Forlorn Vespers

The words are profound and so is my need. This is an aftermath of situation and a lost self.

I walk around with an infectious smile, “Babe, u are so crazy!” I smile and we crack dirty jokes. 'Let's go', he says, 'I have to meet her today, come with me.' I refuse, he doesn't persist. 'No, is your favorite word, is it not?' I laugh, pose as a queen and say good bye.

As I walk down Colaba, the NOs flash in my face, I cease to laugh/ smile/ smirk at passing people, vendors and kids. I sit at the Parsi bakery in Marine Lines and wait for her to come. It starts to rain, I relish the chai and look at the owner, who looks at the roof.

The book is travelling, to him this time. She lived in his apartment after he abruptly left. When she called me, I didn't know who she was or what she wanted; she uttered a name and I was there, and thats how we became friends. “ I read it, I couldn't help it. If it's any solace, I cried. I want to ask why but I guess it's none of my business.”

How did you find me?” I ask her, “From the office register, I just put two into two and gave it my best shot. You know he left in the night, without notice; the landlord was angry, but I had no place to stay, so I thank him!” She smiled asking for sympathy, my broken smile wiped hers away. He scribbled in it, we fought over it. He never let me read it. After one such fight, he text me that if I read it, I would not consider him 'much of a man'. I laughed and never asked again - certain territories were not to be crossed, he and I both knew that.

The book saddled in my hands for months, without the courage to read. I knew it would unleash something in me and trap me for ever and ever in a trench, never to be recovered. I didn't want to be a wilful slave, I procrastinated. When I read, it had his smell, I could place every moment we spent, every nod of his head that said - 'Nah, Nothing!', his feelings eloquently written. That was first time I knew a side of him that was weak, my hulk was weak. That was also the time when I discovered how beautiful I was to him. His verse, “Her Eyes Plague Me' made me cry, he was sexual and beyond the realms of my body. I remembered how he would hold my palms and pray, my tiny lean hands engulfed in two large cushions of flesh. Then there were the fights, 'Pope, she likes Pope. What kind of a woman likes Pope?' ' When she spoke of nudity and naked body, I wanted to jump off the window, it was embarrassing and she wouldn't stop.' 'My butterfly has no shame and it makes me more happy than ever. She is pure like the first melting drop from Gangotri.' I want to slip beneath her skin, it's safe there'.

I laughed and wept and returned the book to her, to return it to him. “Uski amanat lotaa rahi hooni, litchi ke chilke mere hain, woh beej legaya hai.” (I am sending his stuff, the litchi skin is mine, he took the seeds with him.)
She quietly let them be with me and hugged. “You know, he is very successful there, you should visit him. He doesn't keep well though and he doesn't paint anymore.” Tell him, 'I have grown fat and I don't paint anymore either.”

I am amorphous in your arms, I dissolve when my body is immersed in water. My foot-pad craves for your tongue and my mind for that kiss to quench my soul. I can't wander like this - I can't look for rain in a barren bazaar. The magic around me sublimates into nothingness - like an orgasm disappeared. The furniture around me shrieks, and I caress it to silence. The arch of a wooden sofa, the curve of a bottle, the circle of the glass mouth; I sit on the armchair and rock the invisible you in my arms.

I feel your weight, my breath deepens; you say, “Main agar insaan anhi hota toh teri mohobaat hota, tere rooh ki sadgi hota, teri julfon ki deewangi hota, tere haatho ka saaya hota, teri aakhon ki khamoshi hota, tere khawb hota, tere jism pe behti lehere hota, teri aawaj hota. Main agar insaan nahi hota toh... tera saaya hota.” ( If I wasn't a man, I would have been your love, the simplicty of your soul, your wild hair, the shadows that your hands make, the silence in your eyes, your dreams, the waves that feel your body, your voice. If I wasn't human... I would have been your shadow.)

A tear rolls down my left cheek, my fingers feel the strength of your spine. You look up to me and turn away - the words hold no good.

Years later, in a cafe I meet an acquaintance who you met on a plane to Paris, and asked him to remind me that if 'I wasn't human, I would have been everything I said'. “He looks like a ghost, completely lost, and he talks of you like it was yesterday.” I smile, he continues. “ He has sworn to never step into this country, he doesn't like B'bay anymore. The last time he came here, he stayed for three days and didn't get out of the damn hotel. I can't blame you, you were like the hills in Arunachal and he the rocks of Leh. It's too long a bridge to build, but I want to blame you.”

The other-side takes over and I walk away, he watches me go. Bangs his fist on the table, "Say a word for him, will you?" I turn to look and my eyes are tear pools; we look and he flops into his chair with a loud moan - "Allah, yeh kaisi ibaddat hai?" (Lord, what kind of a prayer is this?)
--------------------------
Its important to understand that not everyone understands you. What is more important is to not hold it against them.

For T - who lived her entire life in a four-month romance, For DK - on whom the stars will shine. For R - Hope he is worth the wait. and For K - May infinite love be with you.

VOICES

1) While on the topic of DK's ex', “We used to meet really early, and I used to get her keema, brune pav with maska and chai from Cafe Paramount. We had breakfast on my terrace and it was so romantic - i can never forget those mornings! I don't know how come that bitch forgot about them.”

2) "7:53pm tears streamed down my face, sniffing in heavy traffic, in a cab, holding myself silently. Questioning my courage, 'can i jump off the cliff when i reach the apex or will i too cower under the cold pressure of things left behind?'

3) What do you think about people who do not believe in love, “I think they are missing something. It may not be the good part, but definitely the bad part. You know the bad part is actually pretty amazing!

4) "There are so many things I could write but never posted, emailed or blogged them. So many joys to be jealous of, so many griefs that I thought I couldn't live through. Things that my heart can't live with even today. Parts of me that will be buried for the lack of courage and empathy from others. The tender moments live forever, like 'the wet walk on a drizzling evening, saving my file and an aroused yet shy body. Or waking up from a mesmerizing book to find a pair of burnt copper eyes peering into my soul with unblinking certainty of an eagle.'"

5) "On racing straight to work - An irritated voice, “For god's sake have breakfast me with today, and dare you ditch me!" Now sounding cranky, "I don't want to eat alone, I feel like I am in New York and my parents are dead.” This conversation took place at 06:45 am.

6) "Woman - the magic you talk about, very few men understand, forget believe in it!"

7) "The constant springing of the word facetious - almost like an omen asking me to take notice." (Scarily, after years, I hear this word in a foreign mouth, where it doesn't seem to belong.)

8) At the gym, “The woman running beside me, was thin and ugly. Ugly is not the word, she was hideous and was making those faces - I was scared. I was scared that she was going to puke on me."

9) There rises a tumour in me - when you say that name. That name, my dear causes internal bleeding.

10) This hocus pocus about ideology gets to me - I mean how d f*** does the political situation in Russia improve my g*** boss?

11) C says, “Personal is political and vice verse - you must uproot patriarchy with women power.”
A says - “ yup C**T rulz! I want to see them flash - ;).”
K says - “ yes, my dear man-slut, you shall welcome your own end.”
C says - “ We have to destroy gender dividers, not wait for them to go extinct, K.”
A says - “Yes, K - i want to be destroyed, fanna, khak - all in bed. C tu sala loser hai, hamesha one track ;) .”
C says - "D*** head, Ask your girlfriend - who is the loser in her bed.”
A pounces on C - fist fight. K shouts - ' Cut it out guys'
A and C yell, “ It a man thing!”
K shuts up and leaves.

12) V at 11pm 1999 :- “India wins, we are such good buggers! I am so losing my job! I need a coke, hey F make me a joint. What the fuck, it's my dad on line, listen guys get my math paper. I am so screwed. Listen K, i love u and I shall be your bitch in prison. Get me some plectrums, babe. P please, i need that sex tape, i get lonely without u. I need a kiss, and i need a kick. And food, A tera khana yaad aaye ga, and i need to finish my notes. Can somebody buy me coffee?” All without a pause, without a reply. V left that night, flew out in the morning. He never returned, for either the coffee, the joint, the sex-tape or the prison.

13) "Dreams my dear, are often made of Glass, the second you compromise, you scratch it. And remember, nobody buys a scratched glass."

14) In the canteen, "Life is about laughing at oneself - the best kind of humour is, in insulting yourself - that way you cease others from doing the same."

15) "A gift is a gift, it maybe a curse or a jewel. But it is still a gift. If mine gives you allergy, thank me and leave it by the sea." - I did.

There are some voices that come and go - all the above were said in situations that changed my outlook at life. They are frivolous and very serious at the same time. Sometimes what is less important than when - but most of the time when doesn't exist.

Dawn at the Roseman Bridge.

It was almost midnight, floating in light sleep, my mind was glued on the infinite happiness that Robert and Francesca were experiencing (3rd time over). I wanted this moment to freeze; didn't turn the page, let their love last for that one extra night.

The alarm sang 'katra katra milti hai, katra katra jeene do, zindagi hai, behene do...' at four am, I knew it was going to be a perfect day! On my way out to the gym, Borivali station looked spacious, still warm though with handful moving around, dressed in work attire. Darkness was thickening around me, the morning fog settling, twenty minutes and it would be dawn - the photographer in the corner of my mind calculated.

I held that thought and pulled out the bookmark from the page. The setting and the emotion, I left last night, was waiting for me.

I had to turn the page - it was time.

The scent and words took over, I knew the storm was coming, tears would taste my skin quietly, probably with a little smile now. But not yet, not today.

I reached Bandra, stepped out feeling very heavy, almost sniffing but not crying. I was almost there, but not really there - this time around, I hadn't given in so easily. It felt silly to think that maybe I had matured in 'the reading', a little The impact of those words was similar but I had handled it well - till now. (Robert's letter could prove me wrong, any second).

The last step to the bridge, I saw a faint saffron line rising - 18 mins, two more and the Bandra east skyline will go peach. The color gradation was about to begin. I waited to see the sharp orange form, sighed as people hurriedly dodged me. I imagined how the orange would look from Banganga, and called Drama King.

He was on his way and relatively in a better mood. “I will be there mademoiselle, in just 3 minutes.” I prepared myself for his, “who wakes up this early, its an obscene time? It's not even morning! You make me do crazy things. I am so irritated, you know I am not a morning person. What the f***, my phone is naked, where is the cover, you vile woman, you ate it? It drives me mad. Mademoiselle, why can we not do this at a sane time, like eight or so?”

I decided not to scold him today, not get back or mock; i was going to bear his irritation, today would be different. Years later, when we will not have time for friends, - we would miss these early mornings, we would miss the madness! i would miss this crazy irritating menopausal Drama King.

As I waited under the blinking red light, the azaan ended. Sunlight started to wipe the moon out. Some vendors were cleaning their shop's footsteps; and far away someone was baking naan. The car halted in front of me, honking, signaling me to step in. He looked at me and exclaimed, as I lowered the music volume, “Oh, my god, mademoiselle! It's that book again! are you going to cry? I could give you my shoulder but your colored tears will ruin the white linen.”

His morning voice sounded like a big brass bell on a nubile reindeer in a winter sky - amused, irritating and ecstatic! I smiled and forgave the arsehole of a guy that he is!

The Militant, The Mimic, The Moderator and The Mute

Warning: This is not an intelligent post, just an observation.

At the lunangular Moss being his usual self, voiced 'social citizen's' concern over 'development'. This discussion went on to become a battle of rights and wrongs; aimless, inconsequential argument over topics ranging from commercialization exploiting the unpronounceable land, to activism of the paper tigers (a term coined by Androgyny, or it is said so) scared me with the burning rage I saw in Moss's eyes.

Black Pearl accused me of living in theories and as this discussion progressed - i found myself trapped - like in Shoba's class, in the child labour conferences, in the women's bill drafting meeting. It was a 'the cat is clawing on my door' feeling, and I didn't like it at all. Debates surge a different energy and provide a different high that stifles the clean space on a page. Moss was on the brink -- his lack of serious sensibilities towards 'real' issues, channelises his fury into the lower rung of pro-development advocacy: the gutters that will never breed any good.

Hypothetically speaking any social order constitutes to the four M's :

the Militant, the Mimic, the Moderator and the Mute.

The Militant is a human thought who believes in action for reaction. He is our malicious opportunist. Examples lay in policy makers, corporate lemon squeezers, arms market dealers, advertising industry gimmicks, multiple choice consumerism et. al. They are known to exploit the world at large by always taking more than they give. This zone of human thought is usually neutral of emotions and in it's loyalty does not belong to anyone or anywhere.

The Mimic settles in the lower rung; learning and multiplying from its nexus with the Militant. This group flowers on mutual profits (when on the same side of the fence). Religious fundamentalists, activists, social- governing bodies, pharmacy giants, media, etc... They are the face of the shining/ shadow side of the powerful militant; they interpret and display the core ideology for the masses. A quality prominent of this segment is a generous peppering of names, shallow knowledge of the core ideology and unreasonable conviction. They are the loudest cheerleaders or opposites.

The Moderate is often the furniture of the system. The active, affluent, educated form the group - the common bonds are the rising feelings of futility, different set of priorities, set goals to be achieved, and a desensitized skin. They are often found in the working class, or professionals who, swim in the ocean without befriending or antagonising the militant.

The Mute are the marginalised. They thrive on invisibility and are often buried under the shadow of the Mimic. The Mute as a group is fluid, it may be a group of oppressed communities, a negated religion, a destroyed culture or a language pushed into oblivion. Their stories are often told with great drama, however we do not see/hear them. And because they are Mute (without voice, power or information) they are at the mercy of the Mimic or the militants, and both exploit and profit from their empty status.
--
The circle shall not change, it will move, the mimics will become militants, the moderates the mutes, the mutes the mimics, etc... the word progress comes with a baggage 'at whose cost', someone pays for all our comforts and luxuries and we do for someone else's too.

Choose your side of the coin.

This Bullshit Called Love

While chatting to Wasabi today, I felt a need to defend my belief in love. And for the weirdest reason I did. Later in the day, I spoke to Torch and she went on a trip telling me about the 'reality behind looovvve'. I am a pragmatic but suddenly the disbelief made me want to reiterate - and as I did, she shot back vehemently, " Love talk coming from someone who hasn't fallen seriously in love or found true love?! K you are such a sham! Why don't you fill those feather shoes you advocate so much?"

We were short of laughing at my predicament and before pinning the final bubble on the bubble wrap of my love life, she claimed - "What is this bullshit called love anyway? Get into a bed darling, its about time you did - that's where all the love is!" Apart from her 'successful one-night-stand' jokes; Torch follows super mart love, that comes with a 'definite expiry date'. "Who has the time? And I get all the action I need". She bought Pepper to dissolve her need for a companion - "Just two women. We are so in harmony, we even bleed on the same date!" I like to see the way this girl and her bitch bond - almost like soul mates. But in the colored corner of my mind; I want her to be with someone.

How can one disillusion a disillusioned lover? Why when a spell broken can not be worked back? Here's to Wasabi and Torch:

Love what do I do with you?
Sometimes you are just a leftover morsel from the alphabet.
Sometimes you are more intense than the word eternity.
Sometimes a synonym to hate.
Sometimes the drabness of an overused wash cloth.
Sometimes you are the space that fills I and You
and at times you become a distance between Us and Them.

Your multiple forms confuse me -
the wild wind,
the cruel mirage
the glass mannequin
Cold droplets of rain
the black speck in a brown eye
the caramel on a stale pie

My dear how can i tell the world
that you are the hope of a blind eye
the warmth in a comforting curve
the strength in a finger
the passion of a hungry claw
the silence in surrender
the dust on a forgotten Urn

How my friend can I contradict
that you are the knock on a deaf man's door
that you are the power trapped in a diamond
that you are the blood spilled in a miscarriage
that you are the cyst in a cheated woman's eye
that you are a tourist walking dreamily in the

abandoned lanes of human habitat
that loftiness in poesy is courtesy you.

How do I glean these leftover paradoxes to make a collage?

How can I make people fall in love with you, love?

- Child mom said something very sweet :) (a bear hug is on your way), after my blabber on losing hope in love - "Love my darling is quietly placing a comforter over the sleeping shadow. And K, chill, you have brought a million comforters for us - he will take care of yours!"

Inshallah!

Calling Home

I move out.
Walk into the wild
Run away from confrontation.
--- I call myself brave.

I move out.
Avoid pain
Avoid blame
--- Call myself independent.

I move out.
Live with my partner
Share life, refuse marriage
--- I call myself nonconformist.

My home
Is not a house
Is not a place

It is an abstraction
A space within
Where basic variations survive.

I move out.
Of constrictions
Into contradictions
Into language known and foreign

--- I move into life.

Beat him, bite him, Beat him!

To,

My dearest Monarch,

I wish i could beat the daylights out of you.
for now - its the verbal arrows- Enjoy

You coward
U stinking arsehole!
scoundrel,
gutter bug
pot lid
monkey's flea
moss on whiskers
the cats cataract eye
my hideous hideous snake

My dearest friend
My empty closet
hatefully u stare at the screen -
Silently feeling bad for yourself
Silently deriving pleasure from my burning nerves
"let the bitch bark -
i am too hurt to reply -
she bite me hard
- she gave me rabies
my parched throat
like a sore wound
is attacked by words
that can't find a way out
My feelings that were out on display for so long
Have fostered fungi now.
And they are sick of those knowing ignoring eyes."

You turn away
that is the best you can do.
Sitting in the other corner of the world -

I stick my tongue out and call u -
"Come back and I shall bite you to death.
Come back my dearest friend - let me scathe your wounds
Don't die in pennies -
Let me butcher you a ton to many."

And you snicker and turn away -
My parched rabid friend.

Lets bury the hatchet, baby.
- in your body, that is.

Hmmm...Isn't this chase-from-death-by-water, a bliss?! :)
I love you so much, i cant come to measure it~!

Books can go off the hook!

Enlightened got me a couple of Audio-books, to get a hang of them. I was a little skeptical about listening and not reading. [(Just seems very awkward when i say it in my head, 'i am listening to Frankenstein, or Huckleberry Finn or Great Expectations'. Like BlindSlease would say 'I was in a movie when u called', he being born blind often got 'pardon me? And the smart ass that he is, would proudly say 'i am blind, not deaf!') I know this digression was not worth making, but its the 'stream-of-consciousness' hangover, or disassociate writing or some such jargon shit]

E got me thinking when he remarked, “K, like u judge people by the books they read, i judge them by the music they listen to.” i generally don't do that - at least openly but when i think of it - i really consider a whole bunch of my acquaintances moronic coz they don't read or appreciate the stuff that i think they should have have read backwards with ease. It struck me then, 'learning and wisdom' have nothing much to do with reading. In an age of multi-media, a book seems archaic. Loudmouth and Childmom would disagree, as they mock people who don't like to read.

I remember most of the books i've read; however, what i remember most vividly is how i felt when i read them, or a certain character that made want something more than i had. A love story that i wish was a part of my life, a battle that i had bravely won, i even wanted to be the footman who foretold the disaster before it struck.

I wanted to be Shakespeare's fool!

Books were my way of moving into a world that was mine, without competition, without examination or teachers and reading has always been treated as a 'good habit' so i don't think i was discouraged. The flip side was that i lost myself in them - i could feel the hurt and the joys for a long time after i had finished the book. I cried buckets when old father time hung himself i can never forget that line 'because we were too many'. Books can take you into depression, can bring you hope, make you smart and feel great!

However, this is true of movies, music, sitcoms (remember Wonder Years? Potli Baba Ki? Chandrakanta? Sex and the City? Heroes? Star wars?), games (Badminton, Lagori, Cricket, Cycling with your hand spread out like wings? Monopoly, Cards, Life, Scrabble?) as well. We learn from so many things, travelling for some is a world-wise experience, the road a great teacher like the sea and the etc... books are not the be all and end all of gyaan! I was also lost in them, I would believe that a prince, princess, wenches, dukes, dark ladies, princely states, married tortured women, reveng stories, orgasms, hatered, mindless love, kingdom wars... in fact I still do! I haven't come out of that world, it's too deeply ingrained in me to dissolve or wash away. Black pearl use to say “literature often fucks-up more people than it straightens them out.” I agree, but in tow with the attraction theory, most lit freaks are emotionally fucked anyways!

Monkey baby, twit, anorexia personified are growing up - i think being the eldest i will encourage them to venture out and find their means of acquiring information and knowledge.

Random Impressions of past moments

Its been a wild time since Enlightened came in, i have discovered certain truths about myself - some that i already knew and some that weren't so apparent. Like the drama king, he makes these one-line comments that hit you straight in the third eye. With Drama king, they are unintentional but Enlightened uses them at the right moment and with the right force. There was a flash when i almost jaw dropped as to how could this guy figure things out with such clarity of truth? I am super amazed. As he flew out today morning - he left me too many things to cherish. the madness, the impulse, the wisdom, the music (Bjork, tool, smiths) and half a dozen audiobooks.

Black Pearl smsed me on Fri night - i was amidst a work event and by the time i checked my phone i realised it was an 'upset head's' love message. Knowing him - i was sure he was either miserable, drunk angry or suicidal. So i called, messaged and called again - say like 30 times! I was worried sick and praying that he doesn't do anything foolish. Sat morn i get a call - “hey babes, whats wrong with you?” i wanted to crawl through the phone lines and smack him to death. (That moment i didn't regret the amount i used to beat him up.) He so deserved it - i spent the night thinking absolute rubbish, i was frantic and cursed myself for erasing his home number. I was on the verge of breaking down into tears; and our man put his phone on silent and dozed off - after writing an SMS that would make every sane person(who knew him) worry hell over.

The early morning conversation was similar to the one we used to have when we were together, the same babble - he teasing me over my fantastic- inclined mind and me cursing him to no end for straining my nerves. We were so over and so happy - and that moment i knew the ultimate answer to the question raised by zillion people. Why did you break up? Because it was the best thing to do.

Mush (the otherwise gentleman, who i have unfairly been accused of turning into a beastly disaster) emailed a one liner on Sunday “I still love you bitch, what are you going to do about that?” I replied, “Nothing”. There were a million things I'd say but i was too exhausted from the last night's drama - i didn't need this. I didn't need two exes telling me how much they love me from continents away. And with Mush, i was done away with six years ago.

Today i receive another email from him, “Tamburlaine can burn the city for Zenocrate, but he can't heal the stab wound, can he? How should you escape with 'nothing', my little soul thief?”

I haven't replied, i wont. Its time for silence to takeover. (ps. I hate his gall, his intellect, this counter-questioning and his hands.) I am deeply grateful that we live in a postmorden world that stresses on women's emancipation.

Mother-in-law (MIL) is back in India for a vacation, she called last evening and i was almost out of breath, confirming whether it was really her. So now am dying to meet her. There is so much to listen to, so much to tell. I am waiting to hug her, and tell her that she was missed. Her gaalis were missed. Today shall be the day!

Saturday - Glossy Saturday

Apart from all the good stuff in Goa - the temporary joy dampener was an official call that really put me off for a long while and on the landing day in Mumbai - the delayed flight was such a stress raiser. However, i observed, when you are traveling with an infant, the airport authorities and co-passengers are super nice to u, in turn you garner a lot of (wanted/unwanted) attention.

Beach boy called and I was inches away from telling him that i felt like smooching the cuteness out of him - men can be so funny, vulnerable and naive at the same time that sometimes its impossible to not love them. This was one such moment.

Being back at home felt like i had returned after a month long vacation or so. But being back to office, it was a little annoying - apart from the natural frowns and work mess- ups; I had to remind everyone that i had taken a three day leave! Three days felt like eternity to them, also because there was a lot of work and maybe a worst time to escape it. Demeter was a darling throughout. After multiple panic attacks, and SMS exchanges - the poor thing had my heart going out to her. By the 3rd evening - i felt like shit for not being there, as mountains crashed on her. Neway, i prayed for only good to come out of this extended mess. Actually I am still praying.

Now that lip tuck had landed, i was sure we were going to have hell of a time - but it was Rubbish. Thought Saturday would be a big day with too many plans and things to work on. I traveled to the other end of the city only to realise the lady in question was a dimwit! After two hours, i knew i was wasting my time and nothing fruitful would come of the same. After my cordial plastic goodbye, Lip tuck called and amidst my dying phone I promised to meet him. I was pre-running how our meeting was going to turn out (with “I am-so-happy-to-see-you” hugs and chats and fun things). However he turned in a hour late - making me wait for two hours flat. In the middle of all this I was making n receiving calls from Androgyny and Parrot beak on the sat night plans. When he entered the cafe, he was like a smelling sea, an escaped marine animal or something. The last minute work on the ship had gotten him in trouble, i had waited long, so another hour of catching up would be nice.

Nope, i was wrong - we didn't have much to talk, i yapped about checking out guys and he did about the girls he saw and the fact that nothing clicked. I know that Lip tuck is an average joe, but it still quizzed me how could he be so average about the goals of his life? He remarked that he would be married by 30! Ya, sure whatever. How can u say that the perfect person will arrive at 30? He quizzed me, why not? And I like a volcano burst out - i didn't want to marry these dull Brahmin' NRI's, what was I going to do with their penthouses and money? Eat it? Sleep with it? Hold them and cry when I am low? What is the point of a marriage when, the couple is not in touch with the needs of his/her partner?

I think I intimidated him - I do that to a lot of people, I guess. They find it funny to listen to my values in matrimony, and mockingly they say, “dream on girl, dream on!” Whatever. I have resolved to never marry an idiot. Period.

I rushed back home to pick up Enlightened and went half way through town clubbing. We met Androgyny and his queen pins (Enlightened dosent consider androgyny as one - he retorted "u have to be blind not to see such an open display of sexuality". I still refuse to accept that he maybe right.), had fun and thats all there was to say. Drama King was supposed to join us but he couldn't. Before we entered this Parmeshewar Godrej designed pub (Squeeze), Enlightened rolled his rocket ears.

I was feeling funny and happy at the same time. It remind me of a Nazi joke... (what do u call a Jew with a gas cylinder on his back? An addict!) we weren't Jews but can't say we were far away from becoming them. The crowd was decent and we were dancing in juvenile circles near the bar - no, I didn't mind it but never the less it felt childish. Drama King dedicated this famous song “beautiful girl, u make me suicidal” for me; it was super cute and so charming. :) All in all, we entered, had fun and left within a good deadline.

p.s I couldn't help but observe that a guy adjoining us was gyrating his crotch in a petite looking twit with stilettos. I found it amusing n ugly at the same time.

Day after euphoria- Garden Eden.

Enlighten calls Goa “the Garden Eden- and imagine how close it must be to hell!” Well, I affirm! We were so busy being happy, high and satiated that we forgot to take pictures. We have a couple of snaps but most of the time the entire jingbang was busy swimming in the sea to turn to the camera. Although i regret not having photo-memories I have many moments that are frozen in my long term memory.

I love the sea- i guess its needless to reiterate but I do love it so much! E n I with our vitriolic tongues burst bubbles of everyone who was 'playing in the sea'; which dimwit does that? We saw many frogs that were playing in shallow waters. E n I , also Chameleon (only once though) swam deep waters. Swimming in the sea is probably the best experience to have (after floating in the sea). I really wish the Wise capitalist liked the sea as much as we did - but the control freak that she is, it would be impossible. She loves the pool though- actually she is like a hippo in the pool. But the sea has a beauty of its own, at candolim, arambol and kolva - the sea was wild. Arambol probably subdued but the evening sea is to watch out for!

When E n I swam at Kolva we could feel the force of the sea, the setting sun helped the waves to engulf us and the seabed beneath our feet slipped away, the waves started to rise higher and as Chameleon fought them, he almost drowned. For a second, he thought this was it - the end was here. That is a lesson, when the waves want to fuck u - you should surrender. The second u surrender to nature- be it a jungle trail, water (even a pool when, you are learning to swim), or in the air - when u are not in control - surrender and nature will take care of u. E n I dived in as the waves rose, and when i couldn't swim the current, i simply floated- the waves brought me to the shore. Forget the fact that it was the far end and i had to alternatively walk n swim back to our resort.

That was day 2 of the 2008. A fantastic evening that began with swimming in the sea and ended with tequila shots, poetry, E playing guitar, dark horse singing and chameleon doing a holy drama - he is loving , funny and incorrigibly belligerent .

The euphoria called Goa!

Spending the yearly transition in Goa was a much awaited act. And now with my newly acquired tan - a very satisfying one as well! Chameleon, Wise capitalist, Monkey Baby, Enlightened, Bimbo, Dark horse and Moi, had a blast (in the truest sense of the word). :))

The D'day 31st DEC was spent chilling with umpteen number of goof-ups. We headed for Candolim after breakfast and Chameleon being in his holiday mood forgot to carry our bags. So we were out of clothes, standing on the beach like thirsty rabid dogs. But then man-made saviour called shopping saved us. My bikini, singlet, shorts, all of it was shopped in a blink. However Monkey baby fell sick with some infection that led to a rash, making her extremely irritated and ferocious. However, we could bear all frustration courtesy the chilled villa by the sea. The private pool was my favorite feature. As the city started to rock by late evening, we were a little down on our energies, for one we were still having dinner by 11 pm. Reaching the pub would swallow the stroke of midnight; and if that were to happen, I would be super disappointed. Also for certain I didn't want to dance my head off. I wanted to just be and have some crazy romantic time by myself. So as I ducked out, Enlightened and Wise-cap did the same. The rest went on a long head-banging party at this hip place called Butter.

Enlightened (E) made the best time of everything we had- primarily coz he was by himself and super organised (completely independent and ready to get into the gear at the word go!). Somewhere around 11:45, we started to roll, smoke and talk - its a must mention that E and I have the best, intelligent and the most fruitful conversations I have had with a man in years! We spoke of all the impulse driven acts that we want to do and suddenly in the midst of euphoria, we became so sensitive to everything around us. Be it the breeze, smell of the warm sea, the edge of the portico we were sitting on- I could feel my breath and the best of all - my body, the tingling sensation on the tip of my fingers, the smoke leaving my lips sensitising the nerves around my mouth, the instant release of desires; be it eating chocolate or strawberry and the awareness that the moment was now, here and with E by my side. 30 seconds later i was swimming in the pool, 5 minutes later I was wishing Happy New Year! It was everything I wanted to do, it was on my wish list: midnight, me and a brilliant blue pool to myself. I was swimming laps after laps under a crescent moon with a mind and body that never felt more alive! Floating in the temporality of infinite joy!
Welcome 2008- I know u are going to be terrific.