3WW CCVIII

an imminent danger lurked,as she tampered on with her life;

for behind her was a past  engulfed in shrieks. 

entry for HERE

.............

"Between Hope and Fear, Love makes her home." - Raymond Lully.4

"The thoughts are now closing in…I am closing up. Shutting up completely for sure…getting lost again, into oblivion, obscurity locking the doors leaving the key behind and burning the house down. I’ll do that tomorrow, in the morning; yes mornings are great times to start things. To begin things, that are calling for an impending end. Yes, I’ll think more clearly and more surely in the morning.

There is a knock on the door, it is you again.

Why?

Why today of all days?

I’m not pretty today I am ugly, scarred almost insipid.

Why?

Hushed... I feel you close, coming onto me…kissing my scars, all of my pain, my malice. gaining power over me, taking me in as I was never gone, as you were never gone. holding me like I was yours forever. Like there is a power that you can command. Like there was nothing lost, like there was no asking. 
But it hurts to see you see me like this.see me unkempt. 
I feel uglier when I am held in your arms; my abode once, that place is not mine anymore.

I am repulsive, stagnant stuck somewhere, stuck in you.  The mirrors laugh at me, I am the jest. I have thrown them out…I don’t look like I looked in your eyes…I look different. 

You are closer now; I feel all of you…completely. I feel complete…I look for mirrors to capture this moment, no I have thrown them out…I see my reflection in your eyes…again….

The weight suddenly lifts, yet I feel heavy. The morning light hurts my eyes. I can’t think anymore…you’re gone, nothing’s changed. No, I can’t think anymore…

I'll lock the doors, leave the keys and burn the house down. I’ll do it tomorrow for sure. I think. "

"gazab ka hai din socho zara...."

the chatterbox broke into a song today and at the same point in time me, Asha (the maid) and MOM in three different places in the house started singing the song....the clouds outside are promising a beautiful drizzle....

"....ye deewanapan dekho zara"

*can i have a little background noise please*

OK now...silence!

Now THIS blog post here is all about me and things that i am sitting with right now. This is MY den, the part of the house that is my territory and I rule it (and can say that out loud to mom =P). 

Some time ago, I read THIS  thought-provoking post in Suruchi's blog and thought lets do something about it. (and yes I am STILL all VELLA ).

So I did a little clicking, a little Photoshop-ing and HERE I AM. 

I don't sleep alone at night i have bed mates =D

the one in yellow is one hell of a hugger....though i end up spooning him in the dead of the night instead of it being the other way round =P

 life is completely - incomplete without a (soul) mate.

(though technically he/she/it does not have a soul i can so easily manipulate it to make it think the way i do, or am i manipulating myself?? ummmm.....aarrrggghhh)

THE CHATTER BOX- THE SMIRK-(grrrrr)ER- THE ADMIRER 

subah hoti hai to janab smirk karte hue good morning bolte hain and chatterbox sahi wale gaane bajata hai.....but then as the day progress i hear a lot of *dil mera hit hit....soniye* and *munni badnaam hui....* (though mom likes the second track...that calls for a complete new post ... later)

i let it slide...( like i have a choice =| )

pop-atts are my favorite kind of birds and since i have a zero-pet policy i don't have (will never have) the real deal.

 but i can have as many replicas as i want! i love them all green and happy =D

(DID YOU MARK THE subtle PUN IN THAT???)

THIS is my source of light that is often challenged by the umpteen number (=|)  of wet clothes mom puts up to dry

 ( the banes of living in an apartment that has no private terrace...another blog post again)

                                                                               

and THIS is me =D

( YES, that is a fav t-shirt that has not had holes in it, yet, and my favourite T-shirt policy is that it has to have so many holes that mom secretly dumps it. For all t-shirt lovers know that a t-shirt only gets better with time and with the number of tiny tiny holes it manages to have.)

realization (completely unrelated) : i LOVE Daler (paaji) Mehendi songs!!! =P

entry for 3WW CCVII

He nudged me, called out my name.

I think I should have hastened my gait;

For He says now, love needs to ripen and until then, life needs to wait.  

.......................

my first entry for THIS website

random conversations: the breakfast dialog =P

MTV:*rote kaiko ham? ha(aaaaaaa)in.....rote kaiko ham????* 

ME:  itna ro ro ke...ha(aaaaaa)in...questions puchte kaiko ham??

MTV: *would you lie for love?* 

 ME:hain? would i? never!

       umm....

       but isn't all fair in love and war? 

    hmmm....

MTV: *he's so sexy sexy!*

ME: i'd sure lie for love ;)

....................................................................

people who have been reading my blog for sometime now (people, people!!!!) have heard a lot about Vinobha. he met with an accident 2 weeks ago and has 24 stitches!!
( i wonder how that was even possible, given it is Vinobha)
this was a conversation i had with him...posting it again

[it had 0 comments (i hate unread garbage =|)]

[in the red (monstrous) volvo]

bhavika: ye dettol jaisi smell aa rahi hai na.

vinobha: haan wo swine flu hai na isilie dettol daal dia hai.

bhavika: huh?? usse kya faida hone wala hai?

[silence]

[after 10 minutes]

bhavika: ye dettol jaisi smell abhi tak aa rahi hai.

vinobha: hmm...khali hawa kyun ho isilie kuch to smell karne ke lie de rahe hain.

bhavika: nimmaji thale. :|

[location: Bangalore; date: Nov. 1st 2009]

..............................................

truth and beauty are cousins at war.

R.I.P: to the incorrigible girl who once loved sunflowers and butterflies.

For angels tread on heavenly grounds, I dare not set my foot on the clouds.

There is this nonchalance that she and the world shared. None ever did tread upon each other’s roads, but walked past by, always.Her worst fear and her greatest desire stemmed from one single line of thought, what if she disappeared? There was not much fear for the oblivion as there was curiosity.

The fear,THE nightmare was the fact rather that she will never be looked for.

ever.

Strange are her ways, for she wants to be looked for but not found.

The fact that she had the ability to disappear gave her the sky that she was so overwhelmed by but just at
 that point, her feet searched for the ground, the home she never found. Very few people knew her as someone who was damningly vulnerable; they made good use of that. For others she was strong, obstinate almost; but for her she was TOO strong, too strong to carry on, sometimes; for strength was a tough call when it came to doing things on her own,she almost always freaked out, she could have been called a coward at best, her cowardice giving her, her biggest flaw; Honesty. 

She spoke her heart out always, not knowing when to stop, where to draw the line.
Paradox was her second name.

Her ego was too huge for her to open up for just about anyone, leaving her alone, lonely at times.
Her inability to draw lines, led to her losing immensely, leaving her alone, lonely at times.

She was a sucker for mush and love stories and there have been umpteen nights where she has spent crying and sobbing over a stupid love scene. 

Mornings were much better for her though, they better suited her; but like all things good for her, she maintained a distance from them. 
Happier during the day she’d flinch and make a face when her mate would talk a little mush. She would do just about anything; she had very few rules, but hated it when someone else did it.

She was hugely defensive, her guards up as soon as someone said something remotely nice to her; yet, she fell in love with almost every guy who gave her a little bit of attention.
oh did I mention that she was a observer, yes that thrilled her, sitting for hours pointing out tiny details, noting how the hands move, how he looks…the smiles and the words…she was a sucker for words, the beauty of a single word, those monosyllabic poems or volumes spoken about a single thought.
Yeah she loved words, she fell for them always.
She hated being called when she was working or writing or listening to a song or watching a movie, she wanted her peace of mind, her solitude almost always and all the time.
Yet, she despised it.
There were these certain times where she wanted a friend, a silent partner who she can discuss the world with, her stories, music,movies, her stupid theories, who might not have the same tastes yet someone who loved conversations just as much as she did. 

She never looked for anyone though, she did not think she was good enough;

people came stayed briefly and left, she did not ask anyone to stay, she did not think she was good enough
She was always left, always left alone, for her own good, for their own good.
Her smiles and tears were, to her amusement, always there, irrespective of anyone being there or not. 

She learnt to live alone, alone in the crowd, alone in someone’s company. She hated that, yet secretly she knew that gave her independence, in a very pathetic way one might think, but it did. The fact that she could not receive/accept love gave her the secret strength to lose; for she lost, always.

There is no faith anymore, no more hope; neither fears or illusions.
There is just calm.

This for the girl who once loved sunflowers and butterflies.
May you rest in peace.

....................................................................................................................................................................

the post was off.

i never intended to repost it again...but someone did look for her after all...

it is for you Blasphemous Aesthete