Speed of Sound

2012-02-10T01:04:00.000-08:00

It's when I'll listen to Leonard Cohen singing a Thousand kisses deep, selling me ambiguous hair-rasing emotions, wrapped in his voice like a moist sushi roll, and I think of my jigsaw puzzle fitted fine, I'll know I'm through with my search.

Not that I'm searching - it just so happens that these beautifully packed pieces magically fall into place. And I get deceived.

On close inspection you can tell the curves are deceptive, and you've been trying to force them to make a pretty picture.

Meh. Let the picture be.

Buy a few jigsaw puzzles and get lost in the options in your spare time. Being lost is a good pastime.

2012-01-15T22:51:00.001-08:00

Abbe yaar.

Life is colossally uncool when all you're doing is managing finances, wading through your job and furiously trying to salvage your life by going that extra mile during the weekend (i.e - eating more calories, watching a so-bad-it's-good movie, drinking and waking up the next morning thinking oh-god-since-when-did-hangovers-get-this-bad).

Ugh.

I confess. I have a bad habit of stalking people I know, on facebook, and wondering why I can't get off my big bum and do something cool with my life? The last time I remember thinking, wow, I have a cool life was in college (graduation) when I was singing.

Intersperse this with Monday morning annoyingly optimistic articles about traveling. How young people should bank on their opportunity and travel the worrrrld.

Here I am. Royally fucking my "opportunity" from behind. And it's not having a good time, I can tell.

2012-01-11T03:03:00.000-08:00

If I hear one more girl going, "Awwleeee so cute!" behind my ass I will strangle her.

A writer's narrating his script to us (my team) and I'm busy typing away. He thinks I'm diligently making notes and I think he believes I'm the silent, observant one who opens her mouth once in a while to say something.

In actuality I think he's full of shit. Nothing against him, just his tobacco stained teeth are annoying me. I made a mistake in the morning; the rare chance I had to take on some responsibility and I didn't carry it through. Then we move through the regular drill - why am I here. what am I doing in this job. why can't I leave now. what am I going to do after moving anyway?

I am fighting with my weight everyday. Everyday there's this full fledged battle in my head about how a small piece of butterscotch cake (it's either that or some ghee-soaked sweet, or chocolate or mayo-ed sandwiches) will effect my low-carb, low-fat diet. How I can salvage it, and if there are fatter women around me who don't care what they eat, why should I?

I don't understand the opposite sex. I don't know if I ever want to or now that I have an inkling, I am worried I may never have a normal relationship with men (also includes me not knowing what to do when normal presents itself) - this is at it's dysfunctional best. It owes a whole new post, so let's not dig any deeper here.

My colleague is having troubles with a courier company. They refuse to give deliver her credit card and the more she argues with customer care, the more I want to seep through the receiver and shoot the person she's talking to.

I want to write nicer things, I want to be able to visit this site and write also when I feel happy and blissful and supercool. I want to believe that at 23, I have a world to go through and I don't need to be the master of everything, have all relationships down to a pat, and more so it's okay to be broke, goofy and confused.

Neurotic? I think I can do without being that though.

2012-01-10T03:43:00.000-08:00

Ex boyfriends are assholes.
Ugh.

2011-12-20T22:37:00.000-08:00

My job's a hoax I think. They're paying me to pretend like my designation and my job profile means .. something.

Well it doesn't.

I was perfectly happy getting money to do like 2 hours of proper work in one whole week. And spending other time being super cool on social networking sites.

But I think it's finally getting to me now. I miss being a student - and still a child.

Now I have to think about Taxes, savings and whatever the hell tax returns means.

More than that, I wish I was in a cooler job, that made our mundane existence seem worth it.

2011-11-27T04:50:00.000-08:00

Lalalala <3

And just general winter-y, happy things.

Red Bandhni Duppattas.
Guerilla shopping in forgotten bylanes
Humming a useless song throughout a largely independent day
Bring broke and feeling like a college student again
Running and living your day with muscle pains

Such a lovely! These little random cutes.

2011-11-10T20:25:00.000-08:00

At the risk of making this page sound extremely self-indulgent, I realize it's time for me to come to terms with the fact that I am a narcissist. I am happy when I feel/look good (mostly which is induced by external influences) and I am low and critical when something (even a zit) is wrong.

Meh. Flaws.

Pre-winter in Delhi mostly makes me a little depressed, not because of the weather (which in it's sepia-haze and elaichi smelling, chilly breeze can make you want to pirouette), but mostly because it's time for my annual think-a-thon. Where I scrutinize, criticize, lay foundations for what I need to do over the next summer (which I may or may not follow), and generally review my life.

Each year, the criticisms get tougher, and I forgot to enjoy ME. I love ME. I always have; sometimes a little too less, sometimes a little too much. I realize, I don't want or need things to be just right - that's boring.

Today when I woke up at the crack of dawn, to a slight slimmer of orange light walking into my room, I made my peace with me. With my fluctuations, occasional heavy bouts of negativity, intense observational comparisons and your regular vices (greed, lust, glutton). And pooey, vices are more fun anyway.

It's a handful of wrongs and rights; if I remove the wrongs my palm might get too sweaty, and if I remove the rights, the skin might chap. My nails are bitten, and I have tiny tan line across the finger with a ring, but my hand is sturdy right now.

Sure, I need some growing up to do. But there's a lifetime for that.

Meet me, I'm fab :)

2011-11-05T07:45:00.000-07:00

Wow. So much negativity on this page.

Where's my sense of balance?

2011-10-30T07:09:00.000-07:00

Okay you know what?

I'm selfish. I want things - all to me, and I hate it when I don't get them. Sometimes I'm manipulative, in the process.

Eventually, I even get bored of the exact same "things" I would've done anything for, a while ago. (For example - given my way, I would keep all my ex-boyfriends, who I dumped, in my pocket.)

I'm also greedy; I want everything. I want to eat all the food I possibly can, I want those shoes NOW, I want to date 4 men at once, I want to eat the entire box of ferrero rocher.

I judge. I put people in social and economic cliques, and I typecast them.

I lie. I compulsively lie to make myself sound better, to make somebody else happy, to escape a situation (in that order)

Sometimes, I'm NOT a friend, and NOT a girlfriend (I don't even think I am meant for a loyal, committed relationship, not until I can grow up, really - and I can mistakenly let out a friend's secrets I wasn't supposed to reveal)

I'm paranoid. If there's something bothering me, I will harp on it, whine, crib and wail until I don't get distracted or it isn't solved. Usually, it's the former.

I get distracted very easily. I might cut you short when you're making a point, I might pretend to listen to you intently and not give a shit about what you're saying.

I pretend. I pretend, make believe and cook up stories for entertainment, drama and sometimes just because.

I'm negative. Not only is my glass always empty, I don't think I've ever liked how the glass looked.

I'm critical - I might never approve or like something once I am set against it.

I'm also extremely easy - I don't think anyone's had to convince me much. I'm stubborn, and I have a low self esteem. SO If I feel fat today - you can turn the world around and I will still continue to feel so.

I'm vain. SO even though I'm fat, my skin is blotchy and my hair is sometimes too thin/ sometimes too frizzy - I still think I'm gorgeous. Sometimes.

Tomorrow, the smallest thing you say about.. say, my zit, will make me cry. And day after, you could be going through a health crisis and if I'm lazy, I might not want to help.

I'm lazy. I might not eat dinner if I don't feel up to getting up.

I think I'm retarded.

2011-10-23T00:09:00.000-07:00

I think I've had a lovely little overdose of organ-radiochatter-jazz melodies. The kind of overdose that's not really too much, but a little above how much you thought you wanted, and just the right amount for your mis-calculative brain.

I'm 23. I want to do things, and this little overdose has me ashamed about having no headway.

I want to open a performing arts production, run a film magazine, be a part of a fusion band, travel to Spain, South of Paris, Vienna with a half-stranger, half acquaintance, get a few short stories published, teach, live in pondicherry and open a bakery.

Right now it all seems impossible. Like I'll be stuck as a face behind a laptop, writing down my fictional experiences of life, with the power I have over words. Right now, I only have these letters. They can spell out hope, rape, shahrukh khan and beauty for me exactly at points when I need it.

Yum, muffin.

2011-09-28T04:28:00.000-07:00

I've never been a traveller.

The first thing that comes to my mind when I'm in a new place is not to take out my camera and click visual memories.

It's usually, "what can I eat now that's tasty and healthy". I'll probably give in, anyway. Get something fattening, while trying to convince myself that I ran an extra 15 mins a couple of days ago. Which should grant me the liberty to eat what I want.

Can I resort to a cliche?

Can I say, very often in my dreams, I travel to places I didn't even know existed. Hot-air balloons, overlooking black dotted cows, fit men in tight shorts cycling on bricked roads. Little streets, where all anyone ever ate is strawberry ice-cream with real strawberries. And nobody to tap my back and tell me the innuendo of dreaming about strawberries?

I travel from one thought to another - when i sit in my bus home, thinking of when I'll go back home and feel internally happy. About the mouse in my house and how I now realize I prefer those icky flying cockroaches to mice - because at least I can kill them.

I travel from one nostalgic moment to another - wondering when I'll be making the same kind of memories with my current situation. And then realizing that i have had some jaw-dropping moments in this city. That if I don't learn to love it - I might never truly understand the brilliance of growing up.

I travel from one idea to another - why can't I write about my thoughts on Indian politics? Why haven't I written about my favorite films? Why haven't I been inspired to write beautiful lines about life, miracles and other jazz?

Okay.

Must find something awesome about self and gloat about it. Shouldn't be hard :)

2011-08-25T22:46:00.000-07:00

You know what I realized - at 23 there are so many people out there who are:

- Way cooler than me (just in the mind)
- Have seen All of europe
- Have creatively satisfying jobs
- Have better written/verbal skills
- Have a better voice than me / are a part of a band
- Are better looking than me
- Have a better home
- Have more money
- Have the luxury to make trips, shop till they drop, can creatively do up their apartments etc

And me on the other hand,

- I have a single digit bank balance right now (end of the month)
- Live in a box for an apartment in the world's dirtiest city
- Am plumpety, plump, plump.
- Have to think 200 hundred times about what I write, and whether it's any good
- Often have to speak twice because autowallahs don't hear me at first go
- My room's like.. dust just wiped off superficially, and a mattress thrown in the corner
- The only color in my house is because of roommate
- Don't have a good perfume, shoes are wrapped in plastic bags so they don't catch fungus, and I wear one pair of sloppy purple flops that make my feet dirty all the time
- Have a job that pays me to make .. PPTs (okay it's more than that, but very little creative input and more flaff really)
- No clothes to boast about
- Can't sing much anyway

Where is my life going? Why isn't anything right?

2011-08-09T00:20:00.000-07:00

There's a mustard-like stain on my white shirt.

Those bouncing mirrors of crimson and bottle-green on my earring are speaking to me- "beauty is only skin deep. Use me, you need ornamental beautification"

I have a small cut on my lip because I bit my nail to uneven-ness and decided to scratch my lip. Karma, methinks.

I harbour warped notions- describing my surroundings in a self-deprecating manner might bring about a creative brainwave within me.

Ulp.

What am I going to with half baked thoughts and half formed words?

Come on, creativity. Where have you walked away, leaving me with the incorrect spelling of inspeeeration?

2011-07-23T05:20:00.001-07:00

I'm a fat lump of lard. That's what I am. And I should just shoot myself.

2011-07-19T05:16:00.001-07:00

I miss you, my little love bun. All bright and shiny and supportive.
You were all always the radiant light I needed to maintain sanity - burst of positivity and my regular dose of "S focus! Don't do that" or "You must do this" but the occasional "It's okay if you've done that"

With all our deconstructing conversations late into the night, owning up to guilty pleasures, the secrets (or just random bits of conversation) that I would never intimately discuss with anybody so meticulously. The analysis of everything under the sun.

I'm sorry. I know I musn't let my guard down. I just miss you too much today.

2011-05-23T22:11:00.000-07:00

When she said it, you knew it made sense to you. Maybe in the larger scheme of things, this period won't matter much, maybe you'll breeze through it. But in order to breeze through, you'll have to pretend it doesn't effect you.

And it's not like pretending is an alien concept to you.

Fall back on your padded mattresses, with flowery bedsheets that you can literally smell, but make sure you get used to sleeping on the hard cold floor simultaneously.

You're a big girl now.

2011-05-17T01:59:00.000-07:00

This is NOT good. Must have a positive outlook to things that happen with me. Must try to do make the most out out any situation put forth in front of me and try not to crib incessantly, even though that comes naturally to me.

Life shifts happen all the time. If we don't learn to adapt to new circumstances than how will we grow? I'm 22, I need to act my age and do what people my age are doing i.e- making a career (even if that means in a new city, amongst new people, and no social life...yet)

Most importantly, must not be dependent on anyone. I'm old enough to survive by myself, and I must stop measuring happiness on the presence of other people in my life (even though they have a role to play)

Must stop acting like a retard and grow up. There are other people with bigger problems than yours. Suck it up and enjoy whatever's being thrown at you.

2011-04-03T01:14:00.001-07:00

There's an entire lifetime between Once upon a time and Happily ever after.

With binaries; like a lemon popsicle - cool and tangy with a tingling sensation for your tongue and somehow, you never realize it's potential if it walks your way with a disclaimer.

I've never been one for definitions. It's not something I'd put on my epitaph but I would certainly endorse a few drops.

Let the drops drop. Swim around, but not in a cannabis-coated indifference - you might just drown.

Take a lick today. Tomorrow, we'll whip some chocolate mousse. Till then, can I be your popsicle?

2011-01-09T05:03:00.000-08:00

Essay: Papillons dans mon estomac.
Translated: Butterflies in my stomach

Ze Butterfly.

They're red in colour and they've been fluttering their flappy wings in my stomach since the sunny July of two OH ten.
Yes dear, that pink flush on my face is because of you.

I wanted to write profound lines about you and me. Like a Wordsworth-meets-lovestruck-Shakespeare epic poem of 200 verses. But, we all know that.. I can't.

So I decided to use the red butterfly metaphor. It's spontaneous, passionately red and unique, mostly like us?
(It's actually just a pretty butterfly but I PRONOUNCE IT all those things. Capiche?)

Mucho lou.
Excuse me for being out straight this time. Maybe this made you smile as well?
Also considering you are my only reader, it's a risk par excellence.

2011-01-01T08:16:00.000-08:00

Zig. Zag. Zig. Zag.
Like taking the steering wheel of a car and going absolutely nuts moving it from right to left, left to right - like a little boy with his first plastic toy car.

I've been sitting in my plastic toy car for far too long, methinks.

Tomorrow I will make a detailed list of qualities that I can buy per kilogram. And finally visit the market, bargain a little with the uptight wholesalers who give you the elevator eyes, before they're convinced you're worth a makeover.

Then I will convert it all into a virtual superwoman suit, wear it, feel happy and face the world full frontal.

Until then, I'll circle in my whirlpool of Jamie Cullum, Corrine Ray Bailey and some good Ol' Dave Matthews, hoping to jazz up my spirits.

2010-11-15T01:48:00.000-08:00

Today I'm hit by the regular hum-drum of an approaching winter existence, with colourful woolen socks and a post-diwali hogging hangover.
Getting sun-kissed by a half baked exposure to sunlight, I walk into a my temporary cubicle of densely scrutinized words, hoping to hopscotch my way into a sharp-toothed adult reality.

And I dream.

Sometimes I impart wisdom about how faith keeps us going, like a permanent treadmill that pretends to be your customized motivational speaker.

Admist my predictable climb of a life, I walk through my past clouds letting it shape my present decisions in a self-analytical fashion, praying the ladder doesn't break before I reach the top.

As I walk these walks, this unpredictable cyclone of love and passion sweeps my away and I don't know how to write about my next step. It's a beautiful detour, with the potential to be another pathway.
I don't know if it's the red bricks that attract me or the sheer joy and fear of walking on a cloud like medium - but I smile. I wonder if I can buy a manual somewhere.

Fear behold, this might be it.

2010-10-27T09:59:00.001-07:00

I'm not a bad person.
Just fickle.

I have always been dreamy, like a small child with that little frilly doll on her mind. (Or action truck, whatever)

I am impulsive.
And I am romantic.
I fluctuate between being self critical and extremely lax.
But, don't we all?

And I have my fair share of irrational choices, honest interruptions and impulsively tainted decisions.
Just your average girl who runs through tunnels of emotions.

But you don't want these justifications.
You want to know why I make the same mistakes.
You only want to know why I am so complex.
It's simple. I try. I do wrong. I get beaten down. I learn. I implement.
I'm not a bad person.
I am just fickle.

I promise.
Maybe I need that sabbatical to Pondicherry afterall. Devoid of technology and a heart.
Maybe I can buy some stability?

2010-10-16T22:54:00.000-07:00

This time, it's a complexity laced with self righteousness and self pleasing.
No amount of Plath, Woolf or modernist/post modernist perspectives can make one (me) ignore the right thing to do.
So this time when I close my eyes and make a decision, it'd be a mature one, but my eyes would have been shut.

2010-10-05T12:09:00.001-07:00

Labels don't always drive away the complexity.

And sometimes, 2 am dead silences can have many connotations. But that's okay because it's still 2 am, and you know that. You also know it'll be morning soon.

As long as I can see a wave vividly in the inner recesses of my head, It doesn't matter that it is a wave.

2010-09-29T12:39:00.000-07:00

Merge with me like those notes that seemingly fit.

Fear of a drastic fall.
Intangible feelers over misty cups of coffee on misty nights, and shampoo-smelling undertones.
And that is Yesterday.

Wavelengths and Idioms for anything dual, please?
I think I have it all figured out until it starts to rain.

When did the rain start to wash away my cement?
When did the rainbow cease to be a conclusion?

2010-09-27T11:56:00.000-07:00

Walk from your right, and reach the middle.

You'll see that I'm standing there, having already arrived from the left, with a blueprint of a wall.
Let's build a ghost wall around us, with bricks, cements and no questions.

Let's stay for a while, and enjoy the warmth.
Remember, the wall can be broken anytime?

Because when we leave the round circle of middleness, suddenly the left and rights will seem much closer.

2010-09-17T00:05:00.000-07:00

You tell me.

One of those day when you've promised yourself you're going to stay away from fattening desserts, you're asked to choose between Dark Chocolate Fudge Cake and Creamy Raspberry Cheesecake.

What do you do?

Appendix

* Dark Chocolate Fudge Cake : Your favorite acquired taste, something you know makes your drool at the thought of. Your signature stress buster and a sure shot mood elevator.

*Creamy Raspberry Cheesecake : Secretly, you've always known you'd like something like this. Not many people would expect you to pick Creamy Raspberry Cheesecake, but it your eyes widen in delight at the thought of it. You picked it a while back and you felt guilty for not going with Dark Chocolate Fudge Cake, but every bite of the cheesecake made you feel like you were always meant to savour it.

Please to remember Self-Inflicted no-dessert Diet.

2010-09-09T04:53:00.000-07:00

The smooth blues are playing in the background.
It's a familiar smell, although that is my only tryst with familiarity. It's a new path, and maybe you can wait till I find a suitable adjective to describe it?

How many times can you repeat something in your head before it runs down your face and washes away? I try to pass it off as sweat, sometimes. But only sometimes, lest they call me a bunch of nerves.

I put blinders near my eyes - although it's actual purpose is to block out that dreaded neurotics, and pep up the observations.

Tomorrow over coffee and conversations, I could be just the other girl in the coffee shop.

2010-09-02T13:50:00.000-07:00

I doodle.

So yesterday, I decided to scrub off the red splotches of ink on my doodles.
They were colourful, but schematically distracting.

I tried to look around for a magical eraser, that retains the doodle but erases the red. Well, I couldn't find one and using a normal eraser only tears the page.

Then I picked up the pen and started doodling in red again.
And the colour became darker.

So now I've just shut the book, kept it in a locked cupboard.
I bought a new book and a black pen. It looks white and smells fresh, and it makes me happy.

But.

2010-08-25T23:17:00.001-07:00

It gets tricky once you start to analyze.

Can someone tell me how I could jump back and wear pigtails? If not pigtails, than a little crochet of consistency and a small splash of innocent indifference?
I'll even take the effort of trying to stitch a perfectly customized suit.

But can I take a break if I get pricked, please?

Though I've heard, once you choose a double digit number, it can't go back to a plain old single digit.
And God knows, I've been bad at Math.

2010-08-19T11:57:00.000-07:00

Okay, I think there is something severely wrong with me.

2010-08-18T13:02:00.000-07:00

Who doesn't have layers?

Layers are like those little black eyelashes that fall on the tip of your nose, which leave you with a little bit of hope that someone heard your silence. The more they fall, the more you contribute to You.
They call me complex, sometimes dramatic.

It's easy to hide layers, easy to pretend to put on a multi-coloured mask of unfamiliarity. It's easier to wear different clothes everyday, donning a new idea, look and feel.

I wake up every morning shuffling my bag of colours. I wake up favoring one mask over another, choosing wisely and promising myself a definition.
Sometimes when I wake up in the afternoon, I don't have the time to colour.
They call my complex, sometimes predictable.
I tell them I am fickle. And that it can be that simple.

The other day I noticed I had short eyelashes.

2010-08-05T05:12:00.001-07:00

Pluck my strings like you dedicatedly produce beautiful harmonies off a simple instrument.
Construct a little fictional story about me and you, dipped in arbit surroundings and unfathomable realities.

Let's create a song of our own.
I'll try to reach the most difficult note.
You can contemplatively bite your tongue while trying to find a chord that fits.

Let's do what we do best.

2010-07-27T10:33:00.000-07:00

Back.
With a revenge? I don't know for certain.

When I look at her fake lenses, and similarity to me, I wonder if what's holding you back is me or her? Or both. Or that there's nothing to hold back.

It's a nagging fear. But I guess it comes from an intense intersection within me.

You reach out to grab my hand, withdraw and follow it by expressing your desire to hold my little finger.
You're making me fall. I fall because you warm my heart with you quirks, the resonating laughter as a result of your company and your yellow melodies. Because with your yellow and my peach we make sunshine.

I'm falling. You're quiet.
Put a finger to my mouth, will you?

2010-07-21T12:32:00.000-07:00

Between abbreviations and little cryptic signs of batted eyelids, she carves out a shadow.
It's black, but ofcourse.

Folded into neat curves and sharp edges, she pricks her finger.
It's crimson.

Yet, it's not the first time.

2010-07-10T23:31:00.000-07:00

July won't remain the same for me either.
Leaving aside the Crazy, your red passion seeps through the complex harnesses of my facade. It warms me and surrounds me with hope.
There are signs, you know?
Signs that the state of cold feet is what I desire.
Signs that you must pick up that note and live it out.

Thank you, though.
You made me believe.
So when I said I'll keep in touch with you forever, I mean it too.

2010-07-08T07:13:00.000-07:00

You remind me of a sunflower.

Shiny and bright, as if all you do is emit a yellow-purple sunshine. Then a smile slowly carves itself on my lips every time I see you.

The pink tinge, coupled with a melange of colors on you. With your fruity fragrances, and the indulgences that make you beam even further.

With your garbled words that is a reflection of a working mind, and your neatly chalked out hopscotch boxes, you follow the setting sun in hope of a brighter moon.

I had to write this down not because I am lovesick. I write this note because when I become a grandmother, and sunflowers don't exist anymore, I'll still think of you more or less in the same light :)

2010-06-28T12:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Men,

Really? Really? And you have the balls to call us complicated and confused?

Next time any one of you comes to me and says, "You girls have such issues" I am going to kick y'all in the nuts.

Sort yourself first, and then spread stereotypes.

- A simple woman

2010-06-21T12:34:00.000-07:00

Let me flow.
No, not this time again.
Letmeflow.Letmeflow.Letmeflow.Letmeflow.Letmeflow.
I won't even name the river. I won't challenge the current.
Just let me flow.

But.

No verse, this drama will meander into a less exaggerated silence. Like a backseat that was always a backseat and never contested to be important.

Are you blind? Do you not realize that the drama has unfolded already?

Let me flow. What is natural cannot be wrong, can it? I shall cease to pay heed to everything that could be potentially disastrous.

You fickle, fickle, fool. A mistake the hundredth time over is not longer a mistake. It's a mark of a disease.

How do we know it's a mistake? I choose to flow through tunnels of rocky, icy barriers to reach a warm fire. I choose.

Let me flow.

Let me exit this conversation, I cannot fight for a lost cause. Convincing conviction against action is not an easy job. Let your rocky channels not scar you yet again, this time leaving a permanent bloody mark.

2010-06-11T09:29:00.000-07:00

Don't stop wanting to hold my hand just because you can't see it anymore?

I'm aware I provided you warmth, atleast I tried. But you made me a fire. A nice little slow burning fire that took it's time to warm everything around it. Like a smile that takes it's time to make it's way from amusement, glee and finally happiness.

Problem is, now I can't stand the cold.

2010-05-14T00:14:00.000-07:00

Weak
Easily intimidated
Seasonally judgmental
Selfish
incapable of being Righteous
Easily swayed
Over-analytical
Confused
Indecisive
Presumptuous
Negative

2010-05-07T04:29:00.001-07:00

I wonder how many more relationships will slip away from my hands before I can officially call this a crisis?

2010-04-29T04:25:00.000-07:00

You can never say "I am sorry, I didn't mean to do this" with enough conviction. How do you put it into words convincingly enough for the other person to understand?

I've been impulsive and selfish yet again. I wish I could articulate that I'm not a bad person and I'm just a bit immature, incapable of making wise decisions at the right time?

My solution?
I won't be impulsive in the future.

I was better off not being responsible for another person's feelings.

I'm not fit for relationships. And I am trying to say this with the least amount of self pity. I mean every word.

No more. No more of this.

2010-04-17T10:30:00.000-07:00

But I thought when we heard the blues, and smoked on my terrace we were creating memories? Memories that you would miss eventually, maybe?
I have been accused of exaggerating a connection a little bit, only because I tend to get too involved. But are you telling me that those memories we had for over 8 months don't come back to you every now and then?

I don't speak from a lovesick viewpoint. I am talking about a pure connections. About having a good time, with a special friend. It's not too great when what you perceive as special seems a bit evaporated, especially when it seems like you're the only one who holds those memories at a treasured place.

I might not be able to make those memories again, maybe a part of my faith in friendship has gone. But to have some parts cut out with a knife, and not even thrown away, but placed in front of nonchalance, can be a bit hurtful.

Is friendship a figment of my imagination?

2010-04-16T03:38:00.000-07:00

I wish I could write about pure pain. The purity of pain is almost divine in it's form. The real tears, the despair, the verse that drips of a flawless depression, the melodies that reek of everything grey, like a cloudy day with no rays, of any kind.

Pure pain can be as beautiful with regard to what it churns out, as a misty hilltop after a few drizzles, as a pure blue stream of water with a tinge of pebble-y refractions.

It's a romantic state. It's all about the romance, this pain. When you're down there, in the hollow pit of extreme moroseness, you create this little grey world of your own. You know it can only be an upward climb, but you'll stay there. The beauty of the state doesn't imply anything pleasing.
It's beautiful because it's miraculous.
It's beautiful because it pulls out of you some of the most pristine emotions, from the never-seen-before corners of your heart.

I wish I could write about this beauty, while in this beauty.
Just once, I wish i could find myself a place in that pit.
It's a bizarre request.
I just want to feel the pain to be able to create beauty.

2010-04-08T04:48:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wonder about the pointlessness of it all.

You're assured, you rejoice, you expect and you get disappointed.
You fight to be strong because you fear being called too sensitive.
You talk about growing up, because it's happening. Physically.
But can you really handle it?

You convince yourself to do it because it makes you feel nice.
What feels nice suddenly becomes a necessity.
All the convincing becomes the right thing to do.
And then when it comes and slaps you on the face, you wonder when it become so important?

It's pointless no?
All the expectations and battling with yourself to live through them?
I don't mean to say none of the expectations ever get fulfilled.
But what are we getting in return for taking the risk?

Is it really worth it?
Or are we just convincing ourselves that it is? For the momentary-ness of it all.

Stupid moments.
Stupid memories.
Stupid expectations.

Being bitter does not make me too sensitive. It's natural. Deal with it.

2010-04-06T03:52:00.000-07:00

They all say your first internship is supposed to teach you about life, and how things will be once you step out.
This is it, I guess. I'm virtually not a student anymore, and even though my first internship is happening pretty late in life, it's here. And it's all and only me.

I wish there was a way for all interns to magically prove to the employers that they are awesome. Like maybe a powerpoint presentation on the things they are willing to do, and ideas. Which does not include writing CDs, or sealing packages that need to be sent.

I don't like all the adjectives synonymous with interns. I don't want to be percieved as a curious little over-ambitious fresher. I'm not. But on the flipside, I know it's not really smart to write off anything experience by a bad or negligible first day. Mine wasn't bad. It was just so.. blah.

I realize what kind of environment I would ideally want to work in. I wish I could get it back, it was perfect when I worked in my first newspaper, as an associate editor. It was an all students team, equal ambition, equal naivete and equal talent. I loved it.

I'm trying to figure out how much more random facebook surfing I can do before I lose my mind.
Thank god I have e books.

2010-04-02T12:40:00.000-07:00

There are places I remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more.

Yes, things might never be the same, for whatever reason.
And I've come to terms with it.
But i'll never hate you. Ever. I can't.
We have memories. And I love the memories.
Sorry, that's not slipping from my hand :)

2010-03-25T10:06:00.000-07:00

I don't like mind games. I've been indulging in them for much too long now, and it's beginning to get tiring.
There's this point in your life when you know you've probably left something behind, to NOT have it follow you.

I thought i'd had my share of mind games, but it's followed me.
To a place that I thought was specifically mind games free.

Guess not.

And then there are times when you think you have the control. You really, really do. There are no delusions in theory.
And then when it hits you, right upfront.. pretty evident who the doofus has been, innit?

I'm rambling.
I just don't like these mind games. I really don't. This is my one thing I hate the most. Like, ever.

And I swear to god, I did not think it would be in the context of You.

2010-03-19T07:38:00.000-07:00

You know,
When they said life is unfair, nobody mentioned that unfair was just this word they threw in to make it sound profound.

Downright unfair, really. For the lack of a better word.

There are some problems you have where you don't know if you're the pyscho thinking or looking too much into it, or the problem is genuinely worth all the self analysis.

But then again, I know I think too much.

I need to stop thinking and not give a damn.

*whimpers*
Someone please teach me? Oh, how so ever grateful I will be.

2010-02-24T07:20:00.000-08:00

Good hair day: Check

Attendance issues resolved: Check

New singing opportunity: Check

Awesome-sauce Boyfriend: Check :D :D (super hot also)

Stronger/Positive outlook: Check

Meeting good friend after months: Check

I'm Happy and I know it !!

*claps hand*

2010-02-16T07:08:00.000-08:00

I wish there were someone like John Keating from Dead Poets Society around here to scare away the reigning under confidence that builds its fence around me. For me the movie is less about mainstream conformity and more about inspiration. About romance, and how underrated the concept of romance is. I don't mean romance as red beating hearts romance, but everything romantic. Romantic verse, and romantic art has always inspired me with it's forthright nature of drama and extravagance, and more so, made me realize how much a fool you seem when you show interest in it. I clearly remember holding back my admiration for the romantics back in college.

It's funny and a little pathetic, how I need external influences to drive the course of my confidence. I hate admitting to it mostly, but I have a fluctuating self esteem. Sue me. I need external influences to inspire me, boost my confidence, and I do spend a lot of time having those weird talk-to-yourself pep talks, but they hardly work.

It's like my mind is this whirlpool of thoughts. And I have to actively stop myself from running into the drama around the negatives. These negatives. What to do with them. I always thought I was a realist. When did I turn into a negative person? And what always plays on my mind is how I can stop being one.

Somehow, It feels like all of it is connected. I know the confidence, faith and positivity can come around if I stop THINKING so goddamn much. I should, no?

2010-02-08T06:25:00.000-08:00

When you learn that whatever comes your way is a result of the choices you make, no matter how hard the situation, is you know you'll scrape through it. As a kid I always wondered whose side to take when the debate about karma came up. Karma. It's the only thing that keeps me grounded.

It's not the imposing type of belief, but it's something that I would advocate to most. It gives you a fair idea of your life, letting you steer clear of delusions. I often don't understand how people put off something for later and let stuff happen for themselves. Sure, somethings are best left to chart out for themselves, but I am proud of the choices I make and no matter what comes my way due to those choices, I am willing to deal with them.

There are days when I see myself trying to justify and reinforce so many things that I am not entirely convinced about. We all go through those phases where we give ourselves a hard time for whatever reason. I must stop. I must stop trying to slap on different layers just to make myself feel happy for a while.

It's like this. I work in an ABC way, and if I know it's not right for myself, I'll change. But fundamentals is what makes you, and there will always be a few people who love you for those fundamentals.

So the next time I see a 13 year old girl giving herself a hard time for various reason, ideally I would want to shake her shoulders and tell her:

Time will teach you that somethings about you are here to stay, so you need to start working on dealing with those right now. Otherwise you'll end up being a 21 year old with severe self esteem issues creating due a lack of identity fixation.

I can't say this enough. I love myself right this way. I realize I say this to myself often and it may be annoying to many, the kind of intense, extreme self esteem issues that I pass through on a daily basis. But, hey, that's me :) I come around, eventually. I am your regular, karma fearing, sensitive, junk-loving, semi-ambitious 21 year old. I guess I just didn't have the will when I was 13.

Tell your adolescent sibling/niece or nephew/child that what's important is that they don't let themselves down. What matters is that when you cry, you wipe your own tears and only you know what you're crying. I learnt to love my company :)

2010-02-04T10:07:00.000-08:00

Blocking out actually helps. I can't say that the absolute indifference which I seek has come. But I can see it floating around, not touching me. I need to convert it into the concrete so I can pocket it. And flaunt it.

It's about not expecting. Not expecting people to awaken to the possibility that they owe me an apology. Not expecting people to melt because I am/was hurt. Not expecting people to care about my feelings. Not expecting people to always behave the way I would love them to behave. Not expecting from people in general.

Somewhere I wish this came to me earlier. And I have immense respect for people who adopted this attitude much earlier. Guess I had to learn the hard way :)

Immense love for those who stuck it out. Who inspite of this cynical wave, instill faith in me that the world is not a bad place after all. I guess I was too late in the blocking out process. But there are some cliches I am willing to hold onto. Love and Faith. I am thankful I have more than enough of that coming my way.

I regret the moments where I would blind out to those, and focus only on the general low-ness that centered me. This pessimism will go away, soon. I promise.
A promise to those people who throw me all the love and faith in world. I love you.

2010-01-26T06:14:00.000-08:00

Mental Note to Self (and others, if you will):

Nobody's going to force you to be positive. You can drown away in the negativity, just because asking yourself to have faith seems like the supreme cliche. It's always better to stay corny and happy, rather than staying intensely creative, for the lack of a better word, and intensely grumpy.

It's somehow all falling into place now. Not magically, though. I've been working towards it. So all the notions I had that someday I would get up and things would just start working for me, is utter nonsense. There always has been, and there always will be the need to get up and tackle all the bullshit upfront. And I did that. And I officially give myself immense credit for it.

I love myself the way I am. After breaking my head over the flaws I kept recognizing in myself, I realized that even though it's sad how I need to keep reinforcing to myself that I am in fact pretty great, it's a happy realization. Flaws and all, I thought, I need to know when to pat my back and when to criticize.

Faith. That's all it takes, and you know that whatever it is, a fault within yourself, and cluttered day/week or a negative itch on your back, will whiz past eventually.

I choose being corny. I love it :)

2010-01-18T07:35:00.000-08:00

They say Pete Best is the unluckiest man, ever. Imagine missing the bus to being the world's Ringo Starr. Poor, poor man.
I can't even imagine my life without The Beatles being exactly what it is/was.

I love The Beatles, needless to say. I don't claim to be their hugest fan, but I cannot imagine my life without them around. And hence I felt like listing my favorite beatles numbers according to mood.

1. Crazy, Drug-induced Beatles- Yellow Submarine
2. Super fun, Dance-able Beatles- Hold Your Hand, Drive my Car
3. Vintage Beatles- Hey Jude, Penny Lane
4. Profound Beatles- While My Guitar Gently Weeps, Yesterday
5. Distinct Beatles- With a Little Help From My Friends, Love Me Do
6. Romantic Beatles- Something In the Way She Moves

Oh, Those four.

2010-01-16T05:34:00.000-08:00

It's a bit strange. This constant need for a definition.

"Define what you want to do in the next 3 years"
"Define the relationship"
"Define an internship"
"Define (insert word)"

There's always somebody looking to put you in a bracket, trying to figure out what type you are. Sure, it makes things a lot more easier for everybody if you're type, but why judge when no definition floats?

I have a fundamental problem with judgements. I don't understand how people stick to them. I'm not counting that snap judgement everyone makes at first go. I'm talking about judgements that float around for years and everybody's inherent apprehension to clear them.

I'll tell you what else I have a fundamental problem with. People grappling to accept the way they are. I don't see why. If one feels like they want to change the way they are, it should be made easier for them and not hard because for some godforsaken reason, and yes, external sources, they carved out to be a certain way.

"Life will teach you a lot", he said. Maybe. Yes.

It's the give-take that I despise. Because every time I am faced with a situation where things like "You'll learn", "You'll see" is thrown at me, I actually do see and learn.
And that's just me. On another average day, those sentences are defined at cliches.

Oh well. Back to definitions, are we.

2010-01-09T23:33:00.000-08:00

I'm raging mad. MAD.

All your quests to cleanse your soul, and your karmic beliefs, are going to come and BITE you in the ass, my love.

Because at the end of the day, you hurt me more than I allegedly did. And you know how much you're hurting me. Whereas you gave me no chance to make up for how much I hurt you.

You're the reason I can't make new relationships, and I'm PETRIFIED of making one mistake, because evidently that is all it takes to let everything fall apart.

I'm so raging mad, my love. And this is the end from my side.

2009-12-13T04:20:00.000-08:00

How do people just get up and leave?

You have a handful of memories, over months, over years, let's say. Even if someone were to push you off the roof, and make you fall in this pit where darkness wasn't the only uncomfortable thing around, how DO you just get up and leave?

I fell into those kind of pits millions of times. But. I could never be convinced enough to close the doors and wallow in the loneliness that I would be put through. I always thought nobody had the balls to presume that it was all over. Another shot at the trust, perhaps? Maybe, just MAYBE you would have wanted to give the person a chance to justify?

Part 2: Let's suppose you fall into the pit a million times, give the person chances, realize that in that relationship, the pit was your second home and finally close doors.
How much does it hurt to open the door, every once in a while for a peek, to see the other person walked away the very moment you made a stance?
I know, I should have seen it coming. But.

How do people just walk away like that?

Note to self- I must buy myself a heart of stone. Apparently it's the new trend.

2009-11-26T20:57:00.000-08:00

Never thought I'd see this one coming.
Slowly creeping through, and covering every inch of my bodily space. This negativity. I want to stop feeling it, and be all Oprah-like. But meh. Even she's going off air. It's that level of insecurity where you will do anything to jump into another bus of emotions. Cliche, Work-o-holism, Promiscuity, anything.

Faith surely has a burden, eh? I don't want to lose faith. We're all animals but, without faith. I believe, I genuinely believe this is a rut that I will overcome. I believe I have strength to stick by the right choices I made.

I made myself a deal. Will I allow myself to stick to it?

I am picking one brick at a time, those dark red scrunchy bricks, and making a wall around myself. You can jump in if you care enough. The process doesn't slow down for anyone. Well, the bricks are bloody fascinating.

This is a public announcement.
I know I am doing the right thing.

2009-11-22T07:04:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I wish It were only easier to express oneself in cliches. There would be a drastic decrease in complication and the pressure would become dispensable.

Let's treat that as an aside.

There's so much more left to say, and I would have proposed it a long time ago had I known the potential has crossed his mind, too. I want to dump this whole situation into my "latest confusing things that donot deserve more than 5 minutes of my time" box, but I keep going back there and collecting it all, trying to fit it into my small tattered pocket.

Today I was telling a friend how the usual delusions that come with intense emotions have ceased to mark their place in my head. I was, am and always will be clear on the state of things.

Let's give neurotic, idealistic and romanticized me a name. How about "Z"?
Z has made itself a small little hut in my heart, knowing that it is in a minority. Every now and then, though, the motherfucker pops it's head out and screams in this shrill voice about how it is never heard and always sidelined. There's no point trying to make it understand about things right and wrong, about convenience and pragmatism. So every now and then, I let it speak it's heart out, and let it have one day of being who it really wants to be. Secretly, I enjoy the feeling.

Tomorrow I will have to get out of the other side of the bed and pretend as if the smile on my face is merely because of the shining sun.

2009-11-13T09:03:00.000-08:00

It's about knowing,
even amidst
all exterior doubts and reconstructions
between days when you feel
like you want scoop your heart out
to under-do the ecstasy
and days when you wish
it wasn't the pillow you were hugging at 4 am,
that nothing is different
from the last time you sang the particular song
and the notes haven't changed one bit.
It's like physically making yourself
change the chords of Fur Elise
when the world knows the tune.

It's about knowing,
That every single instance
when the smile is carved
on the beautiful face,
It reminds someone out there
of a flawed reality,
and never once stirs a doubt
of the beauty of the situation
in all it's imperfection.

It's about knowing,
That one can strive to write lines
out of the realm of coherence
and yet,
the raw emotions of the writer
are crystal clear.

2009-11-06T09:03:00.000-08:00

Couple of things:

1. How do you refuse to talk to someone on gtalk? I mean it's a free call. So one of my dearest, MOST DEAREST, ( I still miss the boy like crazy) friends tried calling me on the phone and my SIM has given up on me, so the phone's not working. So then he asked me about skype or MSN.
I detest skype. No particular reason. I just don't like the idea of talking to someone while sitting in front of a PC with headphones. Everything has it's own space you know? Maybe this would be different with a laptop. Or this other friend of mine has this cordless phone that her Uncle gifted to her from the US that can be connected to the net and used for Skype calls.
But apart from that, Skype just seems meh. I am not a fan. And I miss the boy like nuts, but we're not the confessing type. Plus he just broke up with the love of his life and I know he needs me. Doesn't make a horrible person if I detest skype, right?

2. I've fallen in love with Death Cab for Cutie all over again. I just finished downloading their discography and it's on of those bands that make you want to listen to all their songs and love all of them and not a selective few. Downloading is such a lovely little word, now that I am at home.

3. I realized my out-of-teen crisis (not that I intend on sounding immature and like a 12 year old) was actually PMS. I am fine, now that the cycle is back on track. Tee hee. I could have used a much better metaphor, and I would, if i knew only women were reading this. For that matter, I'd like to know who all read this in the first place.

4. Just random trivia. Me and Daddy dearest were randomly chatting about last nights match against Australia and the ABSOLUTE SHAME of losing by 3 runs with a score of 348, and we decided to calculate Tendulkar's salary. You will not believe what my cell phone calculator said.

After a couple of multiplications, on hitting the equal to sign, my calculor says: "To large an amount to be calculated"

Before you think this is a joke, let me tell you it's for real. We tried going by the facts that were given in some random magazine that said he earned Rs. 2350 per minute. If somebody's calculator can tell me how much he earns per month, I'll be glad. My calculator refused.

2009-11-02T22:35:00.000-08:00

I was called the Crib Queen in school. By a very dear friend. Of course things changed since then, but an inherent need to want to find any platform you get where you complain about how your life is not going the way you planned, exists in most of us, right?

I've always been the recipient, not the creator. I realized this more when I became a literature student a couple of years ago and figured- that is what i wanted to do with my life. And I was willing to sacrifice the one staunch decision I had made because I had some romantic notions of how my life between the ages of 20-30 should be like. I wanted a life, in general. And yet, being where I am right now, knowing exactly why I'm here, I feel unsatisfied. Sometimes I regret taking this step, mostly because I still don't have a purpose, even though this was a secondary choice.

I feel unsatisfied, because no matter what I do, I know I can do better:

1. I could have done better as a full time lit student
2. I could have done better as a professional singer
3. I could have done better with my choir in college
4. I could have done that assignment better
5. I coule have participated in this event better.
6. I could look better.
7. I could have better clothes.
8. I could have done more to not spoil relationships.
9. I could have spoken better here or there
10. I could have written all of this better.

No really, I could go on.

The question is, should I pick up my bags and do something to satisfy myself, no concern of the risk involved or should I shun this as a common human tendency and focus on daily-doings that keep you going?

Eternal questions, I say. Maybe I should have just posted the question.

2009-10-31T10:26:00.000-07:00

This is a change I want to document.

I had thought I would write about something to register the change, but with no luck. And then I realized.. well,

a) I have lost most of my readers, I don't get any more comments on the blog for the content in any case.

b) Any change in the content will only seem temporary if It isn't preceded with a disclaimer that it is not temporary.

So before I move onto more scintillating compositions, I thought the note was necessary.

P.s- All this because I didn't have a topic. No, I am not this boring in reality. I would ask you to try me, except this isn't the right medium for that.

P.p.s- Stop now, perhaps?

2009-10-19T10:50:00.000-07:00

What next?
The drama is over, love.

So now we're in deep trouble. Deep deep trouble.

I don't even want to go under the bridge, youknowwhatimean?

I want to stay on the bridge, have you lie beside me, as we watch the sea and talk about the difference between a subconscious and an unconscious mind.

Come away with me?

2009-10-14T00:22:00.000-07:00

It is a wall I hide behind.
I am aware and I know when it's right to admit. I want to stop writing about you and go back to my cryptic self, but this makes me feel like I have an emotion to lie flat on, when the pain mounts onto my back.
I want to write about things that matter, and there is so much that does.

There are flaws in me, more flaws in you. And even more flaws in between us, with us.
I dare to love those flaws.

Do you, dare, move those beautifully lashed eyes to me?
Don't write me off just yet?

2009-10-05T07:59:00.000-07:00

You called me when you wanted feedback for your movie.
You called me when your movie was a raging success.
You called me at your most inspiring moment.
You called me when you were lonely.
You call me when you want to discuss how Alice from Alice in Wonderland defines naivete in English Literature.
You call me when you don't want to speak and only listen.
You call me at your 100 % happy moment.
You call me when the whole world calls you pretentious and superficial.
You want to be with me when you can't stand the whole world.
You still to be with me when I annoy you.
You still want to be with me when everyone else is falling in love with you.
You still want to be with me knowing who I truly am.

And yet, you have the nerve to turn around and say that you "can't" love me.
That you don't have those emotions in you.

Am I schizophrenic or are you?

2009-10-03T06:50:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, there were a certain pair of shoes.
You know the deal with shoes, right? Everyone wants different kinds of shoes. Different sizes, shapes, colours and patterns.

Some are superficial, and want fancy looking shoes. Some want just comfort. Some are smart enough to bag both in one, but that's rare.

So once upon a same time, I wore a particular shoe that I loved. It troubled me sometime... perhaps, some didn't like how it looked on me, but it fit. It just fit me. You know how shoes can get. After a few years, they just slide into your feet like they belong there.

Anyway, Along came... polly?

Polly had preferences. We fought over shoes. We fought like we would pull each strand of hair out of each other's scalp. He annoyed me, but they were fascinating conversations.

He had strict notions of how his shoes should be. He wouldn't budge from his notions, he'd say. That shoes need to be a certain way. I would cringe at his shallowness.

Somewhere down the line. I fell in love with Polly's shoes. They fascinated me, not for what they were, but because when he wore them, and I wore my shoes.. we fit. It all just made sense.

Polly expressed his liking for my shoes very seldom. I knew he loved my shoes too. He would tell me, but very rarely.

We have been friends for 2 years now. Polly and me. Polly's shoes are the only kind I want to wear.
But he's the deal with Polly. Polly has very fantastical ideas of how shoes need to be a perfect mix of comfort and beauty. And he won't rest until he finds a pair like that. He falls in love with every other shoe. But he won't turn around to see my pair.

My shoes are unique. They're more comfortable than pretty, but they are pretty.
Polly needs comfort. I know he needs comfort. He likes the thrill of wearing a new shoe and the excitement of a shoe bite. But deep down, some of those cuts haven't healed and he needs my pair.

But he won't turn around to see my pair. He won't recognize the potential of my shoes.

What is wrong with my shoes?

Tell me, baby, where did I go wrong?

"... I'll change for you, I'll play the part"

2009-09-28T07:38:00.000-07:00

I think the person undergoing unrequited love is in more a comfortable position, than the person on the receiving end. Think about it.
It's all about the intense emotions, and the feeling that their world will never understand your love. What happens when all of that deconstructs? When you do get what you want, and realize that one thing you always wanted isn't exactly what you thought it would be?

So there is no question of putting you on a pedestal, really. Or my situation.
You know what your problem is though? You're looking for a muse for a companion.

Aside- Somebody go tell him they are separate phenomena and cannot be moulded into one?

I am not asking you to think the way I do. But I am sure, the day you see what you searching for doesn't exist in reality, you will realize what I am around for.

Stop looking for a miracle to hit you. And start giving reality a chance.

2009-09-26T14:33:00.000-07:00

Rehne doon?
Rehne diya :)

Perhaps the only lines in Hindi I'd write for you.

Talk, lover. Talk your heart out. I'll let you say whatever you want.
I'll let you crib, even though the paused movie is waiting for me.

You're like this child. Getting evidently disappointed at things that you've looked too much into.
Repeating mistakes that I hitherto warn you against.
Getting over-excited, unbearably passionate about things that only matter to you (and me, if you would notice)

Ler me mother you, lover.
It's my only way of showering unconditional love.

-Munni

2009-09-25T10:29:00.000-07:00

How do you not dream, eh?

They say you are shallow. That you don't know what you're missing out on.
That you're so full of yourself, you don't see that I'm the best thing that happened to you.

How does it matter if you don't see?

Let's hum an old hindi number, while you tell me how you've grown up on these melodies.
Let's debate over Nietzsche and Sartre. Over identity and postmodern politics.
Let's talk about your ideas of beauty.
Your ideas of romance.
And I swear I will shoo off anyone who calls you pretentious.
Let's not say anything for hours. And love the comfortable silence.
Let me look at you and have the freedom to love you?
Trippy, Judging, Arrogant, Shallow, Self-Indulgent you.

I know you, you know?
Even though you choose what you want to reveal to me.

I know us.
Even though you don't see us.

Smile for me..
Once?

And I won't care of how corny I sound.

2009-09-24T13:20:00.000-07:00

I am protective of you, too.
I should be a sweetheart too, right?

Who says i'm not impractical?
We can look at the stars all night, under a blanket.
You can tell me all about your idiosyncrasies and quirks.
Tell me about your dreams of starting a revolution.
Be angry at the world with me.
Go onto your extremes. Love, hate, want, pine.
Judge, and dote on your arrogance.
Delve into your brilliance.

I will love you all through it.
Just don't imply that you don't want me for who I am.

While mustering up all the cliche in the world, that still hurts.

2009-09-15T03:24:00.000-07:00

You're made of stone aren't you?
I'm trying hard to not sound dramatic and pitiful.
But, I'd expect you to sense that I need you now more than ever.

I know it's not always about me.
But it's me and you. Me and you.

You do know what that means, right?

2009-09-10T10:31:00.000-07:00

You had me with that smile of yours.

There were no dreams, no direction. It was all much too complicated for me to pen down. Too many emotions put into one situation.

How was I to deal with it? I don't see myself as being any different than I was. And you still don't see. You don't see what there was, what there could have been and what has come out of it now.

There still is. But do I want to tell you, now?

Do I want to delve into the complexities in search for a simple truth? Something you once told me doesn't exist?
I could defy you.

I know I could defy you.

I defy you by being crazy about you even now.
I defy you by sounding like schoolgirl when I come down to adjectives about you.
I defy you by living on this complex island of hope and meaningless melancholy, wondering if you'll see my in a way I want you to.
I defy you by wanting.... you? or what you are capable of offering?

Just.
Don't smile. Don't whisper. Don't let me "mommy" you. Don't be there. Don't be you.

It's still there. It's still strong.

I defy you, yet again.

2009-09-06T11:49:00.000-07:00

You love her because she recited Prufrock to you with conviction.
But you forget the time I recited Prufrock to you, like my life depended on it.
You make her sound beautiful, and just leave. Just like that.
All the women you describe, come off as beautiful.
You fall in love with most women, because of one quality in them that stands out.
One quality.
I never asked you to love me, but I often wonder why you didn't.
This is not saying that i have learnt how to define how I love you.
Neither am I setting a melancholic mood, where I compare other women to me.
"Why didn't you ever love me?", is not the question.
The question is, "Did I ever have the potential" ?
I have stopped formulating my self worth based on your perceptions, learning the hard way.
No longer do I pine for you, or think of you when i listen to a romantic song.
Longing for you has been added to my past.
You matter. And that's that.

Yet.
When you describe her to be beautiful and a "woman of substance"
and when I can feel you falling in love with her,

Why does it hurt?
Why does it feel like someone pierced my skin with a pin, slowly and brutally and asked me not to squeak?

2009-08-27T10:01:00.000-07:00

I live with the butterflies these days. Fluttering into every arena that seems flattering. They come and go, just as these convenient moods. How do I pick? Do I want to pick? Will I only pick once I find something worth picking?
These butterflies. They fly. They fly all around my stomach. Someday, the anticipation will strangle me. It's a very weird kind of anticipation, really. The kind where I know something "blow-me-out-of-my-mind" is coming up, but it makes me low to know that it isn't here yet.
The eternal find, I say. How do you know what to pick when it's a find, alright, but a find that is not defined?
And what's the deal with judgements? They just never leave your back, do they?
You judge yourself a lot more than you think you do. And then the decisions either fall short or just don't match up.
It's a web of complications.
Sometimes they exhilarate you, sometimes they make you restless.
I like them. I like them very much.
Just.. walk faster, will you? Or catch the bus. I'll pay for the fare?

2009-08-23T12:07:00.000-07:00

What is this urgency to achieve the intangible? It spells nothing but absurd, really. I should know better than that. There is something really wrong if I pep talk myself in first person.

This is a very interesting rut. I know exactly what the problem is. "It's not so much the person but you fighting to get want you want out of them."

Too many things piling on, you know. How do you deal with a string of contrasting situations? Some important, some not important. And then you give yourself a hard time about paying attention to the insignificant ones, and pay no heed to the situations that are demanding immediate attention.

I am aware. There is no action, but.

I can't seem to move out of it.

Help? (gulp)

2009-08-21T07:19:00.000-07:00

This cannot be happening, again.

It feels weird to have those very leaves, that once blew through your hair without leaving a trace, to come back and stick to your face even when there is no humidity to play the catalyst.

It rained today. I didn't feel any different. Seems like there's this repeated bag of emotions that I keep toying around with. I wake up in the morning as if to virtually, take my pick of an emotion. I have to confess that I pick my favorites. Not that ones that always make me feel better; I play by the rules. I pick complimentary emotions. They bring out the essence of me. And I like that journey of self discovery.

But, more often than not, there is a inconsistent repetition. I am tired of fighting this battle with language. I am tired of trying to put down into words the unconventional mix of emotions that get translated into syntax and grammar. Non-verbal art that way is so much better. There can be various dimensions. Words are restricting. I have immense respect for those who manage to articulate within the limited set resources.

I must curb this habit of meandering into different tunnels of thought. I don't particularly appreciate this repetition: in thought, in emotion and in situation. They say I bring it on myself. Nothing is happening. You know? Maybe it's much more than what comes off on face value.

Who can every say? Who can ever know?

Scary, much?

2009-08-18T08:59:00.000-07:00

Draught. Draught. Draught.

It's the reason behind all this mess. And all this fluctuation in mood swings.

2009-08-07T03:43:00.001-07:00

Everyone loves a Scandal. A Controversy.
Everyone loves a fight. The nastier, the better.
Everyone loves to see somebody pine for them.
Everyone loves to have a stalker.
Everyone loves their respective guilty pleasures, their secretive indulgences.
Everyone loves a piece of gossip. We'd even go out of our way to prove it happened if it's just a rumour.
Everyone loves a conversation filled with wit and sarcasm.
Everyone loves to watch a life threatening challenge being implemented. Some like taking a challenge. Some like exclaiming that they'd have done a better job, while sitting on their couch eating potato chips.
Everyone would love to believe that with the AXE effect, a billion girls would run towards them.

Everyone loves the excitement of being. It depends on how you see it.

2009-07-30T08:44:00.001-07:00

How do you successfully leave the past behind without wanting to be a part of it?

How do you jump over nostalgia without it kicking you in the shins leaving a permanent reminder?

How do you move onto a new phase of life without wanting to let go of the previous one?

2009-07-23T16:11:00.000-07:00

Apparently, you still have to be a demure little petite damsel in distress to score with a guy at a party, the atmosphere of which clearly spells, " I'm not going to badger you tomorrow morning with phone calls of how we'll get married soon".

Meh. Boys in India.

2009-07-07T08:38:00.000-07:00

Home. Everything is so heavenly about this place. My hair feels better, I look better. Even dusty Delhi is a relief from rain drenched, awe inspiring, beautiful Pune. Because Delhi is Home. And always will be.

1. I will always love my mum’s annoying habit of watching sexist soaps and crying over them.

2. I will always love My dad’s morning ritual of (im)patiently waiting for breakfast and muttering to himself about how things will never change. Because they never do :)

3. I will always love Delhi’s heat, no matter how much I crib about it.

4. I will always love the fact that you have to be mighty careful on the roads, and one lives with the perennial fear of being attacked or harassed in broad daylight- because it makes you stronger and aware.

5. I will always love my college and course – for the rest of my life. I love that it has molded me, shaped my personality and given me a niche.

6. I love the Delhi University culture. It suits me. It is laid back and hard working at the same time. It has a place for all kind of people. I love my college because it is growing and I was a part of that growth process

7. I love moving out of the home at 4 in the afternoon to meet a friend for conversations and a sub. I love the student cafes, the affordable shopping sprees, the trend of clothing and footwear that defines a delhi-ite.

8. I love Delhi roads- all of CP, Khan market, Dilli Haat, vasant kunj to IIT, even the BRT because it is so aesthetically beautiful. ( And no, I will not elucidate for people who don’t live in Delhi, the beauty of it is to experience it)

9. I love the music scene in Delhi. Each band, each choir. I love the theatre scene even more. It’s irreplaceable. Walking down Kamani and LTG and finding any random play to go watch, is brilliant.

10. I love standing up to anyone who criticizes Delhi. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Delhi is IT.

11. I love random walks/drives around delhi, at any time: morning, afternoon, evening and night.

12. I love all the seasons of Delhi- each of it has something special to offer.

13. I love the fact that delhi people are predominantly loud and boisterous, because it defines the place. Take it or leave it.

14. I love every single person who I have met in Delhi and have contributed to my life. I love this place. And yes, I will ALWAYS be a Delhi girl, no matter where I go, and however much cool(er), allegedly, the place is.

2009-06-27T07:03:00.000-07:00

A professor of mine today woke me up in his unusually boring class with this statement.

"Boys, I'm telling you, it's very hard to understand a woman. You'll take a lifetime, only to realize they are mysterious. I personally think it's a gift of god."

I sprang up, yelling, "SEXIST".

Whattoo do. The world is neatly divided into more patriarchal men, and less patriarchal men.

Feminists can go around bra burning in the name of propaganda, women like me can strive to break stereotypes, be it feminist or just female centric, and nothing will work, until the men don't bury all the notions there ever existed about women, ranging from what our grandparents preached to what children are being taught in the name of education.

P.s- exceptions are always around. There are many men who don't fall in this category, and many women who don't understand the meaning of a feministic outlook.

P.p.s- Don't even get me started on the misinterpretation of religion wrt inequality... or the "role of women".

2009-06-15T02:18:00.000-07:00

"Sing out, Sing out, Silence only eats us up inside"
Lifeboats, Snow Patrol.

I was telling a friend yesterday, that inspite of a fluctuating self esteem, most people end up knowing what they deserve- atleast at the age of 21. For all those people who follow my blog, (first of all, where art thou?) y'all should know that I don't title my blogs. But for the first time, I think I have a post that is uni-dimensional. Basic gist- I am tired of constantly proving my self worth.

And I know this is when the whole proving yourself begins, but I don't just mean this professionally. I mean in with regard to every sphere of my life. I was mentioning to the same friend yesterday how I am so petrified that I'll sell myself short sometime because I'll give up trying to find what I truly deserve.

My problem is, I am tired of telling myself to hang in there and wait for the right opportunities to march along because I most definitely deserve them. I'm not impatient, and I have gotten many opportunities but for some sorry-ass reason they just don't fit.

I am tired of being cryptic. Why must I constantly be pep-talking myself into believeing that the best is yet to come, inspite of a whole world of things that have already come and gone?
Why must I settle, compromise or adjust at all times?
It's time for me to be spoiled, ya hear me?
S.P.O.I.L.T R.O.T.T.E.N

2009-06-09T06:57:00.000-07:00

Two thoughts that passed my mind in a very boring class.

Is non-fiction actually more real or more credible, if it is actually a recreation? Even in a theory form, it remains a revival of a experience or an innovation that was registered at an earlier time. Doesn't that make it lose it's authenticity and hence why is non fiction considered a better genre than fiction, which honestly claims to be thought about and created?
Existential agnosticism: Is an existential angst only a primed, or a heavily influenced state of being? Or is it the truth, the "horror" (Kurtz, The Heart of Darkness) of existence?

2009-06-04T06:19:00.001-07:00

One week into Pune.

Wow there are so many things to update and say, I don't know where to start. Can't I just finish it with: Pune is fantabulous but it comes with a baggage of responsibility.. ? I have newfound respect for anyone who moves out of their comfortable parental home to make it on their own. It's all a romantic notion after all. You need to witness it firsthand to know what you've gotten yourself into.

I'm growing up yet again. Living alone is a lot harder than I thought. There are times when I want to just get up and form a jazz band of my own and ask everyone here to stick it up there's. On the other hand, I'm thinking every person has to go through this once in their lives.

I feel like a different person almost, writing from a room that i probably never saw 3 months ago. Oh what the hell. It's not as bad as i'm making it to be. It's actually fun. And I will definitely look back at this and smile.

One more thing: I can still pull a madeliene peyroux anytime I want. So this is out of the box :) I am ze proud of myself, almost :)

*sings out LOUD*

2009-05-23T04:52:00.000-07:00

I want to write how I can feel the difference, how I know that I am going to miss my hometown, and all that comes with it: my friends, my parents, college and a whirlwind of memories, the heat, the winter nights, my orange room, endless memories, endless endless memories... but somehow that emotion isn't coming around in full swing.

It's not a big deal right? Moving to Pune to study for 2 years, isn't a big deal...? It's not like much will change. I'll keep coming back.. one part of me feels this way. And there's this other part that knows once you leave, you never come back to find things the way they are. We're all going to move on. I know what I want from life in the next 5 years, and realistically speaking, none of it entails coming back to having the same atmosphere that was there when i was 20.

I was just telling a friend yesterday how I am always going to be a "Delhi girl". What a delhi girl is, amounts to another post, so moving on.. I realized that this might be the end. I don't know where life will take me after this. I don't know if it's just a 2 year thing.. and even if I return back after 2 years, will things be the same? Do I want to leave all of this behind.. and moreover, do I have a choice?

I mean, I've made my choice right? I know how I keep telling people that I want to live on my own, earn for myself, do my own chores and be independant, in the loosest sense of the word, about how I would love to come home and be by myself for a couple of hours... but that is just another example of believing that the grass in greener on the other side. There are a few people who I know won't leave my side, and a few who I will fight to always have around... what about the other 90 % of my life that has grown around here?

I guess it is inevitable. The reason why I haven't reached the I'm-going-to-miss-every-damn-thing part of this is because I have too many questions swarming in my mind. I just finished packing, and I'm leaving in 3 days. I am excited and ready to live the change, but for the love of me, I am bloody insecure of losing touch with a few really special people. Which again, is normal right? It feels weird to not be able to take everything with me. Ideally, I would love to take everything in a suitcase with me. So I never have to part with any of it.

Yesterday, I had to say my first metaphorical goodbye. It was a weird realization that the particular thing would not happen again for a long long time. I could extract sentiments from the last person i'd expect to miss my company. It was rather overwhelming :) I can't say for sure whether I am going to want to leave any of it behind.. it's probably going to be on my back untill i don't shrug it off as a past burden.

I dont know how to articulate this well enough. And I certainly dont want to frame it in a cheesy way. I'm thinking I'll just leave it at this. It's change, and it's exciting. But what makes me warm is that no matter what happens, memories remain. And that is my security blanket right now.

2009-05-22T01:15:00.000-07:00

Oh, it's just bloody unfair.

u
n
f
a
i
r

And all that jazz that is needed to portray that IT IS unfair.

UNFAIR. UNFAIR.

2009-05-14T01:59:00.000-07:00

A little bit of this. And a little bit of that.
x from there, y from further there, and z from right in front of me, yet unattainable.

If only there were a way for us to not want. I'm not talking about expectations. Expectations sound a bit more granted. I'm talking about want. Poured right from the ID, no virtues to taint it. Pure, simple Want. Quite the convenient situation it would be to not feel it, right?

Why does one need to take a step? Forward, backward or sideways. Everytime you make a decision, can you be sure it's the one you need? Or is really a decision you're making based on what you want?

And, what's the deal with compromise? Isn't it supposed to make you feel better about your mature self, again?

2009-05-11T08:09:00.000-07:00

...

You just have the most wonderful smile, don't you?

Suddenly makes everything seem out of focus.

Everything.

2009-05-06T07:29:00.001-07:00

Have you ever stopped to wonder why the idea of a flaw is a negative one?

Can flaws be the binding factor between person to person? Or more so, can the idea of a flaw ever be accepted as a part of a person's personality?

I have often tried to fight away the negative connotations of the idea of a flaw. If a person around me has a flaw, ideally, I would like to accept it as something unique about that person. Now this is ideally. Nobody really follows that. It's easier to be judgmental. But when your own flaws set off to bite you from all corners, what do you do? Change it... because, it's not acceptable? To whom? As long as your flaws are acceptable to you, how does it matter, really?

I know, sometimes these ideas of individually can get a bit stale, but I always mention the word ideally. There a lot of things I would personally like to change about how our minds have been societally conditioned. And I fight classifications, stereotypes and conditioning almost everyday. Not only of the people around me, but mostly the ones I possess. It's the hardest to break your own standards and grow out of them, into new ones.

I just realized that the feeling of endearment is very powerful. When you genuinely care about someone, their flaws become more than acceptable, and you work your away around dealing with them. You strip them off their stereotypes, and love them wholeheartedly. Not unconditionally, always, but the feeling is very powerful nonetheless. And no amounts of cynicism, skepticism or negativity can subvert this. It becomes wise then, to embrace this feeling of being cared about and caring about people: your friends, companions and most importantly those relationships that you tend to question so often.

And in this moment of change, I need to remember for myself, that I have a very solid base, which even if it fades, will always hold it's own by virtue of the memories.

2009-05-02T00:16:00.002-07:00

Karma.

Heartbreaks are perceptive, don't you think? It entirely depends on how you choose to see it. But then again, what isn't? If one doesn't wish to see things in a particular way, how much can you force? And how far would you really go to prove a point once you know that there is no point, really. But what is more important is how you define "pointlessness". What is your edge of intensity relating to pointlessness and despair?

How much is one willing to risk? How much can you rely on power: uni-dimensional or interdependent...? Can you help but include an added viewpoint to a certain established fact/notion when you have access to a meta-realization?

Sometimes, you can't help but have a whirlpool of unanswered questions in your head. And as much you possess the answers within your subconscious, articulating it out sometimes gets harder than you imagine.

I know. Does that suffice really?

p.s- The funniest thing: My hair is moody. When I'm being a crankpot, it gets curly and wavy, and when I'm in a good chirpy mood, it gets straight. I swear, I wouldn't make up something as surreal as, being the skeptic that I am. (haha, skeptic, not really, just fashionably questioning really, but whose counting on the technicality?)

2009-04-27T07:29:00.000-07:00

I'm a man, without conviction, I'm a man, who doesn't know.. How to sell a contradiction: You come and go, You come and go.

-Karma Chameleon by Culture Club.

Contradiction. Paradox. Rhetoric. Oxymorons. Have you ever stopped to think about the beauty of paradox, irony and contradiction in language? Why express in simple words if it can be constructed within a contradiction? It immediately makes you sit up and think.

Think about it.

I think I've caught a fever. How do I describe it? It makes me feel hot and cold and the same time.
A cold fever.

Playing with language has always fascinated me. And I'm yet to find the perfect song that plays with words. Some have come very close, though.

Suzie Q- Creedence Clearwater
Am I wrong- Keb 'Mo'
Sorry- Maria Mena
Yellow Submarine-Beatles
Babe I'm gonna leave you- Led Zep
Bigger Stronger Faster- Coldplay
Alright- Madeliene Peyroux
Magic Man- Heart
Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova- Falling Slowly.
I'm your Man- Leonard Cohen
Superstition- Stevie Wonder
Crazy- Gnarls Barkley
Pink Bullets- The Shins
Trouble- Ray Lamontagne
Stormy Monday- Eva Cassidy
Somebody to love- Queen
Gone in the morning- Newton Faulker

More later. I am going to swoon, croon over these for the time being.

P.s- Too lazy to post youtube links. Take my word, every song is worth atleast one listen. They're not my favorites, but they are pretty darn fab. And my favorite genre of music isn't included in this list, apart from keb mo, because their lyrics are not as beauitful as the melodies. Prove me wrong, someone! Hurry!!!

2009-04-24T05:23:00.000-07:00

I had this excellent image for the thing I wanted to convey through this post. Sadly, google and blogger is acting up and I absolutely cannot wait another minute for the image to upload.

You'll just have to make do with the desired effect created by the amazing play of words.

Anyhoo.

I am letting him go. Letting. Him. Go.

In all its meaning, connotations and repercussions. I feel rather nice today. And it dawned upon me, that I am ready to move on, happily at that. And and even better realization is that even if I end up getting what I want from him, it won't be what I want in general. And knowing this, running after what only seems futile is only messing me up, innit? When really, chances are, this is only so desirable because it isn't available.

Oh, I am twisted.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwDuC3fs0Gk

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
You've fly though my head like wine
You've wrecked the life
Of many a poor girl
And you nearly spoiled this life of mine

Love, oh love, oh careless love
In your clutches of desire
You've made me break a many true vow
Then you set my very soul on fire

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
All my happiness bereft
Cause you've filled my heart with weary old blues
Now I'm walkin' talkin' to myself

Love, oh love, oh careless love,
Trusted you now it's too late
You've made me throw my old friend down
That's why I sing this song of hate

2009-04-21T05:00:00.000-07:00

Pink Bullets- The Shins.

I've been listening to this song on repeat for four days now.
It's the kind of song that every once in a while, shakes you up, makes you teary-eyed only because it overwhelms you.
The melody, the lyrics. They all fit. It ascends and descends leaving you wanting more, yet content in a spooky way.
Sigh. This makes me feel alive. Not in an upbeat way, but in a "this is what I live for" way.

I was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole
you held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold
oh what a contrast you were
to the brutes in the halls
my timid young fingers held a decent animal.

Over the ramparts you tossed
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
tied to a brick
sweet as a song
the years have been short but the days were long.

Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
we fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed
when our kite lines first crossed
we tied them into knots
and to finally fly apart
we had to cut them off.

Since then it's been a book you read in reverse
you understand less as the pages turn
or a movie so crass
and awkardly cast
that even I could be the star.

2009-04-17T05:20:00.000-07:00

Prologue:
After many (oh many, many) moments of being miserable, helpless and all that jazz.. I realized this is short lived. So I decided to be positive about it, rather than cribbing or whining. Stuff happens. Meh. {stuff: startling realization. startling in a bad way}
(Having said that, this doesn't mean I won't be mopping around. I still will, but it is commendable that I have a optimistic approach to it, right?)

Why fight for an Inspiration?
I'm pouring myself a cup of fate,
And waiting for it to cool..
So I can drink into a blissful oblivion.

Why define? Conform or Decide?
I'd rather dismiss and smile,
Being perfecting content,
With the flaws, the questions,
The supposed: taken-a-wild-shot-at kind of answers.

Why question?
I'm stitching myself a vision,
and an additional pacification,
Using colours, prints and faith.
If you look close enough,
It will say:
"Hello there. This is me. The End"

Epilogue:
Hey. Atleast I try.

2009-04-14T02:24:00.000-07:00

I sort of saw this coming.
Evolution, much?

I was reading through my old posts and I realised I could have written every one of them better. The flinching, though, was uncalled for.

They're right. He has no positive presence. I begin to doubt myself after I stick around him too much. I take myself too seriously, and invariably end up being hard on myself. I have to stop being someone else.

I am me: And this statement has never made more sense to me than now.

I've had enough of self-analysis for a while now. This should serve as a requisite reminder.

2009-04-08T04:59:00.000-07:00

As the saying goes.. blame it on the rain.

Nobody woul relate me with a gooey, cheesy mood. And I'm not talking romantic in the popular fiction sense. I'm talking romantic in the nature loving, inspirational, ideal sense.

I would love to be in some unexplored place, around 6 in the evening.. so it's not too dark, but there's no hint of sunlight. Heavy rainfall. A Black umbrella and I set off for a loooong walk. I settle down bellow this tree (let's just presume it saves me from getting drenched... not that I wouldn't want to, but I have a camera, so). I have some music playing in the background, (some Creedence Clearwater Revival, Mozart, Beatles, Farida Khanum, Jagjit Singh, Damien Rice, Coldplay and ofcourse, Dave Matthews Band, and I should be set), and I just sit and enjoy the nature.

I would write. I would sing. I would rejoice.

"Or am I dreaming? Lovely Lady.. Let me drink you, pleeease?"

Take pictures of each droplet. Take pictures of the natural greenery. Of the trees swaying, as if they sway to every note of music. Capture every moment of melody.

The Rain.

It's enchanting. Magical. Who would think a couple of droplets of water from the sky could transport you into a different world and make you unperturbed about your changed romantic self.

If only I could do the aforementioned. Instead, I set out with my camera and my umbrella and took a few pictures of around here and there. The feeling of the rain on my feet, on my back, was exhilarating nonetheless.

What a day :)