all that jazz

This post comes in weeks late. I hadn’t thought of it till yesterday: I met up with faddy and spied on his phone friend, who refused to meet him. We came to talk of liars: lie because you fear judgement, consequence, losing. I know I am not going back there coz I lied about who I was! Why do we feel the need to create and cover up? Size 34 for 36, 5 feet 5.5inches for 5-6, plump for fat, subtlety for rage, discipline for boredom; luxury for can’t have; then there are bigger fantasies incorporated to spice up life or tune it down; hey why?

Fear of being judged, left out, accused and then abused… silently maybe, in actions or whispers… what I feel right now is: mortified. Family does that to you; they have a special grapevine of aunts and onkels, who use Bell’s invention to its maximum cruelty: emphatic question marks, exclamations, fake jaw drops, accusations. I have over-heard them and jeered at mom and she has jeered back. “You r stupid, naive and trust people too soon; one needs is a donkey’s IQ to tie u around a ninny.” In a vague context, she may be right.

Let me reiterate Jesus's Q “Are u flawless to judge?” have u never tripped? Never loved someone who didn't give you another option? Never trusted the wrong people? Never fell flat on your face?

Style Icon was returning to the heart of the big apple and I went to have dinner with the family an hour before his departure. I had discussions with the wise capitalist throughout the day; her patent ‘why bother’ violated my desire. I was unsure, when there was no need to be- dad at the same time, with his undying enthusiasm couldn't make it. I did go and had a nice time too… a drink with the boys’ chats with uncle and aunt: I saw how things were crumbling and how they were building, slowly.

I love family functions, small gatherings, meeting cousins. I am also heavily influenced by the wise capitalist; I like her cold pragmatism, it works for her. I don’t know if it does for me that well. I think I am too much of a family leech.

Comfortably numb

Yup, that is what i feel right now. the office air conditioning is chilling my toes; covered with thick Nike, within Fila sports. The death around me is boring me out-- feels like drudgery or punk, maybe both.

Made myself smile by reading random blogs, reviewing movies on flixter and throwing sheep. For someone who is at unrest with any sort of feeling, esp.pain -- today i am comfortably senseless. Apex mailed in to say she will revert in case she is interested... my dream went boink. The monk is lolling in grief; has distanced me: was pissed yesterday, carried it today. Black Pearl called for inane information and i knew i had done the right thing... PS. thanks dad, mom, bills n sis. Sunshine's on her way back from Deutschland and dying to meet the girls... me too. Paris is "super-excited" jumping with joy planning a sojourn, i so badly need one~
Drama King is picking me up; to cheer me n chauffeur me around the city to hunt his transgender, phone friend (transgender is my addition)

I may run out of luck, work and love but may never run out of drama, even on a dead day --nope not in this life.

Bad day continues..

There are good times and then there are times, when you feel incompetent and dispensable. I am going through those times when my confidence has hit the bottom most pit and the my self esteem is garbed in a faux suede. Chain smoker makes me feel like a fool, sometimes i think it is good- he enhances my competence; gently though, to better my work. He ensures i have fears and i invariably fall and he states: see, this is what i said would happen! Sometimes, I think I should sit there and face it, not mull over it. Sometimes, i think he can help fill my basic lack in writing , sometimes i think he is showing off or he just needs a puppet.

Sometimes, its just me playing on my mind. i fail to understand what he wishes to achieve, i fail to understand what i know/don't know.

It's bad enough that we have horse's arse as bosses, worse is that we have nasty women bosses- a must watch when they both push you to achieve an unrealistic deadline. It's almost like u can visualize them battling in the 1st class compartment at 9:21 in the morning. However they don't travel by trains... but i do and everyday!

MiL

When the mocking bird don't sing mama will get you a diamond ring, when the diamond ring loses it's shine, mama will get you a crystal chime...
College years-- lit class: 5 friends, 1 tough group to break.
Mil (mother-in-law) of the group, was the only bitch who hit me, called me names and loved me like an idiot. Mil loved kids, I hated them: she rapped me for my dead baby jokes and yelled out from the first floor when i sat in the lawn or dated the wrong guy--, cursed me for licking arse, blessed me for being a silent spy: the practical, grounded hard-working bitch from the land of few good women.
Mil also wore the most amazing firang bars~, lived in plush bandra n stood by what she believed no matter who said what/ where! Dear Mil, you have a happy life and that will be complete with many happy babies, who look just as pretty as you. love you in bundles, babes!

Bad Day

Waking up was a task, 05:30.. snoozed to 07:30. woke up to curse myself and went back to sleep in the chaos of home's morning schedule. Dad insisted on screwing my mood by singing loudly that Sia's fat maternal aunt should wake up and work! Later took time to coo with her and she puked on me, then laughed, then peed.
All of this amidst my breakfast and NO Chai! Barely browsed through the papers... dismissed them and moved to get over with stuff.
I got an auto real easy today- that got me suspicious--- the end of happiness; this small gesture was going to be avenged! Kay Serra Serra. The trains were late, the college girls were doltishly annoying and while boarding the train my raw silk kurti sleeve caught in the window grill and ttrrrroooore. I seated folded it to deceitful style and turned to face: a dick and a pair of jugs drawn in red- it killed my day. a straight silent line curses and decided I should go home and watch sex and city all day! But then my masochistic, daring self held on. Half way through the journey and the ticket collector checks my quarterly and says “u have expired, yesterday”-- that was it! 330 rs. Fine. I asked her if i could get off and take another ticket- “no, maddum”. Thankfully, I was dressed well or else the women around me would stare at me like they do at lepers and eunuchs.

Got off at Mahim and it was sunny as hell: What did i expect at 11:30am? The only right thing that i did was, wear C.K's one summer! Now at work and have absolutely nothing to do: worse thing to no work is crazy amounts of work.

The pop-up said i received an email form MiL. An old chick friend- married and moved to middle east. Was thrilled to read her opening line “ kaisi hai meri safed kabootri ” only to know that she can't make it to India as decided, coz she had a miscarriage.

personal/impersonal

Blogs aren't e-diaries anymore: maybe they were never meant to be.

So many posts on things personal yet very impersonal to blogists-- say photography, politics, fashion, mothering, location, technology, marathon: for god sake! i was befuddled by this colleague's blog-- nothing negative about it, but it challenged my reason for giving mine some direction :~))

i know, I know. Me super-confused, greedy, mere mortal has never made a directional change! What to do i was born in 1982, the year of consumerism.

Back on track, the Q is: can our blog spaces be closed and personal?

I was pulled up last evening for scribbling about-- .sin, the monk, married men and boobs, by my friends. Paris asked something incredibly honest, "Why is it up there, miss opinion ?" Am i manking a point? Not at all, am I? I am filling the void with my all the shit that i cant say or all the mess that i feel. Also, I am perpetually bothered about judgement; even though i am careless about it posthumously. Then again, does it halt here?

for .sin

A post that may never see tomorrow because the owner is lost today.

Rage … Often have many quizzed me on my choice of mood in my prose, wondering if life was in actuality quite as despondent as portrayed. I really have no answer to that, except that I breathe in conflict: in every emotion, state, choice or mood. Umpteen times I am confused by the multiplicity of choices that are present in my head at any given point in time. Annoyingly enough most of them contradict each other leaving me terribly confused. Reality is that having lived so many lives over the years I seem to have lost track of my own identity, sucked into a whirlpool of emotions that assault my every sense day after day, numbing every feeling. Who am I ? do you know ? for I don’t, a mortal fear looms of its existence, of discovering that I fall quite short of my perceived image or exceed (both terrifying thoughts although there is a feeling of cynical humor in my mind as I jot this down, laughing at this ironically desperate state of mind) Why the hell would I want to find out anyway, what difference does it make. even if I do ever find out, would it change anything ? would I want to change anything, not quite I think. Comfortable in a safe complacent state of mind. Taken enough stupid risks in my life already, now everything that seemed exciting, fun seems risky, nonsensical or plain stupid. Mornings, huh … Waking every morning to supposedly a new world, when I’m not even sure if I have stopped dreaming of the older. Living in hope, that’s what we do – really? Are we supposed to believe in our hopes , knowing fully well the stupidity they present! Secretly hoping , praying for those ‘godly’ interventions that would change the very direction of our lives. 5 seconds of reflection and back to reality, where the fuck are my socks man ? Sardar …. I need socks … despondent lives , empty existences repeated lies, accepted too

Dear Sin,

in my thoughtless attempt, i stole ur post. On the bright side... it flows, its good writing even though the end is visibly contrived.

happiness is a vague feeling-- a fleeting emotion whose existence is cherished in afterthought. some live in a birdcage/in a fantasy world/ in brutal memories and some in unassumed realities. there may be no intervention, maybe no hope, but the act gives courage to live another day that died in another continent hours ago.

ps. nothing in this existence has any name or meaning until u give it one.

remains of an evening

a caffeine shot on a muddy block, in a cafe beneath a pouring sky.
weekend couples, holding hands, Carpe Diem, wet hearts.
surging confusions, sprawling giggles, deferred emotions.
pragmatic distances, cultivated conversations, reigned and resigned to ventilation.
safety belts strapped, calm as d ocean bed, unruffled by nerves.
moods and muses cower away around the furniture called Sunday.

addictus

My newest addiction is a monk with beads. D avatar of common man in cold bonsai city. his impenetrable robe is porous with burns from incense sticks. he is formidable, charming, shallow with heart wrenching sense of chivalry. he is charred, disparate, unforgettably poor. but there is solace in all the oriental talk- the talk may not be real but emptiness is. he is a monk waking up with dreams, walking in circles repeatedly and rust iron locked beneath that robe. his chanting voice is like a tiger's growl in the morn, hands like a teddy's cuddle in the nigh and he smells of an old oak in the rain. hence...

I AM

I am
I become
I betray
I am conflict
I am greed
I am pain
I am choice
I am empty spaces
I am voice
destiny's friendly child
i am a kaleidoscope of emotions
Pandora of desires
i am an easy prayer
Sibyl of fate
I am what you love best
i am what you understand the least
i am trust
I am illusion
the head of a Gorgon
i am faith
I am death
i am hope
I am dreams
I am the comforter you want to sneak into
i am holding the earth
and kissing the stars
I am tad difficult
i am GOD.

PS.God-- spin the globe, i am here, look at me and smile:))!