with a few decent clothes that wouldn’t give away my ‘fuck it all’ self, mustered a lot of courage and decided to fly this time. The last train journey had screwed my digestive system for a while.
The door was the same Prussian blue – brighter this time. I rang the bell and a strange feminine face opened the door.
My mother and the rest of the family were out – shopping. Could I come in? I asked. But she didn’t know me so I sat on the stairs till I heard my sister’s voice twirling up the staircase.
Didi!
My mother didn’t say a word. She kept looking at me for a while. I avoided her gaze.
Come in, she said. I declined the tempting offer. I was practicing resistance you see.
I opened my bag and took out a little box and gave it to my little sister.
It’s not much, I tried to justify. But I had gotten it made and I couldn’t afford anything more.
Don’t be silly didi, my sister said, sounding all grown up. She opened the box and saw the ring inside it. It was silver, had a little star on it – the Star of David.
I always thought I was Jewish at heart.
That was the last time I saw my family. I missed the wedding that I wasn’t invited to. My sister married her boyfriend I’d never met. My father never asked where I was.
And as I flew back a long tiring flight, I realised what the word ‘single’ really meant.
It meant that there is a lot of space around you and people may or may not want to occupy it. It meant that you’re free to do as you please and no one would ask. Ever.
That night, after I'd reached home, I drew a deep dark circle around myself. And then, I uttered a curse.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
round and round
You’d think, sometime towards the end, things will come full circle. But sometimes, it doesn’t work that way. Things go around you, not choosing to look at your face, simple because you are strong enough to deal with whatever that’s making things tough.
You’d think, finally, having loved for so long; god will show you the way to find out what to do next.
It’s been a while. Been a long while. I’ve suffered the pains of loneliness, frustration, secret annoyance, desperation and many other adjectives that I can think of – but now I think I’m just about ready to let go of it all.
Have you heard of a storm before calm?
It’s this insane little twitch that keeps collecting inside your head till you can’t control it anymore. At some unknown point in time, it will implode, leaving you renewed.
I wait.
You’d think, finally, having loved for so long; god will show you the way to find out what to do next.
It’s been a while. Been a long while. I’ve suffered the pains of loneliness, frustration, secret annoyance, desperation and many other adjectives that I can think of – but now I think I’m just about ready to let go of it all.
Have you heard of a storm before calm?
It’s this insane little twitch that keeps collecting inside your head till you can’t control it anymore. At some unknown point in time, it will implode, leaving you renewed.
I wait.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
my first song
No body rescues you
You've just gotta find
A way back on your own
People will pass you by
You've just gotta smile and move on
I've walked the line
Seen many faces
And names that I dont even know
I've held tight, to whatever dignity's left
Even said good bye before I let go
You've just gotta find
A way back on your own
People will pass you by
You've just gotta smile and move on
I've walked the line
Seen many faces
And names that I dont even know
I've held tight, to whatever dignity's left
Even said good bye before I let go
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Fire starter
In one moment of my frozen insanity
You lit a fire, and waited
And as I looked up and saw a shadow
Waiting somewhere behind you
My mind had gone for a quick short stroll
It picked up these thoughts
On its way back from the wilderness
That it didn't recognise at all
I could say I'm tired, which I probably am
And stub your fire out
And just lie back in decrepit sorrow
Hoping that the pain will die a slow death
But as the ice melts, and my senses prevail
I see the shadow behind you again
You might as well walk off
Looks like I'm going to be this way for a while
You lit a fire, and waited
And as I looked up and saw a shadow
Waiting somewhere behind you
My mind had gone for a quick short stroll
It picked up these thoughts
On its way back from the wilderness
That it didn't recognise at all
I could say I'm tired, which I probably am
And stub your fire out
And just lie back in decrepit sorrow
Hoping that the pain will die a slow death
But as the ice melts, and my senses prevail
I see the shadow behind you again
You might as well walk off
Looks like I'm going to be this way for a while
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
well then
It's one of those days
you know when sad songs touch your heart
it actually happened with a strange smile
an unknown face I wanted to explore
But then again my hands are tied
I am not allowed to wander
because you my friend have set the rules
that I am not allowed to break
so I simply wait for a storm
that will liberate me from this insanity
you call a relationship
so that I can go ahead in search of
that silly smile that had once touched my soul.
Drop by drop
One drop.
Two drops.
Three drops, four.
Five drops.
Six drops.
Seven drops more.
Eight drops.
Nine drops.
Ten drops, eleven.
Twelve drops, thirteen drops.
Fourteen drops again.
Fifteen drops.
Sixteen drops.
Seventeen drops, eighteen.
Nineteen Drops.
Twenty drops.
Twenty one seen.
Two drops.
Three drops, four.
Five drops.
Six drops.
Seven drops more.
Eight drops.
Nine drops.
Ten drops, eleven.
Twelve drops, thirteen drops.
Fourteen drops again.
Fifteen drops.
Sixteen drops.
Seventeen drops, eighteen.
Nineteen Drops.
Twenty drops.
Twenty one seen.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Blind man's buff
I can't make his see
That I'll walk the sands for him.
I'll travel strange places
Just for an address.
I can make evil disappear and drown
In his one momentary wink.
He doesn't see.
He won't know the pain behind the grin
That he thinks is so lovely.
He doesn't notice that a grin
Has its own tale that I don't want to tell.
But I want him to know anyway.
He doesn't see.
That I'll walk the sands for him.
I'll travel strange places
Just for an address.
I can make evil disappear and drown
In his one momentary wink.
He doesn't see.
He won't know the pain behind the grin
That he thinks is so lovely.
He doesn't notice that a grin
Has its own tale that I don't want to tell.
But I want him to know anyway.
He doesn't see.
If you're going to take my last breath,
Let it be when I'm with him.
Let it be in a lonely place,
Where there is no light,
And there's just us.
Let it be with the last wet kiss,
That is unknown to me,
And let there be no space between us.
The world can go to hell.
If I die tonight, let there be no difference,
Between love and hatred,
Let everything end with the last smile,
For that's how I'd like to go - in a moment.
Let everything end.
Let it be when I'm with him.
Let it be in a lonely place,
Where there is no light,
And there's just us.
Let it be with the last wet kiss,
That is unknown to me,
And let there be no space between us.
The world can go to hell.
If I die tonight, let there be no difference,
Between love and hatred,
Let everything end with the last smile,
For that's how I'd like to go - in a moment.
Let everything end.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Once again
I can't change things around.
I wish I could. But I cannot.
I can't go back to those days any more.
I wish I could. But I cannot.
So, don't say a word. Just sit here.
Don't touch me. I can't lose this moment.
I cannot imagine I am not with you in the first place
Let this not be a bitter reminder.
Can we be strangers? Can we be friends?
Can we be something that we were once not?
Yes, I love you - there is no shame in that.
But I can't go back to where we where.
Now, that is a shame.
I wish I could. But I cannot.
I can't go back to those days any more.
I wish I could. But I cannot.
So, don't say a word. Just sit here.
Don't touch me. I can't lose this moment.
I cannot imagine I am not with you in the first place
Let this not be a bitter reminder.
Can we be strangers? Can we be friends?
Can we be something that we were once not?
Yes, I love you - there is no shame in that.
But I can't go back to where we where.
Now, that is a shame.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
I've slain all the demons
I've slain all the demons inside your head
And let their blood drip dry on your porch
I've brought all the promises to your feet
And painstakingly snuffed out the eternal torch
And yet you laughed; in my face, that too
Tossing your proud head to the side
And spoke with such regretful condescension
That the earth was left split open, wide
Come back no more, you said to me vainly
Your perpetual slave of no good, that I was
My armour lay used and sword useless
It was a dark and stormy noon, 'twas
I did walk away, not a word was said
After such a long battle I was weary
Where does one like me find words to craft?
Except in love, war or apology
But there were no explanations
That I could possibly think of offering
That would mollify your crooked soul
So I just turned; no goodbyes even, in the leaving
And let their blood drip dry on your porch
I've brought all the promises to your feet
And painstakingly snuffed out the eternal torch
And yet you laughed; in my face, that too
Tossing your proud head to the side
And spoke with such regretful condescension
That the earth was left split open, wide
Come back no more, you said to me vainly
Your perpetual slave of no good, that I was
My armour lay used and sword useless
It was a dark and stormy noon, 'twas
I did walk away, not a word was said
After such a long battle I was weary
Where does one like me find words to craft?
Except in love, war or apology
But there were no explanations
That I could possibly think of offering
That would mollify your crooked soul
So I just turned; no goodbyes even, in the leaving
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
So close
The closest I've come to kissing him is sharing a cigarette
I've perhaps touched his hair for a brief moment to share the intimacy
That was there, only fleetingly, perhaps mostly in my head
As I hoped that night wouldn't end as we drove towards my home
It's been a while, since I wrote anything on him Or thought of him
I simply can't afford the strain that he causes in my brain
But it's not easy, staying away for too long, even though I try
I just wish I could say something, anything to give myself up
So as the wine filled up our evening, with a slight hint of red
I didn't recognise the words that came out my lips
This is not me. This is not me. I am not here, I shouted
But he didn't hear me. He wasn't listening. He was elsewhere
I've perhaps touched his hair for a brief moment to share the intimacy
That was there, only fleetingly, perhaps mostly in my head
As I hoped that night wouldn't end as we drove towards my home
It's been a while, since I wrote anything on him Or thought of him
I simply can't afford the strain that he causes in my brain
But it's not easy, staying away for too long, even though I try
I just wish I could say something, anything to give myself up
So as the wine filled up our evening, with a slight hint of red
I didn't recognise the words that came out my lips
This is not me. This is not me. I am not here, I shouted
But he didn't hear me. He wasn't listening. He was elsewhere
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Hide and seek
The long winding road didn't have an end. At least from where I was standing, I couldn't see anything. But there was silence. Absolute silence as I heard him run from a distance towards me. I was armed - with a folding knife that was more fatal than it looked. I was waiting for him to catch up. Streaks of blue and green lights passed by me as I looked up in curiosity. He caught up with me and we started running together. Was that a forest on our right? Could we disappear right into it? Good idea, he said. And as he jumped a few feet and ran straight into the darkness of the forest, the trees started clearing up. We can't hide here, he said. It's all a set up. No No. They're on to us, I screamed.
We ran as fast as we could, sometimes floating a few feet off the ground. And soon there were no more trees left to shelter us. The forest had disappeared.
It was before I could come up with another plan, he had spotted a small town, a few metres ahead. We ran towards it to find a place to hide.
They won't see this place, there are simply too many people here. he advised. I nodded in consent.
The first house was covered with green twines - it looked so lovely that at any other given time, I'd have offered the owner a price for it. But right now, we needed to hide.
I knocked on the door slightly, in my head it sounded like pounding. A frail old woman opened the door and pulled us in.
Why are you here? This is the wrong way. You should have taken the left instead of the right. And now the forest is gone, they will find us and you.
But there was nothing on the right, just a steep cliff.
Oh but you see, you could've climbed.
He could hear the running of a lot of feet - covered in boots that can smash a finger or two.
We need to hide, he whispered.
Come this way, said the old lady. She took us to a room and told us to jump into a well, covered with moss. Here? I asked. We could drown. Just go she said.
The two of us had no choice but to trust her. So we jumped. The long well swallowed us and soon we were plummeting through another opening and crashed into the side of an unknown street.
Looks like we're safe, he said. Then he took out his small dagger that gleamed at the hilt with all the stones that he'd found at another expedition. He turned towards me and said, it's been a really long journey. You must be tired.
But before I could say a word, he stabbed me. Right through the heart. I had a rerun of the entire episode in my head that went by in a flash - streaking lights, sounds of running feet, a long and winding road.
Where are you sending me, I asked him. You should have waited.
NO. This is where the road ends, at least for you, he said and ran off.
We ran as fast as we could, sometimes floating a few feet off the ground. And soon there were no more trees left to shelter us. The forest had disappeared.
It was before I could come up with another plan, he had spotted a small town, a few metres ahead. We ran towards it to find a place to hide.
They won't see this place, there are simply too many people here. he advised. I nodded in consent.
The first house was covered with green twines - it looked so lovely that at any other given time, I'd have offered the owner a price for it. But right now, we needed to hide.
I knocked on the door slightly, in my head it sounded like pounding. A frail old woman opened the door and pulled us in.
Why are you here? This is the wrong way. You should have taken the left instead of the right. And now the forest is gone, they will find us and you.
But there was nothing on the right, just a steep cliff.
Oh but you see, you could've climbed.
He could hear the running of a lot of feet - covered in boots that can smash a finger or two.
We need to hide, he whispered.
Come this way, said the old lady. She took us to a room and told us to jump into a well, covered with moss. Here? I asked. We could drown. Just go she said.
The two of us had no choice but to trust her. So we jumped. The long well swallowed us and soon we were plummeting through another opening and crashed into the side of an unknown street.
Looks like we're safe, he said. Then he took out his small dagger that gleamed at the hilt with all the stones that he'd found at another expedition. He turned towards me and said, it's been a really long journey. You must be tired.
But before I could say a word, he stabbed me. Right through the heart. I had a rerun of the entire episode in my head that went by in a flash - streaking lights, sounds of running feet, a long and winding road.
Where are you sending me, I asked him. You should have waited.
NO. This is where the road ends, at least for you, he said and ran off.
Distance
He holds in his heart a fiery kiss.
One that reminds him of the rain,
A silhouette that had walked past him,
A smile that stayed incomplete.
And in some corner of the country,
Bits and pieces of a memory came alive,
She clasped her tired hands together
And rubbed the scars off her mind.
The phone has been dead for years,
An empty shell covered with dust
Remained on the side board as a thought
Of all the days that had gone by.
She picked up to those pieces with care
Making sure the sides don't hurt
Folded them in an old faded letter
And dumped them on the side of the street.
He waited; there was so much to be said
Time was waiting for him, in silence,
Yet nothing came from him, not even a whisper
He was waiting for her to speak.
One that reminds him of the rain,
A silhouette that had walked past him,
A smile that stayed incomplete.
And in some corner of the country,
Bits and pieces of a memory came alive,
She clasped her tired hands together
And rubbed the scars off her mind.
The phone has been dead for years,
An empty shell covered with dust
Remained on the side board as a thought
Of all the days that had gone by.
She picked up to those pieces with care
Making sure the sides don't hurt
Folded them in an old faded letter
And dumped them on the side of the street.
He waited; there was so much to be said
Time was waiting for him, in silence,
Yet nothing came from him, not even a whisper
He was waiting for her to speak.
Friday, December 21, 2007
What the...
Cardinal rule of going out: ALWAYS read the prices on the menu.
I am going against all ground rules (mine!) by saying this but boy oh boy, I take back all my words and probably will go and pay my respects to all those people who wouldn't order before checking the right side of the menu.
For those who live in Bangalore, Legends of Rock is a favourite hangout of many. It's been around for a while, doesn't believe in the hip-hop shit that's being played lately. Anyway, this place also is rather affordable than most. So about seven of us happy souls went tripping there sometime back and had ourselves the merriest time.
We talked about many things - good and bad and continued drinking till they told us that they were closing down.
Then came the bill: I have never seen a bill like that. It was only 17 freaking thousand rupees.
That's when the thunder struck and we were all killed instantly.
Not true.
We paid. We checked the bill first and then paid.
We've promised never to pay a bill like that again. Either we fight for the rights we don't have or drink at home.
I am going against all ground rules (mine!) by saying this but boy oh boy, I take back all my words and probably will go and pay my respects to all those people who wouldn't order before checking the right side of the menu.
For those who live in Bangalore, Legends of Rock is a favourite hangout of many. It's been around for a while, doesn't believe in the hip-hop shit that's being played lately. Anyway, this place also is rather affordable than most. So about seven of us happy souls went tripping there sometime back and had ourselves the merriest time.
We talked about many things - good and bad and continued drinking till they told us that they were closing down.
Then came the bill: I have never seen a bill like that. It was only 17 freaking thousand rupees.
That's when the thunder struck and we were all killed instantly.
Not true.
We paid. We checked the bill first and then paid.
We've promised never to pay a bill like that again. Either we fight for the rights we don't have or drink at home.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Replacement
I saw the tea tree oil
trickling down the side of the bottle
Must be expensive, I thought
And yet, you shrugged it off
The shoe had lost it's crystals
The ones that lined the strap
It was expensive I know
And yet, you pouted in nonchalance
Your silks, jewels and make-up
Lay scattered in different places
A shawl carried a spot of blood too
I was convinced that you'd lost your mind
And while you stood, arms akimbo, brows together
I wondered if I could even clean this mess up
You just asked if people had heard anything
And then went back to all the thinking
I had to find the broom myself; and the mop
I folded your things and arranged them neatly
And without a single slur of thanks or gratitude
You just left the flat, never to return
There I was, sitting on your couch
My hands folded neatly on my lap
I waited till the police came and found me
Sitting next to your lover's corpse
trickling down the side of the bottle
Must be expensive, I thought
And yet, you shrugged it off
The shoe had lost it's crystals
The ones that lined the strap
It was expensive I know
And yet, you pouted in nonchalance
Your silks, jewels and make-up
Lay scattered in different places
A shawl carried a spot of blood too
I was convinced that you'd lost your mind
And while you stood, arms akimbo, brows together
I wondered if I could even clean this mess up
You just asked if people had heard anything
And then went back to all the thinking
I had to find the broom myself; and the mop
I folded your things and arranged them neatly
And without a single slur of thanks or gratitude
You just left the flat, never to return
There I was, sitting on your couch
My hands folded neatly on my lap
I waited till the police came and found me
Sitting next to your lover's corpse
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Got a problem?
It's not easy - playing an agony aunt. You have to be prepared almost any time of the day and have the answers ready. Saying, "I am not sure about what to say" doesn't go down very well with those who depend on you for the 'solution'.
I've played this role - for a long time too. I don't remember at which point it started but soon I was bearing secrets that were getting simply too much to handle. Maybe that is why I'm simply incapable of shedding all the extra weight; I mean where are all the secrets going to go?
A couple friend (at least they used to be friends) are going through a rather rough time. In fact, one of them is so rough that I'm surprised the other hasn't sued her for abuse. While I was privy to what was going on initially, circumstances found me an escape route and now I just sit back at nod gravely whenever I hear something from that department. Trust me, for once I am actually happy that I have NOTHING to do with them. An occasional hello at parties that are few and far between are fine by me.
Being friends is a difficult job - you cannot be separated from their problems because you are a part of their lives (if you're close friends that is) and whatever you/they do affects all those involved. Such is the troubles of having close friends.
For many years, I shied away from letting anyone too close. Recently, a young thing who is probably gearing up to make friends with me told me that I must have gone through too much pain as a child, facing betrayals and blah..blah..blah..
Well who hasn't had a few troubles in life? Mine are no exceptions but that hasn't made me Albert Camus' Outsider. I just don't feel like going through the whole circle of having to put up with different pains and then looking for ways to solve them because my 'friends' are simply too lazy or stupid.
I am glad I did that - because now, I have a few friends ( I can't count them on my fingers) whom I've very grateful for. I am glad I have them in my life and don't want to trade them for anything. They do come to me with their problems at time, but I don't feel burdened by them. We often laugh about it, talk about it and look for ways out together - which is absolutely the way I like it.
Sometimes, when I look back and think of all those people I'd truly cared for and how they chose to walk away from my life, I am glad they aren't there any more anyway. It used to be quite a bother - and in the fear of being totally 'friendless' I clung on to them when I would've given my soul to push them over the edge of a really tall building because all they did for the friendship was use my intelligence and pass it off as their own and in the process get on my nerves.
This of course, has passed! Amen.
I've played this role - for a long time too. I don't remember at which point it started but soon I was bearing secrets that were getting simply too much to handle. Maybe that is why I'm simply incapable of shedding all the extra weight; I mean where are all the secrets going to go?
A couple friend (at least they used to be friends) are going through a rather rough time. In fact, one of them is so rough that I'm surprised the other hasn't sued her for abuse. While I was privy to what was going on initially, circumstances found me an escape route and now I just sit back at nod gravely whenever I hear something from that department. Trust me, for once I am actually happy that I have NOTHING to do with them. An occasional hello at parties that are few and far between are fine by me.
Being friends is a difficult job - you cannot be separated from their problems because you are a part of their lives (if you're close friends that is) and whatever you/they do affects all those involved. Such is the troubles of having close friends.
For many years, I shied away from letting anyone too close. Recently, a young thing who is probably gearing up to make friends with me told me that I must have gone through too much pain as a child, facing betrayals and blah..blah..blah..
Well who hasn't had a few troubles in life? Mine are no exceptions but that hasn't made me Albert Camus' Outsider. I just don't feel like going through the whole circle of having to put up with different pains and then looking for ways to solve them because my 'friends' are simply too lazy or stupid.
I am glad I did that - because now, I have a few friends ( I can't count them on my fingers) whom I've very grateful for. I am glad I have them in my life and don't want to trade them for anything. They do come to me with their problems at time, but I don't feel burdened by them. We often laugh about it, talk about it and look for ways out together - which is absolutely the way I like it.
Sometimes, when I look back and think of all those people I'd truly cared for and how they chose to walk away from my life, I am glad they aren't there any more anyway. It used to be quite a bother - and in the fear of being totally 'friendless' I clung on to them when I would've given my soul to push them over the edge of a really tall building because all they did for the friendship was use my intelligence and pass it off as their own and in the process get on my nerves.
This of course, has passed! Amen.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Facebooking
I am on facebook. Have been on it for a while. Do I enjoy it- well most certainly.
Do I like the fact that I enjoy it? I am not so sure anymore.
One thing - it's addictive. And therefore, it initiates a lot of argument. And that can be annoying.
Secondly, I don't want to get into a food fight, bite vampires and zombies and try to race a non existent car (when in reality I can't even drive). But I do it all. Why? Because I think I must. It's psychosomatic disorder that makes me believe that my life will be incomplete if I don't 'check in to' my facebook account at least twice a day.
If you've taken the trouble to land here and actually read this crap - then you have the liberty to think I'm crazy. Go ahead. No one can stop you.
But you don't know what it's like. I need to know if my vampire is safe, or if someone has crashed my car, or if the growing gift is growing or not.
I also need to know if my friends think I'm better looking than 'X' or if I'm likely to sell my soul for a donut. And of course, I need to know if my friends would rather hang out with me or the girl who I'm not particularly fond of.
So dear friends, life is full of responsibilities.
And before I go hang myself for being so completely inane - let me tell you one thing... Facebook is god's gift to mankind. Here, we can be nice to people we actually hate or be rude to strangers without giving a damn...
Est bien!
Do I like the fact that I enjoy it? I am not so sure anymore.
One thing - it's addictive. And therefore, it initiates a lot of argument. And that can be annoying.
Secondly, I don't want to get into a food fight, bite vampires and zombies and try to race a non existent car (when in reality I can't even drive). But I do it all. Why? Because I think I must. It's psychosomatic disorder that makes me believe that my life will be incomplete if I don't 'check in to' my facebook account at least twice a day.
If you've taken the trouble to land here and actually read this crap - then you have the liberty to think I'm crazy. Go ahead. No one can stop you.
But you don't know what it's like. I need to know if my vampire is safe, or if someone has crashed my car, or if the growing gift is growing or not.
I also need to know if my friends think I'm better looking than 'X' or if I'm likely to sell my soul for a donut. And of course, I need to know if my friends would rather hang out with me or the girl who I'm not particularly fond of.
So dear friends, life is full of responsibilities.
And before I go hang myself for being so completely inane - let me tell you one thing... Facebook is god's gift to mankind. Here, we can be nice to people we actually hate or be rude to strangers without giving a damn...
Est bien!
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
The Boy
Many years ago, a time when there were no milestones
For me to record the things I remember in flashes
I met a boy. Rather accidentally I must say
It began with the letters we wrote to each other
Every now and then, on writing paper
Sealed in envelopes. Often coloured
The letters were like life's notes
That I regret losing. But they were cherished
And received with much love and affection
There came a time when I met that boy
Again, purely by chance. And perhaps providence
Had a little bit of a role to play as well
We connected. At least that's what I'd like to think
We didn't meet that often again. But continued writing
And now I realise, it was love
I haven't seen that boy in many many years
So much has changed since then, I'm even afraid
To face him, this way again
He lives in some other country. We see each other
Virtually and that too, so rarely that I can hardly breathe
When a slight hello appears on my screen
I miss that boy. Even though we can't be friends
The way I thought we were. A part of me continues
To regret losing him to the life that he chose
For me to record the things I remember in flashes
I met a boy. Rather accidentally I must say
It began with the letters we wrote to each other
Every now and then, on writing paper
Sealed in envelopes. Often coloured
The letters were like life's notes
That I regret losing. But they were cherished
And received with much love and affection
There came a time when I met that boy
Again, purely by chance. And perhaps providence
Had a little bit of a role to play as well
We connected. At least that's what I'd like to think
We didn't meet that often again. But continued writing
And now I realise, it was love
I haven't seen that boy in many many years
So much has changed since then, I'm even afraid
To face him, this way again
He lives in some other country. We see each other
Virtually and that too, so rarely that I can hardly breathe
When a slight hello appears on my screen
I miss that boy. Even though we can't be friends
The way I thought we were. A part of me continues
To regret losing him to the life that he chose
To be funny or not to be funny
One of the most important things I have to learn is to take a joke as well as I can dish it out. I've been told (and that too on more than one occasion) that I have no capacity to laugh at myself. I am not so sure about it though. Being the brunt of a joke and a bad one at that doesn't tickle my funny bone - so I can't laugh.
Coming to the point, I haven't used a public phone in a really long time. And to be honest, I was rather tempted to use one when I saw it right before me.. probably because at that precise moment I had two shiny one rupee coins in my pocket. When you're smoking and idling away, bad things happen to a wicked brain like mine. Am I nasty? Maybe.
So I made that silly call. And played a silly prank on a colleague that I shouldn't even think of playing a prank on, mostly because I have no clue of her capacity to handle in case it got out. Which, of course it did.
Stretching a bad thing too far, I even borrowed a ten rupee note from my friend and exchanged it for more coins and prolonged a conversation that I could've simply cut short while it was good.
I wasn't alone in this... but then again, I was the one who made that call.
So she was upset - terribly upset. And I wasn't around when the thing fell apart. In a way, secretively, I am glad I came in later and apologised.
Many thoughts came to me. "It was just a joke." "Why can't she take a silly prank in her stride?" "C'mon, she can't be crying over something as inane as this!" and such.
As defiant as I may be, I can't deny the tinge of guilt that I felt.
I've been teased - many a times - and to be honest, I can only put up with so much. Being bullied is not something I am used to and sometimes, I do lose my cool and react quite strongly.
It's not about taking a joke well, it's about saying, "So far and no more."
How does one stand being taken for granted? Is that what I did to someone else? Darn!
Coming to the point, I haven't used a public phone in a really long time. And to be honest, I was rather tempted to use one when I saw it right before me.. probably because at that precise moment I had two shiny one rupee coins in my pocket. When you're smoking and idling away, bad things happen to a wicked brain like mine. Am I nasty? Maybe.
So I made that silly call. And played a silly prank on a colleague that I shouldn't even think of playing a prank on, mostly because I have no clue of her capacity to handle in case it got out. Which, of course it did.
Stretching a bad thing too far, I even borrowed a ten rupee note from my friend and exchanged it for more coins and prolonged a conversation that I could've simply cut short while it was good.
I wasn't alone in this... but then again, I was the one who made that call.
So she was upset - terribly upset. And I wasn't around when the thing fell apart. In a way, secretively, I am glad I came in later and apologised.
Many thoughts came to me. "It was just a joke." "Why can't she take a silly prank in her stride?" "C'mon, she can't be crying over something as inane as this!" and such.
As defiant as I may be, I can't deny the tinge of guilt that I felt.
I've been teased - many a times - and to be honest, I can only put up with so much. Being bullied is not something I am used to and sometimes, I do lose my cool and react quite strongly.
It's not about taking a joke well, it's about saying, "So far and no more."
How does one stand being taken for granted? Is that what I did to someone else? Darn!
Friday, November 02, 2007
I am pretty okay with handling bad relationships. I think it comes with experience. Like they say - practice makes perfect?
But then there are some relationships, the ones that are neither here nor there that confuse me completely. And I'm bad with confusion. Earlier, I'd do something rather silly to get over that confusion; mostly indulge in rather flippant relationships to tide over the bad period. But now that I'm hitched... blah blah blah.. and that it should give me a sense of security and I should remain ever faithful.
I thought a good way to get rid of confusion (this time) is to get it out of my system.
I've been married almost five years. And no, contrary to what I declare most of the time, it doesn't feel like a lifetime - at least, not yet.
But I had a life before this. A life, which may not have much consequence to most people but it was a mix of the good and bad, like everyone else's. At least, everyone who's maybe normal. (Like me?)
I've had one really long relationship before that. It was, well, a little bizarre if I can put it that way. It brought me tremendous joy and I did experience sudden rushes of excitement and a more constant sense of happiness most of the time. But then it fell apart. Perhaps it was my fault, I am not entirely sure. Maybe both of us were to blame.
But I'm talking of a life before that. And one that ran in parallel.
A friend, (lover?) confidante, soul mate - someone who's been intrinsic to my life. Well, to be honest, I actually couldn't imagine that I would land up with anyone else. I have never cherished any relationship as much as I do this. In fact, I couldn't really cherish any other because of this one. In the end, well like all fairy tales I've imagined, this one didn't end up happily ever after.
There can be no happily ever after for us. Even if I were single.
He and I had made plans. Of a life together - without the slightest inclination of making it come true. Though deep inside my silly little head, I did want it all. But like they say, "you don't get everything you want."
To be honest, I didn't really want anything from him. And I still don't. In fact, i don't even want the friendship.
But what I also don't want is the way he treats the whole thing.
I don't like being treated as a trivial thing of the past. present. Or the future.
I don't like being told that I'm being 'unfair'.
I don't like being told that we can go back to being 'just friends' when we've crossed that fucking bridge like aeons ago.
I am not even expecting anything... then why the hell am I putting up with his nonchalance? And why the fuck does he take me for granted - after all these years. Or is it because it's been so many years?
I wonder...
But then there are some relationships, the ones that are neither here nor there that confuse me completely. And I'm bad with confusion. Earlier, I'd do something rather silly to get over that confusion; mostly indulge in rather flippant relationships to tide over the bad period. But now that I'm hitched... blah blah blah.. and that it should give me a sense of security and I should remain ever faithful.
I thought a good way to get rid of confusion (this time) is to get it out of my system.
I've been married almost five years. And no, contrary to what I declare most of the time, it doesn't feel like a lifetime - at least, not yet.
But I had a life before this. A life, which may not have much consequence to most people but it was a mix of the good and bad, like everyone else's. At least, everyone who's maybe normal. (Like me?)
I've had one really long relationship before that. It was, well, a little bizarre if I can put it that way. It brought me tremendous joy and I did experience sudden rushes of excitement and a more constant sense of happiness most of the time. But then it fell apart. Perhaps it was my fault, I am not entirely sure. Maybe both of us were to blame.
But I'm talking of a life before that. And one that ran in parallel.
A friend, (lover?) confidante, soul mate - someone who's been intrinsic to my life. Well, to be honest, I actually couldn't imagine that I would land up with anyone else. I have never cherished any relationship as much as I do this. In fact, I couldn't really cherish any other because of this one. In the end, well like all fairy tales I've imagined, this one didn't end up happily ever after.
There can be no happily ever after for us. Even if I were single.
He and I had made plans. Of a life together - without the slightest inclination of making it come true. Though deep inside my silly little head, I did want it all. But like they say, "you don't get everything you want."
To be honest, I didn't really want anything from him. And I still don't. In fact, i don't even want the friendship.
But what I also don't want is the way he treats the whole thing.
I don't like being treated as a trivial thing of the past. present. Or the future.
I don't like being told that I'm being 'unfair'.
I don't like being told that we can go back to being 'just friends' when we've crossed that fucking bridge like aeons ago.
I am not even expecting anything... then why the hell am I putting up with his nonchalance? And why the fuck does he take me for granted - after all these years. Or is it because it's been so many years?
I wonder...
never again
Now it is possible to survive without love. You don't need it. One, it doesn't exist. If you're getting bad sex, you'll fall out of love in no time. So, it doesn't exist. Two, it's very pointless, because it really doesn't put food on the table.
So, it doesn't exist. Point made.
So, it doesn't exist. Point made.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Bong ha ha
I was reading this blog (www.thebangaloretorpedo.blogspot.com) today, thanks to my friend Sunayana, and thought it was rather hilarious. I think everyone should read it.
I came across this post on Bengalis, which I found to be the funniest I've read in a long time. And that brings to be the film The Bong Connection. Anjan Dutt tried real hard to get us bengalis to take a joke, to rise above our conceited selves and realise that we too, are as foolish as any other person from any other country or community.
There are at least few hundred million bengalis living in 'Bengal'uru.. They come here with the IT wave and settle down. They wear their Fabindia kurtas, drink scotch, talk sartre and tagore and eat 'machher jhol bhaat'. And they cuss like hell ( I won't say I haven't done it too). They talk about how Bangalore has no culture blah blah blah.
I don't like Bangalore as a city very much, but to be honest, it does surprise me every now and then in a rather pleasant way. I hate the auto rickshaws here, they cheat and they don't want to drive that goddamn thing most of the time. In Calcutta, we don't have an option, the auto guys ply like buses - fixed destination, fixed price.
I love that city, and that's because I was born there. I guess it would be true for any city I was born in. I love Mumbai too, I spent two of my best years in that place.
Why can I not fall in love with Bangalore? I have been here for four years and I still feel like a stranger at times. I sincerely wonder why!
I came across this post on Bengalis, which I found to be the funniest I've read in a long time. And that brings to be the film The Bong Connection. Anjan Dutt tried real hard to get us bengalis to take a joke, to rise above our conceited selves and realise that we too, are as foolish as any other person from any other country or community.
There are at least few hundred million bengalis living in 'Bengal'uru.. They come here with the IT wave and settle down. They wear their Fabindia kurtas, drink scotch, talk sartre and tagore and eat 'machher jhol bhaat'. And they cuss like hell ( I won't say I haven't done it too). They talk about how Bangalore has no culture blah blah blah.
I don't like Bangalore as a city very much, but to be honest, it does surprise me every now and then in a rather pleasant way. I hate the auto rickshaws here, they cheat and they don't want to drive that goddamn thing most of the time. In Calcutta, we don't have an option, the auto guys ply like buses - fixed destination, fixed price.
I love that city, and that's because I was born there. I guess it would be true for any city I was born in. I love Mumbai too, I spent two of my best years in that place.
Why can I not fall in love with Bangalore? I have been here for four years and I still feel like a stranger at times. I sincerely wonder why!
Monday, August 27, 2007
Lies
I often don't know what to say to him. What do you tell someone you've known forever and yet cannot get used to?
What do you tell someone you've loved deeply and then walked out?
What do you say to erase the past in the hope of a fresh start? A start that will never be the way it used to be. A compromised restart.
What can you possibly say when you have so much to say that words fail you?
When is a good time?
When he is asleep? or busy with work? Would a letter do the trick?
What could you possibly do when he's a million miles away from you and time has managed to draw so many lines between the two of you that you have no way of knowing how to get over it.
Would you forget everything and let the memory serve its purpose? Would you allow a sliver of hope enter your mind? What would you look for? A lover? A friend?
Lies work. They are brilliant pieces of stories woven together to create this fantastic epic - of how it wouldn't have worked anyway; that he is totally not the kind of person you should be with. And I've lived that lie... everyday till it didn't make a difference.
And now, after so many years, I've allowed the truth to fade away. Now what I want is him, in some form or the other. It doesn't matter anymore. It cannot. But I would be dishonest if I said it is easy.
What do you tell someone you've loved deeply and then walked out?
What do you say to erase the past in the hope of a fresh start? A start that will never be the way it used to be. A compromised restart.
What can you possibly say when you have so much to say that words fail you?
When is a good time?
When he is asleep? or busy with work? Would a letter do the trick?
What could you possibly do when he's a million miles away from you and time has managed to draw so many lines between the two of you that you have no way of knowing how to get over it.
Would you forget everything and let the memory serve its purpose? Would you allow a sliver of hope enter your mind? What would you look for? A lover? A friend?
Lies work. They are brilliant pieces of stories woven together to create this fantastic epic - of how it wouldn't have worked anyway; that he is totally not the kind of person you should be with. And I've lived that lie... everyday till it didn't make a difference.
And now, after so many years, I've allowed the truth to fade away. Now what I want is him, in some form or the other. It doesn't matter anymore. It cannot. But I would be dishonest if I said it is easy.
Friday, August 24, 2007
rather interesting... or not.
This is the latest comment on my blog and I think I will end this silly debate with this:
"Why am i still working here????Heard about bonded labour miss? Yep, corporate bonded labour in form of a bond signed at time of joining. Something which has a bottomline "leave us before 2 years and we take lacs; its a different story if u get fired though" And yeah miss Ed, u still need to know the ways of tech-corporate world. Would suggest u to do an "inside story" on exploitation by companies like mine which claim to work on lines of TATA code of conduct but flout it openly and use it to their convinience. This I'd say wold be a real journo work.And please do forward this to the HR. Thanks!! "
Yes, I do know of bonded labour.. when you have friends who go with the IT wave, you cant help but witness many fall into the trap of signed bonds. Put it to my ignorance (since I am not as educated or qualified as most and no company really ever wants to hire me, forget the bond!) but are most companies like that? I mean aren't bonds presented to the employee when the accept the offer. Why do people sighn the bonds then?
Dear writer, I am not really that unaware about what goes on in the tech-corporate world.. I do have a few friends and they aren't all journalists you know..
I was with a so-called corporate company for a while before I decided to come back to journalism and I know what went on there. and trust me, there was no blog to even vent out my frustrations...
anyway, I'd really like to put this at rest.. cos i figured one thing out.. We could be arguing on this forum or on the other, no one will do a damn thing about anything because people don't care. And people won't care till someone did something about it without expecting someone else to do it.. When I couldn't change things in my last two companies, I walked out... I was broke but I walked out because I didn't want to be in a set up that took advantage of me... thankfully, i found a job i like.. or else it would've been rather weird..
anyway, I wish you luck. I really hope you don't have to be a bonded labour for long and find your true calling ( i know it sounds a little fuddy duddy!)
And btw, I didnt form opinion on what the TEL guys told me.. It was a feature article and not a journalistic piece. I just wrote what they told me.. if you come and tell me that you have fun at work, I don't know why I should'nt believe you - then, I'd have to mistrust everyone.. What a life that would be!
"Why am i still working here????Heard about bonded labour miss? Yep, corporate bonded labour in form of a bond signed at time of joining. Something which has a bottomline "leave us before 2 years and we take lacs; its a different story if u get fired though" And yeah miss Ed, u still need to know the ways of tech-corporate world. Would suggest u to do an "inside story" on exploitation by companies like mine which claim to work on lines of TATA code of conduct but flout it openly and use it to their convinience. This I'd say wold be a real journo work.And please do forward this to the HR. Thanks!! "
Yes, I do know of bonded labour.. when you have friends who go with the IT wave, you cant help but witness many fall into the trap of signed bonds. Put it to my ignorance (since I am not as educated or qualified as most and no company really ever wants to hire me, forget the bond!) but are most companies like that? I mean aren't bonds presented to the employee when the accept the offer. Why do people sighn the bonds then?
Dear writer, I am not really that unaware about what goes on in the tech-corporate world.. I do have a few friends and they aren't all journalists you know..
I was with a so-called corporate company for a while before I decided to come back to journalism and I know what went on there. and trust me, there was no blog to even vent out my frustrations...
anyway, I'd really like to put this at rest.. cos i figured one thing out.. We could be arguing on this forum or on the other, no one will do a damn thing about anything because people don't care. And people won't care till someone did something about it without expecting someone else to do it.. When I couldn't change things in my last two companies, I walked out... I was broke but I walked out because I didn't want to be in a set up that took advantage of me... thankfully, i found a job i like.. or else it would've been rather weird..
anyway, I wish you luck. I really hope you don't have to be a bonded labour for long and find your true calling ( i know it sounds a little fuddy duddy!)
And btw, I didnt form opinion on what the TEL guys told me.. It was a feature article and not a journalistic piece. I just wrote what they told me.. if you come and tell me that you have fun at work, I don't know why I should'nt believe you - then, I'd have to mistrust everyone.. What a life that would be!
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Fun extended
Wow. First of all I must appreciate your writing/d... Wow. First of all I must appreciate your writing/debating skills to extend a matter to the extent of banning anything and everything. But then isn't that what you've been trained for?? :)
And it is understandable that a newpaper with a small subscriber base is bound to go with the highest bidder(read good money from Elxsi)
Something like in an auction; the novelty goes to the highest bidder.Rather than a journalistic work; it seems to be a marketing campaign with the bottomline of making money.Its seems more like "we pay u; u market us" still better "Pay us; we make you famous"Had it been a project with a journalistic approach; a passage about Elxsi could well be titled as "NO FUN ONLY WORK ???" This article clearly shows that u guys havent done ur home work well to take real inputs from employees; but rather from corporate communications guy(gal - gurmeet in the case) OR you people are all sold out to Elxsi(which seems to be the case)...But surely u ppl could have done up the fotoz better; they looked so staged.Best Regards,"Current" employee of TATA ElxsiName withheld as it could lead to I being fired tomorrow.
WOW! Double WOW! I never thought someone would take the trouble to read my blog... It's such a waste of time.. Anyway someone did.. And I am assuming it's someone who is kind of really mad that his newspaper doesn't come on time. Why don't people stop reading the papers if they are so annoyed with the print media? This I don't get. I can suggest at least one paper that's really good and that's the Hindu. Maybe this gentleman here should read that instead.
He also suggests that Elxsi paid Midday to get that feature done..I think he's a little confused between medianet and Midday. I know both start with 'M' but the similarity ends there.
I think I will forward this 'current employee's' mail to the lovely HR lady of Elxsi who told me that all the employees have a great time at work...
And no, I would hate it if you ever got fired... wouldn't want you to dabble with journalism, I say!
But my question is... why are you still working there if you're not having any fun at all?
Monday, August 20, 2007
Fun identified
I often search for blogs to read and this is what I came across today - http://the100rabh.blogspot.com/2007/08/what-would-you-do-if-traditional.html.
It is, in a way, rather interesting because it discusses an article that I'd written for midday a week or so back. Well, it's more of a feature for our fun@work segment. This gentleman seems to be quite upset about what I'd written, claiming that all the FUN Tata Elxsi claims to be having is absolutely untrue. Of course, he didn't bother to take in to consideration that the information I got, could've just, by chance, have come from them. But that's alright, I am right now just amused that someone can feel so defeated by the fact that some people from his ex company had fun while he didn't! Maybe what Elxsi told me was made up too, but then again, isn't he out of the company already, why should he really care?
Yes, ladies, gentlemen and friends, don't read any news paper. Midday, TOI, Deccan, Hindu, HT, Telegraph, Business Standard or any other kind of paper for any kind of news. What's the point anyway? It's just a bunch of silly people trying to take you all for a ride isn't it. And it doesn't make you richer. It doesn't pay your rent. It doesn't put food on your table or make you look cooler in front of all the men and women you want to impress.
We're just out there to get you - to take you for a ride, because after much consideration we realised that we weren't pretty enough to be on screen, corrupt enough to be a politician or smart enough for any other profession...
How about submitting a petition to ban the media altogether? television lies, print lies, the internet lies, companies lie... I think the only people who don't lie to us are our friends - oh hang on a minute, they lie too.. cos sometimes, and only sometimes, we get on their nerves as well and they don't want to see our faces and the truth doesn't help then.
So technically, everyone and everything should be banned. That would be the ideal life, wouldn't it?
I think I wll go and fill ink now.
It is, in a way, rather interesting because it discusses an article that I'd written for midday a week or so back. Well, it's more of a feature for our fun@work segment. This gentleman seems to be quite upset about what I'd written, claiming that all the FUN Tata Elxsi claims to be having is absolutely untrue. Of course, he didn't bother to take in to consideration that the information I got, could've just, by chance, have come from them. But that's alright, I am right now just amused that someone can feel so defeated by the fact that some people from his ex company had fun while he didn't! Maybe what Elxsi told me was made up too, but then again, isn't he out of the company already, why should he really care?
Yes, ladies, gentlemen and friends, don't read any news paper. Midday, TOI, Deccan, Hindu, HT, Telegraph, Business Standard or any other kind of paper for any kind of news. What's the point anyway? It's just a bunch of silly people trying to take you all for a ride isn't it. And it doesn't make you richer. It doesn't pay your rent. It doesn't put food on your table or make you look cooler in front of all the men and women you want to impress.
We're just out there to get you - to take you for a ride, because after much consideration we realised that we weren't pretty enough to be on screen, corrupt enough to be a politician or smart enough for any other profession...
How about submitting a petition to ban the media altogether? television lies, print lies, the internet lies, companies lie... I think the only people who don't lie to us are our friends - oh hang on a minute, they lie too.. cos sometimes, and only sometimes, we get on their nerves as well and they don't want to see our faces and the truth doesn't help then.
So technically, everyone and everything should be banned. That would be the ideal life, wouldn't it?
I think I wll go and fill ink now.
El laberinto del fauno (Pan's Labyrinth)
What do I look for in a fantasy? Something so removed from reality that it just becomes real. An extension of my life, my brains. Barring one film, I've never really seen anything that qualifies for that kind of fantasy. Guillermo del Torro's Pan's Labyrinth or El labertino del fauno is a film that can put many fantasy films to sleep.
Forget Harry Potter or any other bizarre unrealistic fantasy stories that's been woven - this film captures the very essence of real meeting unreal.
Set during the post civil war in Spain in 1944, when the rebels were still fighting the fascist troops, Ofelia travels with her pregnant and sick mother Carmen to the country to meet her step father Captain Vidal for the first time.
If you remember Amon Goethe (played by Ralph Fiennes) in Schindler's List, you'd find a terrible similarity between the two characters.
Incapable of any human feelings, Captain Vidal's whole agenda is to clear his area of any rebels and establish the fascist government.
Unable to tolerate the misgivings of this cruel man, Ofelia disappears, into a world of her won, far away from her current life.
She meets a fairy who leads her to a fawn, who tells her that Ofelia was a princess reborn and she must perform three tests to prove her royalty and only then, she can come back to her kingdom where her real father and mother are waiting for her. Ofelia accepts these tasks, and in the midst of war, torture from her step father, death of her mother, she sets out to find her port key from a world that she can't deal with.
Flowing mellifluously between the two scenarios, the beauty of the whole film is that we never know whether it was Ofelia's dream or reality.
Pan's labyrinth is not for children - but for those adults who need to find their world, that is far away from the unbelievable traffic and chase for wealth.
Forget Harry Potter or any other bizarre unrealistic fantasy stories that's been woven - this film captures the very essence of real meeting unreal.
Set during the post civil war in Spain in 1944, when the rebels were still fighting the fascist troops, Ofelia travels with her pregnant and sick mother Carmen to the country to meet her step father Captain Vidal for the first time.
If you remember Amon Goethe (played by Ralph Fiennes) in Schindler's List, you'd find a terrible similarity between the two characters.
Incapable of any human feelings, Captain Vidal's whole agenda is to clear his area of any rebels and establish the fascist government.
Unable to tolerate the misgivings of this cruel man, Ofelia disappears, into a world of her won, far away from her current life.
She meets a fairy who leads her to a fawn, who tells her that Ofelia was a princess reborn and she must perform three tests to prove her royalty and only then, she can come back to her kingdom where her real father and mother are waiting for her. Ofelia accepts these tasks, and in the midst of war, torture from her step father, death of her mother, she sets out to find her port key from a world that she can't deal with.
Flowing mellifluously between the two scenarios, the beauty of the whole film is that we never know whether it was Ofelia's dream or reality.
Pan's labyrinth is not for children - but for those adults who need to find their world, that is far away from the unbelievable traffic and chase for wealth.
Saturday, July 07, 2007
One night at a party
There used to be a time when walking into a few of my favourite nightclubs in Bombay gave me a head rush. I would never be able to control my feet and went straight for the dance floor. It's been a while since something like that happened. And while I still love dancing, the music scene has changed quite a bit and I still continue to like the old favourites.
I'm not much into hip hop or the electro variety and still prefer the old classics, swing and perhaps trance.
Moving to Bangalore had put the nightclub bug in me to sleep. I preferred going to a pub where there was good music and catching up with friends. But sometimes, and only sometimes, I'd miss those crazy nights in Bombay when I've danced alone with a friend watching over me.
Last night, I was at Athena, checking out the party scene as part of my job. And while my friends and I sat on a rather uncomfortable couch with beer, I watched Bangaloreans party like there's no tomorrow.
It's beautiful how people come together under one roof for a night - some known faces, mostly unknown, sharing those few specific hours together as strangers.
Lovers. Friends. Acquaintances. Just for one night.
The next morning is another day, with a new sun that fades away the previous night and most of its memories.
I'm not much into hip hop or the electro variety and still prefer the old classics, swing and perhaps trance.
Moving to Bangalore had put the nightclub bug in me to sleep. I preferred going to a pub where there was good music and catching up with friends. But sometimes, and only sometimes, I'd miss those crazy nights in Bombay when I've danced alone with a friend watching over me.
Last night, I was at Athena, checking out the party scene as part of my job. And while my friends and I sat on a rather uncomfortable couch with beer, I watched Bangaloreans party like there's no tomorrow.
It's beautiful how people come together under one roof for a night - some known faces, mostly unknown, sharing those few specific hours together as strangers.
Lovers. Friends. Acquaintances. Just for one night.
The next morning is another day, with a new sun that fades away the previous night and most of its memories.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Angela
There you go Angela
Your ashes lie deep
Within the silence
Of the earth’s womb
That has seen many births and many deaths
--- In memory of Angela McCourt of Angela's Ashes
Your ashes lie deep
Within the silence
Of the earth’s womb
That has seen many births and many deaths
--- In memory of Angela McCourt of Angela's Ashes
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
My blood tells a different tale
My blood tells a different tale
It knows no face, no words, no space
It flows free, without commitment
To the dungeons and back
My soul walks a different line
It doesn't understand variations
Just its own course
That could begin and end anywhere
My mind has its own language
It doesn't care for what you speak
It mimes, it sings as it likes
Calls it freedom; as I know it
It knows no face, no words, no space
It flows free, without commitment
To the dungeons and back
My soul walks a different line
It doesn't understand variations
Just its own course
That could begin and end anywhere
My mind has its own language
It doesn't care for what you speak
It mimes, it sings as it likes
Calls it freedom; as I know it
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Pop
Hey. Listen
Just for a little while
Be quiet, and just listen
I don’t need an opinion
No solutions
No help either
All I ask of you
Is silence
And a patient hearing
I am going to speak now
Don’t judge
I beg of you
Don’t tell me anything
What is right or what is not
Just listen if you can
I died today
Slowly but surely
I heard a little pop
That felt like a blast
Inside my head
I am sure I died
It’s a funny feeling
Floating in silence
Around the world
Can u hear me?
My words in your ears
Or are you still talking
Fuck. Things never change
Do they?
Just for a little while
Be quiet, and just listen
I don’t need an opinion
No solutions
No help either
All I ask of you
Is silence
And a patient hearing
I am going to speak now
Don’t judge
I beg of you
Don’t tell me anything
What is right or what is not
Just listen if you can
I died today
Slowly but surely
I heard a little pop
That felt like a blast
Inside my head
I am sure I died
It’s a funny feeling
Floating in silence
Around the world
Can u hear me?
My words in your ears
Or are you still talking
Fuck. Things never change
Do they?
Friday, May 25, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
In your memory
One flower
That meant nothing beyond that moment
A flower I don’t even like
Still lies all dried up in my drawer
Any other given time
I’d think it to be corny
Silly to be precise
This time I don’t.
I stand on the balcony
Watching people go by
Incomplete souls with
Their hearts lying elsewhere
Lives for them don’t change;
They’re just looking
For a small port key
To take them to that someplace else
Should I dare to be different?
I haven’t even troubled myself to answer that question
I just go by; like everyone else
Not seeing you works relatively well as a painkiller
There’s so much distance between us that
I cannot even fathom
Covering it in this generation
And after that, you’d just go further away
Your life, your love, your passions
Will take shape in different forms
And I will remain Just a speckle of
Memory that you could do without
I ache to reach out and touch your hair
Have done so many times
I want to put my arms around you
And hide away from everything known
Hold your hand like I have earlier
When I needed reassurance
You let me without reading between the lines
Yet I’ve let my heart break a million times from that touch
You’ve lied to me almost all the times
Even when lying was not required
And I’ve forgiven you
Like I will each time you smile and say goodbye
That meant nothing beyond that moment
A flower I don’t even like
Still lies all dried up in my drawer
Any other given time
I’d think it to be corny
Silly to be precise
This time I don’t.
I stand on the balcony
Watching people go by
Incomplete souls with
Their hearts lying elsewhere
Lives for them don’t change;
They’re just looking
For a small port key
To take them to that someplace else
Should I dare to be different?
I haven’t even troubled myself to answer that question
I just go by; like everyone else
Not seeing you works relatively well as a painkiller
There’s so much distance between us that
I cannot even fathom
Covering it in this generation
And after that, you’d just go further away
Your life, your love, your passions
Will take shape in different forms
And I will remain Just a speckle of
Memory that you could do without
I ache to reach out and touch your hair
Have done so many times
I want to put my arms around you
And hide away from everything known
Hold your hand like I have earlier
When I needed reassurance
You let me without reading between the lines
Yet I’ve let my heart break a million times from that touch
You’ve lied to me almost all the times
Even when lying was not required
And I’ve forgiven you
Like I will each time you smile and say goodbye
Friday, May 11, 2007
Redemption
She hadn't taken anything from the house before leaving
There was nothing she could really take
Every precious thing was either stolen or destroyed
Eaten alive by reserved anger and repulsion
But she'd looked anyway.
A piece of paper that had no relevance
A faded old letter that had replaced the bible
In her heart a long time ago, when she was fifteen
A letter that'd given her what she needed - a soul.
The letter lay untouched under the wooden flap
Of her dresser that she hadn't seen in years
Like it had been protecting itself against war
Till she returned, one depressing day
To claim what she'd left behind as a mere pawn.
The trees had started to show signs of age
The leaves were tired and resigned, with
Red soil at their feet resting in peace
And the road seemed to go nowhere
Even though people drove up and down it.
Death had touched this little neighbourhood
Even though no one had died lately
A broken pavement that carried infinite footprints
Sure, it need needed urgent attention
And yet it was happy to remain so and unnoticed.
And as she shut the door of the dilapidated house behind her
She turned back to take that one final look
That concealed more than dreams and memories
Of a childhood she would gladly trade
For a night of sleepless dreams.
There was nothing she could really take
Every precious thing was either stolen or destroyed
Eaten alive by reserved anger and repulsion
But she'd looked anyway.
A piece of paper that had no relevance
A faded old letter that had replaced the bible
In her heart a long time ago, when she was fifteen
A letter that'd given her what she needed - a soul.
The letter lay untouched under the wooden flap
Of her dresser that she hadn't seen in years
Like it had been protecting itself against war
Till she returned, one depressing day
To claim what she'd left behind as a mere pawn.
The trees had started to show signs of age
The leaves were tired and resigned, with
Red soil at their feet resting in peace
And the road seemed to go nowhere
Even though people drove up and down it.
Death had touched this little neighbourhood
Even though no one had died lately
A broken pavement that carried infinite footprints
Sure, it need needed urgent attention
And yet it was happy to remain so and unnoticed.
And as she shut the door of the dilapidated house behind her
She turned back to take that one final look
That concealed more than dreams and memories
Of a childhood she would gladly trade
For a night of sleepless dreams.
Friday, May 04, 2007
A splash of good with a pinch of pain
Her wedding card read, “The beaches of Pondicherry probably have magic and that was where we met…”
Didn’t I know that?
The endless sea bound by brick walls may not be my perfect idea of taking pleasure in nature but that small ‘white’ town definitely made me feel at home. Small shops, tons of places to eat and lots of walking space made it just the thing for a quick getaway. The cookie being my friend’s wedding.
Deep down I don’t know if I like it when the philosophical side of me resurfaces and attempts at a lecture. Trust me; most of those times are depressing!
However the magical sea bound by walls of Pondicherry carries a freshness that I can only absorb deep within my city-rotten cells. I fall in love, I ponder, I even introspect.
I didn’t sit on the beach this time at all – spending a lot of time in the comforts of my air-conditioned room, sleeping off all the wear and tear. Life hasn’t been very generous with me this month and all I could do repair my senses that were slight bruised by it all.
After spending three nights of exuberance and respite it was time for us to head back to Bangalore.
I can’t describe the heat. It was hot everywhere. Behind trees, in shade, in the car… and two thoughts developed – reach quick or return quicker.
Well somewhere down that thought road, I had dozed off and when I woke up – I was dead. Well, at least I thought I was dead.
Our car couldn’t withhold the heat and the front left tyre had exploded and run into a wall.
The seat belts were on so we were safe minus a few minor bruises that will take a while to heal.
But a few things occurred to me in that few seconds. No more taking life for granted.
French lessons have to happen; more poetry has to be written, more films, more food.
We got back to Bangalore almost 10 after the accident; happy to be on this planet and happy to be able to walk with my feet on the ground.
Didn’t I know that?
The endless sea bound by brick walls may not be my perfect idea of taking pleasure in nature but that small ‘white’ town definitely made me feel at home. Small shops, tons of places to eat and lots of walking space made it just the thing for a quick getaway. The cookie being my friend’s wedding.
Deep down I don’t know if I like it when the philosophical side of me resurfaces and attempts at a lecture. Trust me; most of those times are depressing!
However the magical sea bound by walls of Pondicherry carries a freshness that I can only absorb deep within my city-rotten cells. I fall in love, I ponder, I even introspect.
I didn’t sit on the beach this time at all – spending a lot of time in the comforts of my air-conditioned room, sleeping off all the wear and tear. Life hasn’t been very generous with me this month and all I could do repair my senses that were slight bruised by it all.
After spending three nights of exuberance and respite it was time for us to head back to Bangalore.
I can’t describe the heat. It was hot everywhere. Behind trees, in shade, in the car… and two thoughts developed – reach quick or return quicker.
Well somewhere down that thought road, I had dozed off and when I woke up – I was dead. Well, at least I thought I was dead.
Our car couldn’t withhold the heat and the front left tyre had exploded and run into a wall.
The seat belts were on so we were safe minus a few minor bruises that will take a while to heal.
But a few things occurred to me in that few seconds. No more taking life for granted.
French lessons have to happen; more poetry has to be written, more films, more food.
We got back to Bangalore almost 10 after the accident; happy to be on this planet and happy to be able to walk with my feet on the ground.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Mine
It was not as dramatic a moment as I’d have liked it to be. Just me alone in the room, smoking and watching the smoke trying to find a way of getting out.
The windows were shut you see.
But it happened anyway. A long lost question answered.
So I draw my travel chart inside my head; hills, forests, rivers and roads that pass through history and even the seas perhaps if I can make the time.
I see a life that is beyond all realities and is perhaps the only truth I know.
Some place where I don’t have to justify myself for wandering around, where I can walk on the honey dewed grass and cry if need be.
I reject all mediocrity unless it’s in nature.
I reject all religion unless it’ in verse.
I reject the mundane.
Your need.
Your truth.
Your reality.
Your world.
What exists is mine. I own it. I live it. Here, I am god.
The windows were shut you see.
But it happened anyway. A long lost question answered.
So I draw my travel chart inside my head; hills, forests, rivers and roads that pass through history and even the seas perhaps if I can make the time.
I see a life that is beyond all realities and is perhaps the only truth I know.
Some place where I don’t have to justify myself for wandering around, where I can walk on the honey dewed grass and cry if need be.
I reject all mediocrity unless it’s in nature.
I reject all religion unless it’ in verse.
I reject the mundane.
Your need.
Your truth.
Your reality.
Your world.
What exists is mine. I own it. I live it. Here, I am god.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
From one stranger to another
In a very dark corner of my heart, lay a small secret. Packed away quietly for it had no use. And yet, the value of that tiny secret was more than I could ever afford.
Perhaps I had judged too soon when I called him my friend; for I was surely his.
However, there was always this invisible wall that I so desperately wanted to break. I wanted to reach out and tell him that it would be fine. But he wouldn’t let me. He kept this distance that made me nothing less than uncomfortable.
And thus; he remained a shadow in my life. He came alive of course in my dreams.
We have shared some of the weirdest jokes in my head, secrets, gossip and pain – all at the same time.
He has opened up his soul and wept before me as I never judged him. To me he was always a hero; a man who could face life in whatever way required. He was someone who was not afraid to look up and stare the sun in his face.
And yet, he lied.
He lied to me. To his wife. To his girlfriend. To his parents. To his friends.
And I let him lie, not expecting truth even for a moment.
I think I was capable of handling his lies. And that’s why he came to me – even for a brief moment. Perhaps just to hear my voice. I don’t know why. But each phone call was like spending a lifetime with a friend.
Was he my soul mate? No. there was no way it could be.
And yet, from a stranger to another, we were bound together – by an unknown force that required no description.
And in that, lay my peace.
Perhaps I had judged too soon when I called him my friend; for I was surely his.
However, there was always this invisible wall that I so desperately wanted to break. I wanted to reach out and tell him that it would be fine. But he wouldn’t let me. He kept this distance that made me nothing less than uncomfortable.
And thus; he remained a shadow in my life. He came alive of course in my dreams.
We have shared some of the weirdest jokes in my head, secrets, gossip and pain – all at the same time.
He has opened up his soul and wept before me as I never judged him. To me he was always a hero; a man who could face life in whatever way required. He was someone who was not afraid to look up and stare the sun in his face.
And yet, he lied.
He lied to me. To his wife. To his girlfriend. To his parents. To his friends.
And I let him lie, not expecting truth even for a moment.
I think I was capable of handling his lies. And that’s why he came to me – even for a brief moment. Perhaps just to hear my voice. I don’t know why. But each phone call was like spending a lifetime with a friend.
Was he my soul mate? No. there was no way it could be.
And yet, from a stranger to another, we were bound together – by an unknown force that required no description.
And in that, lay my peace.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
A little too far
Today I walked a little further from my house. I passed the grey old building and saw the same old man sitting on the balcony armchair and smoking his pipe. I saw him crane his neck and take a peep at me. A usual event.
I passed the tree which bore fiery red flowers. I don't know the English name for it.
I, then came to the police station where some of the constables were hanging around and sharing a good laugh. Just the way we did outside college. And for no particular reason, tears welled up in my eyes.
So, I walked by faster so no one would see me.
And from a distance, I saw a familiar figure walking towards me. The pace was as slow as mine. And given that there are very few street lights on that road, a lot was left to hunch.
"Rashi!" I whispered loudly. Almost as if the figure heard my voice, it stopped at a distance and said, "Priyadarshini...."
Nothing more was said for at least another ten seconds; but it felt like hours.
"What are you doing in Bangalore?" she asked.
I live here now. Have been here for almost three years.
"Wow! I have been here for pretty much the same time. And to think we never met."
Yeah. Maybe it wasn't time.
Do you have time for a coffee?
Sure.
So we walked down to Brio - the coffee joint on the roof of Home Stop. It was a weird evening - sultry, unlike Bangalore. There were beads of sweat on both our foreheads and upper lip. It was then that I saw her face.
There were no dark circles on that flawed skin. In fact, it had cleared up quite a bit from the time I remember. She wore a cotton shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Kolhapuris gave away the tired feet.
Are you married? was her first question.
Yeah. I got married about four years back. Moved here soon after. Was in Chennai for about a year and then moved back. What about you?
No. Not married. Actually not married anymore. Was.
I wasn't surprised. People were getting divorced all the time. This was just one of those.
What happened?
Long story Priya. Maybe some other time.
Then she brightened up.
Tell me about you. Any kids?
Nah. Don't want them.
Cool. Working somewhere?
Nothing permanent. Here and there. I write for a living. Waiting for that big break.
Nice.
Silence.
10 seconds.
20.
40.
60.
80.
Maybe we should meet up for lunch or dinner one day. What do you think?
Sounds great. Where are you staying?
Victoria Layout. Rented an apartment.
What are you doing in Bangalore Rashi?
Oh! I teach in a special school. Have been there for almost eight years now.
Wow. That's pretty impressive. I had imagined you to go and become a professional tennis player or something.
Yeah, That would be the day.
The coffee is nice.
Yeah I come here a lot.
You do? Fish, so do I.
Then why didn't we meet before Priya?
Maybe it wasn't time.
Silence.
5 minutes.
Things change don't they? I never imagined you married.
Neither had I.
Is it good for you?
In more ways than not.
Nice. Am happy for you.
Rashi, don't you ever miss the school days? Where did you go away after you left school. I know you moved to Delhi. I even wrote you letters. There were no replies. I just thought you'd disappeared.
I am sorry about that. Was never into writing letters. But I got all of yours. I still have them in fact.
What?!? You do? Why?
I don't know. Back then, you were the only one who wanted to be my friend. Everyone else pretended.
Hmm....
Silence.
I think we should go now. It's getting late.
Come home sometime. We'll catch up.
Sure. Let's. I would love to talk about everything that you've been doing.. All the men in your life - all the broken hearts.
Right, of course!! (Laughter)
We paid for the coffee and left. Walking towards pretty much the same direction for a while we didn't share a single word till the road forked into two.
Good night then Priya. See you soon. It was awesome meeting you.
Tata dear. Hope to see you again - soon.
We parted. I started walking back home and as I approached the old grey house, the old grey man was still sitting on his chair. He craned his neck again and looked down at me. Then a feeble and yet stable hand came up and waved a solemn wave. I waved back - a miniature smile touching my mouth.
And as I got into the lift I realised that Rashi and I didn't exchange numbers. She would leave again. Like the last time.
I passed the tree which bore fiery red flowers. I don't know the English name for it.
I, then came to the police station where some of the constables were hanging around and sharing a good laugh. Just the way we did outside college. And for no particular reason, tears welled up in my eyes.
So, I walked by faster so no one would see me.
And from a distance, I saw a familiar figure walking towards me. The pace was as slow as mine. And given that there are very few street lights on that road, a lot was left to hunch.
"Rashi!" I whispered loudly. Almost as if the figure heard my voice, it stopped at a distance and said, "Priyadarshini...."
Nothing more was said for at least another ten seconds; but it felt like hours.
"What are you doing in Bangalore?" she asked.
I live here now. Have been here for almost three years.
"Wow! I have been here for pretty much the same time. And to think we never met."
Yeah. Maybe it wasn't time.
Do you have time for a coffee?
Sure.
So we walked down to Brio - the coffee joint on the roof of Home Stop. It was a weird evening - sultry, unlike Bangalore. There were beads of sweat on both our foreheads and upper lip. It was then that I saw her face.
There were no dark circles on that flawed skin. In fact, it had cleared up quite a bit from the time I remember. She wore a cotton shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Kolhapuris gave away the tired feet.
Are you married? was her first question.
Yeah. I got married about four years back. Moved here soon after. Was in Chennai for about a year and then moved back. What about you?
No. Not married. Actually not married anymore. Was.
I wasn't surprised. People were getting divorced all the time. This was just one of those.
What happened?
Long story Priya. Maybe some other time.
Then she brightened up.
Tell me about you. Any kids?
Nah. Don't want them.
Cool. Working somewhere?
Nothing permanent. Here and there. I write for a living. Waiting for that big break.
Nice.
Silence.
10 seconds.
20.
40.
60.
80.
Maybe we should meet up for lunch or dinner one day. What do you think?
Sounds great. Where are you staying?
Victoria Layout. Rented an apartment.
What are you doing in Bangalore Rashi?
Oh! I teach in a special school. Have been there for almost eight years now.
Wow. That's pretty impressive. I had imagined you to go and become a professional tennis player or something.
Yeah, That would be the day.
The coffee is nice.
Yeah I come here a lot.
You do? Fish, so do I.
Then why didn't we meet before Priya?
Maybe it wasn't time.
Silence.
5 minutes.
Things change don't they? I never imagined you married.
Neither had I.
Is it good for you?
In more ways than not.
Nice. Am happy for you.
Rashi, don't you ever miss the school days? Where did you go away after you left school. I know you moved to Delhi. I even wrote you letters. There were no replies. I just thought you'd disappeared.
I am sorry about that. Was never into writing letters. But I got all of yours. I still have them in fact.
What?!? You do? Why?
I don't know. Back then, you were the only one who wanted to be my friend. Everyone else pretended.
Hmm....
Silence.
I think we should go now. It's getting late.
Come home sometime. We'll catch up.
Sure. Let's. I would love to talk about everything that you've been doing.. All the men in your life - all the broken hearts.
Right, of course!! (Laughter)
We paid for the coffee and left. Walking towards pretty much the same direction for a while we didn't share a single word till the road forked into two.
Good night then Priya. See you soon. It was awesome meeting you.
Tata dear. Hope to see you again - soon.
We parted. I started walking back home and as I approached the old grey house, the old grey man was still sitting on his chair. He craned his neck again and looked down at me. Then a feeble and yet stable hand came up and waved a solemn wave. I waved back - a miniature smile touching my mouth.
And as I got into the lift I realised that Rashi and I didn't exchange numbers. She would leave again. Like the last time.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
You
I miss you.
Not in a romantic way,
Or even sexual.
I just miss you.
Maybe it's your voice,
Or your touch.
Can't be too sure.
But you wouldn't care,
As you don't want to.
For you,
Life is a buffet
That you hate.
You see it all
Even want it maybe,
But won't eat.
I miss you.
Maybe love you.
Definitely hate you.
Not in a romantic way,
Or even sexual.
I just miss you.
Maybe it's your voice,
Or your touch.
Can't be too sure.
But you wouldn't care,
As you don't want to.
For you,
Life is a buffet
That you hate.
You see it all
Even want it maybe,
But won't eat.
I miss you.
Maybe love you.
Definitely hate you.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Did you ask your mother about the movie?
Hmm... No
Why?
She won't agree.
But if you don't ask you won't know.
I know she'll say no.
But it's just a movie.
I know. It's stupid.
Should I ask her?
No. She won't agree.
Let me try.
No.... what difference would it make? You'll go away the minute I move away from the mirror.
Hmm... No
Why?
She won't agree.
But if you don't ask you won't know.
I know she'll say no.
But it's just a movie.
I know. It's stupid.
Should I ask her?
No. She won't agree.
Let me try.
No.... what difference would it make? You'll go away the minute I move away from the mirror.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Something...Nothing
A funny twist
An absurd turn
Sudden breaks
Unending twirls
Oh how curious is this journey
I rebel
I conform
I smile
And cry
All at the same time in this film
You smiled
You kissed
Scoffed
And walked away
All during the same dance
It rains
Tears on a petal
Leaves drink up
Clouds dance
All under one solemn heaven
I could leave
Or stay
If you ask
But you don’t
All in one weird moment of loneliness
The curtain falls
No applause
End of scene
All on one crazy stage
An absurd turn
Sudden breaks
Unending twirls
Oh how curious is this journey
I rebel
I conform
I smile
And cry
All at the same time in this film
You smiled
You kissed
Scoffed
And walked away
All during the same dance
It rains
Tears on a petal
Leaves drink up
Clouds dance
All under one solemn heaven
I could leave
Or stay
If you ask
But you don’t
All in one weird moment of loneliness
The curtain falls
No applause
End of scene
All on one crazy stage
Thursday, February 08, 2007
In My Craft Or Sullen Art by Dylan Thomas
I can die a pauper if I can write like that. Today isn't one of the brightest moments of my life. I miss writing like nothing else. Here, they have bought my services and my time... perhaps soon, my life?
Something Dylan wrote.
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
Something Dylan wrote.
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
My friend is a writer. A good one. So I stole one of the poems he wrote to add lustre to my blog.
The Storm
You lay beside me
In the violence of the storm-drenched night
Your prisoner
I had surrendered when on you I first laid sight
In the dark
I could feel the shimmer of your smooth skin
As it slipped
Open and without any hesitation took me in
And the light
That I could see in the deep black of your eyes
Shone steady
And slowly peeled off my every little disguise
The moisture
On your mouth I remember tasted both salty-sweet
I wanted more
My thirst was so uncontrollably unquenchably deep
My searching lips
Slid across your skin crafting their own little tale
From your secrets
You let me lift every carefully woven veil
You were so soft
As I lifted you whole in the cradle of my arms
You gasped
Before letting me drink of your succulent charms
The storm rose
As outside the war thundered and came to a head
Your hair
Clung to my skin and to our silver-drenched bed
We rode desperate
Buffeted by the raging of the wild, grey flood
You bit into me
And it wasn't long before we both drew blood
Drained of red
You were too exhausted to even try to look pleased
Drained of white
I was turned inside out and brought down to my knees
Years have passed
But your taste still remains on my tongue
On lonely nights
I lie and remember how once we'd become one
And an ache
Rises from within that never truly subsides
For another night
when you were the storm that lived in my eyes
The ache
It's back with a vengeance and crawls on my skin
My door
Is wide open and waiting for you to come right in
------------------Ananda Ray
The Storm
You lay beside me
In the violence of the storm-drenched night
Your prisoner
I had surrendered when on you I first laid sight
In the dark
I could feel the shimmer of your smooth skin
As it slipped
Open and without any hesitation took me in
And the light
That I could see in the deep black of your eyes
Shone steady
And slowly peeled off my every little disguise
The moisture
On your mouth I remember tasted both salty-sweet
I wanted more
My thirst was so uncontrollably unquenchably deep
My searching lips
Slid across your skin crafting their own little tale
From your secrets
You let me lift every carefully woven veil
You were so soft
As I lifted you whole in the cradle of my arms
You gasped
Before letting me drink of your succulent charms
The storm rose
As outside the war thundered and came to a head
Your hair
Clung to my skin and to our silver-drenched bed
We rode desperate
Buffeted by the raging of the wild, grey flood
You bit into me
And it wasn't long before we both drew blood
Drained of red
You were too exhausted to even try to look pleased
Drained of white
I was turned inside out and brought down to my knees
Years have passed
But your taste still remains on my tongue
On lonely nights
I lie and remember how once we'd become one
And an ache
Rises from within that never truly subsides
For another night
when you were the storm that lived in my eyes
The ache
It's back with a vengeance and crawls on my skin
My door
Is wide open and waiting for you to come right in
------------------Ananda Ray
in anonymous hands
I wish I was someone else
Just for a day when no one's looking
Pretend to be your wife, neighbour or lover
As long as no one knows my name
Not take calls, not visit anyone
One unique moment spent alone
In the darkness of another room
That can never be mine
Buy flowers for another vase
Water their plants if they have
Walk their dog and then
Disappear without a forwarding address
Arrange it for me will you
But don't tell me your name
For a long and wandering day
I'd like to be in anonymous hands
Just for a day when no one's looking
Pretend to be your wife, neighbour or lover
As long as no one knows my name
Not take calls, not visit anyone
One unique moment spent alone
In the darkness of another room
That can never be mine
Buy flowers for another vase
Water their plants if they have
Walk their dog and then
Disappear without a forwarding address
Arrange it for me will you
But don't tell me your name
For a long and wandering day
I'd like to be in anonymous hands
Corruption
Burnt cigarette ends
Smeared lipstick
Stained bed sheets
Desperate bodies.
The phone rings
A soft voice
Pleading and begging
Ruffle of clothes.
The door slammed
Bizarre dreams
The taste of hash
A broken heart.
Dozens of men
Some pregnancy tests
Two abortions
A loveless dream.
The Empty soul
The twisted mind
The beggar in me
Is out for more.
Smeared lipstick
Stained bed sheets
Desperate bodies.
The phone rings
A soft voice
Pleading and begging
Ruffle of clothes.
The door slammed
Bizarre dreams
The taste of hash
A broken heart.
Dozens of men
Some pregnancy tests
Two abortions
A loveless dream.
The Empty soul
The twisted mind
The beggar in me
Is out for more.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Happy
So he looked up at me and said, "Are you sure he won't find out?"
I was certain. But I saw him fidgeting with the strap of my camera. It was really funny but at that exact moment I didn't like him anymore.
"It doesn't matter anyway," I said. "Let's just get out of here. The drive back is a killer."
"Yes. Yes." He said, looking up at me again.
He got up, picked up his bag and we got out of the room. I did a quick check to see if I'd left anything behind. Vinay (three boyfriends ago) had told me that I loved to leave a trace behind in case someone came looking for me.
Nikhil, the front office manager, smiled his perfectly white smile and said, "It was such a pleasure to have you over this time.”
Pleasure? We were there for exactly three days. Whatever!
Ash didn't say a word to me on our way back. He would stop intermittently at interesting locations so that I could take a few pictures and then twice more on the way for coffee and dinner.
"You shouldn't think so much you know," I told him. "It just makes matters worse."
"You don't understand Rai, I... I've got this funny feeling in my stomach."
"Ah! So now you've fallen in love with me?" I joked.
"Yeah sure, why not? That would be amusing."
Silence.
It was midnight by the time we crossed Taj Fisherman's Cove. Another 30 minutes and I would be home. The roads were empty. A quick shower had bathed the streets and there were some puddles here and there. Nothing serious, just that they looked awfully pretty.
I looked at Ash. He was staring straight at the road, one hand clutched the wheel tightly and the other the gear shift.
“Pull over.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Pull over.”
So he found a truckers’ lay bye and pulled over.
“I can’t leave him, Ash. I love him. Not in the way you think but I do.”
“Good for you, love. I wish you joy.”
“Stop being sarcastic. You’re terrible at it. And I thought there was no commitment here. I mean we are friends and I like you quite a bit. Hell, I like you more than most people I know.”
“Want me to send a ‘thank you’ card when we get back?”
“That’s it. You’re a fucking idiot! Drive on. Let’s just go home.”
“NO. Listen to me this time. I don’t care if you leave him or not. That’s your decision to make.”
“What do you mean it’s just my decision to make?”
“I just don’t want him to know, alright?”
I reached the apartment at almost 1:30 am. Ved was in the library, reading. He heard me come in. “Hey you! Had a good trip? Wow! You look beat. Want me to make some tea?”
I nodded and went straight into the shower.
Then at 2 am, Ved and I sat on those cushy chairs on our verandah and sipped green tea.
“I am sorry I couldn’t come, love. There was just too much work these last few days. But it’s a good thing that we still have two more days left. Let’s make the most of it…”
I want a divorce, Ved. I am in love with another man - a stupid photographer who is five years younger than me. What can I do? It just happened.
“Hey… you with me?”
I came back to the present. “Don’t worry. We’ll spend some time together. It would have been nice if you could also come you know. It was nice. I got some great pictures.”
“Let’s go to bed now. I’ll see your pictures tomorrow.”
Of course going to bed meant sex. Ved and I hadn’t had sex (with each other) for more than four days, I was sure he’d want to; and he did.
Six months later
I was sitting on my terrace… a book in hand, a bottle of wine almost finished, a candle and my favourite rug.
Aditya was in the kitchen, getting the new prawn dish he’s been experimenting with. It smelt heavenly, something that I was never going to tell him.
Each prawn looked beautiful. It had a particular shade of mustard clinging to it like a lover. The smoke from the plate danced to his tune. That’s what I loved most about him. He worshipped food and yet looked like someone who’d weigh everything before he ate it.
Putting the platter next to me, Aditya sat down, cross legged.
“Rai?”
“Hmmm…”
“Do you think we should get married?”
“No.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Why do you think I love you?”
He smiled. Took a piece of that delectable insect with a toothpick and put it in my mouth.
“I saw them today,” he whispered.
“What the…? Seriously? Where?”
“At the parking lot in front of The Ambassador. I was waiting for Junaid to meet me at Jazz by the Bay before the photo shoot.”
Interesting, said my brains. The last one year was definitely more interesting. Asking Ved for a divorce was a matter of two hours, of which, waiting for him to come back from work comprised of one. I didn’t think it would be that simple… in fact, it made me terribly suspicious.
But that’s what I had wanted for sometime and it would have been a mistake to probe further. But I wondered for a while for sure. A man who was so doting could let me go so easy.
Ash was not the reason for me wanting the divorce. I had met Aditya as a party and we realised that it was meant to be. Though we didn’t want to get married – I was tired of being married and single at the same time. We had decided to move in together.
But Ash was definitely the reason for Ved granting me the divorce…
Wasn’t a very happy discovery – I had walked in on them one day when I went back to the apartment to pick up the remaining of my stuff. Take my word for it; watching two men kissing may not be the most pleasant sight. So, we all parted our ways and the happy men were happier and I had nothing to complain. Not that I have a problem with homosexuality…I love gay men; but just not in my bed.
I was certain. But I saw him fidgeting with the strap of my camera. It was really funny but at that exact moment I didn't like him anymore.
"It doesn't matter anyway," I said. "Let's just get out of here. The drive back is a killer."
"Yes. Yes." He said, looking up at me again.
He got up, picked up his bag and we got out of the room. I did a quick check to see if I'd left anything behind. Vinay (three boyfriends ago) had told me that I loved to leave a trace behind in case someone came looking for me.
Nikhil, the front office manager, smiled his perfectly white smile and said, "It was such a pleasure to have you over this time.”
Pleasure? We were there for exactly three days. Whatever!
Ash didn't say a word to me on our way back. He would stop intermittently at interesting locations so that I could take a few pictures and then twice more on the way for coffee and dinner.
"You shouldn't think so much you know," I told him. "It just makes matters worse."
"You don't understand Rai, I... I've got this funny feeling in my stomach."
"Ah! So now you've fallen in love with me?" I joked.
"Yeah sure, why not? That would be amusing."
Silence.
It was midnight by the time we crossed Taj Fisherman's Cove. Another 30 minutes and I would be home. The roads were empty. A quick shower had bathed the streets and there were some puddles here and there. Nothing serious, just that they looked awfully pretty.
I looked at Ash. He was staring straight at the road, one hand clutched the wheel tightly and the other the gear shift.
“Pull over.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Pull over.”
So he found a truckers’ lay bye and pulled over.
“I can’t leave him, Ash. I love him. Not in the way you think but I do.”
“Good for you, love. I wish you joy.”
“Stop being sarcastic. You’re terrible at it. And I thought there was no commitment here. I mean we are friends and I like you quite a bit. Hell, I like you more than most people I know.”
“Want me to send a ‘thank you’ card when we get back?”
“That’s it. You’re a fucking idiot! Drive on. Let’s just go home.”
“NO. Listen to me this time. I don’t care if you leave him or not. That’s your decision to make.”
“What do you mean it’s just my decision to make?”
“I just don’t want him to know, alright?”
I reached the apartment at almost 1:30 am. Ved was in the library, reading. He heard me come in. “Hey you! Had a good trip? Wow! You look beat. Want me to make some tea?”
I nodded and went straight into the shower.
Then at 2 am, Ved and I sat on those cushy chairs on our verandah and sipped green tea.
“I am sorry I couldn’t come, love. There was just too much work these last few days. But it’s a good thing that we still have two more days left. Let’s make the most of it…”
I want a divorce, Ved. I am in love with another man - a stupid photographer who is five years younger than me. What can I do? It just happened.
“Hey… you with me?”
I came back to the present. “Don’t worry. We’ll spend some time together. It would have been nice if you could also come you know. It was nice. I got some great pictures.”
“Let’s go to bed now. I’ll see your pictures tomorrow.”
Of course going to bed meant sex. Ved and I hadn’t had sex (with each other) for more than four days, I was sure he’d want to; and he did.
Six months later
I was sitting on my terrace… a book in hand, a bottle of wine almost finished, a candle and my favourite rug.
Aditya was in the kitchen, getting the new prawn dish he’s been experimenting with. It smelt heavenly, something that I was never going to tell him.
Each prawn looked beautiful. It had a particular shade of mustard clinging to it like a lover. The smoke from the plate danced to his tune. That’s what I loved most about him. He worshipped food and yet looked like someone who’d weigh everything before he ate it.
Putting the platter next to me, Aditya sat down, cross legged.
“Rai?”
“Hmmm…”
“Do you think we should get married?”
“No.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Why do you think I love you?”
He smiled. Took a piece of that delectable insect with a toothpick and put it in my mouth.
“I saw them today,” he whispered.
“What the…? Seriously? Where?”
“At the parking lot in front of The Ambassador. I was waiting for Junaid to meet me at Jazz by the Bay before the photo shoot.”
Interesting, said my brains. The last one year was definitely more interesting. Asking Ved for a divorce was a matter of two hours, of which, waiting for him to come back from work comprised of one. I didn’t think it would be that simple… in fact, it made me terribly suspicious.
But that’s what I had wanted for sometime and it would have been a mistake to probe further. But I wondered for a while for sure. A man who was so doting could let me go so easy.
Ash was not the reason for me wanting the divorce. I had met Aditya as a party and we realised that it was meant to be. Though we didn’t want to get married – I was tired of being married and single at the same time. We had decided to move in together.
But Ash was definitely the reason for Ved granting me the divorce…
Wasn’t a very happy discovery – I had walked in on them one day when I went back to the apartment to pick up the remaining of my stuff. Take my word for it; watching two men kissing may not be the most pleasant sight. So, we all parted our ways and the happy men were happier and I had nothing to complain. Not that I have a problem with homosexuality…I love gay men; but just not in my bed.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Something else
The chocolate melted in your hands
You stared at it - for long enough
To know the different shapes
Your fingers caused it to make
Different tastes linger on your tongue
And longer in your memory
A day without care and chores
As freedoms slides in
The water boiled just right
Tea leaves adding a pale yellow shade
A wedge of lime - with baring seeds
And golden honey lacing the rim
Its a perfect afternoon you've had
That came after much desire
No chaos, no conversations
Just a table set with the right stuff
A long stemmed pale lily danced
In an even paler vase
As the breeze tricked the drapes
And blew right in the house
Miles Davis painted a picture
Sketches of Spain to be precise
A long drawn lazy afternoon
That came after much desire
A book you picked up last month
From an old second hand store
You didn't know the author, you didn't care
It was just something you wanted to read
The almonds were crushed
And embedded in the chocolate
Bits of it were stuck in your teeth
Making you grin in secret joy
The lace on the table
Dated back a hundred years
Yellow stains were a little apparent
But it was a treasure nevertheless
The afternoon will roll over
Into a boring evening
When the blaring television will tell
Tales of crime and sex in the city
Life will move on the way it does
People will come and go as they do
The chores will return along with the chaos
Giving your nights a different dream
It's that one afternoon you got
After much prayer
That will remain ethereal
And the only object of your affection
Monday, October 30, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
I finally got to hear Avril Quadros' voice. Amidst a launch party of many semi-drunks and an inattentive audience, I heard Avril sing.
I felt as if I was alone... barring her manager John who was really very sweet, and I had a good time trying to figure out his scottish accent in a place where I couldn't hear myself well enough.
She is a bohemian at heart I think. Her eyes burn, she walks with confidence, and yet, she appears vulnerable.
I wonder what she is all about?
My friend's husband Chris plays with her. He is on the strings and quite decent at that. But Avril doesn't need music. She can sing in an empty world and give it melody and music and everything else.
What I found most curious is that she has released her own album in Hindi. Not that there is anything wrong with the language.. but she should be singing jazz.
Bangalore hasn't really given me much... while in Calcutta, music played a HUGE part in my life. An evening at Someplace Else, a band playing old favourites to current hits would make up for everything the city didn't have. Coming to this city, I felt very desolate, as if I was uprooted from something I couldn't let go of..
But that one evening when Avril sang, just for a few hours, I was home.
I felt as if I was alone... barring her manager John who was really very sweet, and I had a good time trying to figure out his scottish accent in a place where I couldn't hear myself well enough.
She is a bohemian at heart I think. Her eyes burn, she walks with confidence, and yet, she appears vulnerable.
I wonder what she is all about?
My friend's husband Chris plays with her. He is on the strings and quite decent at that. But Avril doesn't need music. She can sing in an empty world and give it melody and music and everything else.
What I found most curious is that she has released her own album in Hindi. Not that there is anything wrong with the language.. but she should be singing jazz.
Bangalore hasn't really given me much... while in Calcutta, music played a HUGE part in my life. An evening at Someplace Else, a band playing old favourites to current hits would make up for everything the city didn't have. Coming to this city, I felt very desolate, as if I was uprooted from something I couldn't let go of..
But that one evening when Avril sang, just for a few hours, I was home.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Time stopped for a while. It winked at me and said, “Go do your thing. I will wait.”
And I charged forward, to grab everything in sight.
Memories, photographs, smiles, hatred…just put them all in a bag and run before the clock starts ticking again.
It was the most blissful feeling, and I loved it.
And as I drove away, I smelt the paddy fields in my head. The red earth flaming against the window and of course the incessant rain. I know it will haunt me like the spirit of a dead cat that would simply not leave the house it loved. And that same old song!These are the times I wish I could kill a song. Muffle it with a pillow and squeeze every ounce of breath out of it, or perhaps hang it by a nylon rope that will leave ugly red scars around its neck. I remembered the tiny lanterns tied together with a thick long red ribbon swaying violently against the stormy winds as he sang an obscure song.You were sitting near his feet, eyes dazed in love.I was elsewhere. The end of a cigarette burned red, white, yellow and pink. Ashes flew everywhere. It’s like a horrific painting. But it carries my inner self. Protected with a saffron scarf.
But things have changed. I stole a moment and I got out with what I wanted.
Should I be complaining?
It’s just that sometimes…only sometimes… I wished I could fly away… from the verandah of this dilapidated building.
Then, I would be free.
And I charged forward, to grab everything in sight.
Memories, photographs, smiles, hatred…just put them all in a bag and run before the clock starts ticking again.
It was the most blissful feeling, and I loved it.
And as I drove away, I smelt the paddy fields in my head. The red earth flaming against the window and of course the incessant rain. I know it will haunt me like the spirit of a dead cat that would simply not leave the house it loved. And that same old song!These are the times I wish I could kill a song. Muffle it with a pillow and squeeze every ounce of breath out of it, or perhaps hang it by a nylon rope that will leave ugly red scars around its neck. I remembered the tiny lanterns tied together with a thick long red ribbon swaying violently against the stormy winds as he sang an obscure song.You were sitting near his feet, eyes dazed in love.I was elsewhere. The end of a cigarette burned red, white, yellow and pink. Ashes flew everywhere. It’s like a horrific painting. But it carries my inner self. Protected with a saffron scarf.
But things have changed. I stole a moment and I got out with what I wanted.
Should I be complaining?
It’s just that sometimes…only sometimes… I wished I could fly away… from the verandah of this dilapidated building.
Then, I would be free.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
A bridge not too far
A small news item in a paper about how some residents at Indiranagar protested against a skywalk because it was being used for advertising purposes only really amused me.
I wondered if people actually can stoop so low for a publicity stunt like this... it doesnt even make sense.
A company such as Vantage makes skywalks, lovely gardens (and even maintains them) at their own cost.
Their whole idea is that people should learn to appreciate the city they live.
And at the end of the day what they get is a nutcase thinking that the skywalk is being used for advertising purposes.
A reality check: A skywalk can easily cost up to a crore for construction. An advertising hoarding on it doesn't give the company more than 20,000 rupees a month. Just how much time does it take to let that 20K touch the crore?
Don't people realise that?
Kids, senior citizens, youngsters are dying almost every week just by trying to cross the road.
Some stupid driver thinks he's too smart and runs them over, or the victim itself tries to cross the road exactly when a vehicle in close by. How much time does he save?
Probably a whole lot of it, because after dying he doesn't really need the time allotted to him for anything.
I am a little disgusted.
I wondered if people actually can stoop so low for a publicity stunt like this... it doesnt even make sense.
A company such as Vantage makes skywalks, lovely gardens (and even maintains them) at their own cost.
Their whole idea is that people should learn to appreciate the city they live.
And at the end of the day what they get is a nutcase thinking that the skywalk is being used for advertising purposes.
A reality check: A skywalk can easily cost up to a crore for construction. An advertising hoarding on it doesn't give the company more than 20,000 rupees a month. Just how much time does it take to let that 20K touch the crore?
Don't people realise that?
Kids, senior citizens, youngsters are dying almost every week just by trying to cross the road.
Some stupid driver thinks he's too smart and runs them over, or the victim itself tries to cross the road exactly when a vehicle in close by. How much time does he save?
Probably a whole lot of it, because after dying he doesn't really need the time allotted to him for anything.
I am a little disgusted.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
BOOM!
Some day its all going to end you know...
The last flight of steps will be over,
And you will have come home.
All the fights you wanted to win,
Will fade away in history.
And so will your victories and failures.
No one will ask after you anymore,
Some just might remember
A lost memory or smile here and there.
You won't have time to regress
Or take a few last minute decisions...
So, what have you been doing lately?
The last flight of steps will be over,
And you will have come home.
All the fights you wanted to win,
Will fade away in history.
And so will your victories and failures.
No one will ask after you anymore,
Some just might remember
A lost memory or smile here and there.
You won't have time to regress
Or take a few last minute decisions...
So, what have you been doing lately?
Monday, August 28, 2006
I dont want this
I don't want this.
I don't want the dream,
the reality or even the promise.
I dont want any hopes..
first hand or left over.
I don't want this life.
I don't want any love.
I don't want the money.
I don't need the job.
Just let me run free.
I dont want to see.
Or hear, taste
Or even smell...
Just let me lie under
And rot beneath the ground.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
remote control dream
I was writing about this to a friend this morning... and then thought, hey, maybe a few more people could find out... hence this post.
One famous news channel - uhmm... lets call it "Born on regular indian network goofup' (B.O.R.I.N.G) - wanted to go around the city and ask people what they think of Bangalore. They also wanted to know people's opinion on what they expect Bangalore to be a few years down the line...
A very aggressive campaign... and conducted in a very slick fashion.
They also want to promote their particular programme on print. So, they pay the newspaper the channel itself belongs it.. and asks for a story.
Story approved.
Therefore, this so called journalist goes to a spot where they are interviewing people and takes a few pictures.
B.O.R.I.N.G had also requested this journo to organise some well known (read: page 3) people of the society who would be willing to come in front of the camera and speak.
Well known people didnt happen.
What happened was about 3-4 smart college kids... who live in the city, hang out here, go to study here, understand what's troubling the city, to come and give their opinion.
But B.O.R.I.N.G doesn't want them... Cos they look young, and they dont look like they live in the city (this is very enlightening actually.. i didn't know that you could look like you lived in a particular city). So the journo interviewed a man who in not from Bangalore (has been here about a year), another girl who was wearing a long Indian print skirt and dangling earrings (that made her look like a local?) and couldn't stop giggling.
This story gave me the bigger picture:
At the end of the day whether a television channel promises truth of a lifetime or not, they are still competing against the TRP ratings of a "Kahaani ghar ghar ki" or whatever soap opera comes on TV.
Therefore, news channels (especially Indian ones and even a few international channels) have to make sure their news readers look better than a Pallavi or Parvati or Pinky or Priyanka on TV.
They have to make sure there is more scoop and gossip than there's on the soap.
They have to make sure that if people watch soap operas, it has to be theirs.
So, what we see is not news...
What we see is the glorified version of a piece of information that could or could not make a difference in our lives... But now that we have seen their dramatised version... a few sleepless nights might occur.
Eventually, that's what they want!
One famous news channel - uhmm... lets call it "Born on regular indian network goofup' (B.O.R.I.N.G) - wanted to go around the city and ask people what they think of Bangalore. They also wanted to know people's opinion on what they expect Bangalore to be a few years down the line...
A very aggressive campaign... and conducted in a very slick fashion.
They also want to promote their particular programme on print. So, they pay the newspaper the channel itself belongs it.. and asks for a story.
Story approved.
Therefore, this so called journalist goes to a spot where they are interviewing people and takes a few pictures.
B.O.R.I.N.G had also requested this journo to organise some well known (read: page 3) people of the society who would be willing to come in front of the camera and speak.
Well known people didnt happen.
What happened was about 3-4 smart college kids... who live in the city, hang out here, go to study here, understand what's troubling the city, to come and give their opinion.
But B.O.R.I.N.G doesn't want them... Cos they look young, and they dont look like they live in the city (this is very enlightening actually.. i didn't know that you could look like you lived in a particular city). So the journo interviewed a man who in not from Bangalore (has been here about a year), another girl who was wearing a long Indian print skirt and dangling earrings (that made her look like a local?) and couldn't stop giggling.
This story gave me the bigger picture:
At the end of the day whether a television channel promises truth of a lifetime or not, they are still competing against the TRP ratings of a "Kahaani ghar ghar ki" or whatever soap opera comes on TV.
Therefore, news channels (especially Indian ones and even a few international channels) have to make sure their news readers look better than a Pallavi or Parvati or Pinky or Priyanka on TV.
They have to make sure there is more scoop and gossip than there's on the soap.
They have to make sure that if people watch soap operas, it has to be theirs.
So, what we see is not news...
What we see is the glorified version of a piece of information that could or could not make a difference in our lives... But now that we have seen their dramatised version... a few sleepless nights might occur.
Eventually, that's what they want!
Monday, August 07, 2006
I have walked
I have walked the shadows of my past
And lived through every strife
Some forgotten, some I still carry
Through these dungeons of life.
I have met people aplenty
Fallen in love, cried in shame
Guilt has overtaken me
And left me to hurt again.
It’s been a curious game
Sometimes easy, sometimes weird
Seen the dance through pearls of rain
And traced the melancholy of the birds.
Twisted memories, reckless laughter
Wet kisses and an endless fall
I have woken up to nothing
And yet to find it all.
And lived through every strife
Some forgotten, some I still carry
Through these dungeons of life.
I have met people aplenty
Fallen in love, cried in shame
Guilt has overtaken me
And left me to hurt again.
It’s been a curious game
Sometimes easy, sometimes weird
Seen the dance through pearls of rain
And traced the melancholy of the birds.
Twisted memories, reckless laughter
Wet kisses and an endless fall
I have woken up to nothing
And yet to find it all.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
How bizarre
I have never known such a passionate kiss. It made me weak in the knees and brought some old butterflies back. A kiss that was demanding yet amateur, hungry yet shy; a kiss that blew my mind.
I have never known touch so closely. It broke my heart. It walked straight through by body and pierced it.
I have never known anything like this.
We don’t share a relationship. I have shared the rain with him, a walk with him, pasta with him… I have talked to him incessantly without wondering whether he gets me or not. I have brought back the old me just for one single moment.
Honestly, I cannot explain what we share. I don’t know him and yet I know him completely. I have never found time to discover him and yet, with each passing day he reveals himself.
It’s not love; that I’m certain of.
Maybe just a frantic search for something we can’t have. Or can we?
The question remains.
He will never read this. That’s the beauty of it. He doesn’t have to. He doesn’t need to. He lives in his world of charm and aspirations where I strive to achieve something that I cannot have; a piece of his life for me to have.
My friends think I am a hopeless romantic. For me love is something that walks through my door too many times a day. Not true. I just like being in love, for the shortest of time or longest of moments. And that’s what keeps me going. Slight pain can cause a stir, a touch – a storm.
That’s what I live for… an everlasting shift of emotions to take over me.
That’s what I live for…eternity from the simple joys of life.
I know he will never read this… but someday I hope he knows what I am talking about.
I have never known touch so closely. It broke my heart. It walked straight through by body and pierced it.
I have never known anything like this.
We don’t share a relationship. I have shared the rain with him, a walk with him, pasta with him… I have talked to him incessantly without wondering whether he gets me or not. I have brought back the old me just for one single moment.
Honestly, I cannot explain what we share. I don’t know him and yet I know him completely. I have never found time to discover him and yet, with each passing day he reveals himself.
It’s not love; that I’m certain of.
Maybe just a frantic search for something we can’t have. Or can we?
The question remains.
He will never read this. That’s the beauty of it. He doesn’t have to. He doesn’t need to. He lives in his world of charm and aspirations where I strive to achieve something that I cannot have; a piece of his life for me to have.
My friends think I am a hopeless romantic. For me love is something that walks through my door too many times a day. Not true. I just like being in love, for the shortest of time or longest of moments. And that’s what keeps me going. Slight pain can cause a stir, a touch – a storm.
That’s what I live for… an everlasting shift of emotions to take over me.
That’s what I live for…eternity from the simple joys of life.
I know he will never read this… but someday I hope he knows what I am talking about.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Fakin' it
I hate it when you fake love.
I mean we could be friends
We could have sex
But where did this love come from?
Did I say or do something?
That made you think I loved you?
A whimper, a caress? I just don’t get it.
Then why make me love you?
Then I see the same words
That you share with others.
God fucking knows what else,
It’s quite a depressing thing you know.
Okay, so we did have a good time.
I did kiss you till my head buzzed,
And dreamt of you every single night,
And swore to ‘cherish you forever’ and all that.
You’re ugly, you’re despicable and you’re fat.
There’s nothing to you that I really want.
I wish I could strangle you.
At least, then you can’t fake love.
I mean we could be friends
We could have sex
But where did this love come from?
Did I say or do something?
That made you think I loved you?
A whimper, a caress? I just don’t get it.
Then why make me love you?
Then I see the same words
That you share with others.
God fucking knows what else,
It’s quite a depressing thing you know.
Okay, so we did have a good time.
I did kiss you till my head buzzed,
And dreamt of you every single night,
And swore to ‘cherish you forever’ and all that.
You’re ugly, you’re despicable and you’re fat.
There’s nothing to you that I really want.
I wish I could strangle you.
At least, then you can’t fake love.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
What’s so special about the way I survive?
What's so special about the way I survive?
It's just a mundane job... from one act to the other.
A fake smile goes a long way, a dollar even further.
A small lie wins me lovers, an empty praise, friends.
I haven’t made many promises, broken even less.
I have lied, I have pretended to love, smile, cry.
I have watered plants, watched them grow.
I have killed them with my hands.
I have lost many thoughts in the sea of words
I have stood before the sun, and drunk its orange poison
I have hidden under the stars when there was nowhere else to go.
I have jumped over the moon and reached a new dimension.
So, what’s so special about the way I survive?
It's just a mundane job... from one act to the other.
A fake smile goes a long way, a dollar even further.
A small lie wins me lovers, an empty praise, friends.
I haven’t made many promises, broken even less.
I have lied, I have pretended to love, smile, cry.
I have watered plants, watched them grow.
I have killed them with my hands.
I have lost many thoughts in the sea of words
I have stood before the sun, and drunk its orange poison
I have hidden under the stars when there was nowhere else to go.
I have jumped over the moon and reached a new dimension.
So, what’s so special about the way I survive?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)