Oct 30, 2007
Of dreams and more
I met the monk with beads and things changed. It was surprising for me to notice so many things changing within me and so quickly. What did the Monk do?-- He depressed me, challenged my fears, and mocked my insecurities. Has this never happened before, of course it has! But this time it was my calling- I had summoned the monk to awaken the star in me. His despotism, futility, morbidity, emptiness helped me build my army of saints and angels, of shining morning and endless smiles. He exuded so much negativity that I didn’t have to look far for the bright sun in me.
And the fun part is that all this is happening and I am just observing---it’s effortless! It’s like a flower opening it's petals, like fronds of grass grabbing the morning dew, like the snake train swishing away on the rails, like the infinite street lights working to make marine drive look like a queen’s necklace. It was as smooth as a-neat single malt down your throat.
There is a time for everything, including believing, challenging and heading in the direction of light. It comes to us of and on and when it does- one should grab it: I am spreading my arms wide….
We all have one life and one world and there are no hurdles and there are many miracles—I am a true blue destinarian, silly but true! I believe in peace; within- and without. Life is hilarious; all we need is a sense of humour: I chose a laughing echo over a wet pillow. (Instance- dodging to the movie hall though multiple entries and too many people, I saw this kid checking his hair, doing it up in a security guard’s vehicle-checking-floor mirror. This lady in the compartment was reading P.G woodhouse and was curbing her smile till she couldn’t hold it any longer and burst into laughter… it was exquisite waiting for her to break the silence and watching her helplessly laugh).
The time has come, the walrus said
To talk of many things,
Of shoes and ships, and sealing wax
And cabbages and kings!
----If the walrus can speak- I can fly!
It’s ecstatic to lose social sanity and believe in the cosmos…
Oct 29, 2007
Cabbie v/s Client
We have had enough of these guys bullying us around, and refusing to ply specially when its urgent. They have been told that they cannot say a NO to any customer when their meter is FOR HIRE! not even for short or long distances. I'd suggest you stop asking them whether they will take you wherever you wish to go and rather tell them where you want to go. and if they refuse. REGISTER a COMPLAINT. Lets teach these guys who's the customer , and who's the boss!
Yes, of course it's time to cheer! This is because we get the upper hand. Most of us will be happy with the decision but I, for some inane reason do not wish to travel in a cab or an auto rickshaw with a driver not driving at his free will. It just doesn't seem fair- irrespective of their problems or their 'just don't want to' attitude.
(i am sort of a digression expert, aint i?)
Oct 28, 2007
adieu - abortion poetry
This is me, your verse cheerleader, your ringmaster apologising for unnecessary morbidity. From when I scribbled you, half a decade ago; when i wept and howled three years ago after i wrote my final segment- i vowed to complete 10 briefs to my unwanted children.I am breaking my vow taken under the influence of a bribe--for more poetry awards, more popularity, more appreciation of young dashing intellect - it's a holly bally humbug and i want to say that to you. i will receive more awards but i don't think i can write this way again. apologies, for i have changed tracks... and i am giving u your final podium forever. i am paying my respects dear muses- stand by me.
To,
All my Unborn Children – 1
iI do not regret your absence.
In fact you wouldn’t have enjoyed the world I live in,
It has nothing much to offer.
“See not what the society gives you,
See what you give to the society.”
I gave them,
My thoughts,
My feelings,
My difference,
My ideology.
I was expatriated,
As an illegitimate child
Of the Hindu society.
On the Uranus in my horoscope.
On both sides of the fence.
So, babies feel blessed…
There isn’t much air to breath,
And contamination in the womb is frequent.
There is no space----
To stand,
Sit, or shit.
You grow with confused morals,
You could be in a global village,
With no sense of belonging at all.
You could be born with deformity,
If not physical, psychological or
Worst of all… if you think unalike.
To befall on you.
I would not have preferred a bonsai either.
So I nipped it off in the root.
2
I have been wandering
To seek a different world than I see,
I have failed miserably.
I still hopelessly hope,
Beyond the unknown,
There might be a world,
Unperturbed, untainted, immaculate
By the virus of the subhuman.
To tie you up
With umbilical ropes,
To let you suffer and long to die.
So I take a pill every day.
And see to it that
I bleed every month.
3
I am not sorry,
My dear little one,
I refuse to conceive you.
Abortion is a fairly painful process you know!
And my pain lasts forever,
Accumulated in diaries, letters
And poems like these.
I am sparing you of this pain,
So do not anger.
I can’t be mute,
Therefore I am bitter.
My soul cries out,
My heart is numb
And my mind ignores.
I don’t hear their cries any more.
My children come prepared
To die before they are born.
Of their mother’s Ambition,
Freedom and Foolishness.
They pay a price for the love
That will never die
Because it was never born.
They avenge me through
Vipashana and Therapy.
I stole their life,
They are stealing my mind,
My infidel arse-hole unborns;
Oct 27, 2007
Fetters
I move with potential partners from season to season,
I find some promising:
The colour of his teeth nearly meets my crockery.
His voice sounds like the ticking of my antique Blackforest clock.
His hair as smooth as my apothecary table.
Your eyes are molten caramel, he says.
Your lips are pink as raw strawberry
Your skin as alluring as the frosted snow.
Your body as sinful as a sand dune.
They jabber and I fall asleep.
“I thought this one was going to last: (No jokes, truely... truely)
His eye colour matched my drapes quite seamlessly: it was like divine intervention!”
(II)
Why should I only love you?
Be tethered to the same arm?
-----You should be my Sunday man, instead.
Oct 24, 2007
The gong has rung!
day-before-yesterday night.
Oct 22, 2007
fashion: sleeves, cuts n colours
Fabrics n colours: Linen, Georgette, raw silk, khadi is here. Chiffon, cotton is out. Blacks, cobalt's, crimsons, fuchsias, grape, tungsten, magenta, saffron, gold, Hawaiian blue, berry purple IN. Exception is biscuit cream. The colour exudes class and can be teamed up with the above madness. Steel, silvers, whites, greys go at the back end of ur closet. Andy Warhol, Manish Arora, Donatella Vercace, Prada are in: get the picture? The same applies for ur denims n trousers. Capri's pave way for harem pants, denims and jeans can go funky, skirts reach knee length and thin stripe corduroy's are back where they belong (check out the Armani collection).
Fashion forecast- eye, neck, waistlines
Neck lines: Egyptian, classic 'V', deep semi-circles, boatnecks, flannel and lace are in. Mandarins' are not. Flaunt collarbones and cleavage but tit popping, butt cracks, visible bra belts are OUT. If necessay use of same colour bra with the strappy outfit, it works: eg. Double up a green boatneck with a green bra: let the straps show.
Clean necks are still in vogue, hence string of pearls apexes the class-cool list.
Waistlines: The best of the lot, designers are experimenting with a delirious high. My fav: Empire waistline is back and will stay, what will also retain is the low pubic balloon that may just go without a visible waistline.
Oct 16, 2007
Work v/s Time
Something that was personal became universal in this week: two friends quit high paying jobs in one day one and on one loose thought. Randomly read three blogs about working; loving or hating it. Then i read
http://www.stevenmsmith.com/my-blogs/management/full-time-pay-for-half-time-work.html read it...
I agree and most of you will too. But the breed of human resource professionals don't. [i nurture few prejudices and amongst them is a nauseating hatred for HR. They are the firm's happy face to exploit you; negotiate your pay when u deserve more - bunch of hypocritical, good for nothing troublemakers, who waste every body's time in ridiculous discussions, tests, charts lectures etc... Like advertising, investment, insurance and credit cards: HR belongs in the category of con jobs.]
I know how much time i kill doing one piece: coz if i finish it in 2 hours what will i do for the rest of the day? HR is to blame!
Back to arbeiter angst-- my office HR rules changed; reporting time: 9am- 5:30pm. Post 9:15 - half day, post 1 pm-- absent. Pay will be cut if you come late or leave early. I have no issues with the arrangement; just a Q to all HR professionals: If u are going to cut every penny from the minuscule you pay, why don't you pay overtime?
When meeting deadlines -- nobody looks at the in-out time. People walk in at 8:30am and walk out at 10 pm and return by 9am: is that fair? What about when there are events and parties to network: why not compensate that?
How does time matter when it's the work that should?
I believe till you are doing your job- it shouldn't matter how/ where/when u do it. Loudmouth disagrees.
What do u think?
Oct 15, 2007
Writing is a Talent:
After minutes of generic criticism from my prof on my generation: i decided to scribble,
---
Write a verse: Is the order.
Well, a laconic doggerel won’t do, my classmate asks?
She frowns, “write an epic, lazy bones”
She rants on the lethargy of my generation.
She asserts we write quartets,
I plead, 'I can’t rhyme to save my nine lives.'
She reads my blank verse and throws a verbal quill.
“What happened to poetic imagination, where are my poignant words?
Make your pages bleed…..blah blah blah. Don’t be sad. Be miserable!
Be Shelly, Milton, Eliot. Be Sylvia,” she cries.
I take up the challenge and write a verse,
I open with a vodka shot, and then smoke up pot…
I tell my friend I don’t hate life still. I don't feel pathetic enough.
I fine slit my skin and rub in charlie.
Filled with self- inflicted torture
And words stolen from the thesaurus:
I swing my stylistics rule book out of the window.
I tear my sleeves and dart my fingers on my laptop.
I forge unfathomable psychological tortures,
I make love and smother my lover; I rouse the gods and herald a plea.
I rush to Sybil and Delphi; I scream, evoke.
Hit the mattress!
I lose the war; I scribble an elegy in scurry.
I am trying to save my blood.
Absolute shock slaps across my face
Drags me into deranged plight.
My professor adores me, calls me a perfect literature student.
Emotionally volatile, addicted to pain and difficult to comprehend on paper.
My parents consult a therapist.
Oct 13, 2007
Lost and Won
N. asked me once why i took lit? I told her coz i wanted to read. honestly I wanted to discover myself by moving into a cocoon of escapism, into the phantasmagoria of burnished realities, of unconnected myths: and find truth between sepia cast, moth smelling pages.
I found my truth in critical theories, clean pages and archetypal mythologies. I found them in multiple forms, in deconstructed syntax and when i embraced them I lost the art of grafting----
This gradual disassociation was unconscious; in the process i ended up choosing happiness over everything brutal. Who needs complex reality anyway, when you can create a universe of your own?
Oct 11, 2007
iPOD Bhajan
What I found intriguing was-- the lady, listening to it and grooving to the rhythm of the bhajan: at 8 am in a super crowded, dark, humid, temperamental first class compartment.
Her trimmed hair gave her a professional 'regular' no fuss look. Her Salwar kameez without dupatta, gold ornaments, her savvy Baggit bag, the iPOD --completed the above-average, affable working class woman. Then why would she resort to obvious looking fraud god man singing a bhajan in karaoke? Can't she read a good book instead?
I am being judgemental; but something in me pinched with sarcasm when i saw her; fuck me: there was no place to sit, not enough air to breath and everyone standing had either their butts or their pubis in your face. [my innate fear is that someone is going to fart in my face someday- precisely why I take an empty train to work and walk in with the canteen boy].
She was enjoying in her trance state, intermittently checking up on stations; smiling at chatty, gossipy, dhokla nibbling women working in RBI.
Her composed gait unrested me, then it dawned that she had made her peace with all the brouhaha around her: she indeed had! And the 'hows' didn't matter at all.
Oct 10, 2007
Polka Dotted Memory
There is a horrific drawback to these colourful specks of polka dots. The background of everything that is not there-- the islands becomes so arbitrary. 'x' thing in a person stays 'y' is excluded. Derrida would have argued and the lit freak in me would agree that everything is complete in itself and does not look outside to determine it's existence.
What happens to the fabric around? Who will weave that? Do mixed facts count as realities? Can choice come without a package? Is having the best moments as the only moments sinful? Why can't we only relish the delicious and garbage the bland? I don't have answers and frankly I ain't looking for any.
I love making and having collages around me precisely for this reason. They make a pretty picture- jumbled realities, torn parts that recollect the hollow in a page. Every piece was picked up over time and has found its place on a creme, burgundy, cobalt, turquoise or crimson hand-rolled paper. A secular Tibetan script art juxtaposing MTV's trance images.
Moreover they are my life: fancy, thought provoking and above all picture perfect!
Oct 9, 2007
Seasonal Fashion forecast : Hair
Draper
Especially white organza with silver kairi design in Velvet. (visualise) I am willing to stitch one if I don't find it!
Biba, bed and bath, Zeba, Carmichael house... all of them have the most intricately styled curtains and drapes for your bed and your windows.
Seasons Socks
Oct 8, 2007
Hold On
emotion, friend, family, hobby that makes you smile. When Halo died, we took it in good spirit: he was old, had a bad lifestyle and a bypass surgery. Dad was alright; till yesterday. Last night he went on a 'we will die in solitude and the loss is pathetic' trip. He's been emotional about death for as long as i remember, yesterday i realised why.
It's a common problem. When people are around us, its rare that we hold them; tell them we genuinly love them, make that small gesture, gift. We take it for granted; we postpone it for tomorrow. Then people move away, change cities, get married or just die. Suddenly all the repressed feelings surface: the sense of loss is not monumental but it feels profound. Here's where 'distance makes the heart grow fonder' frankly (i think wander is more real than fonder).
There are few things that i have gotten right about living, accidentally they turn out to be the most vital ones. I never leave a moment to let someone feel as special as i think they are. The important people in my life know i love them to death. Loud mouth, child-mom, monarch, wise capitalist, the man, chameleon, mandy, talkathon, stocks queen, mil... we don't meet often; we are continents apart but we do know in our locked away hearts that each of us is a phone call away. Unresonable amounts of money are spend on inane conversations; it pinches bad but in the end we know what we have and what we hold is precious.
Years down the line, when we are worn-out and everything around us is racing by; there will be few people to call, fewer to listen to you. But those couple of faces who don't frown when you talk for too long or reiterate the same point; are very important to have around. It is likely that they will be your spouses, cousins, your kids (befriend them), your lovers, friends.
People who care; and 'Care' is a very important feeling. Hang on to it!
Oct 6, 2007
Seasonal Fashion for Women: Footwear
pic shoes: Black pumps and suede cobalt with gold heels- Pierre Hardy.
sources: Vogue, Google, New York, Wills, Milan and Paris fashion Week.
Happy Dying
Halo died yesterday afternoon. My very sweet bro called up crying to deliver this news. The fact that he partially detested his father didn't count. My grandma is probably the best 'cool chick' i have met in a long time: the global influence with Indianess really works magic. She also acted as a foil for him.
Halo never drank water (only beer) or had a straight conversation. On one of his vacations, he woke up late and Sugandha asked him if he had finished his bath. He promptly replied “ujed pad le la disat nahi ka?” (Can't u see the halo around me?') -- she n mom were baffled; dad and I burst into laughter. It's a family tradition that my dad and sometimes me keep up.
He was the generational torch and now that torch died, none of his siblings are alive and I don't think anybody misses them either. We remember him (actually everybody) only for his idiosyncrasies; they were all bonkers.
Instance: his eldest brother had a habit of locking everything (the big antiques locks). When we visited them, he would unlock the TV case unit and the kitchen cupboard, so that we could watch cartoon and mom can make some snacks sufficient for 6 people. I had declared him crazy long ago.
Halo hated to part with his gifts- even if they were useless-- like flowers. On his grand 70th birthday, we received the bouquets enough to open a florist store. They took all the backseat space in three cars to carry them home (& i had started to sneeze my head off). We were encouraging close relatives to take the ones they liked till Halo was furiously remarked, “we will make another trip to pick them up, they are mine; i will chew the petals and pee in the pots.” That made us laugh and offended most of the relatives.
Its funny but also infuriating to live with someone like him. Once he n Granny had a fight and he told her “don't come with me- i don't want you there and on the same flight”: she retorted- “Germany doesn't belong to your father, you can take another flight out if u want!” All this is crude Marathi! It was hilarious, she walked into the bedroom and laughed- saying he was a mad old man. I love her spirit to laugh at the sick things in life.
I am hoping that she takes this loss the same way-- with little strength and a heighten spirit.
Oct 3, 2007
Is Vogue in Vogue?
The cover is dull grey, make-up smoky. It's not text heavy but is more like a coffee table paper weight with almost 400 pages. Evidently a lot of hard work went into making the issue but that also makes it crammed (typical) with images and script. It's funny as in a fast glance one can't separate the ads from the articles!
Articles are simple and simply written. Alex Kuruvilla's article made me like him more: rich, successful, creative with head on his shoulders--- complete turn on! Priya Tanna's editorial sounded a little starry eyed: don't have an opinion on it as yet. Rituparna Som is good...need to read more of her.
Oct 2, 2007
Abuse
If its a man- i am ashamed for you. If its a woman (which i pray is not): i am very ashamed that you are born amongst us.
start
Oct 1, 2007
Hard Things
They are hard things to accept and change. My lethargy and boredom are on that list. Apart from my dyscalculia; a phobia that school gave me. I hated that place, it took me 7 years to unlearn and clean up the mess in me that the institution created. I recollect that I was intelligent, I had the spark… I have a fucking 146 IQ and I never came in the first 20 in my class. Why? What pinched- doubt, fatigue, futility.
Getting over a good relationship to finding your soul; it’s a hard path. For some people, these things are unimaginably hard. Like getting a place of your own, like facing fears or simply holding a friend’s hand. I am waiting for that someone who is nursing his realities.
Or like me who is going for a walk after no-sleep night at 6:30 am only to come out with her stupid blog. the ornate cuts, curves be appreciated, rejected, ignored or ridiculed.
It’s a beautiful dawn, in beautiful Bombay and I know there are a handful of people who love me irrespective of how I judge myself. And thats my easiest back- up ever!
Those Girls!
Some people are plain lucky- like the wise capitalist- she found her bull to matador. There wasn’t any serious opposition and I won’t call them perfect: their's is a stock market love affair. Fairy tale for some and an ‘I haven’t a clue’ for others. Apart from her, I don’t know a happy couple who has lived a cherry on the cake marriage.Beach boy’s parents had a love marriage and are happy: he says so. Rest of the bunch is separating, getting divorced or gotten divorced.
Child mom made an emphatic statement, “It’s because of the egos’, everybody is equal so no ones ready to bend.” Maybe; no one wants to walk the rocky road with foot sores- we just want everything for the better- not worse.
Q: In the age of multiple choices and Hubble’, can a Katherine have a happily ever after?
Fruity’s getting engaged and her college lover boy will turn fiancĂ© in a month and a half. She has a theatrical story to narrate to her kids.When I heard of it; I had the jitters. (chicken me) My 1st Q was ‘WOW, how did she manage to stay in the glass palace and not get caught or be judged. Did it never occur to her that she was going to be ripped apart by the 1st row critics in the fashion show?’
Wise capitalist says if it’s any solace; tell her I have been there! The charm and the confidence with which she dismissed that judgement is admirable.
Would her marriage be the fairytale it looks to me, from my coveted single corner? I know I would be alive to see the ‘big changes’ but I pray that it does remain a dream she conceived.
Not only because I need to believe but also because it’s calming to have someone you love, to love you back in your menopausal 50’s. Love then is a luxury that most people sold out too cheap.
Go Fruity, be that girl!
Zip the Lip
We are the destructive ones: we love, attempt to change them, distance them from their parents, get rid of their friends (it’s a women’s right to dislike her man’s friends). We spend half of our life in changing everything and spend the rest half complaining that we couldn’t change a thing.
I am furious at myself, for doing all of this; again and again and again.
I thought it was me, till I read three blogs leading the same way. Single or married—women drive men away; this could be a potential reason for romance to die out of relationships. For wise capitalist and her husband to sleep in opposite directions and unconsciously kick him in the nose. Hmmm…
I agree men are weird, listen to this:
Scene: Watching Sex and the city, Season 5
“Chameleon: (Grin) Women! They never say what they really feel when the man is around. The second he is gone, they realise how much they love him.
Moi: Hmmm, Yes: u are right; but isn’t that true of men as well.
Chameleon: With the man; he’s never really sure of what he feels! (LOL)”
(I think chameleon thinks from his crotch)
Is that true? Maybe; generalizing, women coo and pick too much: ‘yellow shirt, green trousers? don’t talk with your mouth full, don’t eat on the bed, don’t twiddle your thumbs, wear socks in your sneakers, change the bed sheet, clean the damm room, put the toilet seat back… place the cover. Don’t drink so much; don’t smoke so many, read that book- ps. return it too. Why can’t your hair stay? Why are you so possessive about your hair? Don’t tap your foot, shave; shave your armpits as well. There is nothing wrong in the above: it’s called grooming an animal called man.
The underlining whys and don’ts sound like a ringmaster and remind me of the sad Miss Mary Don’t. If there is so much to change, why do we want the species in the 1st place? Sometimes, I think we are masochists, knit pickers and it’s our destructive ‘handmaid’ way of showing a constructive feelings of 'care'!
We are weird and maybe if we shut up and let go, we may just let the men live longer than us.