strange

Let us meet in a stranger's dream. 

A little strange you and a strange little me. 

For you, I think I'll make a garland of memories

You'll get me a bouquet of joy. You, my bouquet of joy. 

A happy little heart sings a happy little tune 

A heavy little heart in a strange little dream. 

-----

PS - I am NOT a fan of Karan Johar movies; but the line - 'jaise dil ka pet bhar gaya ho..'  has stayed with me. 

a murder.

//

I had all and then most of you; 

Some and now none of you. 

Take me back to the night we met

//

to hunt a witch they gather
the pleasure-fiends grappling your insides;

as friends and lovers and parrots they disguise.

"she spoke too freely but said very little" -
"she always woke up with a start, and never slept soundly"

"oh look there she comes, emotions up her sleeves
unkempt hair and loose clothes,
how do you let her walk free?"

a book in her bag, a song on her lips
a spring in her steps she strutted by;

"she did not even look, that self-conceited bitch;
you are right my friend she indeed is a witch. "

the harp flew a 100 yards,
struck her on her spine

she fell on the spot, covered in her blood
the winds picked up her song.

she was a dreamer dreaming of a lullaby;

an insomniac up until the crack  of dawn.

this and that

I am vella again. Between jobs again.
.............
I was at my mother's place last week. After two years of my marriage I went there for an official 'aanto' (gujarati for visiting your 'maika') I could manage to stay there a week, then I shortened my trip and came back 'home'. Let me make this clear, i don't hate my parents; no one in his/her right mind hates his/her parents. They are gentle folk, just like my husband is. My mother is a tad stifling that's all. She has this habit of curbing people, non intended of-course,but yes the curbing does happen. She is the person who would open the caterpillar's cocoon for it, when she sees him struggling.

My impromptu packing of bags made my father call me to get my hormones checked – 'beta, that causes mood swings and depression'! Alright.

The constant need to run. Run away and escape makes me feel nauseous.
..............

Tamasha was engrossing.

Among-st all the subtlety the least talked about was the earnestness with which DP played Tara, that hopelessly in love Tara, who does everything Ved's way.

“...main jab se wapas aai hoon, tum mere saath ho”There is that unparalleled honesty with which Tara confesses that she has, in a way, become a stalker, searching him everywhere and yet staying with him when he in fact is nowhere to be found. Lucky for her she finds him and finds HIM.
..............
You cannot make you love someone, but yes, liking someone is not very difficult. Liking alone, I think is sometimes enough to get one through life. Atleast,till liking gives way to love, which i think also should be a natural process.

There is fear and insecurity that comes with the lack of love; respect and trust are not always enough.
..............

The only way to garner (extra) attention is to walk away in the middle of a conversation (not always literally) but, poof, gayab. I think that cat is out of the bag now. It is so not cool. Just plain stupid.

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

I just love back-lit keyboards, they are the best. 

absolution

I always thought I will die on the road, hit by a truck/jeep when crossing the road. Then I have this recurring nightmare, where I fall off the stairs, it almost always wakes me up; and since it wakes me up, I don’t really see me dying that way, maybe thoroughly injuring myself, turning me into a vegetable (which is worse than ultimate death).

But as you grow older life dawns on you as scares, you open for yourself different avenues. Then your mortality stares in your face and you do not take death as something you joke about.

Coffee and Silence

 Death is absolute, life gives you chances, every day. 

too much ado about nothing =)

I should have kept on writing. 

I took up a pen and found an old notebook, it had my husband’s scribbling on it. I think he abandoned it unknowingly. You know, like so many things in life we pick up, thinking we need them, but just, very simply end up abandoning them without too much thought, as a matter of fact not even realizing that, that something has been left astray somewhere. See now, I am really writing, I am philosophizing over a notebook which my husband bought and left after filling in a few pages. . 

We live on the 16^th floor of a new building. It further down a major arterial road and is frontal to a very busy, very tiny road. The building is so badly planned acoustically, that you can actually hear every single vehicle that passes by. Sometimes fights break out in the nearby slum when inebriated men lash out at one another, possibly hurling abuses at one another they actually want to hurl at themselves. I also hear dogs barking in the night, howling. Why do they bark so fiercely in the night and lay relatively calm during the day? Do they miss out on all the noise?

The height is good, I am sitting here in the balcony and I can see the rooftops of almost all the buildings in the vicinity. The breeze is an advantage, only that it sometimes too windy for my potted plants’ comfort sometimes, but hey that’ll only make them stronger, no?

I cannot wait for the rains, the air will be moist but cleaner, I cannot wait for the dust to settle. 

I shouldn't go too ahead of me, I have the summer ahead of me to sit out before that happens. 

whoops!

She is the chameleon.

Hop. Stop.Look.

She stops and waits and turns and looks and dives and flies and wanders and wonders.

I cannot see her…but she is here…hidden somewhere.

In your fantasies, lurking in that silent night's guilty dream.

In the unwritten phrases of that melancholic theme.

The dark alleys of your putrid soul.

The insinuating misdemeanors, the lofty goals.

Green. Scarlet. the midnight blue.

You dare not blink, for she changes hue.

She will leave, for when has she ever been chained? 
Here now. Gone again. 

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


pic: here

rab mileya raanjha na mileya...

ye dekho bazaar laga rakha hai.
kaisi dukaane saja rakhi hain?


udhaar me kahin mohabbat milti hai; 
kishton me imaan bikta hai. 
darzi jo mila kahin dil ka, batore tukde sil lie. 
umeed ki chaadar khareedi hai kisine shayad,
sapnon ka takiya bhi lia hai. 


dhoondha bahut hai magar, koi dukaan yahan mere kaam ki nahin...
..tu anmol hai, aur meri, meri to koi aukaat hi nahin. 

the mountains that never move.

...gandi baaten karti hun, gandi kitaaben padhti hun;

 gande se sher likhe hain, gandi gandi si kahaniya kehti hun.

gande log nahin, gandi to gandagi bhi nahin;

 mail kahin aur pada hai, mujhpar raaton ka andhera ghangor chada hai...

...aadhe likhe nazmon me shabd joda karti hoon,

iski uski baaten sunkar kisse batora karti hoon.

us raah par tu hai nahin jahan har shaam guzaarti jaati hun,

is raat me sath tera nahin jiski sihai se tujhpar geet likhe jaati hun...

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

गन्दी बातें करती हूँ, गन्दी किताबें पढ़ती हूँ;

गंदे से मैंने शेर लिखे hain, गन्दी गन्दी कहानिया कहती हूँ|

गंदे तो लोग नहीं, गन्दी कहानियां भी कहाँ है? 

मैल कहीं और पड़ा है, मुझपर रातों का अँधेरा घनघोर चढ़ा है|

आधे लिखे नज्मों में शब्द जोड़ा करती हूँ, 

इसकी, उसकी बातें सुनकर किस्से बटोरा करती हूँ|

उस राह पर तू नहीं जहाँ हर शाम गुजारती जाती हूँ, 

इस रात में तेरा साथ नहीं जिसकी सिहाई से तुझपर गीत लिखे जातो हूँ|

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

premonition.

Go away.

Before I can even muster a whimper, go away.

Before my sighs turn into sobs, go away.

Go away before dusk settles into the imminent night when I would want you to sit next to me, indulging in star gazing.

Leave alright; leave before I can settle in you, comfortably, before you settle in my heart, mind, soul. Leave, turn around and leave. Walk away like you did tonight, walk away like you will when I strip my soul naked in front of you.

Leave before, I confess, leave before I reveal.

Leave before the plastic wears out, the real sinks in, leave. Leave before my desire becomes my need, go away before I become too much.

Walk out on me, for that I can handle.

Walk out, for that is what you will eventually do.

Leave. 

a hand on my heart.

I am tad overweight...but there has to be a pair of hands which can wrap around me and hug me.
One thing that fits just right.
One place where I can be lost to the world.

ZERO

Nothing.

Nothing worse than my powerlessness at loss of words. 

Nothing is worse than impotence when I can’t weave those broken sentences into a melody. 

Nothing is worse than tearing off pages writ with broken images of absurd situations.

Nothing is worse than my incapacity to indite the sun in my wan sky.

Nothing.

Nothing is worse than poetry’s persisting abstinence from my indulgence.

I just can't get it back.

the LIST

Vanity:
taking a great picture and photo-shopping it, trying to make me look prettier.

Self-deprecation:
waking up unkempt, going through the day unkempt, sleeping unkempt.

Sorrow:
no one to show the picture to.

Hypocrisy:
reading the SECRET and trying to make-believe that i can make-believe

Bliss:
papa reading snippets from the gujurati newspaper when i leave for work, mummy gushing about my long working hours when i am back.


to be continued...

still waters run deep.

There are a lot of ripples here. There is a lot of noise, CHAOS.

She must be shallow.

yeah, so you think!


I am struck by my ability to be so many different things in a single day.

the joker, the joke, the optimist, the cynic, the snob, the failure, the intellectual, the whore, the Goddess.

I am everything you see, yet I am nOt anyone you know.

I hate it.

i write sad stuff, that does not mean that i am sad.

what goes around, goes around then comes all the way back around.

there are some-things that people revisit to. there are a few books, some poems, many songs and a handful of movies that i go back to again and again and i get the answers, whenever i need them. snap! like that!

one of such movies is before sunrise. 

and i quote:

Jesse says:

" You know…you know what's the worst thing about somebody breaking up with you? It‘s when you remember how little you thought about the people you broke up with, and you realize that that is how little they're thinking about you, you know? You know, you'd like to think that you're both in all this pain, but really, they're just, “Hey, I'm glad you're gone "

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

it is so amazing,this life, it is so much about 'not' being somewhere, 'not' doing(/being able to do) something. there are so many of these 'not's', this loop, that one cannot come out of. 

there is this theory of detachment that is beautifully described by Morrie in Mitch Albom's book. it talks of completely taking it in, all the hurt to let it sweep you completely. thoroughly to go out there and face everything in totality. i completely believe in that theory, in its totality, it helps you move over people and things completely, destroying anything that ever was there, ever.and leave you with snippets from the past like photographs.ones that make you smile after a certain period of time. 

for smiles.

p.s. i totally recommend the movie and the book. 

mirrors.

i looked into the mirror that night. 

just like that. 

the face hidden, nothing else but eyes.

i have beautiful eyes. 

they stared back at me. 

was i staring at them, or they staring back at me?

was it the other way round? 

i was as if in a trance.
 looking on.
like meditation.
like something beyond that.

it did not turn misty like it did before. 

i was aware of something,

 too aware to go beyond it, away from it to gain perspective maybe. 

i was struck by something i am unaware of. 

someone looked back at me, someone i did not recognize.

there was something amiss. 

something somewhere amiss.
maybe.

or maybe there has been too much that i had not kept up with. 

i was looking at me, as if i was looking at someone else. 

what does this mean anyways?

i am not making sense.

Ra(han)domness

YES my blog is officially malicious now. 

As of you who have had the guts to break that RED WALL with the huge warning to not, NOT, get into my blog, all I can say is, bhai bahut zyada Rambo-giri dikhane ki zarurat nahin hai, PC crash ho gaya to???

But now that you are here, you might as well pay for it. It is complete randomness, like I made sense pehle kabhi.

Umm, for all US, dyslexic people ( I call myself that all the time,because of the power of making spelling mistakes vested in me by my language teachers who thought they’d  have no marks to award me if they deducted marks per word ) random is a gravely funny word.

Yes, you can have so many random thoughts all of them making sense. Major discoveries are outcomes of randomness. Newton and the naked guy running around the town shouting Eureka (YES, I am too tired to Google that up, BUT I continue blabbering, roko, chalo roko =|) all chance, random thoughts.

One such thought came to me when I was walking back home from the station (yes I live in Mumbai now, I don’t hate is as much now but well more on that later) (now for people who follow my HTML-tag (all googled gyaan) that leads to my music blog will know how much this walk today has been special (bleh, small little idiotic things are special, so what? =\)

RANDOM GYAAN part 1:

Hmm, job hunting is so much like a break up (or heartache or a stomach ache or headache or motions, umm never mind)  

Your mail gets filled with spam while the only person you want to hear from does not bother to reply =|

You call up people and they fix up appointments, you show up before time and then they say they’ll call you back. You end up waiting for calls that never come.

Every time your phone rings you leap towards it and your irritating friend (categorized as the person who likes all your links on FB but you don’t like them one bit) is on the other end, all smiling and happy saying how interesting her office-walas are. You laugh at all their stupid jokes. =| but the call never comes.

 And when it happens you are least prepared for it. Like when a lover calls you, the whole conversation flies off and the phone gets disconnected and then you remember the questions that you had to ask. 
Meh!

RANDOM GYAAN PART 2.

BEAN BAGS are the bestest and the worstest  (yes, YES, I will use words that are non- existent, header nahin dekha =\)  pieces of furniture there are.

picture THIS. you are at bliss, with your ass and back being supported in a way that you could have only imagined; right then, there is need to go to the loo, you come back and sit and the whole feeling is gone. =| (don't blame the bladder, it has the right to get into emergency mode any time)

You just ,only at times, get it right, THAT is some hard work for the laze. =\

TOTALLY in love with the new Vodaphone ads, special things you do to me…amazing ads!!

I couldn’t find the song nor the youtube videos for the same.

RANDOM GYAAN PART 3:

Saala google b dhoka de deta hai. =/ (keep prompting i won't change it to upper case =|)

RANDOM TIP: when you know you get horrible pictures of yours, don't stop. you just might surpass yourself, you'll make worse pictures. (don't ask me why this now. bola na random hai)

"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. "

*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

wishlist 2

a lover's sigh

the smell of  your hair after you've shampoo-ed (especially in the rainy afternoons)

ice-cream for lunch and sweet-corn(on cob)

a half-read book on your bed (which you actually intend on finishing)

reminiscence of happy times. 

your friend who has known you for years just a phone call away, no guilt, no regrets. 

your friend who has known you for years saying that you are one person i thought who would do something with her life. 

you sit there and think.