Blessed by the best

"--"

2012-01-14T03:02:00.000+05:30

When it happens there will be no announcements, no notifications, no congratulations. There will be no parade; only you will know.

It is like this: one day you forget the taste. The next, you forget the smell. Then the touch. Then the laugh. Then the smile. Then the jokes. Then the eyes, the hair, the hands, the feet. You forget the socks. You forget the fingers, the toes, the sex. You forget the pulses, the beats, the rhythms and how you sometimes felt like they all belonged to you. You forget the words; finally, you forget the voice that spoke them.

It is not like beginning a new chapter, it’s like beginning a new book — with each turned page, the last story you read fades into the background. A fairy tale that becomes just another book on a shelf; folded corners and underlined words the only reminder of how you used to touch and hold and love it. It is when you begin to forget the intricacies of a character you knew intimately, you forget what he did for a living and the way he prepared grilled cheese and the nickname he had for his first girlfriend. You forget how he lost his virginity, you forget his middle name.

It is waking up without a sour feeling in your stomach, looking at a familiar menu and ordering something different, taking the direct route to a destination and not the one that crosses a path you once set in stone. It is when you think about him and don’t punish yourself for it, when he begins to evoke more of a scientific response than an emotional one. It is not to destroy or to combust or to set ablaze, it is simply to move, to advance through space and time, to leave behind the familiar dull of heartbreak for the new, the unknown, the strange. It is a bird flying south for the winter who decides maybe the warmth isn’t so bad, who decides maybe he’ll stay there for awhile; moving on is like freedom, is what moving on is like.

ir(s)onic boom

2011-11-08T17:49:00.000+05:30

Being here feels like landing.

The slow descent

It feels good.

It's scary and it's rough, but you know deep down that it'll be okay.

The thing is though...the thing is...

That on some sick level, you

Want it to not be okay.

You want things to just blow up.

Everything. Needs. To. End.

You want this proverbial plane

To crash.

Because returning to your life back home

Doesn't make sense now,

A piece of you has gone away.

So blow up.

Explode.
Implode.

Just end.

I just wanted someone to listen to me while I said nothing.

2011-09-22T19:47:00.000+05:30

Charlie.

2011-09-08T19:26:00.000+05:30

I'm the man here. The one who's supposed to look out for you in this, what we're doing. I know this. I know what the right thing to do is. But you're so naive, so easy, so sweet. You love me and want me, entirely. You want me like no one has wanted me before, you want everything that makes me, my insanity, my eccentricities, my rage, my love, my indifference, my cold, cold shoulder. You want it all, as long as it's from me. You worship me.

But I was only 12, when I started to learn my ways with women, when my family started falling apart. My father left us - my mother, my two sisters and me. He left us after years of wanting to leave, years to abuse, years of cowardice. I hated him. He was in and out of our lives for as long as I can remember. My mother loved him though, unconditionally. I never understood it.

I'm older now and I've met you. I want so badly to never be my father. I know though, that I'm becoming him. Why'd you have to be so damn easy? Why'd you have to love me so damn much? Why do you let me do this to you? Why are you just like my mother?

I want to be a man like my father never was. I want to keep you caged within my ribs.I love you, I want to keep you safe. I want to protect you with every inch of myself. What scares me the most is knowing that I'm the only thing you should be afraid of.

I don't understand you.

Yes. That's right.

2011-08-04T19:26:00.001+05:30

This.

2011-08-03T15:16:00.002+05:30

If people are rain, I am drizzle and you are a hurricane.

aMiss.

2011-07-26T18:21:00.001+05:30

I wonder, do you miss me or us. Do you miss our conversations about the stars and rainwater harvesting. Do you miss my crap cooking or my messy room.

I know I do. I miss the days when you would just call me after a fight with a great joke up your sleeve, waiting for me to smile over the phone. The days of apologies and half-hearted explanations. The days when you would say that I was your favourite person in this small city, where we both live, where I don't think I will ever see you again.

We never know when we are making memories. I never knew I'd miss your irrationality, my tantrums, the pressure you put on me, my whining, our arguments, our goodbyes.

Maybe someday, I'll miss these days too, where I'm quietly comfortable, where nothing hurts any more, but nothing soothes me, where I don't cry, but I'm never happy. I'll miss these days, where all I do is miss you.

You are my unturned stone.

2011-07-21T15:16:00.000+05:30

seasons change

2011-07-04T16:50:00.001+05:30

There was no way for me to reach you,

this past season.

I wrote you pages and pages of love.

Poured out.

Now that summer is here,

I wonder if my words are worth sending.

To a girlfriend

2011-06-27T17:18:00.002+05:30

I'm trying to think about when our drift started. I don't think there was a particular event or incident that triggered it, not even your moving away, it just sort of happened. It sucks, of course. Girlfriends are the bees knees.

The last tme we met, our conversation was strained, we didnt have much to say. We didn't fall into the comfortably spill our guts. We each have our lives, our own set of problems, our own little joys. We're not a part of each other's life any more, not the way we used to be. I hate that we're in different cities, different time zones, different emotional zones. I hate that we're not the sort of people who fall back into easy conversations like it was just yesterday.

I miss you.

You were my friend when I was down. You listened when that was all I needed. It was not so long ago. My heart was in pieces, my stomach hurt from the constant state of panic I was in.

I was in love, with a boy who couldn't love me back. Not crazy all-consuming love. But love that comes quietly when you're sleeping, invades your dreams and breaks you a little in the morning. I was in this moment, just stuck.

But you were my friend. I remember talking to you, late into the night, topping off your rum with coke. Saying "you know what I mean?" and you nodding. You kept telling me I wasn't crazy. I was though, wasn't I? But you knew my heart was breaking, and so, you told me it was his fault.

It wasn't though, he was just a boy, who was being himself. I was the one who kept loving this person. I was the one who kept saying "more more, I want more of you." He just didn't want more of me. It wasn't his fault, he's just human. We can't love everyone who loves us, right? But it hurt - my stomach, my heart, my head, my eyes. Everything hurt.

You told me not to beat myself up about it. He was just another person in this world full of people. You told me he was not all that. Told me why he wasn't. Because you were my friend.

You were my friend and you knew what I needed to hear. I love you for comforting me.

All this and more.

2011-06-24T19:35:00.001+05:30

Love is wanting you to be okay, even though you hate me and I hate you.

Love is still wanting to hold on after. Love is hot. Love isn't always pretty. Love brings crazy to the table, it brings jealousy, irrational fears, rage. The best love stems from faith. Love is respect.

Love is getting angry when someone tries to hurt you. Love is complaining about you, but not letting anyone else do it.

Love is someone giving a shit about you enough to argue. Love is the ability to annoy. Good love is not passive. Love is being honest enough to say “don't touch me right now.”

Love is my fingers in your hair, a tug of war, a bowl of noodle soup, a knowing look, a funny story, a backrub, a mindfuck.

wild things.

2011-06-21T16:26:00.000+05:30

Think about the girls you still dream about, the ones from your past, the ones you never wanted to settle down with. They were irresistible to you, their messy lives were a mystery, their skin had always had too much sun, their hair was unkempt and their voices raspy.

You couldn’t touch these women; they had all their walls up. So, when they asked for your understanding and your advice, it was amazing. No, it was magical. Fucking them as they looked up at you, pleading with you not to stop, made you feel more like a man than you ever felt before. They needed you.

These women were your playthings, yours to use whenever, your very own bitches. Then one day they didn’t return your call or maybe they fucked someone else or told you that they didn’t need you. Oh dear God, the names. The names you called them that day, they make you ashamed even today. You were so angry. Your defences were broken. All of them. How could they leave? How could they not need you?

You talked to them at a later date, trying to play it cool, all the while wanting to scream how they broke the amazing relationship you had. Not realising that the only reason it was amazing was because they made it amazing.

These women, they loved you without clamping down on you. They loved you, but not like a mother or a wife – loved you like a lover should, like a girl should. Hard.

We'll See - a phrase I never want to hear

2011-06-10T15:58:00.002+05:30

Remember when we were kids and we asked our parents for something and the reply was 'we'll see?' It was absolutely the worst! You KNEW it was a veiled 'no can do.'

Now that we've grown up, not much has changed. Parents might not say 'we'll see' anymore, but we do. Our friends do.

When someone asked me to join him for a movie last week, I knew I didn't want to go. I don't enjoy his company, it's taxing to talk to him and he doesn't smile a lot. People who don't smile piss me off. The movie would not have been a date, if it was, saying no would've been easier. Then I'd have a real reason, like "I'm not interested." This was just a friendly hang-out. You have to be a genius to lie your way out of a hang-out session in this day and age. If I say I'm working, they will somehow know that I'm not, if I say I'm out of town, they will know. Everyone just knows everything. Take a bow - facebook, gtalk and bbm.

So I said - "We'll see, I'll let you know?" I was buying time, trying to think of a good reason to say no, a good non-hurtful reason. In the end though, I didn't let him know. I just pretended like I forgot. Bitch.

We think that things like 'we'll see' or 'maybe' are safe answers, but they must suck for the person at the receiving end. I've been on that end. They're worse than an outright no. A no is definite, it prevents wondering, questioning and limbo. Limbo sucks. A no is closure. I respect people who know what they want and more importantly, what they don't want.

Perhaps this is a good answer :

"No, I can't commit at the moment. I want to keep that night open for something incredibly sexy and fun. You won't be invited to that. But if it falls through, I'll call you and we'll do our stupid movie."

No? Jokes.

I can't see my legs.

2011-06-09T13:09:00.004+05:30

You said you can't swim into the ocean. Not because you can't swim, but because the deeper you go, you can't see your legs any more and that scares you. Not knowing where your legs are? I never had irrational fears like that. Never thought about it. My legs are attached to me. Kicking. I can feel them, so what if I can't see them?

I would swim deep into the grey sea, alone. I'd call out your name and tell you to come hold me. You'd never come, I'd keep swimming, squinting, eyes burning. I'd come back sometimes and try to pull you with me. No, Zan, you'd say. I never liked it when you were firm with me. I'd call you a coward, pinch you and go back, swimming till slowly, I started to scare myself, till I couldn't see you when I looked back. I'd panic, just the way you taught me to. Oh God, I can't see my legs. Why is the water so black? I'd swim fast, imagining all sorts of things holding me back. I'd swim to you.

When we'd meet on the shore and play in the waves, I'd never tell you how I panicked. You thought me to be so brave. We'd fall over the water, over each other. Sand everywhere, in everything. I'd start to burn, you'd hide me under your arm and tell me to go inside.

Now, when I'm swimming, not even in the ocean, I panic. The water is clear, I can see my legs. I can see the tiled floor, even in the deep end. I'm scared and I want to swim to you, but you're long gone. And you've left me with these irrational fears about not being able to see what I can feel...

bes and don't bes

2011-05-31T17:14:00.002+05:30

Don't be - the person who smokes weed all day, hates the world, is bored of everything and knows nothing.

Be - the one that eats fresh fruit, exercises, tells a good joke and speaks the truth.

Don't be - the person who doesn't know where his or her life is headed, who is fucked in the head, needs a constant distraction.

Be - aware, interesting and interested.

Don't be - sad, irritable, a drifter.

Be - awesome.

Don't be - insatiable

Be - complete.

i mean no disrespect.

2011-05-25T16:20:00.002+05:30

He's amazing, I keep telling her. So amazing. He's got lovely eyes, you HAVE to see his eyes and his hands are so big!

Stop being obsessed with size, she says.

I AM not! I just mean that mine look tiny in comparison and I like that. I have big hands. See? Awkward hand twirl follows.

Is he a nice person?

I'm sure. He seems quite nice.

Quite?

Like, the normal amount of nice. He loves kids and all that, but not like 'I spend all my free time doing good things for other people.'

Well, don't forget, she says to me, looking me straight in the eye, he's still single. And he's OLD! Not just older!

So what? Good for me, right? I'm not into the whole 'let's steal him from that girl' thing. And older men have always had a special appeal.

Maybe he has commitment issues, she offers.

--Well, who doesn't? In this day and age, which half-happy/sane person doesn't think twice about sharing their life with one person forever and ever and ever. That is a lot to commit to. It's not as if someone decides for you, it's a huge thing, to take responsibility for changing your happiness like that. I think commitment is really easy for miserable people. Pass the buck, right?

And women, I'm sorry, are generally passive. So many women are ready to get married, ready to get into relationships, ready to make a promise, without thinking it through. And then they're ready to blame the guy when it starts to fall apart. I only know from my own experience and that of friends, I'm sure there are exceptions, or maybe these women are the exceptions. I think it's pretty unfair when women judge men for having commitment issues. I judge women for not having them.--

Anyway, I continue. You must look at his eyes the next time you see him.

Dude, he's a fucking celebrity. Grow up.

Hmph!

mon.soon?

2011-05-18T13:43:00.002+05:30

it's so hot and humid and sweaty. i can't wait for the rains.

so now, do this,

without words

with your language

with your eyes

into the sunrise

into you

undivided

furiously

again

till i bite my lip

on a hot night

so i'm eager

when i'm quiet

on the cold floor

without your socks

with poetry

and music

standing

till it hurts
till my eyes shut

with your lips

without smiling

Your mother warned you there'd be days like these

2011-05-08T12:37:00.001+05:30

I am worried that I'm losing you in my memories. I want to tell you that I miss you. Not in a way that breaks me or keeps me from going on. But I do -- when something big happens and I want to come home and tell you about it, in some simple moments, like when I go shopping and you're not there, or when Facebook is flooded with messages for the day and I don't know how to feel. I miss you when we skirt around the topic of you. I miss you when everyone forgets your birthday or pretends it doesn't matter.

If I met you today, I would ask you to understand why I am not like him and why I can't be. I would want you to know that just because I didn't do things the way he did them, doesn't mean that I don't love you with all my heart. I don't mind that my loyalty doesn't surpass his. I mind the things I said. I mind my last conversations with you. I mind not caring. I mind wishing for a way out of the madness that was.

I can think of no other words to describe the way I feel this morning. And there's no one to turn to today. I hate being sad like this.

in light of current happenings...

2011-05-04T13:53:00.001+05:30

Don't rejoice in his defeat, you men
For though the world stood up and stopped the bastard
The bitch that bore him is in heat again

Bertolt Brecht

This was written with reference to Adolf Hitler. It's harsh and brutal and in your face, but true I think, especially now. It isn't about one man, it never was. It isn't about one country or state or religion. It's everywhere and it's everyone. It's the unthinkable evil our minds can come up with, the mad lengths people go to. It's the human condition.

just diaries. no sex.

2011-04-08T03:33:00.003+05:30

sometimes a whole day is spent doing nothing. sometimes it just consists of random conversations with random boys who have no balls. i hate these days. i woke up to a slew of messages on chat from him. he is unhappy with his choices, yet again. big surprise. so, i spend hours pacifying him even as he leaves me for another woman. it doesn't hurt, that's a first. i tell him she is good for him. she really is. he is annoyed that i won't fight for him. he's known me for years and doesn't know that i never really loved him. he wants me to stop him. so i ask him to not be with her. he asks if i'll stay with him, i say no. he is clearly annoyed. he makes me promise him all sorts of things. i agree after an appropriate amount of protesting. i dont mean it, dont feel it. i just want this conversation to end. i try to hurt him. he tries to hurt me. it's interesting. it's sick. i love it. he says things to rile me up. calls me names and tells it like it is. brings up the past. brings up my future prospects. calls the cute guy i have a crush on, scum. says i have no taste in men. "yeah, no shit. that's why i was with you." he tells me to be honest. i am. i want to be responsible and not hurt him at first, but an insane urge to break him overcomes me and i tell him he's not good enough, never was and never will be.
but the thing is...

he won this one. i don't want to say how it ended, but broke me in the end.

This happened on the internet; I wrote none of it

2011-03-30T21:06:00.000+05:30

Someone wrote this :

Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her.

Let the anxious contract you’ve unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi, and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale, or the evenings get long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do little thinking. Let the months pass unnoticed. Ask her to move in. Let her decorate. Get into fights about inconsequential things like how the fucking shower curtain needs to be closed so that it doesn’t fucking collect mold. Let a year pass unnoticed. Begin to notice.

Figure that you should probably get married because you will have wasted a lot of time otherwise. Take her to dinner on the forty-fifth floor at a restaurant far beyond your means. Make sure there is a beautiful view of the city. Sheepishly ask a waiter to bring her a glass of champagne with a modest ring in it. When she notices, propose to her with all of the enthusiasm and sincerity you can muster. Do not be overly concerned if you feel your heart leap through a pane of sheet glass. For that matter, do not be overly concerned if you cannot feel it at all. If there is applause, let it stagnate. If she cries, smile as if you’ve never been happier. If she doesn’t, smile all the same.

Let the years pass unnoticed. Get a career, not a job. Buy a house. Have two striking children. Try to raise them well. Fail, frequently. Lapse into a bored indifference. Lapse into an indifferent sadness. Have a mid-life crisis. Grow old. Wonder at your lack of achievement. Feel sometimes contented, but mostly vacant and ethereal. Feel, during walks, as if you might never return, or as if you might blow away on the wind. Contract a terminal illness. Die, but only after you observe that the girl who didn’t read never made your heart oscillate with any significant passion, that no one will write the story of your lives, and that she will die, too, with only a mild and tempered regret that nothing ever came of her capacity to love.

Do those things, god damnit, because nothing sucks worse than a girl who reads. Do it, I say, because a life in purgatory is better than a life in hell. Do it, because a girl who reads possesses a vocabulary that can describe that amorphous discontent as a life unfulfilled—a vocabulary that parses the innate beauty of the world and makes it an accessible necessity instead of an alien wonder. A girl who reads lays claim to a vocabulary that distinguishes between the specious and soulless rhetoric of someone who cannot love her, and the inarticulate desperation of someone who loves her too much. A vocabulary, god damnit, that makes my vacuous sophistry a cheap trick.

Do it, because a girl who reads understands syntax. Literature has taught her that moments of tenderness come in sporadic but knowable intervals. A girl who reads knows that life is not planar; she knows, and rightly demands, that the ebb comes along with the flow of disappointment. A girl who has read up on her syntax senses the irregular pauses—the hesitation of breath—endemic to a lie. A girl who reads perceives the difference between a parenthetical moment of anger and the entrenched habits of someone whose bitter cynicism will run on, run on well past any point of reason, or purpose, run on far after she has packed a suitcase and said a reluctant goodbye and she has decided that I am an ellipsis and not a period and run on and run on. Syntax that knows the rhythm and cadence of a life well lived.

Date a girl who doesn’t read because the girl who reads knows the importance of plot. She can trace out the demarcations of a prologue and the sharp ridges of a climax. She feels them in her skin. The girl who reads will be patient with an intermission and expedite a denouement. But of all things, the girl who reads knows most the ineluctable significance of an end. She is comfortable with them. She has bid farewell to a thousand heroes with only a twinge of sadness.

Don’t date a girl who reads because girls who read are the storytellers. You with the Joyce, you with the Nabokov, you with the Woolf. You there in the library, on the platform of the metro, you in the corner of the café, you in the window of your room. You, who make my life so god damned difficult. The girl who reads has spun out the account of her life and it is bursting with meaning. She insists that her narratives are rich, her supporting cast colorful, and her typeface bold. You, the girl who reads, make me want to be everything that I am not. But I am weak and I will fail you, because you have dreamed, properly, of someone who is better than I am. You will not accept the life that I told of at the beginning of this piece. You will accept nothing less than passion, and perfection, and a life worthy of being storied. So out with you, girl who reads. Take the next southbound train and take your Hemingway with you. I hate you. I really, really, really hate you.

And then, someone else wrote this :

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.

Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of Murakami. See if she got through the first chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her books for her birthday, for Christmas and for anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound, Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you understand that words are love. Understand that she knows the difference between books and reality but by god, she’s going to try to make her life a little like her favorite book. It will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will understand your need to lie. Behind words are other things: motivation, value, nuance, dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.

Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that failure always leads up to the climax. Because girls who understand that all things will come to end. That you can always write a sequel. That you can begin again and again and still be the hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.

Why be frightened of everything that you are not? Girls who read understand that people, like characters, develop. Except in the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close. When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple of hours but she will always come back to you. She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are real, because for a while, they always are.

You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over your chest yet. You will write the story of your lives, have kids with strange names and even stranger tastes. She will introduce your children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe in the same day. You will walk the winters of your old age together and she will recite Keats under her breath while you shake the snow off your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it. You deserve a girl who can give you the most colorful life imaginable. If you can only give her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a girl who reads.

Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Wisdom from mother.

2011-03-28T16:55:00.001+05:30

Stop being so squeamish about things. What will you do when the tsunami hits?!

I want your funny back.

2011-03-25T16:29:00.002+05:30

I've learned recently that it's important to have the same sense of humour. It has become the the most important thing in my friendships. It sets the pace for a lot of things. It means taking offence at similar things, letting similar things slide. You'd be sensitive, because you know what you're okay with and therefore the other person. It's not just about a joke, it's about a lifetime of knowing looks and laughter.

You are funny. To me, your jokes aren't offensive or obnoxious. I just love them. You make me laugh. Your face, your expressions, your beautiful voice. You know me. Know my funny bone. You impress me with your heart. The way a little girl has stolen it from you. Your voice when you worry for her, your face when you describe her. I know you know how to love. It makes me believe in you. I love our friendship. I would never jeopardise it.

I wrote this for my best friend, my confidante, my favourite person to share my sammiches with - life is not the same since you've left my city. So, come back.

2011-02-23T21:17:00.002+05:30

Just because I think you are weird, doesn't mean I don't absolutely love you.

Don't move on.

2011-02-11T00:00:00.004+05:30

I hate walking along the perfume aisle in Landmark. Because somewhere there, I smell you. I don't know what exactly it is. Paco Rabanne or cheap CK. I don't know what you wore. Or what you were. But I know you smelled the same, every time we met. I liked that about you. You were old enough, sure enough, classy enough, to have one and stick to it. You were a grown-up. I love grown-ups.

The boy I know now - he reeks - of something different everyday. All I know is that he reeks. I know he will leave soon. I know he wants to. I'm thankful that I have no smell to remind me of him. I have a voice, a song, a restaurant, a ringtone, an initial on gtalk. But no perfume. I will forget him fast. I must, because time is running out. He keeps me holding on, never saying, never committing. Giving me just enough, so that I don't move on

The year that was

2011-01-04T23:38:00.001+05:30

It was a year of leavings and new beginnings, of wantings. A year of yearning. It was a year of fun. There was food and travel and sunsets without sunrises. It was a good year, full of laughter and warmth. It was the year I realized I need to grow up and that some people never do.

It taught me to keep things simple and be easy-going, to not hold everyone up to a standard I myself cannot meet. I learnt a little more about men and a lot more about women. I learnt the beautiful art of initiative. I learnt how to be a friend. Regained lost friendships. I trusted. I went to the southern hemisphere of the earth and learnt what it felt like to truly pleasure another's soul. I let go of a 2 year old bad habit, after 6 months of hanging on. I hurt a man who hurt me and realized it's better to be hurt than to hurt. I fell in love with a child like never before.

I lost touch with the most important part of me. I lost my centre. I mixed with loud and aggressive people. I complained. I didn't want to be alone, didn't want to miss out.

It was a great year, though. It was full, if nothing else, and blessed because of how fast it went by.

Winter Mourning

2010-10-29T03:47:00.002+05:30

I hadn't realised you weren’t coming with me. When you leaned in to kiss me goodbye, I was confused. You were the same, but surprising, somehow. There was a shift only I could perceive. You weren't coming with me today and only I knew what it meant.
As your arms around me loosened, I could feel you slipping away, not just from that moment. I didn’t know how to make you stay like that, how to control you. So I just stood there. Passively, like I did for the two years we loved each other. Passively, the way you hated.

My hands were freezing over the box you gave me, as you walked away. I was holding on to it as if it was you in there. My eyes were full. My heart felt empty. I knew somehow that it would be the last time I saw you. And it was, for 3 turbulent years.

None the wiser.

2010-10-20T03:34:00.001+05:30

It's not who I am. It's just what I pretend to do. Sometimes.

It's what I claim to enjoy. It's what you know I hate.

It's my worst nightmare. Or maybe not.

It's my entire adult life. It's my father's dream for me.

It's the crutch I lean on when I feel I'm failing everywhere else.

It's what I call myself.

It's my ticket out of here.

It's everything I want to be, but not at all what I am.

Wisdom - I

2010-09-17T00:02:00.000+05:30

When you meet someone truly good, you feel like becoming a better person. A lot of people know this. I didn't. I finally understand what people mean when they say 'he/she brings out the best in me.'

haunted with each hearing of His softly spoken words

2010-09-09T22:03:00.001+05:30

Every tear we shed, not in sadness, but in gratitude, understanding and peace beyond it, is Him pursuing us.

When you cry, when you fall to your knees and rise up out of it renewed - your walk with God begins there. That's when you know, that's how I knew. And there was nothing complicated about it.

Because I love you. In my dreams.

2010-09-08T21:07:00.002+05:30

I’m dreaming the wrong dream, the searing one where things aren’t as I’d like them to be. The dream in which there are no answers, only questions. There are no endings, just a continuing fervour that won’t stop and won’t finish and won’t peak. It hurts.

I’ll go deep into the blue, where raindrops are just a harmless blur. Where they’re not cold anymore and I can just about hear them fall on the surface. I’ll go beyond the blue, where the rain stops. I’ll lose myself and think of you. I’ll tell stories, my secrets. I’ll stop hiding, pretending.

When I resurface, icy drops on my face, tears in my eyes - I’ll even come home to you. Where doors have no locks and we sleep in reckless abandon. Where trust is complete and love is abundant. Home to you, where the air is clean and our voices are alone. Where we never give in, never give up, never let go and never let in. Where we close our minds and our hearts. Where common sense prevails.

I’m happy in my dream, where things are just so, where we’re in a circle of continuous wanting. Continuous need. Where there is no end, no beginning, and no peak. Where we stay till it hurts. Because that is when I love you the most.

It has been good, you make it better

2010-09-03T16:56:00.001+05:30

You make my mornings and my nights. You fill my afternoons with laughter and my evenings with quiet content. In your manic moods, I find myself. Your unrest calms me, slows me down. You teach me to be more.

For V, who never lies.

2010-09-01T23:24:00.000+05:30

I don't know if I have a stand on liars. I don't think I like being lied to, but there are some truths I'd rather not know. And do I lie? Yes. Unfortunately, I do. Do I believe an older person, a mentor, when they say they do not? No. I believe everyone lies. The extent is different, of course. The reasons are different.
Is it okay to lie to protect? I think I believe it is. If the sole result of that lie will be protecting another person, then yes, it's okay. But when we protect, we also cause ignorance. We keep people in the dark. We can't be sure that our lie didn't cause them to take or un-take a decision. There's always that risk.
I don't hate liars. I understand them. It scares me to admit that. Makes me seem wrong. My understanding of why people lie is mostly because they are afraid. Afraid of reactions to the truth. Afraid that the truth will get them in trouble, the truth will bore an audience, the truth will make them seem dull and irrelevant. And then there are lies without reason. Compulsive lies, made up to fill silences, those I do not understand.

He that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house: he that telleth lies shall not tarry in my sight. Psalms.

For S, who can't wait.

2010-08-25T21:56:00.000+05:30

For the most part, we know right from wrong. Some things, though, are in-between. We love and un-love. We know there are lines that should not be crossed. We know we shouldn't, but we do. We disobey. And we know it's wrong. We get hurt, we come clean, we regret and learn.
Sometimes, we cross a line, without really crossing it. Like we plant a fantasy in someone's mind. We make them imagine. We imagine. We do it to those we know we'll never be with. We let these fools imagine that we'd actually consider loving them. We become the objects of their affection or their fantasies. Or they do it to us. Make us want them. It's a game that everyone plays. Everyone likes being wanted, being thought of. When we can't be desired by someone we desire, we settle for someone else. We get interested in those that really don't interest us. We get our fix.
But if you play with fire, you will get burned. Feigning affection is playing with fire. Letting yourself love the wrong person, is playing with fire.

A relationship on the brink

2010-08-23T23:57:00.001+05:30

Some people just want to be miserable. No matter what you do for them or what you say, how you say it. Some people revel in misery, in their own misery, in the ability to blame it on others.
Sure, we all like a little drama sometimes. We enjoy an argument, enjoy someone validating us, reassuring us. But some people live for this. Some people always get the raw end of a deal. You can never make their day. You'll always have left something out, forgotten an invitation, cooked the wrong food, not dressed the part, looked too eager, asked the wrong question, answered with the wrong truth.
I know I'm moody. I know I throw tantrums. I know I crave attention. But I know when other people do it, too. It takes one to know one, after all. I know when I'm the normalizing factor and when the other person is completely out of line. I know too demanding when I see it, I know spoilt. I know unhappy and crabby, just as I know smug and I sure as hell know asshole.
The question is whether to put up with it. I want to, because I love. I love the good in some people, love their company, love the way they know me. I love the chance that something amazing could come of a simple friendship, that I could change the person.
But it makes me crazy. I can't rest, can't relax. Can't stop pacing. I question myself, feeling the need to apologise, the need to undo. I want to set things right and I go overboard. I want to hold on tighter, to make sure we're on the same page.
What I need to feel is the need to delete, to cut off. The need to remove (myself from this warped equation.) I have all the drama of a bad relationship and none of the make-up sex, none of the accountability, none of the memories. For once, I have the raw end.

The one where there are no words left

2010-08-20T21:00:00.000+05:30

''Go after her. Fuck, don't sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that's what you should do if you love someone, don't wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don't let people happen to you, don't let me happen to you, or her, she's not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I'd be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can't just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone's idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really.''

Control - how to

2010-08-17T23:37:00.000+05:30

Keep it simple and play it cool.

un-do

2010-08-14T13:48:00.001+05:30

I want to erase words that were never written, unthink thoughts, untouch arms and unsee smiles.

It's non-negotiable, this, where I'm at. It's more than I asked for, far more than I can chew. It makes me feel old and tired, as if I've made too many mistakes already, as if I have none left on my account. Makes me feel irredeemable.

It's in your face, just get it already.

2010-08-13T23:19:00.001+05:30

My worlds seem to be colliding. I hate when people get jealous. I hate what jealousy can do to a friend or a lover or even just an acquaintance. Sometimes, I know jealousy. It's plain and in your face. I see it for what it is.

Like today, when I told him about him. He was different immediately. He asked me a thousand things. Cross-questioned and questioned. The answers to his questions came fast and easily. Questions, I would have found offensive, if asked by someone else. But he knows the answers deep down and more than knows, he deserves them. But it was jealousy on his part that prompted the questions, maybe even a slight pang of regret. I saw it, I knew it. I felt it. I enjoyed it.

Sometimes though, I can't tell - can't tell why someone acts the way they do, can't tell if they're jealous or just hate me, if they love me or want my love to go away. Like my friend, C. The question of C being jealous of me or anything to do with my life never arose, until today, when someone suggested it.

Today when everything came crashing down on me. When I truly realised how much I depend on C, for his reassurance, his friendship and love. I realised it and showed it to him all in one breath. Showed it with such surety, that he reacted. He closed himself. And someone suggested that he's jealous. I don't believe he is. Is he always happy for me when good things happen to me? I don't believe he is. Doesn't qualify as jealousy. It could just be, and probably is just, a fear of someone or something familiar, moving away to better things - becoming busy with life and just not having the time of day.

I love him. It isn't love like that though, not the kind that comes with lust. I have considered that possibility, looked into it, argued for it and against it. I know it isn't that kind and can never be. It's just a comfortable love, of knowing that I have met my match. Knowing that this is me, in the flesh, just someone else's. I know he gets me, I know I get him. We share the same insecurities often and the realise the same things. Maybe, I'll never admit to this. Maybe, neither will he. I know he knows me and it is a lot like knowing himself.

I hate writing this because I know how it makes me sound. Like I believe I am someone to be envied. I do not believe this, on any count. I know my strengths, fairly well. And I know where I fall short all too well. I don't envy the person I portray myself to be. I don't envy the true me. I wouldn't.

Just jump.

2010-04-26T20:01:00.001+05:30

It tires me to wait;

Exhausts me to hope.

Love or un-love.

It’s quietly comfortable,

To share a goal.

It burns to realize the possible answers

My questions to you;

Are for them and those to come

I already know you

I hate the games I have to play;

The power that must be got,

The sureness you are waiting for.

It tires me to wait;

Exhausts me to wonder

Tires me to question;

Exhausts me to plan

you confuse me.

2009-08-19T20:55:00.001+05:30

There’s a hand on my forehead and an arm around my shoulder, my skin is burning and my eyes are almost orange from the sunshine. Tired and weepy, I look at you and can’t believe you’re the same person who said those things just a few hours ago. You look so warm and comforting, so welcoming, so protective. How are you so different now?
Now that it’s you and me, it’s not funny anymore. It’s not a game; I’m not your toy. It’s not a joke or a series of faux pas. In this moment we know each other, we just get it.It’s you and me…and an expanse of eighteen patches of perfect grass. Eighteen greens and a long walk -- you hand me a small white ball with something scribbled across its 250-odd dimples.
There it is, the phrase I love – the one I never told you about – my head reeling, I start to ask you how…
…my worlds collide. And now you’re gone, you’re not you anymore. We’re not alone now, surrounded by crowds, who don’t know or understand. By nosey know-it-alls, who want to save me from you... my joy, my salve, my sweet surrender. If only they knew how far I've fallen…

our first date, you weren't even single.

2008-09-02T22:26:00.001+05:30

I don't know what I want. I remember being in this position about a year ago. Faced with almost the same complications and same questions. I took a leap of faith last time, and fell...hard..flat on my face. This time, something is holding me back...not something within me...something external. I would go for it again, it feels more exciting than the last time, more fun and much more dangerous. Except, this time the decision isn't in my hands...not yet anyway :-)
Maybe there are forces at work that I can't see, maybe it's him and maybe it's just me.
This last week has been a blur. I feel so happy to feel what I feel, but it's that kind of happiness you feel unsure about, the outcome of which may or may not be good. But just to feel like this, is different.
I wanted to decide whether I'm happy or unhappy or angry or sad. I think it's a new and happy feeling. I've decided not to worry about what comes of it. I've decided to embrace this for what it is and to take whatever comes, in my stride.

knock and the door shall be...

2008-06-20T00:15:00.001+05:30

Something I read today, struck a nerve. Suppose we really found him. What if, He met us today? I know I’m not ready. I know there are things I’ve done that I haven’t been able to ask forgiveness for, mostly because I haven’t dealt with them actually happening.
In suggesting that for the most part, we’re playing around with the image of God, one of my favourite writers seems to have said the wisest thing.
Because really, what are we looking for when we say we search for God? A counselor, a friend? Forgiveness? Someone to thank? Someone to ask ‘why me?’ I know I search for different things in God, on different days. Comfort seems to be the word that encompasses all of them...
"But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you."

[Fiction]

2008-06-04T01:03:00.001+05:30

And so I thought of your room today.
Your lights are always on whenever I drive past and I wonder what you do in there all the time. I remember the first time you took me there, the way I felt. I was trying to hide myself in some way. Hide fear, hide scars, hide inexperience, hide drunkenness. I remember your smile, the one you’ve flashed me so often, and the one I shy away from every time I see it. Life feels surreal when I’m with you, like an excerpt from a racy novel. You don’t feel like the other people I meet. I look up to you in a different way. You constantly surprise me.
When we talk after, while you smoke a cigarette and ash it, I watch your fingers. I love feeling the sound of your voice fill my head. Sometimes I tune out the words and then it’s just a sound, a kind of music. I understand you, in so many ways. Your eccentricities all make sense to me.
When we talk before, I feel my stomach go into a knot. I feel my forehead moistening. I wonder what’ll happen and I wait. I even find that I hold my breath sometimes.
You’re always honest with me, sometimes subtly, sometimes brutally. I feel like you’re always careful not to hurt my feelings too much. You don’t like it when I play down my abilities, but when I big myself up, you break me.
We talk often – at dinners, on drives and on my terrace. We talk of our ideals, our dreams and how everything is so eff-ing wrong. We never talk about us though, and when we do, even in jest, I don’t say much. You say – we’re this and we’re that. I listen and smile, and nod. To an outsider, it may seem like I don’t think about our relationship, but in truth, I have analysed it, over-analysed it, dissected it, in every way possible.

Uhhh

2008-05-29T22:26:00.001+05:30

I’m bored. I feel like I’ve said (or typed) those words so many times in the last 2 years!! To everyone I meet online, in response to a text, in conversations over dinner at work, when asked ‘What’s up’ in the rest room, when you call, when she calls, when he calls or even…when I call.

When anyone asks me why I did it, and they often do, my answer is usually – boredom.

My friend asked me this over drinks the other day and then said sternly, don’t compromise. And so I thought about ideals today. We all have them.

Mine....

I want him to be a wearer of solid colours; who looks amazing in a suit.
I want to be able to fit into his life and have him fit into mine easily.
Someone tall, with nice arms and hands, dark hair and dark eyes.
Someone who will be there to pick me up and to drop me off.
Someone who can write; is good with words and well-read.
Someone I can brag about and who can brag about me.
I want a sense of humour, sarcasm and quick retorts.
I want someone who I can talk to about anything.
I want someone who is respectful and refined.
Someone with a spine, someone confident.
I want him to be able to tick me off.
I want someone self-assured.
I want him to be articulate.
I want hugs and smiles.
I want faithfulness.
I want chivalry.
I want bravery.
And honesty.
Passion.
Love.
You.
Us.

It was a relationship too.

2008-05-21T22:11:00.001+05:30

I thought of the day I reached there, standing at the door, bending slightly, looking down at the stairs, arms wide open, holding my breath, waiting…and then hugging you tight…!:) You were wearing a beige trench coat and a Burberry scarf. So chav, she said. But you smelt of you, of October and just the way I imagined for the two months we’d been apart. That was my favorite moment. That is also my nicest memory of you and us.
I actually thought of you when I landed on my friend’s Facebook profile and saw pictures of her in at the same place we were. Same pool, same lawns, same restaurant, same towels, same little beach. And that is when I thought of you and whether I should write about you. Justify ‘us’ with a mention to the world. Or keep you a secret from the people who think differently of me.

Remember, remember ...

2008-05-19T21:24:00.001+05:30

I want to spend the whole afternoon writing, falling in love with words. A glass of iced tea, memories and the wonderful weather. I often wonder about us, about how something so right could have been so wrong.
I’m so happy with what I decided today. I felt like I was going to fall deeper than I could ever imagine and never resurface, and I so wanted to fall.
I wrote to him some months back, when I was dating the now-ex. I wrote to him, a “remember” mail. Remember us, the way we were, our blogs, our emails, our meetings that were always too short…remember that usual text every morning at 10 a.m. my time, 8:30 yours.
So then I went back to that blog, where my life began. I decided to just pick a date. And I found his only ode to me. I remember our first meeting, it was the 17th of May in 2005. I remember feeling cold on that hot summer evening. I remember us sitting on the pavement and just fading. My dear friend, who I love with all my heart, said that that was the only time “her Z” ever loved. I believe that on some days. Some days I think that love will be much MORE, when it happens, if it does.
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love.

Saying goodbye with words

2008-03-06T04:01:00.002+05:30

Words to remember me by,
When you’re alone or in crowds,
For you to never miss me.
For you to always love me.

Words to remind you,
That you’ve been the best for me
Nothing before ever compares
Nothing ahead will ever measure up

Words to tell you….
That I’m just a common girl
Looking to be made uncommon by loving you

Words to show you,
That I care more than I can say

Words to assure you that I’m here for you
Your every waking moment and through every night
Whether far or near,

Words promising you
That this what we share,
It is ours, just ours.

I'm all this and more

2008-02-06T00:27:00.001+05:30

I’m a cynic.
I wonder about how some men treat some women.
I think aerobics in the morning is a scene from Desperate Housewives.
I’m wondering about beautiful strangers in wonderfully well made kurtis.
I’m waiting for summer sunshine that’s already arrived and April showers in March.
I’m hoping for waves to sweep me off my feet, and to catch me off guard.
I’m warm in my bed with just a cotton sheet.
I’m content in my room with white curtains and pale yellow bed covers.
I’m eager for a busier everyday and sleepier every-night.
I’m laughing at myself for being so silly.
I’m sad about the realizations some people might have had today or yesterday.

I’m winning and it feels good.
I’m learning to lose and it feels even better.
I’m happy.
I’m anxious about how it will be.
I’m thankful for what I have now.
And prayerful for what I want.

say hello already

2008-01-12T03:40:00.001+05:30

Certain things - like sitting under a starry sky or on sandy shores, make us remember the ones we love and think of love we want.
How things have changed and remained exactly the same.

When we were children, we would watch An Officer and a Gentleman and dream our little dreams in quick succession. How easy it is for children to imagine a world full of love, honour, chivalry and faithfulness. How easy to believe that you will grow up, meet the person you're meant to be with and then live happily ever after.

Faithfulness is such a strong word, so difficult and so meaningful.
I pray that God keeps you faithful and blesses you.

if this is it, then i'll just say no

2008-01-02T04:03:00.002+05:30

"love is a funny thing" you say.

is this the most you have ever loved someone?

if this is love, then i ask it a million questions.

if you tell me this is it, can i ask if i am the only one for you?

if we plan a life together, can you tell me if you believe in soul mates?

if you do, am i yours and are you mine?
if this is our story, then why does it have so many loose ends?
if laughter, so frequent, fades so quickly into the night, shouldnt we worry?

but a life without questions, problems and solutions isnt worth living at all.

if this is life, then i embrace it

Are you full? Of me?

2007-12-12T00:44:00.001+05:30

It’s so amazing how relationships change…or how they evolve. How they go from being everything to us, to being nothing, a distant memory, an occasional phone call, a random forwarded email or text message. How do two people go from talking every day, almost every hour, to hardly remembering one another.
How do we carelessly discard those that meant so much to us just a few months back. How do I make the biggest decisions without so much as informing you?
How do two people go from being inseparable to forgetting about each other’s existence? Does love die? Do feelings change? Do we get bored? Do we have our fill...of curiosity, of sex, of long conversations, of wanting to know more about another.
What happened to all of that, I ask myself. I search for the answer and find it. Life happened. People move on, things change, feelings change. And just like little children, we lose interest. We move ahead, towards greener pastures and bluer skies, funnier jokes and easier conversation. We go towards new horizons and stand at new thresholds…

Broken promises, unsworn swears

2007-12-06T22:47:00.001+05:30

I swore to myself that I would never fall in love with you. I knew the day we met, on that warm summer morning, that you would be in my life forever.
There was an air of arrogance around you. But I got a strange sense of comfort from knowing that I could decipher your actions. You felt naïve. You felt fresh. Worn out, but untouched.
It took me two days of talking to you for endless hours, to figure out, that I was going to go back on my promise.
You didn’t steal anything from me. You were a breath of fresh air. You were closure for me. You were peace.
You talked to me with a calmness I’d never heard. With ease and confidence.
You opened my life to a world I never knew existed. Showed me things I never saw and said things to me I didn’t expect anyone to think.
I believe there is much more to what we share. Even though we might be random acquaintances on some days.

remembering to remember

2007-11-21T19:32:00.001+05:30

The thought of you still makes my mind swirl.
A single dream turns into an obsession,
And I awake, deep in regret.
The thought of us pains me still, of what could have been, of what would have been.
I spend the day thinking of you and me, of how everything was alright and then suddenly, it wasn’t. Everything is done. Promises have been broken and new ones made. Lives have changed.
As I sit here, trying so hard, to love another… I pull back, scared again, that I might fall, that I might lose myself, or lose Him.
I wonder about doing things for the glory of God. I wonder whether I have done anything which has been in His perfect will. Then I remember why things happened the way they did. I remember our negotiations, about God, family and love. I remember indifference.
And I remind myself to remember, that greater things wait ahead.

"That men may know that thou, whose name alone is Jehovah, art the most high over all the earth." Psalms.

2007-09-13T11:54:00.002+05:30

In my life, there has been only one person apart from my father, whose opinion I’ve taken seriously. There has been only one person who has made me feel ignorant. I’ve known many many smart men I think. He’s the only one that never ceases to catch me off-guard. He’s the only one who gets my jokes and still makes me feel inadequate. I love his company. I love that I look up to him, I love that I have no control over him, I love that he’s his own person and makes it explicitly clear.

Okay fine, it bugs me to death! Not being able to understand him, not being able to control him, not having any sort of control over myself when I’m with him. Not being able to love him.

I can’t love him though. I don’t know why. I wish I could and I wish he could. It’s just something that’s not on the table, for a multitude of reasons. I think it’s chemistry. We don’t have chemistry. I think it’s society. I think it doesn’t look good enough on paper, for either of us. I think it’s my family and his. I think it’s our pasts. My inability to accept his and his view of mine as too sheltered. I think it’s vain inhibitions. I think it’s misled feelings for other people.

phone calls are the best

2007-08-24T00:10:00.001+05:30

Life presents itself with a blur of confusions, discoveries and questions on some days. Like today. So many things have happened in quick succession that I’m left wondering, questioning my own decisions, my own principles and commitments. I fear sometimes that I will be led astray by people who don’t know life any better than I do. Just as I drown in my own fears, a friend will call me and say the most profound things and explain to me my own emotions.

Do I know you?

2007-08-11T11:36:00.001+05:30

Tamarind, sunscreen and flowers.
Poetic license,
Rain and funerals,
Candles and chocolate syrup,
Skin that jumps under my fingers
Memories and tears
Gooseflesh and innocent eyes,
Lips that taste of cola,
Clothes that smell of you,
Silent conversations,
Hold your breath
And I’ll hold your arm
Catch me and I’ll fly away
Speak when spoken to
Kiss when looked at like that
Tell me lies with truthful eyes
And the truth with a deceiving smirk
Confuse me, make me cry
Ask me my story and expect your own
Accept my shortcomings and misgivings
Be my mystery and my answer

Furious

2007-08-10T04:24:00.001+05:30

I’m angry with the world, for the unfairness of emotions.
And the pretentiousness of charm.
I’m angry with infidelity, for how it throws itself in my face.
With blind faith, for asking me to believe.
With words, for not finding me when I need them.
With myself, for being yours and then no one’s.
I’m angry with the world you created for me.
I’m angry with you, for your haste.

"In your anger do not sin": Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry – Ephesians.

2007-08-01T02:44:00.000+05:30

The only thing more beautiful than realising your dreams is probably understanding another’s. Maybe it’s a sign of adulthood, maybe it’s just familiarity, maybe it’s love, maybe it’s knowing another like the back of one’s own hand… :)

using emails for blogger-fodder

2007-07-28T04:40:00.001+05:30

i thought i would write to you, only because i'm utterly bored and i need to do something to keep myself awake. my head hurts. night shift always makes me feel ill. blah.

maybe i should write and tell you all about me, about what i like and dont like, about the things that mattered to me as a child, the things that mattered to me last year and the things that matter now.
i should tell you about the surgeries i've had and the scars they've left. or about how i miss my mom but will never talk about her.

you should know that i have had a very happy life and i believe i'm very very very blessed. my life has been easier than most people's and i know that God has a soft spot for me.

i should tell you that i'm not bothered about looks because i myself am not perfect. far from it. intelligence, kindness, humour and love are probably the things that matter to me most.

my biggest fear is that i will lose the people i love. you should know that i want to allow myself to fall in love with a guy who has come into my life and changed my beliefs. i want you to know that trust isnt gained easily and as attracted as i am to you, i dont know you ... i dont know how you treat others, i dont know whether you have a hundred women running after you, i dont know what you they mean to you and what you mean to them.

i should tell you that i've told lies, lies that have hurt others perhaps, lies to cover up my own shortcomings. should tell you that money doesnt matter to me, that it did matter... not anymore
.
i could advise you a bit on love. i could only tell you that there is no sense in holding back and playing mind games with people... you should know that mind games scare me, turn me off and hurt me…

i want to ask you to be open with me about your past ...nothing hurts more than wanting to know things like that and not knowing… and as much as i hate to admit it...i'm insecure about things like that. i want to know that you will be honest with me, no matter what. i want you to know that there is no mistake impossible to forgive and nothing that i would knowingly do to hurt you.

i have to confess that i have a crazy schoolgirlish crush on you and i want to stop now.

2007-07-22T11:34:00.000+05:30

Did I disappoint you or let you down?

Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?

'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,

Yes I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.

So I took what's mine by eternal right.

Took your soul out into the night.

It may be over but it won't stop there,

I am here for you if you'd only care.

You touched my heart you touched my soul.

You changed my life and all my goals.

And love is blind and that I knew when,

My heart was blinded by you.

I've kissed your lips and held your hand.

Shared your dreams and shared your bed.

I know you well, I know your smell.

I've been addicted to you.

And I still hold your hand in mine.

In mine when I'm asleep.

And I will bare my soul in time,

When I'm kneeling at your feet.

Goodbye my lover.

Goodbye my friend.

You have been the one.

You have been the one for me.

2007-07-17T04:17:00.000+05:30

As we drove by that road today, with the weather the way it is… I thought of school. I thought of play-practice in that rambling house, on that road. I thought of staring at random crushes from the other end of the classroom. I thought of you and of me. And mostly, I thought of her.

Death is nothing at all.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Everything remains as it was.
The old life that we lived so fondly together
Is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other,
That we are still.Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way
Which you always used.
Put no sorrow in your tone.
Laugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever
The household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort
Life means all that it ever meant.
There is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you,for an interval,
Somewhere very near,just around the corner.
All is well.
Nothing is hurt,nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall smile at the trouble of parting,
When we meet again...
- Henry Scott Holland (1847-1918)

As it is written

2007-07-12T01:11:00.002+05:30

Tell me again, all about heaven.
Show me once more how I used to be.
Remind me of those days.
Don't ask why I left.
Bring it all in, bring it back.
Bring You back into my life.
Revive me.

Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him. Corinthians.

Just sometimes

2007-07-10T23:19:00.001+05:30

Sometimes, I feel as if I understand, as if I know... Sometimes, I’m confused…like a blur of dreams from a night’s broken sleep. Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes, I want us to talk, about you and about me, about all this that has come our way. Sometimes, I want to ask you why you won’t give in and I want to find out what you’re afraid of. Sometimes, I wish you saw the unnatural measure of faith I have in you. Sometimes, I want to run away, from all this that has come our way. Sometimes, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Like a blurred dream from a cold night’s broken sleep.

Scene - I

2007-06-30T00:57:00.001+05:30

"Where do you sleep?"
"Nowhere, I don't sleep". She stubs out her cigarette and makes deliberate eye contact before moving away to empty the ash-tray.
"And where do you make love" he asks rakishly, moving closer below the high-ceilinged grey of the apartment and the garish city sky.
Her fingers pause for a moment as she crooks the index one moving swiftly as she steps out of her dress answering, "Everywhere"

romance was ignorance

2007-06-13T01:02:00.001+05:30

It seems to me that growing up has meant the loss of romance.
Romance was…the way wild bushes grew on the slopes of the hill nearby,
The cold winter afternoons spent out on the verandah,
The long walks on hot tarmacs after games of spot-the-mirage,
Evenings spent out under the stars,
Romance was …our first kiss,
Our innocence,
The hope we gave ourselves…
Romance was… our dreams, hopes and plans…
The sweet nothings you said to me,
Romance was… talking to you without worrying where we’re going,
Knowing you’ll be by my side,
The trust we had,
Knowing that we would never hurt each other,
Romance is my memory of you and how we used to be
Your concern for me still…
The way my name sounds when you say it
Romance is you, romance is me
Romance, it seems, is a pure function of availability

That kind of love

2007-06-05T19:07:00.001+05:30

Love that is as recurrent as waves on the seashore
As unconditional and certain as the sunrise every morning,
Love that comes softly and takes you by the hand…
The kind that leads you in the darkness
That you linger in corners waiting for
Love that stops your heart.
And fills your soul.
Love that is complete,
The sort that is unreal.
Love that overwhelms…
That calms your spirit.
Love you can come home to…
That makes you want to dance.
That teaches you to ask forgiveness,
The kind that brings relentless joy
Love that makes simple moments into memories
That turns sweet nothings into history
Love that breaks you
And the kind that makes you

2007-06-01T14:42:00.001+05:30

The Southwest monsoon was scheduled to hit Bangalore yesterday, I think it forgot to come. I actually THOUGHT the monsoons were here a few days back, but I wrong, said the newspaper. Those were just April showers that didn’t know when to stop.
This seems like a relatively good year for this city, that I have grown to love and call home.
For a long time, until recently, I never called Bangalore home. I never called myself a Bangalorean. Things changed. There is no place I’d rather be right now.

Emotionally unavailable.

2007-05-30T01:00:00.001+05:30

“What sort of a man makes love to one woman and goes back to negotiate a dead relationship with another?” The sort that is so beyond knowing the meaning of love.
She thought he was secure, confident, intelligent, clear. When he spoke to her for the first time, she thought, “This man has character”. And now she was realising how wrong she had been.
When she learnt that he was capable of grovelling the way he was, she lost all respect, love and admiration for him. Just like that. In an instant.
“You talk of high ideals, high standards, high goals. You have none. You aren’t even sure of yourself. You don’t even know if you’re worthy of the standards you’ve set for yourself. And you complain. About life, about events, about how things never went your way. You aren’t a man. Not even close,” she said to him, eyes filled with fury.
He looked at her, surprised, taken aback, shocked that this girl, who had said she loved him, had turned against him with such vigour.
And then it hit her, she was worth more than this. And she left, silently, walking into the darkness, smiling to herself…

2007-05-28T12:41:00.000+05:30

Unforgettable, that’s what you are
Unforgettable though near or far
Like a song of love that clings to me
How the thought of you does things to me
Never before has someone been more

Unforgettable in every way
And forever more, that’s how you’ll stay
That’s why, darling, its incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable too

I remembered “our song”. Hold me, Thrill me, Kiss me. It wasn’t really our song, we forced it I think. We forced a lot of things. I think I forced less though, I think I loved more, felt more, cared more, he took care of me, for the most part. And which woman doesn’t want to be rescued? He rescued me from all things evil, from situations at home I didn’t like. From people who I believed hated me.

Then I grew up. I realized my own shortcomings. I realized I wasn’t a victim. That I was just being silly, that I was ok. You can’t love another till you’re okay within yourself. THAT I’ve realized. Only two whole people can love another completely, love isn’t meant to complete two incompletes. That’s probably the biggest lie sold to us in songs, movies and cards…that love fills us, completes us, makes us whole. Codependence. Boy, it sells. It’s not the same as symbiosis, for those who are wondering. It’s like two parasites coming together, trying to feed off each other. Quite unnatural, quite hopeless, quite temporary, a disaster waiting to happen.

Bad timing. It was all about bad timing.

I don’t have to pretend to be older, wiser, more mature. I don’t have to act like I want to socialize with people who can’t hold my interest for more than 10 minutes. I get to be a child. I get to be silly. I get to be me and you get to be you. I don’t need to pose. I hate posing. I’ve done enough of that for a lifetime. I don’t need to impress, I don’t need to show you my better side. I only need to love, love completely, feel without worrying or thinking twice about whether I’m feeling too much :-).

I've stopped worrying, being scared. Life fits.

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Ecclesiastes

2007-05-25T19:54:00.000+05:30

"Let my heart be broken with the things that break the heart of God."

I strayed for a while, from things that meant the most to me. I don’t know why or how or when or what for… I wish I could take it all back. Undo. Unfall. I can’t, I suppose.

The monsoons are finally here. Much-awaited. Bangalore looks clean. Washed. The roads are wet, there’s mush everywhere, but there’s an air of happiness that transcends all else. A new season, a new chapter :)

I smiled at random people today on my way to work. They smiled back, fortunately, acknowledging my act of casual human-contact. The rick driver was courteous for a change, thanked me for the tip I gave him.

And now, I want coffee at Barista. I want hot coffee, cold chocolate, muffins and a friend’s company!! I think though, that Cha Bar might be a better idea today. And there’s a Punjabi food festival at work. Right! Like they’ll make Sarson ka Saag and Makki ki Roti! They probably don’t know what that is!! Oooooooohh…I remember winter afternoons at Adampur, when we sat out on the lawns for lunch!! *siggghhh* I miss it all so much!!

2007-05-25T00:39:00.000+05:30

I finally found my muse. A muse for the wrong reasons, at the wrong time, in a wrong sort of a way. I never thought I needed one till I met you a few months ago, my desire to write conveniently quadrupled after that day. And now I need you. Oh! How I hate that I need you!! How I love that I need someone, finally!

2007-05-21T18:12:00.001+05:30

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

-Rudyard Kipling

I was 14 I think, when I read Kim, also by Rudyard Kipling. I remember the day I picked it up from the library, sitting next to my schooltime boyfriend:) I remember so vividly, his reaction. How was I moving from Agatha Christies and Nancy Drews. He said something to me about having too much time on my hands. And how right he was. I read the strangest, most irrelevant and (maybe) useless books. I enjoyed it.

Having too much time on my hands has been the story of my life! I’m lazy and I can’t pretend I’m not, but I hate having nothing to do for more than an hour. Weekends are busy, but weekdays aren’t. Work is slow. The bright side is, I get time to do what I love, to write. To write, other than what work expects of me.
If someone had told me, at 16, that I would be a journalist, I would not have believed them. My English Lit teacher did tell me once, that I should make it my profession. And that’s when I started writing recreationally. I stopped caring who I wrote to or what I wrote about. I just wrote. I never imagined, though, that I would get paid to write. I never thought of myself as a writer, I still don’t.

Recently, at dinner with a friend, I told her of my plans to choose a new career path. That I was bored and that I thought I could do much better. That I wasn’t using my head, and I didn’t feel productive. I love numbers and I love words, words more than numbers, and work is the perfect blend. The problem is I don’t get to be creative, at all. I get to be creative here, and elsewhere, never ever at work :)

I still believe my calling is to teach little children. I don’t know when I’ll get to do that, maybe after I’ve had my fill of corporate mania, after I’ve worn my glasses long enough, watched enough CNBC, talked mergers and acquisitions over dinner for years, stared at tickers and stock moves on my three screens for hours on end, played the stock market for a while, and managed to make an impact of my own. Maybe then I’ll teach babies how to count and read and write and spell and subtract.

I find it hard to believe that this is what I want to do, I can’t imagine myself with a hoard of little children running wild, but my heart says that’s where I’d be happiest.

For now, I’m content. I want more, but I’m content.

2007-05-21T18:12:00.000+05:30

2007-05-20T08:15:00.000+05:30

I want to write to change the world.
I want to influence people in a good way.
I want to feel my hand in yours :)
I want to know if you smile at random people when you pass them
I want to see you smiling at me
I want to see you doing what you do best
I want to learn to lose gracefully,
I want to watch you win everything you are meant to
I want you to be happy ..no..not happy..overjoyed!
I want to sleep, and wake up in manic good moods :)
I want to learn new things, breathe new air,
I want to love unconditionally, selflessly and completely,
I want to play safe and risk everything,
I want to be impatient and wait forever...

2007-05-16T12:25:00.000+05:30

I walked this morning. Early. So that I would be awake with you. So that you would know that my every prayer is with you today.
It wasn’t warm, it was so not warm. It was pleasant. Like it used to be in Second year. In Second year when I waked 9 kilometers every morning. To MG road, down to the Taj, around Ulsoor and then home. In Second year, when determination coursed through me, when I had only one goal. In Second year, when I learnt to live and to love. When I learnt about things that mattered and about growing up. Second year, that began with getting to know someone and ended with knowing them fully. A year of big choices and big fights. A year of tears and of laughter without boundaries. A manic year. A year of differences and similarities, a year of moving forward and holding on.
And now… my first year, at work, at independence, at understanding myself. My first year of knowing you. Of wanting to become one with you. My first year of knowing that I'm finally on the right path.
"The Lord bless you, and keep you;
The Lord make His face shine on you,
And be gracious to you;
The Lord lift up His countenance upon you,
And give you peace." Numbers 6:24-26

2007-04-30T23:32:00.000+05:30

I think of you, of days gone by..
Of talking non-stop.. of falling asleep with your voice in my head
I remember your friendship and your love,
The unnatural kindness you showed me.

I have chosen to write this because I know you read this more than anyone else ever does. And even though this is a public link, in all likelihood, you will be the only one to truly read it. And when you do, there will be no doubt in your mind that this is about you. My best friend, my confidante, you're the most reliable person I've ever come across. The most unchanging, the wisest of them all.

Thank you, for being you :)

2007-04-27T04:34:00.000+05:30

I remeber so clearly the days when I would write about every single thing I did! I met so many interesting people through my blog. *sighhh*
Things have changed so much. Life has gone from being easy and simple to being easier and simpler :), from being happy to being happier. From feeling content to feeling as if there is sooooo much to look forward to.
i dont believe that life is dificult. i have enjoyed most aspects of my life so far and i can hardly wait for to see what's next. im sure you feel somewhat the same, at least i hope so. i dont like people who complain about things being so unfair etc...people who go "why me" are people i feel like smacking in the face. i do tend to think too much and over-analyse things a bit more than other people though...
i guess i've had my moments...lots of them.. when i've hated things that have happened...where i've thought that it couldnt get any worse. but havent we all?
people who give a lot of importance to appearances, money or materialism annoy me. and maybe, thats why i like you... from what i know of you, i dont think you are materialistic.
if there is one thing all my close friends have in common, it's that they're kind people. i dont have many close friends, i always choose to confide in the person im "seeing" and those friendships dont last once the "seeing" is over. i dont believe people can be "just friends" with an ex who they have truly loved.
i like that you are mature. i like knowing that you're probably better than your peers. i like that you and i are so similar in so many ways. i like that you understand things most others dont. i like that you can see through me. i like that you're funny.

2007-04-23T07:33:00.000+05:30

How lucky I am to have something that makes it so difficult to say goodbye... :)
I read that somewhere and felt as if I'd had a revalation. We sit and complain about why things or people are moving out of our lives, without ever stopping to think how blessed we were to be associated with them in the first place. We hope for things, against all logic, against all experience, against all odds.
We numb ourselves to the things we do have and to the wonderful people who do love us. We go to the ends of the earth in search of joy, the joy that someone is offering you everyday. We run from happiness that is there for the taking.
She runs from him, even as he offers her all that she knows is good. Runs to search for a trait that she found in another, to find something to cry about, instead of laughing with him forever. If you ask her why she is still running, she'll tell you it makes her complete.
I run for hope
I run to feel
I run for the truth
For all that is real
I run for you and me my friend,
I run for life
"But they that wait upon Jehovah shall renew their strength: they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not tire; they shall walk, and not faint. " Isaiah 40:31

2007-02-28T16:46:00.000+05:30

I don’t quite know where to begin. Marveling at the amazing thresholds that I stand at, my life suddenly seems complete. I know that when you wake up every morning with a smile on your face and a song in your heart, that you must be doing something right. I wake up like that nowadays… for some weeks now. Life fits.

Regrets? There are many. There will be more to come. Life isn’t too short for regrets. But it is too short to spend time thinking about them. Knowing that I have regrets gives me a reasonable chance at not making the same mistakes again.

And at the end of the day, I feel a burst of energy that comes from being around my family, where the love you give and the love you get is in the same (gigantic) proportions. Of course, there have been problems, rebellion and bitterness…. but love… it overflows. And my heart, in all its fullness, is theirs.

And friends. My friends, the ones I know who care for me as much as I care for them. Who look out for my good, who accept me for who I am, not for what they want me to become. Who tell me that I’m being obnoxious and ask me to shut up, but do it with such love and such grace…

And God. Whoever says there is no God, must really be a fool. It really is impossible to see all the beauty around you and think of it as just a coincidence. How can anyone not believe in someone who said that he would never leave you? Who told you that every hair on your head is numbered and that he carved you in his very hands… and how can you not love Him..

And the future… it is so bright... that it burns my eyes :)

2007-02-01T14:21:00.000+05:30

How do you know when its too much…
Too much love
Too much trust
Too much truth
Too many expectations
Too much adoration
Too much success
Too much work
Too much money
Too much freedom
Too much anticipation
Too much hope
Too many fears
Too many dreams
Too many lies
Too much joy
Too much laughter
Too many tears
Too many burdens
Too much confusion
Too much competition
Too much sugar
Too much warmth
Too much sunshine
Too many colours
Too much security
Too many words
Too many worries
Too many glances
Too much waiting
Too many times

2007-01-14T16:12:00.000+05:30

“Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.”

Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness - Desiderata.

Does being a Christian mean having no fear? Am I supposed to be able to give God full control of my life without worrying? I think that's exactly what I should be doing, but I don't always trust God completely. I don't always say 'Let your will be done' and mean it.
I know of so many times when He saved me from things that would've ruined me. I know of so many times He has opened doors for me. So many times He has carried me through sadness and anger, with such grace and power. Yet... I fear.
I know when troubles come, God is by my side and there is a reason for whatever happens to me. Yet .. I fear.
“What I do now thou knowest not but thou shalt know hereafter.”
Yet...I fear.

2007-01-14T16:11:00.001+05:30

With time I have not lost hope, my spirit, my ecstasy…
I have not changed my plans, my dreams and my aspirations.
With time I have not left stones unturned, or feelings unfelt.
I haven’t banished my deepest desires for the fear that they may be frowned upon.
With time I haven’t let vain inhibitions stop me from dancing, or jumping with joy.
I have stood my ground and have changed not my convictions.
With time I have grown into a woman perhaps, willing to do what it takes to get what she wants; willing to want only what is right, true and pure.
I have learnt that age does not bring with it maturity.
And religious faith does not bring righteousness.
Honesty does not come from being in situations where your lies will be found out.
Finding true purpose in life has nothing to do with trying to portray oneself in a particular way.
Happiness is not something to wait for..
Happiness is happiness… everyone finds it within themselves.
It is, in all probability, fleeting,
But true joy is ever present.
True joy is mine, and it is yours…
For the taking…

2007-01-13T12:26:00.000+05:30

Blessings all mine........:):)

-Beautiful poetry…written by regular people, amateurs :)
-Getting head massages …
-Playing with someone’s hair and watching calmness overcome their face:))…
-Long emails or letters from a dear friend…especially a funny friend
-The sense of peace that overcomes me before I drift off to sleep...
-Watching someone I love getting dressed for an evening out.
-The warmth of family on a cold winter(or hot summer) day:)
-Having a baby fall asleep on my shoulder…
-Stargazing.
-A child I don’t know, smiling at me…

-Being called 'babe' by the two nicest people in the whole wide world :)
-Cuddling with a willing kitten or puppy or cat or dog…:D a few licks here n there don’t hurt either!:D
-Seeing that familiar 5-digit number that calls me late at night :):) -Waking up in strange manic good moods with bursts of energy…yes, I’m a morning-person to the core!
-Knowing silly stuff like “goodbye” came from “god bye”, which came from “god be with you”
-Swimming at sunset or sunrise…:)
-The feeling of wanting to embrace the future with open arms…
-Him.

-Plans with him :)
-Blessed Assurance!

2006-12-15T12:49:00.000+05:30

para mi ángel, entiende por favor

See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you
Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you
With or without you
With or without you
Through the storm we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more
And Im waiting for you
With or without you
With or without you
I cant live
With or without you
And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away
My hands are tied
My body bruised, shes got me with
Nothing to win and
Nothing left to lose
And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give
And you give
And you give yourself away
With or without you
With or without you
I cant live
With or without you

2006-12-08T11:42:00.000+05:30

Remember the days…
Of summer dresses and strappy sandals…
Of fair skinned boys and spiked hair
Of crisp white shirts
Of rain beating on the roof
Of thunder storms and lightening
Of kittens and vast lakes
Remember the days…
Of sun dried tomatoes
And spring time leechis
Of beautiful mountains and waterless river beds
Remember the moments…
That made our history
A curly haired girl and a brown eyed boy
Of caramel kisses
Of lime trees and tree houses
Of cold, misty mornings
And warm beds
The beep of an alarm clock
And the chhun-chhun of payals
Remember the nights…
Spent out till the forming of the morning dew
Of star gazing and wish making
Of tears and tantrums..
Of hot black tea and cold clear soda
Remember innocence
Remember silence…
Remember truth
Remember yielding
Remember pleading
Remember the ice
Remember the fire
Remember you
Remember I…
Remember

2006-12-01T07:39:00.000+05:30

From an email I sent someone recently :-)
I like - thinking, daffodils, amateur poetry, licorice, soft fabric, colourful umbrellas, mac 'n cheese, sarcasm, sudoku, fresh bedsheets, sneakers, futons, cheap t-shirts, dirty jokes, ice cream, writing, play-doh, tamarind, crosswords(easy, not cryptic), intelligent people, bright colours, arguing, pani-puri, chic-flicks, long conversations, brownies, yahoo smileys, droopy eyes, babies, country-gospel music, gerbras, rainy days, sunny days, cold days, warm days, being underwater, home-food, long showers, beautiful words, being in love, hugs/cuddles, overbearing love, bitter chocolate, the blunt truth, endorphins, blueberry cheesecake, women of substance, chivalry, freedom of speech, sorbet, Cartman, spur-of-the-moment happenings, ringlets, sugared almonds and candied ginger, all things christmassy, family dinners, fireplaces, guitar, champagne with a sugar cube and bitters, non-stop talkers, being alone, google, sobriety..
I dislike - burping, bad breath, waking up late, marigolds, funerals, skinny-weight-obsessed girls(or boys), sweaty hugs, MLs, pierced eyebrows, bitching, secrets, guava juice, algebra, bad grammar, long toe nails, beating around the bush, liars, hypocrites, being afraid, men in spandex, cockroaches, know-it-alls, cling-ons, attention seeking behaviour, atheists, kill-joys, arrogance, cynics, fishnet stockings, drinking and driving, nose-picking, judgemental people, slimy things...

2006-11-27T20:49:00.000+05:30

When you remember each instant,
Each touch and each whisper.
When you hear a heart beating against your ear
When you watch those smiling eyes and smile to yourself
When there isn’t passion or fury
When there is just the calm
The sound of breathing
When you’re closer than the closest thing
When there is no tomorrow
When its here to stay..

2006-11-26T12:00:00.000+05:30

Have you ever….
· Felt that rush on some mornings where life presents itself with a song saying “its getting better all the time”
· Known just what to say, when to say it and how to say it..
· Felt a strange sense of emptiness that no one can fill and crying seems inevitable
· Been uncontrollably angry at someone you love, without them being at fault at all
· Wanted to take that child by the wayside in your arms and dance :-)
· Seen rain clouds in the sky and thanked God for small mercies(like an excuse to bunk college;))
· Cried tears of joy seeing what God has done for you and me
· Wanted to do all the forbidden things, all at once, without thinking twice
· Let someone take you for a ride over and over again
· Touched the inside of someone else’s being with your very hands
· Felt needed, truly needed
· Known truly, the difference between being loved for you and not for what you can do
· Run faster than you ever knew you could
· Jumped higher than you thought you could…
· Laughed harder
· Sung more beautifully
· Talked more wisely
· Looked more radiant
· Smelt more like a dream…and worn no perfume:)

2006-11-06T09:02:00.000+05:30

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed
I hope you still feel small When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making
Don't let some hell bent heart Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out Reconsider
Give the heavens above More than just a passing glance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance.....

For you, if you're reading this..you know who you are :)

2006-10-29T14:50:00.000+05:30

I was at a wedding yesterday. And somehow, weddings are like being in Rome(when in Rome, do as the Romans do!). At an Indian wedding, if you are single and of marriage-able age, your wedding prospects will surely be discussed at some point or the other. It doesn't matter where your heart is. All that matters is that you're single. Suddenly all the proverbial 'grand old ladies' will be worried about whether you are going to meet your significant other "before it's too late"!! I'm only 21, and so I escape alot of this mindless chatter. I dread the day when I have to deal with it though. Maybe 2-3 years from now. That was my weekend. There was dancing though
:-)
My friend said to me the other day that she is lonely. She said this to me as I was going through my own personal turmoil. I asked myself if I was lonely...and realised that I'm not, I never have been. Life has been difficult sometimes, but mostly, I've been happy with who I am and how I feel. Besides, I read somewhere that happiness is not a goal..it is a journey. And yes, it is fleeting. If someone were to ask me if I had regrets, I do know that there are things I'd do differently if given another chance. Small things, the way I've spoken to the people I love, the words I've used and the times I have been angry at others for no significant reason. Other than that, no regrets with the decisions I've taken.
God has been by my side always. I knew that in the winter of 2004, and I know it now. He has saved me from things He knows I would not have been able to take. Blessings all mine and ten thousand beside :-)

2006-10-27T18:02:00.000+05:30

No one reads this blog at the moment. Which is nice, in a way. And whoever does, already knows me. For those who don't know me - I started blogging when I was 18. I'm 21 now. I lost my first url when a lecturer from college discovered it and told everyone in college about it!(my fault though). I loved blogging then and I want to love it again. I just dont have the patience anymore. My most favourite thing in the whole wide world is the way I feel after a good work out! I love adrenaline.:) I also love being in love. Love has made me to the most mind-numbingly stupid things, but it's all good. Laughing is also on my list, laughing for no reason, or mostly at my own silliness. I hate hiccups, hypocrites, liars and people who don't respect human beings.
I write for a living. I do what I love and I get paid for it! Yaaay! 3 years ago, I wanted to get into the travel industry! And a year before that, it was law. Before that, fashion design. Earlier, a doctor. Before that, when I was really young, I wanted to be a mommie :D hehe..all in good time I guess
My bestest friend wanted me to start writing again...because writing is therapy na;) I like how friends get worried about each other so easily :) (yes yes i like making people worry!).
And I do believe that God has blessed me abundantly.
More tomorrow.

2006-09-11T18:18:00.000+05:30

sometimes things are so easy, you're wondering why...
sometimes life fits like a perfect puzzle, and you're looking for something to be missing
sometimes he says the right things, and you're searching his eyes and wondering what the catch is
one day, i hope you learn, my sweet friend, that if life is easy it.s because you deserve it.
i hope you learn that you earned that medal on your wall..
that you didn't just sail through life, you made a difference
i hope you know that you made my life easier so often
i pray that no one hurts you, and if they do, i pray that you have the grace to withstand it..

2006-08-25T17:49:00.000+05:30

He looks at her with those half open eyes and tells her that he hopes they'll "make it". She tells him the same. He smiles and pulls back her sleeves and says, "I've never seen your arms". Hasn't he? No, maybe not. So she lets him. Her skin, burnt by the sun, turns to gooseflesh as those sleeves are rolled up to her elbows. And then a kiss, a single kiss on her wrist. And thus began her journey with this person who seemed perfect in every way.
Dear you,
Wasn't there time for us to think? There was, there was so much time. Then why, I wonder, did we hurry? Why didn't we wait until we got to dance together? Why didn't we even watch the sunset together...just once? Why did we smile every timewe goofed up? Why did we ignore the insanity of it all? Didn't it ever matter to you that this was so unreal...so impossible?

2006-08-24T21:35:00.000+05:30

Today I went back to trace every bit of their courtship... everything I could possibly find. I don't know why I did that, but I wanted to know... the things he said, the things she said. The reactions she invoked in him, the feelings that welled up in her. I wish I hadn't. I wish I hadn't because now I know that it was deeper than I ever thought it was. At least she did think more deeply of him than I thought she had. About him, I cannot say. I have never been able to know what he thinks or whether what he says is true. It has always been so messed up. Trying to figure out whether its because of me that he loved me...or because of them or because of the circumstances?Have you ever felt that someone was your only shot at happiness?Or that there is nothing beyond this person... a person who may very well have destroyed your spirit? Someone who makes you smile for a second, after making you cry for a week? And you told yourself, that that was enough? Why does anyone settle for second best? Especially when it comes to their own happiness? Do we think, deep down, that we aren't good enough? Or that we can't do better? Does it even matter that the happiness you find with this person will last you a few months, a year at best? The agony of it all... is it worth the small measure of ecstasy it gives you?

2006-07-15T12:55:00.000+05:30

It rains these days, and how appropriate is the rain. As if my own sadness isn’t enough, the skies begin to frown too… the mornings are cold. Frigid. Like me. Like you.
Is this what our lives have been reduced too? A series of such unfortunate coincidences, a series of blunders, of mistakes? Regrettable decisions are what have brought me where I am today. Bad decisions, bad wantings, bad imaginings, bad desires, bad demands…
I don’t even know whose life I live anymore.. mine or someone else’s, someone who used to belong to you?
.

2006-06-09T23:39:00.000+05:30

life seldom measures up to our expectations.
i'm only beginning to realise this...
i dont want things to follow my directions all the time
just the grace to be able to tolerate losing out on certain things.
to see the one you love, love someone else
to watch your efforts wasted sometimes
grace to give up what means so much, just because...
to make choices between the ones you love and the one you love
to love one more than another
to not love for the wrong reasons..
to not hate meddling people, to not hate unaccepting people
to touch your own heart and know you're wrong
grace to accept it, to admit it
to grow out of a childhood that never was
to not live going from depending on one person, to another, to another...
being trapped..and to feel like nothing nothing nothing at all, is going your way
to hear repeatedly how wrong you are, how stubborn, how un-understanding..
to know that you are in fact, sometimes, right..
and to accept not being able to fight for it.
to not break down at the thought of using words that dont come naturally.
to meet the 'stepford wife' stereotype when its expected
grace to be able to explain that it is not the lack of love, or understanding
that makes us do the things we do

2006-06-04T09:15:00.000+05:30

I thought it was immaterial when she told me my fears were because of being left with a bitter taste in my mouth from the last time. I remember so well, that last time. The last time was 3 years ago and I was all alone. I had high fever and high hopes...That day, I thought I had conquered my fears...but the worst came after that...a strange quietness filled my being and an aching surounded me.
Yes, maybe she was right... my fears were born from that last time. This time was different..there was no quietness, no loneliness, no aching.. there was a burst of happiness and joy untold. There was laughter, shyness, coyness, kisses, tears, smiles, hugs, white lies, discoveries, experiences...the whole deal. This time...it was right.
Fears come to my mind now and then...but someone told me recently, not to worry.. for many fears are born of fatigue and 'loneliness' (not that kind of loneliness, just missing-him/her kind of loneliness).
And as for love, it grows with time, shrinks here and there...Its an 'everchanging-constant', so to speak.
And joy?..its still there, just like it was a year ago. I still smile at the thought of the future, albeit with some concerns.
Life is not perfect...worries and troubles make it worth living. I never want an 'easy' life.. I want to make things that arent beautiful, beautiful...

2006-04-23T18:19:00.000+05:30

There are times in our lives when we all want to become the ideal...for someone else, or something. At least I believe that there is such a thing or phenomenon...
There is a girl I know, shall we call her D...D has in her mind, this conception that her own self possesses deep and latent wickedness. Perhaps there is some of that...way deep. But none that meets the human eye, or ear, or touch even... She is all that every good girl wants to be. Proud-parent-maker she is. Beautiful...with curls that roll down her back, eyes that fill with concern at the sight of a helpless ant, fingers that make glorious music and a demeanor that makes her what she is....explicit.
Gawd how I hate loving this girl I know!! I just hate how I completely adore her... She's so young and so untouched. I want the world for her and yet, I know that blemishes will come her way, hurdles that may cause her to stumble...ones that might leave scars.
Grr...what will happen to me if I ever have a daughter of my own!!!!!

2006-02-18T07:49:00.000+05:30

"Behold, I will do a new thing...."
And somehow, everything seems right in the world again. This is the calm after the storm, the sunshine after the rain:)