Know?

"Its funny about identity. You are because your little dog knows you."

- Gertrude Stein.

sounds i miss...

The metallic clang of the beautiful bronze bell signalling recess at school.The primitive sonorous ring of our ancient telephone.The painful screeching noise issuing forth from contact between the chalk and blackboard.The coaxing loving whine my favourite dog would court me with.The slow trickle of dirty water flowing down the steps of our narrow building corridors every once in a while the bai washed them.The little musical prelude that was played before "aamchi maati aamchi maanse"(or something like that) everyday on DD1. The looooong wistful siren which was sounded everyday at 6:30am for the Raymond factory workers as a cue to the end of yet another ardous shift and the dawning of yet another morning. The mellifluous notes of the bagpipe and the thudd of the drums which serenaded us every sports day. The piercing blow of the whistle which marked the beginning of every mass drill exercise. The loud bang with which my fourth floor home doors kept banging with every monsoon.The slight swish with which the cream curtains lazily swayed during warm summers. The sudden static and black and white shower of dots the TV would burst into every once in a while. The incessant kicks which were used to cajole my mum's first bike and then its slow sputtering to life..only to die out in a minute. The slight scratchy notes jumping from the letters being scribbled with apsara pencil in my notebook. The muffled sound of my smiley eraser incessently erasing digits from my maths book. The rattle of the spoon in my steel tiffin as my lunch basket swayed with every stride. The choked and suppresed bursts of laughter when we saw for the first time an anatomy of the human body in the fourth standard science text.
The terrifying buzz of deadening silence.The rustle of a new christmas dress.The echo of girly laughter resounding through labrinthine stone corridors. The corny rigtone of my first cell phone.The chaotic clatter of peak hour traffic jams.The humdrum voice of the lady cackling over the speakers at railway stations.The slow chugging of the local train as it approaches its destination.The rife voices of the vendors aboard a 6:11 fast. The haggard voices of working women.The joyful banter of idle college girls. The flirty whistles of roadside romeos.The swoosh of the broom as the early morning BMC worker sweeps the VT subway. The doodhwalla,the machiwalla,the pav walla,the bhaandiwalla and their bellowing cries. The plethora of audible,muffled,inaudible sounds which continue to resonate in some crevice of my memory....even if they die out in my city. I miss it all.

A Brief Interlude.

Three days three nights seventy two hours.
Well spent?bummed around bummed around bummed around some more.
Two movies one sitcom and some more pop corn.
Coffee caffeine,cherry flavored haze,sugared confectionaries,sinful cocoa and tantalizing grape.
Pyromaniacs,felinophobics,crazy non-acrophobics,Ulysees addicts,nocturnal night watchers.

My world is bizzare and colourful.A melange of the most unlikely.I live on an island dissevered from the insanity of the norm.We revel in a sanity most uncommon.Warped sleeping cycles,uncanny standards of dedication to work and (in)sensitivity to fellow mates apart we also take time off to look after the canines and felines.We swear by the four bucks coffee,four bucks donuts and navy cuts.Smelly loos and insipid food are surely not the silver lining.They are very forgetable.But the third floor gatherings,the insane play readings,the incongrous carol singing,the late night chillings,unearthly hour food binging,gossiping,speculating,bitching,sleeping;it could be mistaken for a two year party.But wait.We also slog for aeons on assignments,presentations and dissertations.(we actually spend hours on Bibliographies and punctuations)Life is a voyage with intermittent parties happening here and there.We crib we cry.We waste we worry and then hurry.But the night air soothes us, the bonfires warm us.And I wouldnt want to exchange this little world for anything better..well at least not for the time being.Cheers to the Wierdos who make my island boisterous fun and liveable!After all, in hindsight, the weekend was not badly spent.

an account

stale cold air.closed blackened windows.lazily rotating fan.sonorous voice echoing through the the stuffed room.restless mind wandering.suddenly scuttling spider across the whitewashed wall.scuffling feet at the strike of four.gray evening sky.steaming aromatic coffee spurting out of the yellow machine.lazy stroll in the well pruned garden.lounging under the huge tree pointlessly.trying to discuss important people.restless mind wandering.sauntering back to the grayer confines of a ten by ten space.lazy body lazy mind lazy being.hey beelzebub!wasted being wasted hour wasted day.piercing yell.frantic scream.albino lizard crawling across the cream wall.tail swishes,swishes swiiiiishes.stops.sits.stationary.irked out.monotony.boredom.change.welcome.grab bag n some bucks.hop into black and yellow bug.manouvers through clogged roads.halts.short queue.fat man.my turn.no change. no change.aisle seat.happy.time to kill.time stands still.spot a sale.books books n booksscatteredpiledstackedarranged.rummaging.finding.buying.happy.time to scoot.seated not so comfortably.annoying feet groping in the dark.muffled voices.searching hands.finally settled.rolling.soundcameraaction.darkness.stale cold air.closed blackened doors.happiness sadness naach gaana love joy natak.phew.over.cool night air.cheerful bright street lights.nice walk across the town.food coffee icecream chocolate gossip vanilla choco chips pastry.beautiful glowing full moon.monotony forgotten.recharged.revitalized.happy.stuffed.think this should be done everyday.wish it could be so.wish many things could be.wish wish wish wishwash.streets deserted.time fleeting.pack up pack up.rick shaw!rickshaw!good night good night.one and a half metre charges.damn!

REASONS WHY I HATE COFFEE SHOPS.

1.Because they don’t serve kaapi..but caawfee.
2.Because they don’t serve water but just caawfee.(even if you order a chicken crosissant.)
3.Because their chicken croissants usually suck.
4.Because they promise to serve with a smile failing which you get your coffee FREE!
5.Because they never do smile. And when you point to that big advertisement on their cool purple wall they flash a fake, obnoxious toothy grin.
6.Because they play lousy music.
7.Because my friends dedicate this lousy music to each other.
8.Because chirpy teens and annoying couples hog the huge couch for long periods of time, oblivious to large groups in dire need of that kind of space.
9.Because No matter which state, city or metropolis; the topography of these coffee shops rarely undergoes alteration. They are always purple, orange or mocha.
10.Because I have a problem with the word “hanging out.”
11.Because I once got asked out in a coffee shop.
12.Because I’m bored of all the coffee shops.
13Because I think tea is any day a better beverage than coffee.
14.Because I still continue going to coffee shops.

PS: this outburst has nothing to do with the fact that I turned a year older and suddenly seem to have gained a more mature perspective on life. Next up might be why I hate malls.

Transcendence...ephemeral, fleeting,attainable?

Have you ever contemplated the darkness of a tunnel?? The probing minds which must have transgressed its limitless ness? The groping hands which must have searched its boundless ness? The aspiring hearts which must have plunged into its nihilism?


She encountered the end of the abyss.She touched ground zero.She is the darkness.

She has no golden halo.Just a probing mind, a groping hand and an aspiring heart.She lives in the mortal fear of the dark.Of the other groping hand which wants to touch her, the inquisitive mind which wants to penetrate through her, the overwhelmed heart which wants to possess her.

She lives a life of feared desires, fettered wishes and un expressed feelings.She should breakfree...soon.Before the last grains of sands of time slip and pass through her nimble fingers, returning to the dust, at the end of the abyss.

Bored?

Boredom.Its a strange thing.Sometimes when life is zipping past you at an unstoppable pace you hope and wish for moments of boredom. Boredom can be a good comforting break from the tenacious grip of our mechanical existance.Soothing and therapeutic for frayed nerves and numbed mind.
But that is essentially "sometimes".Normally Boredom can strike you at the most unexpected times. Or is it just me? I've felt it innumerable times..Right in the middle of reading a Newspaper or a captivating thriller, watching a romantic mush-flick or Friends, talking to my friend or even eating the yummiest food.Have you never felt that overpowering urge which compels and cajoles you into just chucking everything? When you yearn for that one moment of stasis which can just let things be the way they are? Stiffened,static,paralysed,irreversible??
Boredom I have figured is very rarely a palliative.It is a lethal arsenal which more than often is destructive.It makes you lugubrious and sore, unproductive and disturbed.I hate being bored. Boredom for me encompasses not only being bored with things or activities, but taste,variety and even people.Boredom with things may make you realise how limited you are in skill and interests. But boredom with the world only reinforces my faith in solitude. Man is a social animal..for most part of my life I'll play the part of the animal, for the rest of it let me just be.

Current mood:embittered for no apparent reason.

Horizons

I feel like I've lived a lifetime
I stand at the threshold of another..
I see it unfolding on the palm of my hand.
Like Sybil I'd want to squiggle in all the sand that i can
Can all my memories, seal all my friendships and obliterate all by-gone pain.
But memories dont leave you friends rarely forget you and a trifle pain always remains.
All that is exactly what makes life worth living again and over again.
And who says you live life just once...its a different life at every new turn, in every new book, in every new face, in every new friend.
Its a new day with every new sunrise and i stare longingly...into the far horizons.

How Rakhi got kissed got wild and lost the little life she had!

Applauses haven't sounded yet again.Accolades haven't rung all over again! But our (in)famous "the new hot thing" "the sizzling beauty" "THE ITEM GIRL" has not done us proud again! They always manage to make it to the headlines...for all the wrong reasons of course.

Whether it was Shefali zaariwala or Deepal shaw...a splash in the tabloids is essential every now and then.How else will we remain "hooked" on to them? After all we are the aam junta..n public memory is short lived ...very short. After Shilpa Shetty hurt public sentiments down south with her vulgarly draped sari..Apni mumbai ki gori probably felt sidelined and lacklustre. So what better way to penetrate back into the fading memory of us privileged viewers??

Of course its the tried and tested formula...erupt a sensational scandal..touch the public sentiment where it hurts the most and then create a ruckus about Indian morality and ethics. So what better chord to touch rather than the aeons old "abla naari" sentiment. Rakhi Sawants a pro..she's outdone her fellow "items". A little mud might be splashed around but she's confident of emerging out of the shutterbug smooch episode unharmed...quite as the sati savitri. After all as she defiantly proclaims.."I am an innocent Indian woman and no one can attack my dignity like that"

Does she even merit dignity? Well some women's organizations seem to think so,after all she is the "new Indian woman", the face of the modern India. Why then is the Maharastra government banning her shows all over the state? Well may be they'd rather that Mika perform. But the whole incident is quite ridiculous. Rakhi Sawant can bare it all on screen for hundreds of viewers and she cant handle a moronical man at a party and keep her dignity with herself.But alas..how can that be? She has to get her sheen back..her image has to be revitalised for us!

And of course the reservations,oil hikes and govt policy changes are trivial and inconsequential. Rakhi with her plunging necklines,Mika with his macho looks and Tiger with his flexed muscles are our heros for the day. Well thats what the papers seems to endorse..why else would they waste realms n realms of paper on the trysts of these insignificant earthlings from never neverland??

Till then we shall just wait and watch if Mika n Tiger ever do go to meet Rakhi and her mommy for chai...I'm sure the papers will be there to catch the moment when they kiss and make up. Now isnt that Front page Headlines material!!!

IMAGINE...?!

i cant imagine...im imaginatively handicapped.

i wonder why i cant imagine.what does it take to imagine? a creative wandering mind? a free restless spirit? or intelligence? formulaic intelligence? two plus two is always four..or can it be something more or something less?

i try to be a free falling leaf...but am sucked to the vortex by that force which you call gravity...

it lends me no sense of temerity but leaves me crumpled with a sense of futility

i try to be a shining star...but im left faded in the glory of the blazing sun..

i try to be the lily of the valley but am left withered in the pulchritude of the orchid..

i try to be something and am left overpowered by the vast void of nothing..

i cant be you...i cant be her..i cant be the orphan i cant be the urchin

i cant be something you want to see

i can show you the world through my eyes,it may be tainted,it may be lies
i can resurrect a new world from these fragments
entwined enriched woven by my imagination..
the orphan may be happpy the urchin may be rich
i can show you what you would want to see.
deploy my observations employ my deductions.
shrinking my imagination to mere reduction?

imagine?

but what is the use?

tickles your senses, goads your wishes

shatters reality? mystifies eternity?

i can spur my imagination and create a mighty din

but i have to be me before i am you, her or him.

and if i do imagine about the world at large what will you be left with?

ramblings , musings rantings...nothing but my ruminations.

imagination is but a worm...

im happy with just my ruminations..

im not selfish im not depraved..

im just human with nothing much to rave

and all these faults i know i'll carry right into my grave.

(state of mind: stubbornly incorrigible)