Momentary lapse

So another year has ended and a new one has begun. This transition, in my opinion, should last longer. I often wish there were some way to probably create a stopover, or an interval or some kind of a time lag before things start moving again. I would like to take a moment to think, to analyze how to make the next year better and not to make same mistakes again.

Each year, when people are kissing the air and wishing each other good luck for new year, I am left wishing what if the clock stops ticking right when it strikes midnight.
I wish to take a breath, I wish to sit down on a bench in a quiet park, I wish to soak in the moment before moving on. This is never going to happen.
 I always feel I am being rushed into something, and that feeling just spoils the fun for me. Almost always.

Oh Dilli!

It is exactly 7 pm in India and 8.30 am in the U.S.

Just a regular day at work for me, the same buzz, the same chatter that builds up to the time when markets open.

But my head is buzzing with a very different kind of a sound. It is  faint, far away and a little distant. It’s the sound of Delhi’s gaffar market, where I spent many afternoons looking for an old broken walkman to write an obituary on.

The sights and smell of Chandni Chowk and the steps that lead up to the Jama Masjid, whose tombs have seen me climb up and down, brushing against a hundred people and exchanging that awkward look and a sheepish smile.

Bangalore is getting colder by the night. And all I can think of is cold winters in Delhi. Walking around lodhi, stopping for a quick peg at Lodhi Garden Restaurant and then  to Khan Chacha for a roll.

(All images from Google, please don't sue me)

In Paris with you- James Fenton

Just the other day I read this  poem again, may be for the millionth time. And still it charms me the same way it did, the first time I read it.

 In Paris with You

 Don’t talk to me of love.  I’ve had an earful
 And I get tearful when I’ve downed a drink or two.
 I’m one of your talking wounded.
 I’m a hostage. I’m maroonded.
 But I’m in Paris with you.

 Yes, I’m angry at the way I’ve been bamboozled
 And resentful at the mess that I’ve been through.
 I admit I’m on the rebound
 And I don’t care where are we bound.
 I’m in Paris with you.

 Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre,
 If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame
 If we skip the champs Elysees
 And remain here in this sleazy
 Old hotel room
 Doing this or that
 To what and whom
 Learning who you are,
 Learning what I am.

 Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris,
 The little bit of Paris in our view.
 There’s that crack across the ceiling
 And the hotel walls are peeling
 And I’m in Paris with you.

 Don’t talk to me of love.  Let’s talk of Paris.
 I’m in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
 I’m in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
 I’m in Paris with…..all points south.
 Am I embarrassing you?
 I’m in Paris with you.

-- James Fenton

Conversations

Do you think I am crazy?

No

I think you are eccentric

You are what I would call walking into an abyss

I never know where my conversations are headed when I am with you and am not even complaining, I quite enjoy that about you.

Oh, you are just saying that because you want me to feel ok

No, why would I do that. I have nothing to lose. I know you quite like me already

How can you be so confident?

I see that when you look at me, I see that when you touch yourself nervously, I see that when you keep looking away after catching my attention, I see that when you blush, I see that when words come out of your mouth all mixed up.

I guess you must know women really well

I would like to say I know them well enough to spot the one I would fall for

Are you saying that you are falling for me

Well what if I am

Then I would say you are crazy
*kiss*

Damn you!

All of us are destined to have at least one heartbreak. Its one of those unwritten rules.  Its vital, important, must-do, obligatory and all the other synonyms you can think of.

And yes, there is no escaping it, You cannot run away from or hide from it, even if you try to, it comes chasing right after you.

You may want to seem strong to the world outside but deep inside you know you are broken.

Off load

A really big and important part of me decided to part ways with me. It wasn't sudden. I saw it coming since the day it became a part of me.


I've been such a fool.

Newer things and nostalgia

Life certainly has changed since the last post. I now write for people living on a distant continent, very different from mine. People I have known about through sitcoms and endless rom-coms. I live not only different time zones but also different identities, not to forget my poor body clock which is completely messed up right now.

It’s like a little bit of me belongs there as well. So if a neighbourhood bagel shop shuts I know how it feels. Not because I visited it as a little girl, but because people who read my stories have done that once in their life and it matters to them (btw the much featured and loved Bagel shop in upper west side is shutting down. This quintessential Bagel place appeared on TV series such as Friends and Seinfeld.)

I have also moved a few hundred kilometres away from loved ones and friends. I live in a different city now. Of course I am settling down to its groove but Bombay is and will always remain my first love, followed closely by Paris of course ;)

Bangalore is the fourth city I am living in the last two years. I hope to write more about the new place, new experiences and all the lovely people I meet.

Also I am dying to watch Midnight in Paris by Woody Allen, only if I find a decent copy somewhere..

You are what you read

A very funny thing happened today. I and my roommate were having a very casual conversation. She suddenly looks at my stack of books on the rack and says, "The other day X came to our room and couldn't believe you read all that. She didn't know you were smart enough to read James Joyce." I couldn't help but smile. Sometimes it makes me wonder how many people on this planet are judging me right now? I wear pink does that mean I am a bimbette? I love shopping, so that makes me a spoilt brat? I don't scream out of my lungs to  put forward a point in class, so does that make me dumb? I don't publicize myself so does that mean I am not good enough?

It is very surprising how we have categories for people and how we put them in these categories in spite of not knowing them enough. It amazes me how little we think of each other and so much about ourselves. What makes us gloat or be pompous to the extent of making exhibitions of ourselves. Why do we feel the need to prove a point all the time?

Co-incidentally I was having a conversation with another friend who happened to tell me how I don't feel the need to be out there. Well yes she is right.

Sums up!

This place is not fit for the fearless brave hearts, but ideal for the timid. The ones who find strength in other people's weakness. The ones who hold higher moral grounds in spite of their stained consciences. So what exactly are they achieving? Are they hiding in the burrows of their disparity by making life miserable for those brave hearts? The timid gets away with this behaviour because timid lives in a constant anonymity but the brave hearts are the most visible. Their actions are noticeable sometimes even generate curiosity, jealousy or plain defencelessness amongst the timid. The timid hide their incompetency not by overdoing the brave heart but by bringing the brave heart down by hook or crook. 

Right now

I hate loathe being taken for granted. It is settling in quick and I do not like it one bit. Just because I am not obnoxiously upfront doesn’t mean I do not mind, it just means I am being patient. And one should under no condition test it beyond a point. Do not drive me to do things I don’t want to because if I do, I won’t regret them under this condition. I see no wrong in it right now.



I don’t scream or shout. I am not difficult. All I ask for is a little bit of this and that which comes for no money. All it takes is a red heart. A big one.


I am not threatening or warning. I am simply speaking to my blog.

The Parisienne

4.30 pm Paris: While braving the heavy graffiti laden walls in the outskirts I caught glimpses of the mighty tower and it seemed nothing close to romantic. I let out a deep sigh and turned away to browsing my Ipod. Though my eyes weren't on it anymore, my mind was still unknowingly lingering over it. I wasn't even close to being mesmerized but a frail thought of disappointment started settling in. I quickly diverted my attention to the old buildings and even the more modern tall ones which reminded me so much of Bombay. So much was written and said about the Eiffel tower before. Tall claims from friends and reviews by other travelers who gave the testimonials of it being the perfect mush spot. And there I saw it stand in all its steel glory in a blackish grey garb just like a tombstone- pale and dead. It just stood amidst life as a silent observer.
In the next 20 minutes I was in the middle of busy Parisian roads trying to reach the main center for a good French meal.


10.30 pm Paris: Within hours of being around the same place suddenly I felt as if I had traveled thousands of kilometers and was transported to a different world altogether. The Paris of the crazy , hot afternoon was nothing like the Paris of night rather twilight, considering it get darker only after 11.30 pm in the summers. Rows of light in different shapes, sizes and colours spread out through the entire city, till eyes could find a boundary. Like twinkling little stars they shone as I made my way to the Eiffel again. This time my eyes transfixed on its beauty, she looked like a beautiful bride almost ready to walking down the aisle.


The clock struck 11 and there was a sudden urgency in the air, people turned towards the tower and there it looked as if someone had infused it with kilohertz of life. She sparkled, twinkled, dazzled for five minutes and those were the best five minutes of my life. What would have been more perfect if I had that someone to share a little French kiss with and then probably I could have claimed to live the French way :)

I love metaphors

What could be the worst kind of self-realisation? Mine is more like a one act play. It sort of brings me down at times, I have no one to blame. It starts with me and ends with me. I drag along others to play their part, sometimes they fit the bill but most of the times their presence just fucks up my script. It turns out to be quite a play. Real emotions, tears and resonating evil laughter in the hall. There is always a bad guy and I play that role really well. In the end you know who wins? The bad guy is aware of my Achilles heel, the bad guy knows that I am vulnerable, impulsive and an ugly thinker. I do not wish to repeat the show anymore. It was a bad script, just like a bad nightmare.

Special one

Some incidents teach you rather big lessons in life. I have learnt one today, it doesn’t matter how many read what you write, how many understand and how many acknowledge. When what you write touches one heart, it matters. When what you write makes a difference to a life, it matters. When what you write brings a smile on someone’s face, it matters. These are the people who matter and when they read, its more than enough. This one was for you Bani.



Wishing you oodles of much deserved love.

Something I did - II

Too much has already been said and nothing can be written more. I love them a lot and no its not a shoe:P

Something I did

After a stressful day at work, I come home with doors playing in my ears. I start looking for an old book, Jonathan Livingston Seagull, because it is one of those "feel good" books I keep going back to in times like these. I end up finding not the book but some leftover paint boxes.

I quickly shower and I make this

 
 
 

 

  "I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps "Oh look at that!" Then- whoosh, and I'm gone...and they'll never see anything like it ever again...and they won't be able to forget me- ever." - Jim Morrison

Economics

Travelling in Poona is very  expensive, especially if you do not own one of those bikes. And Dad you tricked me :X . Anyways


Here is how I look at it


Auto fare from home to office and back= 100 X 2 = 200/-  + 20/-  extra charges post 10 pm (yeah 10 is late night here..whatte city)


 220/- = cost of two packs of Benson

The ugly missy

I saw her name in red neon.
The woman who has an ugly green toungue and she speaks all blue.
Her mind is the dark of a dungeon and her heart is a solid grey.
She wears a filthy yellow while she carries a gory expression.

A drunk ode

  

   Dear Beer,

  when I have you near,

  I have no fear 

  Everything is not so clear       

  yet i wanna cheer

(Photo courtesy: Denny L. Laloo)

Loss

Rhythm and music, sounds and sights have always dominated my growing up years. I was put in a music school when I was barely three, I would literally go there every day only to sleep, because every song would be like a lullaby to me. Grandma is a Carnatic classical vocalist. Even at 82 she has a voice that could send you in a deep trance. My mom is a walking talking juke box; forget dad he cannot sing, the reason why I hated nursery rhymes. (I could recite rhymes when I was one and a half year old ;))
In spite of starting my training that early I haven’t been able to learn all that I was supposed to. Blame it on my laidback attitude and lack of patience to learn the craft. Granma thought I could be a good singer, but I never gave myself a chance and it’s turned into a big repentance today.
My fate with classical dance form ended the same way. After spending 11 years matching my steps to the beats, I had to quit mid-way. Even today when I see someone perform on stage, tears roll down my eyes. It reminds me of my failure and how I would never wear that beautiful Saree and the gracious ornaments, how I would never have my palms smeared with Alta and tie those Ghungroos... or wait. May be its still not too late!

Virtual Bytes

I was watching the latest episode of Tech Toyz, the single people Valentine’s special, and it suddenly occurred to me how technology has become unstoppable, all encompassing, powerful and dominating. Simply put, in a way, it rules you.
The episode was about Dos’ and Donts of online dating. “How soon should you convert the virtual date into a real one? Should you continue online interactions even after meeting in person? What should be the frequency of your pokes and super pokes?” Now do you get what I am referring to when I say powerful and dominating? If you think about it, it is kinda scary.

Case study 1: Facebook
1) Facebook suggests you say hello to “blaah blaah”. Do I need suggestions from Facebook who I should or I should not stay in touch?
2) “What’s on your mind” it’s such a compelling statement. I remember this conversation, so well that I even made it my entry point into a research assignment- Real VS virtual

J: I didn’t know what to put as my status update, I dint want it to sound stupid.
A: Why don’t you quote someone?
J: No, I want it to be more personal. Something like “I don’t know what to put as my status update. Please help.”
A: wow, that sounds cool

Have you ever seen bad pictures of you and your friends on Facebook? Not often, because this virtual life lets you edit, remove things you wouldn’t want others to see, create a person who is like you but a much better version, with better taste, good experiences and stories to boast about.
You flaunt, you attract more profile views, you create a “YOU” that you always wanted to be.
Case study 2: Buzz
This one’s a new entrant and has many users already. It’s more like Twitter’s close cousin, but less complicated and less intimidating.
It’s a few days old, let’s see how it fares, wouldn’t be too long

So the point I am trying to make here is “where is the real you”?
I’d still like to meet friends over coffee than having online conversations below our favourite picture clicked ages ago. I still would like to give real gifts than virtual ones.
Guess that’s the future of technology, we sit in our cubicles, stuck in real jobs, have many virtual personalities and juggle between them whenever time permits. I wish for more time.. to enjoy who I am, to enjoy who others are and to enjoy the real life.