Sun Come Up...

"It's not the load that breaks you down, it's the way you carry it."

A Hideout...

There are some similarities between a novel and a city. A novel, of course, is not merely a book, a physical object of pages and covers, but a particular kind of mental space, a place of exploration, of investigation into human nature. Likewise, a city is not only an agglomeration of buildings and streets. It is also a mental space, a field of dreams and contention. Within both entities, people, individuals, imaginary or real, struggle for their "right to self-realisation". Let me repeat – the novel as a literary form was born out of curiosity about and respect for the individual. Its traditions impel it towards pluralism, openness, a sympathetic desire to inhabit the minds of others. There is no man, woman or child, Israeli or Palestinian, or from any other background, whose mind the novel cannot lovingly reconstruct. The novel is instinctively democratic.

Ian McEwan on winning the Jerusalem prize

A Lemon Tree Grew Between Them...

Friendship is not about just lending an ear, but also, sharing your miseries and joys.

It's a two way street. You can't always just give, you have to also need the other person. 

Uninhibited...

As I sit by the window and dream, as I inwardly fashion my life, I am struck with the same feeling of doubt. Same uncertainty that has plagued me since forever. My heart follows the same pattern, oscillating between choices...this...that....this.

Possibilities.

Probabilities.

Realities.

I confuse myself, I lose the thread of thought and find myself frustrated. Enough I tell myself.

This.

This is what I want. Good or bad. Possible or not. This is what my mind will model henceforth and this is what I shall dream of.

And I stick to it. And now I add details. 

Brick Lane...

Feminism is not hating men, it is women having the freedom and choice to do what they want to. 

Still Wobbling In Love...

(From this blog)

Though the song is based on the 2004 Madrid train bombings, it still makes sense otherwise.

If I were prettier and smarter
If I were special; if I looked like a model
I might have the courage to cross the carriage
And ask you who you are.


You sit in front and do not even notice
That I am wearing my special skirt for you
And on seeing me you heave a yawn at the window pane.
My eyes well up.


Suddenly you look at me, I look at you and you sigh.
I close my eyes, you look away.
I hardly breathe; I feel small
And I begin to tremble.

And thus pass the days from Monday to Friday
Like the swallows from the poem by Bécquer.
From station to station, in front of you and me
The silence comes and goes.

Suddenly you look at me, I look at you and you sigh.
I close my eyes, you look away.
I hardly breathe; I feel small
And I begin to tremble.

And then it happens, my lips wake up
Stuttering your name.
I assume that you are thinking “What a silly girl!”
And I want to die

But then time stops and you move closer saying
“I do not even know you and I already miss you.
Every morning I skip the non-stop one
And take this train”

As we are about to arrive, my life has changed.
A special day, this eleventh of March
You take my hand, we arrive at a tunnel
And it goes dark.

I find your face with my hands.
I gather courage and kiss you on the lips.
You say that you love me and I give you
The last faint beat of my heart.

Last Dinosaurs...

If you died tomorrow...what would be your biggest regret?

Mine would be that I didn't travel enough, that I didn't see the Pyramids, that I didn't sky dive and/or Bunjee Jump, that I didn't love fully and yes, that I didn't get to make love M&B style in a desert under the stars.

*****
I'll never lose you, even after you're gone and I am no more the same, the person I used to be. I'll always have you; cause I have you in a box called Favourites. Safe.

Just the way I knew you: adorable and lovable.


*****
The rains that cleansed the gutters of my heart, you should know that now flowers blossom where hurt and fear once lurked. Thank you.


*****
I wonder what would happen if men just became biologically incapable of having more than one child. Like you know, once in a life time seed. You get to have only one kid in your life time.

I wonder if men would become more faithful. Cause you know, the reason they give us when men stray is that it's just men's nature to want to mate with as many women as possible, you know, keep the race going, spread the seed and all. Evolutionary stuff. Well, what if you just take that away? One woman, one kid?

I have no doubt it would totally overturn the order we have in the world right now. Virgin men would be like the hottest thing on the planet (and not wimmen) for one. But I am still doubtful as to whether it would discourage men from straying. Hmn...

The Clock Talks...

What day is it
and in what month
this clock never seemed so alive
I can't keep up
and I can't back down
I've been losing so much time

cause it's you and me and all of the people
with nothing to do
nothing to lose
and it's you and me and all of the people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

all of the things that I want to say
just aren't coming out right
I'm tripping inwards
you got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here

cause it's you and me and all of the people
with nothing to do
nothing to prove
and it's you and me and all of the people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

there's something about you now
I can't quite figure out
everything she does is beautiful
everything she does is right

you and me and all of the people
with nothing to do
nothing to lose
and it's you and me and all of the people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

you and me and all of the people
with nothing to do
nothing to prove
and it's you and me and all of the people
and I don't know why
I can't keep my eyes off of you

what day is it
and in what month
this clock never seemed so alive

Jungle Book...

So the nephew's coming over to India for a vacation and I can't wait to buy all those colourful children's books and read stories to him :)

You & Yours...

Tonight I lingered over your name,

the delicate assembly of vowels

a voice inside my head.

You were sleeping when I arrived.

I stood by your bed

and watched the sheets rise gently.

I knew what slant of light

would make you turn over.

It was then I felt

the highways slide out of my hands.

I remembered the old men

in the west side cafe,

dealing dominoes like magical charms.

It was then I knew,

like a woman looking backward,

I could not leave you,

or find anyone I loved more.

- Naomi Shihab Nye

Behind The Rocks...

I think the loneliest one can feel in Mumbai is perhaps at Marine Drive. When you see the whole stretch dotted with twos, each in the arms of a loved one, one can't help but feel a twinge. 

Chaff & Grain...

"But Oh! The blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearless on any subject; with whom one's deepest as well as one's most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away."
— Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Signal To Noise...

Oh no, no ordinary music this.


Trippy. 

A Whirl...

Why you're not married. Some good advice. Some terrible news.

You're just going to need to get rid of the idea that marriage will make you happy. It won't. Once the initial high wears off, you'll just be you, except with twice as much laundry.

Because ultimately, marriage is not about getting something -- it's about giving it. Strangely, men understand this more than we do. Probably because for them marriage involves sacrificing their most treasured possession -- a free-agent penis -- and for us, it's the culmination of a princess fantasy so universal, it built Disneyland. 

The bottom line is that marriage is just a long-term opportunity to practice loving someone even when they don't deserve it. Because most of the time, your messy, farting, macaroni-and-cheese eating man will not be doing what you want him to. But as you give him love anyway -- because you have made up your mind to transform yourself into a person who is practicing being kind, deep, virtuous, truthful, giving, and most of all, accepting of your own dear self -- you will find that you will experience the very thing you wanted all along:

Love.

Dear lord! Now I have to not only discard all illusions(about marriage) but also go transform myself! Lot of work. 

The Moon Misses You...

Close your eyes. And listen.



I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day and through
In that small cafe
The park across the way
The children's carrousel
The chestnut trees
The wishing well

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you

The Day The Words Weeped...

The wounds that last forever are not the ones caused by physical harm but by words uttered by a loved one.

Must remember henceforth to shut up when angry. 

Twenty Two...

Awww, what a cute song :)



Dil ke jo bhi raaz thay khul rahe hain, what a feeling
Neendon mein jo khwab thay jag rahe hain, what a feeling
Dil ki raahein, dikh rahi hai
Taare jo saare bane hai zameen
Jo bhi tha maanga, mil gaya hai
Jab se tujhpe kiya hai yakeen
Tujhko jab se maanga hai, haathon ko jo thaama hai
Baaton hi baaton mein yeh hua
Baby when you talk to me, manzil mili gali gali
Baby when you walk with me, saadi rail gaddi chali chali

Taare sab hai ghul gaye roshni mein, what a feeling
Sarae gum badal gaye hai khushi mein, what a feeling
Khoye thay hum toh, khud hi humse
Ik hi tumse mile hai yahin
Saare hi lamhe, gire thay pal se
Dekho na kal se mile hai yahin
Tujhko jab se maanga hai, haathon ko jo thaama hai
Baaton hi baaton mein yeh hua
Baby when you talk to me, manzil mili gali gali
Baby when you walk with me, saadi rail gaddi chali chali

Tum yeh maano ya na maano dekho bekhabar tum thay
Meri manzilon ke raaste hi tum mein hi gum thay
Dil ka kaise mile pata
Jab tum hi thay laapata
Ab humse toh na chhupa jo raaz hai
You'll be maybe
Baby when you talk to me (when you talk to me), manzil mili gali gali
Baby when you walk with me (when you walk with me), saadi rail gaddi chali chali
Baby when you talk to me (when you talk to me), manzil mili gali gali
Baby when you walk with me (when you walk with me), saadi rail gaddi chali chali

A Pink Rose Bud...

I hope when we become parents, I hope we don't forget that we don't own our kids. We might have given them birth and raised them, but I hope we don't make the same mistake our parents did of deciding their life and dreams for them. I hope the men realise the difference between being the head of the house and a tyrant when they become fathers. I hope they remember that there is no place for ego in a family. I hope the mothers remember to speak up for what's right, even if it means going against the husband. I hope we believe in our kids dreams, and let them have their wings. I hope we don't clip their wings saying we know better. I hope we remember to let them make their own mistakes. And still accept them when they come home defeated and hurt from the battles.

I hope we don't expect our kids to repay with their dreams for the life we gave them. 

*****

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,

but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children

as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might

that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as He loves the arrow that flies,

so He loves also the bow that is stable.

- Khalil Gibran

Black Gold...

Reference to Chaco War. 

Walking Around...

It so happens I am sick of being a man.

And it happens that I walk into tailorshops and movie houses

dried up, waterproof, like a swan made of felt

steering my way in a water of wombs and ashes.

The smell of barbershops makes me break into hoarse sobs.

The only thing I want is to lie still like stones or wool.

The only thing I want is to see no more stores, no gardens,

no more goods, no spectacles, no elevators.

It so happens that I am sick of my feet and my nails

and my hair and my shadow.

It so happens I am sick of being a man.

Still it would be marvelous

to terrify a law clerk with a cut lily,

or kill a nun with a blow on the ear.

It would be great to go through the streets with a green knife

letting out yells until I died of the cold.

I don't want to go on being a root in the dark,

insecure, stretched out, shivering with sleep,

going on down, into the moist guts of the earth,

taking in and thinking, eating every day.

I don't want so much misery.

I don't want to go on as a root and a tomb,

alone under the ground, a warehouse with corpses,

half frozen, dying of grief.

That's why Monday, when it sees me coming

with my convict face, blazes up like gasoline,

and it howls on its way like a wounded wheel,

and leaves tracks full of warm blood leading toward the night.

And it pushes me into certain corners, into some moist houses,

into hospitals where the bones fly out the window,

into shoeshops that smell like vinegar,

and certain streets hideous as cracks in the skin.

There are sulphur-colored birds, and hideous intestines

hanging over the doors of houses that I hate,

and there are false teeth forgotten in a coffeepot,

there are mirrors that ought to have wept from shame and terror,

there are umbrellas everywhere, and venoms, and umbilical cords.

I stroll along serenely, with my eyes, my shoes,

my rage, forgetting everything,

I walk by, going through office buildings and orthopedic shops,

and courtyards with washing hanging from the line:

underwear, towels and shirts from which slow

dirty tears are falling.

- Pablo Neruda

The Ugly Truth...

Don't give me a choice

Give me a reason to stay

'Cause I'll make the same mistake, again.

The Red In My Hair...

The day we became men and women, we locked the kid inside us and hid the key from us, we threw away our innocence and we covered wonder with a seriousness that we believed was befitting of age. We didn't see anymore, we looked, for what we already knew. We took aid of our shiny new glasses, with diamonds and titanium, but we still missed the truth. We heard like fast-dry programmed in our washing machines. We laughed like we cut our meat. The skies didn't turn bluer or the flower rosier when they heard us laugh, they looked at us with confusion and with fear. We painted our faces black and red so we could slip in the dark and leave by the back door, we forgot to remove the paint. We talked in hushed voices, one spoon sugar, one tablespoon salt, a pinch of spice, a sprinkling of rosemary, we followed the recipe, we forgot what it meant to experiment. And we kissed like rituals, we forgot a kiss was meant to be a journey to discovering hidden wonders...we instead took the fastest train and got down at our station, a ticket in our hand and a map for the next one.Our love prosaic and our spirits like the cocktails they serve on a Thursday night, watered down and cheap. Our friendships were like transactions, and oh yes, we kept a separate drawer for the receipts, we were such good accountants. We dreamt like the wallpapers on our walls and we lived our lives like the algorithms we wrote. And the one thing that grew in our life were our fears, like hound dogs they never lost the sight of us. Chase, catch and kill the game.

The day we became men and women we handed the reins of our lives to society and we erased the memory of the time when we lived, truly, for ourselves. We became what we always feared and when someone asked us, we said with a shrug, "Oh it's not so bad after all". 

Entanglement...

Create some magic today. 

Straps&Strings...

The only thing I love about Valentine's day is the awesome discount on sexy lingerie! :)

Relax...

Bad things are going to happen.

Your tomatoes will grow a fungus

and your cat will get run over.

Someone will leave the bag with the ice cream

melting in the car and throw

your blue cashmere sweater in the drier.

Your husband will sleep

with a girl your daughter’s age, her breasts spilling

out of her blouse. Or your wife

will remember she’s a lesbian

and leave you for the woman next door. The other cat—

the one you never really liked—will contract a disease

that requires you to pry open its feverish mouth

every four hours, for a month.

Your parents will die.

No matter how many vitamins you take,

how much Pilates, you’ll lose your keys,

your hair and your memory. If your daughter

doesn’t plug her heart

into every live socket she passes,

you’ll come home to find your son has emptied

your refrigerator, dragged it to the curb,

and called the used appliance store for a pick up—drug money.

There’s a Buddhist story of a woman chased by a tiger.

When she comes to a cliff, she sees a sturdy vine

and climbs halfway down. But there’s also a tiger below.

And two mice—one white, one black—scurry out

and begin to gnaw at the vine. At this point

she notices a wild strawberry growing from a crevice.

She looks up, down, at the mice.

Then she eats the strawberry.

So here’s the view, the breeze, the pulse

in your throat. Your wallet will be stolen, you’ll get fat,

slip on the bathroom tiles of a foreign hotel

and crack your hip. You’ll be lonely.

Oh taste how sweet and tart

the red juice is, how the tiny seeds

crunch between your teeth.

- Ellen Bass

Bless The Broken Road...

A failed relationship...a mistake...being shunned by someone you love...death of a friendship...that feeling of loss...of helplessness...powerlessness...of wanting to reach out to someone but not being able to...of not knowing what to do or feel...that desperate wish of wanting to turn back time...what would you not give for that? I could sell my soul for it, that bad.

It's worse than the Chinese water torture some say, being in a place where the only thing you can feel is your skin being peeled from your body, the only sound you can hear is your soul screaming.

It's like being caged and at the same time watching yourself being seared to death..slowly but painfully.

Is there anything you can do? Well, let me tell you there's no saviour. You can't cut the bars, you can fight the hurt and you definitely can not turn back time or fast forward to a happier time....you have to go through it.

You have to watch yourself die and only then, can you find your escape.


*****


I set out on a narrow way, many years ago
Hoping I would find true love along the broken road
But I got lost a time or two
Wiped my brow and kept pushing through
I couldn't see how every sign pointed straight to you

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you
Yes He did

I think about the years I spent, just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost, and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there, you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true

Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart, they were like northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

But now I'm just rolling home into my lover's arms
This much I know is true

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

Adat...

Khwaabon ke lifaafon mein
Kisso mein kitaabon mein
Fursaton ki baaton mein
Arson se khayalon mein
Thodi khoyi hui
Kab se soyi hui
Woh aadat hai voh

Karwaton ki baahon mein
Silwaton ki raahon mein
Sehmi sehmi saanson mein
Surmayi si baaton mein
Zid si chhoote nahin
Mujhse roothe nahin
Woh aadat hai voh

Intezaaron mein rahoon
Umar bhar main toh rukoon
Dil ko kaise doon sukoon
Uss se main ye keh sakoon
Yun zubaan pe chadhi
Mehngi jo hai padhi
Woh aadat hai voh

Cheesecake...

Hot hot yummy delicious Old Spice guy is back!



I don't know what shit he's talking, for all I know, he could be talking about inflation, but good lord! This is hypnotism! This man with those muscles and that voice and those brown eyes and that smouldering look...it should all be illegal!

And then watch this,



 "Hello ladies", he says, in a voice that tells you far more than you would confess to know, and as that chocolatey voice caresses your little fluttering heart, you ma'am are ready to do his bidding...but but...isn't he being cruel when he asks you to close your eyes? How can a lady or otherwise close her eyes when he's on screen in his half-naked glorious beauty?


Having said that, Old Spice's tag-line, "The man your man could smell like", somehow would never work for me. For a simple reason, as a kid I remember my Dad used to use Old Spice everyday after his shave. And the only memory I have of Old Spice is...Dad.


For that matter, Sister had bought Ralph Lauren's 'Romance for men perfume' for Dad in 2008 and (somehow, it's always been us daughters buying Dad perfumes) and damn! Every time Dad wore it, I had to run away and hide, cause the fragrance really does something to your toes! So well, I had to buy him Hugo Boss and ban him from wearing Romance ever again. Problem solved, but Old Spice? Great marketing, but I won't make anyone buy Old Spice any time soon :)

Why I Hate Shahrukh Khan...

I officially hate you Shahrukh Khan! I hope KKR loses every single match in IPL4! Every single match! :|

We won't forget you Saurav Ganguly, never :( 

26 Going On 30...

I am not a list person, I never in my life made a list. Impulsive people don't make lists!:) However, I realise, I have so many thoughts running inside my head, so many things I want to do and learn and know and achieve, it's difficult to keep a tab on everything.

So here's a list: 30 things I want to do before I turn 30.

Some are overlapping, some interlinked, but mostly, all are possible and achievable targets. Let me hang this up on a wall now.


1)Be at peace
2)Stop running, stop hiding, stop waiting, stop looking back(regret), stop hurting
3)Forgive
4)Meet people I would want to be like
5)Understand myself; and then love myself
6)Keep learning; do not stagnate
7)Stop seeking validation
8)Be surrounded by interesting, intelligent people
9)Have more interesting conversations
10)Learn how to write
11)Relearn words and emotions
12)Learn how to argue well
13)Bungee jumping & sky diving
14)Love and be open to love
15)Travel, travel and travel some more
16)Cook more, read more often, paint and make things
17)Have my own house with a garden
18)Have a career that makes me feel happy and fulfilled
19)Be self-sufficient
20)Have a healthy body, mind and heart
21)Understand finance
22)Reach a stage where I am not confused; be sure
23)Learn a new language (mostly French)
24)Learn to be calm; think before speak
25)Have a pet
26)Exercise daily
27)Laugh everyday
28)Stop getting angry; learn to be patient
29)Stop wanting
30)Stop thinking of dying


I reread the list and I realise, it's not about 'things' I want before I turn 30. The things list, I guess, would contain points like, "Own something from Audrey Hepburn's wardrobe". The above list is more of a "state" list. I want to reach a state, where I am happy to be at and hopefully, all those 30 things should help me reach there.

CherryBottoms...

As I stare at my image in the mirror, I look at my trim thighs and I realise how fleeting youth is.

And I must remember what I silently, in my mind, told the little fat girl jogging in the gym the other day. I must remember my words and often repeat them: "Run fatty run".

Another reason why I am scared of getting married. #StuffNightmaresAreMadeOf

*****
My maid's daughter, Sindhu, came home the other day and asked for some work. She washed the bathrooms and windows and took home 150 rupees. This work was apart from the "regular" work she does. So here's the thing: She wanted to go shopping with her friends. Asked her mother for some money. Mother refused. So she told her, "don't give me money. I'll go earn it." Very nice. She wanted to go to the market to buy junk jewellery with her friends. I realise, at her age(16), I had spent a cool 40K on shopping, in just 1 month, from the account dad had opened for me as a gift for passing the 10th boards. Which was, I agree, quite shameful of me. So I should not be condemning her behaviour, unlike me at her age, she is atleast earning the money she's spending. However, I do find her behaviour, somewhat worrisome.

Financial freedom comes with its set of dangers. And I fear, this easy money might go to her head. She is after all just 16 and illiterate.

Or am I being judgemental?

*****
I realise, I am at a historical point in my life. Years later, this is the moment I will look back at and wonder about the what ifs; what if I had taken the other road instead. For, I am at such a point, where the decision I take, and I must make one, will alter everything. Will influence the person I become. It will change my life, forever. This is an important time.

And you honeypuddle, you, you will remain unsaid.

*****
I often fear that I might just throw my mobile or ipod or whatever expensive thing out of the window. Like there's this strong impulse, and I need to quickly mentally reprimand myself for even thinking such a thing. What a ridiculous thing! Does it happen to anyone else? Or is it just me? 

Too Proud To Love...

Everyone knows that the moon started out

as a renegade fragment of the sun, a solar

flare that fled that hellish furnace

and congealed into a flat frozen pond suspended

between the planets. But did you know

that anger began as music, played

too often and too loudly by drunken performers

at weddings and garden parties? Or that turtles

evolved from knuckles, ice from tears, and darkness

from misunderstanding? As for the dominant

thesis regarding the origin of love, I

abstain from comment, nor will I allow

myself to address the idea that dance

began as a kiss, that happiness was

an accidental import from Spain, that the ancient

game of jump-the-fire gave rise

to politics. But I will confess

that I began as an astronomer—a liking

for bright flashes, vast distances, unreachable things,

a hand stretched always toward the furthest limit—

and that my longing for you has not taken me

very far from that original desire

to inscribe a comet's orbit around the walls

of our city, to gently stroke the surface of the stars.

- Troy Jollimore

Darling...

She was staring into the space, thinking about a plan. Pleased with it, she smiled to herself and then delicately sipped her coffee.

Some guy somewhere was going to be in trouble.

Melancholy...

Count to10, take a deep breath
Call him out, walk toward the fields
Wander swiftly, don't rehearse
Tell him, no emotions, just words
Ask him to leave, it's not working out
Be cruel, you don't want him any more
He'll survive, he'll find someone else
Someone at Rumours, someone in the streets
Turn around now, say goodbye one last time
Don't hug, don't offer love, don't offer friendship
Leave the bitterness, just leave, go home
Happiness is waiting for you, with a freshly baked cake and some flowers.

A Summer Romance...

	Boston - More Than A Feeling

I'll take your hand and we'll walk through the jungles and the deserts, the rainforests and the valleys, the rivers and the sea, and we'll climb the mountains, and wherever we go, we'll go together, and I'll be happy.

In Praise Of Older Women...

Benjamin Franklin's advice to men: Marry or then date older women.

But if you will not take this Counsel, and persist in thinking a Commerce with the Sex inevitable, then I repeat my former Advice: that in all your Amours you should prefer old Women to young ones. You call this a Paradox, and demand my Reasons. They are these:

1. Because as they have more Knowledge of the World and their Minds are better stor’d with Observations, their Conversation is more improving and more lastingly agreeable.

2. Because when Women cease to be handsome, they study to be good. To maintain their Influence over Men, they supply the Diminution of Beauty by an Augmentation of Utility. They learn to do a 1,000 Services small and great, and are the most tender and useful of all Friends when you are sick. Thus they continue amiable. And hence there is hardly such a thing to be found as an old Woman who is not a good Woman.

3. Because there is no hazard of Children, which irregularly produc’d may be attended with much Inconvenience.

4. Because thro’ more Experience, they are more prudent and discreet in conducting an Intrigue to prevent Suspicion. The Commerce with them is therefore safer with regard to your Reputation. And with regard to theirs, if the Affair should happen to be known, considerate People might be rather inclin’d to excuse an old Woman who would kindly take care of a young Man, form his Manners by her good Counsels, and prevent his ruining his Health and Fortune among mercenary Prostitutes.

5. Because in every Animal that walks upright, the Deficiency of the Fluids that fill the Muscles appears first in the highest Part. The Face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the Neck; then the Breast and Arms; the lower Parts continuing to the last as plump as ever, so that covering all above with a Basket, and regarding only what is below the Girdle, it is impossible of two Women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all Cats are grey, the Pleasure of corporal Enjoyment with an old Woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every Knack being by Practice capable of Improvement.

6. Because the Sin is less. The debauching a Virgin may be her Ruin, and make her for Life unhappy.

7. Because the Compunction is less. The having made a young Girl miserable may give you frequent bitter Reflections, none of which can attend the making an old Woman happy.

8thly and Lastly. They are so grateful!!

I do not know why, but this has greatly pissed me off. Why?

Smile, You're Travelling...

"To love life, to love it even

when you have no stomach for it

and everything you've held dear

crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,

your throat filled with the silt of it.

When grief sits with you, its tropical heat

thickening the air, heavy as water

more fit for gills than lungs;

when grief weights you like your own flesh

only more of it, an obesity of grief,

you think, How can a body withstand this?

Then you hold life like a face

between your palms, a plain face,

no charming smile, no violet eyes,

and you say, yes, I will take you

I will love you, again."

— Ellen Bass

*****

"Somewhere someone is thinking of you. Someone is calling you an angel. This person is using celestial colors to paint your image. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind. Someone is thinking of the way your breath escapes your lips when you are touched. How your eyes close and your jaw tightens with concentration as you give pleasure a home. These thoughts are saving a life somewhere right now. In some airless apartment on a dark, urine stained, whore lined street, someone is calling out to you silently and you are answering without even being there. So crystalline. So pure. Such life saving power when you smile. You will never know how you have cauterized my wounds. So sad that we will never touch. How it hurts me to know that I will never be able to give you everything I have"

— Henry Rollins

*****

"I don't want to pass through life like a smooth plane ride. All you do is get to breathe and copulate and finally die. I don't want to go with the smooth skin and the calm brow. I hope I end up a blithering idiot cursing the sun - hallucinating, screaming, giving obscene and inane lectures on street corners and public parks. People will walk by and say, "Look at that drooling idiot. What a basket case." I will turn and say to them, "It is you who are the basket case. For every moment you hated your job, cursed your wife and sold yourself to a dream that you didn't even conceive. For the times your soul screamed yes and you said no. For all of that. For your self-torture, I see the glowing eyes of the sun! The air talks to me! I am at all times!" And maybe, the passers by will drop a coin into my cup."

— Henry Rollins

*****

I would like to sing someone to sleep,

have someone to sit by and be with.

I would like to cradle you and softly sing,

be your companion while you sleep or wake.

I would like to be the only person

in the house who knew: the night outside was cold.

And would like to listen to you

and outside to the world and to the woods.

The clocks are striking, calling to eachother,

and one can see right to the edge of time.

Outside the house a strange man is afoot

and a strange dog barks, wakened from his sleep.

Beyond that there is silence.

My eyes rest upon your face wide-open;

and they hold you gently, letting you go

when something in the dark begins to move.

— Rainer Maria Rilke

It's In The Air...

While India-Pakistan talks are being held in Thimphu, here's an interesting fact about Bhutan.

THIMPHU, Bhutan — Most of the penises painted on houses or suspended from rooftops in Bhutan are larger than humans.

They come in various sizes, color schemes and embellishments. Some have ribbons tied around them like jovial holiday presents. Others are coiled by daunting dragons. A few even have eyes. They typically feature hairy testicles, from the neatly trimmed to full-on Yeti-style. And, of course, all are fully erect. [full article]

Yep, very exciting!

They Know What Boys Want...

I don't have kids, heck, I am not even married yet, but this article has me scared for the future kids. I almost want to lock up my imaginary kids and cut off their internet and take away their smartphones, which I do realise is never gonna happen. And I am left to wonder what next? Kids might as well come out of their mother's womb and start demanding/having sex with the next baby in the incubator. I won't be surprised.

On Love...

"Love should bring joy, it should grant a person peace, but here and not, it was bringing only pain."

Love has always brought me pain. And I realise, it is because I have always been running away from it. I've been thinking about a lot of things in the past few months, and feeling depressed about a lot more. There's comes a time when you need to stop moping and evaluate your choices, yourself.



I've tried to be honest here and I will try to be in the future. But I promise I'll be honest, not only here, where I know few people read me and fewer still know me in "real" life, but I promise myself that I'll be honest, in the real life, about loving. I will love with complete abandon. I won't hold back. I won't run away. I won't hide. I'll love without the excess unnecessary baggage. Without brakes. Without thinking about the scars I wear. Without worrying about the future. Without worrying about getting hurt.



Anything else, I realise, is a travesty. A lie. It won't be easy(Even as I write this, a small voice mocks me), but I hope such a love won't suffocate you, won't suffocate me. That such a love is possible. And maybe, just maybe, such a love won't hurt.

You Should Date An Illiterate Girl...

This made me weep and jump with joy; joy of coming across such beautiful words, almost like finding a lottery.

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

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

This article made me feel grateful that I can read.

*****
I realise, there is a certain beauty in failing. Of not going through life being happy always. There is a certain meaning to living a life that's mired in sadness, misery, failure and loneliness. I realise, maybe, it's good that I am still struggling to find my calling in life, that I didn't meet my soulmate at a college fete 10 years ago, that I found and lost, that I tried and failed. There is a certain beauty in struggle too. And when all this is over, maybe I can say I lived a life worth talking about.

The Idea Of Our Happiness...

Wouldn't it be so much better if we remember where we came from before this life? We might actually like this life. 

A Mouse, A Helmet And A Motorcycle...You Know What Else? A Camel!

Compulsive Confessor could not have put it better!

Rule number two, and one I’ve learnt the hard way. I’ve just come out of a pretty long, pretty serious relationship. Now, the problem with that is that you expect the next guy to pick up exactly where you and the old guy were when you broke up. Start at square one. Remember he’s not in love with you (yet). Remember he doesn’t know all your stories. Remember this is new territory, and you, even you, are a whole new person.

I have had more failure than successes and one of the main reason(Okay, fine, there were 200 main reasons!) has always been that I was stuck in the past. Well, one can't be entirely blamed. You are used to a certain person, a certain routine. You are so set in this life you have built, that it's hard to come out of it, harder even to see what you're doing-what you end up doing is essentially replace the old guy with a new guy, in the same old world.


I always thought I was same with everyone. I am not. With certain people, I feel safe enough to be myself, with a few, I am fake, with others I am guarded and controlled, but genuine. With a certain few, I am toned down and sobered down, essentially, not genuine not even fake (You get the worse deal rabbit). With a few, very few, I am weird and nuts and totally uninhibited (I think you'll love me like this, I like myself like this too).


You are a different person with each friend/colleague/acquaintance in your life. And if you think back, you were a different person with every guy you were with (or girl). Each love was different. You can not expect the same love! You have to let the new world unfold in its own time and in its own unique way. But you get into a new relationship, and you end up expecting same answers for your questions, you expect same gestures, same emotional responses, heck, you behave and talk the same way too! It's really stupid, but I believe it is something quite natural. You expect your new world to be the exact copy of the previous one. Cause you don't know anything else any more, you have forgotten any other way.


I think the solution to this is that you take time off. Don't get into a new relationship unless you have given yourself enough time to recover. "Enough" can vary from person to person, I normally take atleast a year(Yea I know!), a friend I know takes 2 months (How cool!). But never rush! You are going to end up hurting yourself and worse, the new person, who doesn't deserve the burden of your baggage. No one does. Not even you.


This is for a friend who wants to move on. Take time off. With love, you'll find old memories at every corner if you want to and aren't they just so painful? And what you end up doing is look for a band-aid. D, you're young and beautiful and smart and funny. And you deserve so much more! Take time off. Go see new places, meet new people, talk to strangers, read, cook new food, dance, sing...laugh. Do all that till you forget how your old world looked like. Then go out and make a new life.


Now if only someone had told me all this 5 years ago! :| 

Pour Me Some Rum!

So Mommy dearest has been most anxious these days. "Get married! Get married!" She keeps saying. So dearest astrologer was consulted and as per her, I shall be shooed away by 2012. Mid of 2012 she says. That means I have 1 and 1/2 year to have some real fun!

Mom's Punjabi friend is most interested and suggested some Punjabi guys and as soon as sister heard, she was shouting over the phone,"No Punjabi men! No Punjabi men! They beat their wives!".

Like really :| Generalizations abound? In my family, most definitely.

Astrologer also says I would end up getting married to someone from my friend's circle. Someone I know. When mom heard this, she was like, "Yeah! I like that friend of yours. He looks good. Why don't you marry him?". Like it's as simple as buying soap from the supermarket. It's not of any concern ofcourse, that I think of him more in the brotherly sense. And so she kept talking about him all the time. Frustrated and angry I finally said, "Mom, he's sleeping with my best friend. Do you understand that? He's just a good friend!". That shut her up nice. Actually no. That shut her up nice about the friend, but then she started shouting, "You girls!" and went on to give me a lecture. Arghh, bad, bad move! I am a bad girl now.

Then, mom's best friend has suggested one guy from Umrica. Very rich and good family. Mom was floored. "He's tall and fair and so very handsome".

"What am I going to do with tall, fair and handsome Ma? Place him on the coffee table as a showpiece?!"

"I don't understand what you want".

"I agree", I said, "you don't".

It's been peaceful since then. Nice.

*****
The thing that freaks me out about marriage is that one day I'll end up posting my kid's pic on Facebook and my friends will comment, "How cute. New clothes for baby xyz?" And I will reply, "Yea. I bought new slacks for her/him." And someone will reply "how cute" and that will be the most exciting thing in my life!

Terrified. My-heart-can-pop-out-and-run-away-and-hide-and-my-brain-can-come-off-in-pieces-terrified.

Trees Are Tall...

Went for a walk the other day and came home with a nice ego massage. (For a moment I did feel that I had left my pants home or something.)

An aside, "Stay fit without being stared at", gymns could definitely use it as one of their marketing slogans!

Also, on my way back bought some almond oil and a couple of earrings from Fabindia. "Go jogging and come back shopping, typical chhokri", a guy friend said. Heh! Yes, typical chhokri indeed. So I have decided I won't be carrying my wallet after all.

*****
I have stopped fretting over my pics now. Really, it's useless. I mean, what the bloody hell! I stay fit and eat well and sleep on time and sleep all 8 hours that too, just for Munira's wedding! And then when the D-day comes, I am sleep-deprived, terribly hungover, extremely tired and then I have to pose for pics too! Arghhhh! It's not fair God, not fair!

And if the pics are so bad, one can only imagine the dance video! I actually danced for Munira's sangeet! Can anyone believe that?(Vodka is awesome!) Yes sir, like proper steps-walla dance, I did! That too on the stage! I did dance-dance to "Zor Ka Jhatka" from Action Replay. And from what I heard, I refuse to watch the video, I look quite adorable dancing and specially when I forget the dance steps and even more adorable when I trip! :|  Adorable is not an adjective any one can associate with me, no really, I am not being modest, so only thing is possible: they're laughing at me! Liars!


*****
I have realised I am a "phases" person. I have these no-fixed-length phases I go through from time to time. There are phases when I am extremely nice to people, phases when I am actually stupid (no, really!), phases when I am all witty and sassy and funny, phases when I am really depressed, phases when I hate the world ( this happens quite often), phases when I want to paint the town red, phases when I just want to sit at home and read or something, phases when I am all "Indian", phases when I am constantly talking and behaving like a phirang . And now I think my favourite phase is coming back, the one where I am mean and bitchy!

So yea, I don't owe you an explanation!

*****
But I am terribly bored of myself. I need some stupid people to make fun of! Hello Life, where are you hiding them?

*****
I miss my friends. It's always so much fun bitching with them :( Even when they're bitching about me.

*****
Fabindia's newest "dew plum" lip butter...not as yummy as the plum passion, but they could definitely use "Eat a smile" today tagline. I would totally buy it!

Erm, maybe marketing is not for me after all.

*****
This is by far the crappiest post I have written. But I have no regrets.

I am also trying my hand at fiction, practicing for a short story competition. Lalalala, hey! One can definitely dream! :|

And ooh, I have been looking at trees from my window(s) for so long now, that I forgot how tall trees can grow. As tall as a building. Or taller. Really.