A Puddle...

"People often change for two reasons: either you have learned enough that you want to change or you have been hurt enough that you need to change"

Swiming In A Fish Bowl...

Saving up.

It's Been So Long...

Dude, what is this?! How can this be?! 

I can understand Congo, Ghana, even Italy, but China?

My womanly Indian heart is in pieces! *sniff sniff*

Saying Yes...

Sometimes I feel the real me is hidden in the drafts.

In words, that never get heard, published; words that are scared to come out lest they be rejected for being too simple. Too honest. Too painful. Cruel even.

I have 311 drafts sitting in my Gmail and 395 in blogger.

So many conversations that never happened. 

A Casualty...

With each passing year, my list of favourite people grows smaller. Sad.

*****
 Is sexiness a lost art to the happily married?

After marriage, the whole equation changes. Sexiness becomes muted. Those navel-baring miniskirts that seemed perfect for the nightclub when you were 20 somehow appear pathetic and desperate when you wear them post 40. Those fishnet stockings that were perfect for your office when you were a rookie, now appear gaudy when you wear them as the boss.
It isn’t just about clothes, though. It is also about morphing equations with the whole notion of sexiness. You want to appear attractive but also want to be perceived as dignified. You want to appear desirable but only to a bandwidth of people that keeps getting narrower with every passing year. You don’t seek catcalls from hunks or come-hither looks from interns. You want—oh, I don’t know—class, maybe? You may enjoy being checked out, but you want their respect and admiration.

And it's not limited to just marriage.

*****
Once you turn a certain number on your age graph, things begin to change; your perspectives, ideas about life. Some gentler, kinder changes take place, some as subtle as Govinda's dressing. But thing to remember is that it's all good. And in time, you'll learn to accept these changes with the grace, and even, one might hope, joy.

*****

“It isn’t normal to know what we want. It is a rare and difficult psychological achievement.”

Don't beat yourself on the head if you don't know what you want to do with your life just yet. Yep, it's normal. Treasure hunt by Alain De Botton.

Would You Like Some Fries With That?

I normally analyse(like every other small and big thing in my life) my dreams, atleast the ones I remember vividly. And I wondered why I dreamt about dinosaurs coming back to life. I am sure it has something to do with the fact that I am reading Germs, Guns & Steel these days.

And that made me wonder about evolution.

Evolution is a slow process, but still, one does wonder, if we humans ourselves, have stopped evolving.


Here's a wonderful documentary by BBC: Are We Still Evolving?[Part1][Part2][Part3][Part4]. If you don't want to spend 60 mins, here's the gist of it.


So yes, we are evolving. We are becoming fatter and shorter and who knows, maybe one day we'll sprout extra brains and extra hands to handle the information load and multitasking, but I don't know if this is good, I don't know if we are going in the right direction. The test-tube baby and the technology to "design" your baby seems scary.

P.S: And I'd like to see some study that charts the evolution of dogs over the past few 100 years or so. The most domesticated animal, dogs, sure understand human emotions, they can navigate through the human maze of cities fearlessly, but why have they not picked up our language skills? Why is there no dog who can speak human language? Or walk on only two feet like its masters?

Masoom...

If you haven't watched the movie Masoom[1983], you're missing on some great cinema. A must watch.



Tujhse Naaraaz Nahiin Zindagi
Hairaan Hoon Main
O Hairaan Huun Main
Tere Masum Sawaalon Se Pareshaan Hoon Main
O Pareshaan Hoon Main

Jeene Ke Liye Sochaa Hi Nahi
Dard Sambhaalane Honge

Jeene Ke Liye Sochaa Hi Nahi
Dard Sambhaalane Honge

Muskuraaye To, Muskuraane Ke Karz Utarne Honge
Muskuraauun Kabhii To Lagataa Hai
Jaise Honthon Pe Karz Rakhaa Hai

Ho Tujhse Naaraaz Nahiin Zindagi
Hairaan Hoon Main
O Hairaan Huun Main

[Zindagii Tere Gam Ne Hamein
Rishte Naye Samajhaaye ]2

Mile Jo Hamein Dhoop Mein Mile
Chaanv Ke Thande Saaye

Ho Tujhse Naaraaz Nahin Zindagi
Hairaan Hoon Main
O Hairaan Huun Main

Aaj Agar Bhar Aai Hain
Boondein Baras Jaayengi
Kal Kyaa Pataa Inke Liye
Aankhein Taras Jaayengi
Jaane Kab Gum Kahaan Khoyaa
Ek Ansuun Chhupaake Rakhaa Thaa

Ho Tujhse Naaraaz Nahin Zindagi
Hairaan Hoon Main
O Hairaan Huun Main

Tere Masum Sawaalon Se Pareshaan Hoon Main
O Pareshaan Hoon Main 3

Foibles...

Dear lord, when will all this end?! Can someone please invent a time machine? Please?

Opinionated...

Where did all my opinions go?

Broken Stuff...

"Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, Every story we're told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we're so focused on finding our happy ending we don't learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don't, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn't include a guy, maybe... it's you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is... just... moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope." --He's Just Not That Into You

The New Currency...

Dog-eared...

When was the last time you slept under an open sky? Walked barefoot on moist green grass? Blew soap bubbles? Held balloons in your hand? Laughed till your stomach hurt?

When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror without flinching at your image?

Part-Broken Part-Whole Love-Whore...

Will you sleep for love?

Red...

"Your absence has gone through me

Like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its colour."

— W. S. Merwin

Fly Away, Little one, Fly Away...

Been caged too long. 

The Quiet World...

In an effort to get people to look

into each other's eyes more,

and also to appease the mutes,

the government has decided

to allot each person exactly one hundred

and sixty-seven words, per day.

When the phone rings, I put it to my ear

without saying hello. In the restaurant

I point at chicken noodle soup.

I am adjusting well to the new way.

Late at night, I call my long distance lover,

proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.

I saved the rest for you.

When she doesn't respond,

I know she's used up all her words,

so I slowly whisper I love you

thirty-two and a third times.

After that, we just sit on the line

and listen to each other breathe.

- Jeffrey McDaniel

Framed...

I don't have a display picture on Facebook, or on any social networking sites. And I can become quite a pain in the behind when someone wants to click a picture of me. I don't allow them. I could count the number of people I have allowed to take my pictures, I could count them on my one hand now.

Everyone asks me why I don't like getting clicked. Yes, partly that.

But the real reason is that it's too much of a personal commitment for me. When I let you click a picture of me, and let you keep it, it means I want you in my life forever. And there only a handful of them I want beside my bed-side when I breathe my last.


Save that picture of me you have, I might need to borrow it sometime. 

Sunday Reading #4

From a finance illiterate's view, this is a wonderful article about the people who ran Goldman Sachs. Almost reads like a story.

Steve Friedman’s decision to quit as chairman of Goldman Sachs, in 1994, during one of its darkest hours, stunned and angered his partners. And despite Friedman’s maneuverings, it created a leadership crisis as the mismatched team of Jon Corzine (future New Jersey governor) and Henry Paulson (future Treasury secretary) took the helm. In an adaptation from his book on Goldman, William D. Cohan reveals how secret merger discussions put the expansive trader and the hardheaded banker on a collision course, setting the stage for the firm it would soon become.

About the Jan Lokpal bill, Of the few, by the few & At the Risk of Heresy: Why I am not Celebrating with Anna Hazare. Both good articles.


Next on my bookshelf, Why Loiter?

"Even in a city like Bombay, the so-called 'friendly' city, women have to strategise how to access public space. What will they wear; how long will they stay out till; who are they going out with; will they need to carry a shawl or a jacket if travelling by train, these are all methods of strategising," explains Sameera Khan.


Khan believes that one of the reasons women are given conditional access is the notion of 'virtue'.
"A woman has to establish 'respectability', [since] only if you're a 'good' girl are you worthy of 'protection'," she says. And 'good' girls don't loiter.
If they could, why do they still carry pepper sprays, safety pins and knuckle dusters in their bags, ask the authors.
"Women are having to constantly censure themselves, and are always in preparation of an 'attack'. Men don't carry that burden," says Khan.

Want to get something done? Help with work, a date or just wish to communicate better perhaps? Touch.

To get around in the world, we mainly rely on our eyes and ears. Touch is a sense that's often forgotten.
But touch is also vital in the way we understand and experience the world. Even the lightest touch on the upper arm can influence the way we think.

How language heals.

All couples play kissy games they don’t want other people to know about, and all regress to infants from time to time, since, though we marry as adults, we don’t marry adults. We marry children who have grown up and still rejoice in being children, especially if we’re creative. Imaginative people fidget with ideas, including the idea of a relationship. If they’re wordsmiths like us, they fidget a lot in words.”

And last, Amartya Sen on Rabindranath Tagore. 

Deep Crust...

"The enemy of a love is never outside, it's not a man or a woman, it's what we lack in ourselves."— Anaïs Nin

*****
And when will women realise that her biggest enemy is not man, or any institution, but woman herself?

Good Morning, My dear!

Surprise! - short film by Veit Helmer

Naina...

To know there is a person who knows everything about you. Who knows your deepest fears, the pain that was born in the dark and never saw light...till now, who knows your crushed dreams...to feel such lightness...weightlessness...

Like the tumour that had been growing in you, has been cut, removed.

To give your hurt, your fears, your broken dreams-a voice. To thread them into words and to have them turned into a garland of sweet-smelling flowers, by a gentle hand, a loving soul...like walking into bright sunshine.

A Literate Passion-II

"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."

— Anaïs Nin

*****

"You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book...or you take a trip...and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken."  

— Anaïs Nin.

*****

"And sometimes I believe your relentless analysis of June leaves something out, which is your feeling for her beyond knowledge, or in spite of knowledge. I often see how you sob over what you destroy, how you want to stop and just worship; and you do stop, and then a moment later you are at it again with a knife, like a surgeon.

What will you do after you have revealed all there is to know about June? Truth. What ferocity in your quest of it. You destroy and you suffer. In some strange way I am not with you, I am against you. We are destined to hold two truths. I love you and I fight you. And you, the same. We will be stronger for it, each of us, stronger with our love and our hate. When you caricature and nail down and tear apart, I hate you. I want to answer you, not with weak or stupid poetry but with a wonder as strong as your reality. I want to fight your surgical knife with all the occult and magical forces of the world."

— Anaïs Nin

A Literate Passion-I

"I am lonely, yet not everybody will do. I don't know why, some people fill the gaps and others emphasize my loneliness. In reality those who satisfy me are those who simply allow me to live with my ''idea of them."

— Anaïs Nin

*****

"There were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest."

— Anaïs Nin

*****

"Don't say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you."

— Anaïs Nin

*****

"Do you know what I would answer to someone who asked me for a description of myself, in a hurry?

This: For indeed my life is a perpetual question mark--my thirst for books, my observations of people, all tend to satisfy a great, overwhelming desire to know, to understand, to find an answer to a million questions. And gradually the answers are revealed, many things are explained, and above all, many things are given names and described, and my restlessness is subdued. Then I become an exclamatory person, clapping my hands to the immense surprises the world holds for me, and falling from one ecstasy into another. I have the habit of peeping and prying and listening and seeking--passionate curiosity and expectation. But I have also the habit of being surprised, the habit of being filled with wonder and satisfaction each time I stumble on some wondrous thing. The first habit could make me a philosopher or a cynic or perhaps a humorist. But the other habit destroys all the delicate foundations, and I find each day that I am still...only a Woman!"

— Anaïs Nin

Criminals...

Our shadows kiss, passionately.

But we stay away, aloof, fearful and separated; scared to let the other close.

Snow Clad Mountains...

I find it confusing how men and women take months and years to say those three words to the woman/man they are in a relationship with. Like really, 6 months, 1 year, 2 years and still no ata pata of "I love you"!


But you go have an arranged marriage, and lo! Your woman will confess how much she loves you, right on the first day of your honeymoon and your man will tell you he fell in love with you the very first day he saw you when you came through the kitchen with a tray of tea and biscuits in your hand.

Huh?


*****
A friend recently put up this status on Gtalk: "Sincerity is everything! If you learn to fake it...rest everything is easy".


And another one actually seems to be following the advice.


I wonder if it's really easy...I am sure happiness is not.


*****
Some days back I was travelling with two families, and one of the uncles asked us for names for their new dog. And everyone started with snowy, jenny, julie, tasha etc etc...you know the typical doggie names.


And I was about to suggest something on the similar lines and then I heard everyone and I stopped. Why do we always give Christian names to our pets?


I mean, most of them people treat their pets like their kids, so while we don't name our kids Freddie or George, or Patricia or Elizabeth, why our pets?


I think if I get a dog, I'll name him something Indian. Though I don't know what. Being the Anglophile that I am, I always thought I'd name my dog something like Shakespeare. But let's see, how does Chintu sound?


"Chintu come here!", "Chintu, jao newspaper leke aao!" and, "Chintu! Stop flirting with Betty!" Betty will obviously be the neighbour's dog who'll be eying my handsome dog.


Chintu sounds nice eh? I think till I find a new name, Chintu it is!


You know what, I think this naming business is quite fun! You should all send your dogs and kids to me for names. And I won't even charge you, promise!

Red Riding Hood...

The road to perfection is a long one, almost never-ending.

And when you reach the end, you die.

Love Me...

"One thing we do know for certain is that the body is the place where each of us lives, and the place where each of us will die: our body will always, in the end, betray us."

Beauty is a $160 billion-a-year global industry. The worldwide pursuit of body improvement has become a new religion.

We live in a society that celebrates and iconises youth, where the old, the aesthetically average and the fat seem to have been erased from the pages of our glossy magazines, advertising posters and television screens.

The promise of bodily improvement is fuelled by advertising campaigns and a commercially-driven Western media, reflecting an increasingly narrow palette of beauty. The modern Caucasian beauty ideal has been packaged and exported globally, and just as surgical operations to 'Westernise' oriental eyes have become increasingly popular, so the beauty standard has become increasingly prescriptive. In Africa the use of skin-lightening and hair-straightening products is widespread. In South America women have operations that bring them eerily close to the Barbie doll ideal, and blonde-haired models grace the covers of most magazines. Anorexia is on the increase in Japan, and in China, beauty pageants, once banned as 'spiritual pollution', are now held across the country.


'Westernising' the human body has become a new form of globalisation, with 'Beauty' becoming a homogenous brand. The more rigorously our vision is trained to appreciate the artificial, the more industries benefit. The current standard of beauty feeds the fashion, cosmetics, diet, medical and entertainment industries, with the homogenisation of appearance becoming part of an increasingly globalised consumer culture.

But who creates this culture? However much we may confidently point the finger at certain industries, we can't deny our own tacit, albeit culturally conditioned, involvement. Like it or not, we are judged, and judge, by appearance. Perhaps we are obsessed with the way our own bodies look because we know how instinctively judgemental we are of the bodies that we look at.

A recent scientific study reported that we make decisions about the attractiveness of people we meet in the space of 150 milliseconds. This superficial appraisal has profound implications. Those we consider most beautiful not only find sexual partners more readily but studies also show they get better jobs and more lenient treatment in court.


We have created a world in which there are enormous social, psychological and economic rewards and penalties attached to the way we look. Can any of us honestly say, 'I don't want to be attractive'? Don't we all want to be loved? But have we been brainwashed into believing that in order to be loved we need smaller noses, bigger breasts, tighter skin, longer legs, flatter stomachs and to appear ever youthful? Where does it end?

The body has, in a sense, become just another consumer purchase. Everyone can, in the spirit of our age, go shopping for bodily transformation. Banks now offer loans for plastic surgery. American families with annual incomes under $25,000 account for 30 per cent of all cosmetic surgery patients. Americans spend more each year on beauty than they do on education.

As our role models become ever younger and more idealised, we are so afraid of aging that the quest for youthful preservation generates an almost pathological obsession with our bodies. As we align our sense of self-worth with self-image, the psychological and emotional consequences are tortuous. The one thing we do know for certain is that our body will always, in the end, betray us.

Check out the website: LoveMe.

What are we doing? 

A Sly Hand...

Life these days is turning out quite like a game of chess. And though some of my pawns are dead, I must say, I am quite enjoying the game at the moment. I am getting to learn so much. 

A Private Message...

Friend: Welcome to the quarter life crisis.

Me: Damn, it's so fucked up.

Friend: This makes me immensely happy that u feel the same way and it totally is. But it is true, perspectives change so much these days...that I sometimes don't really know what do I believe in, again the whole discovery of the self...I'm so tired and exhausted...

Me: Yep, it's like you handle one thing, one emotion, one thought, you deal with it and you stow it away and there again, pops another one and you're back to staring at a stranger in the mirror.

Friend: Yea, such is life...I guess...

*****

And so these days I spend most of my time acquainting myself with my new thoughts.

Age, again, yes. A recent shocking one I found is this:

I remember there was a time when I would see nothing wrong with a man who "experimented" a lot. While I did not particularly like such a man, I thought, well, so what? His life. I never judged him. His this aspect never interfered with my dealings with such an individual.


These days, however, I find myself repulsed by the very idea of such a man or woman. For whom women/men are nothing but a notch on their respective bedpost. Who see nothing wrong in jumping from one to another. A new attraction every day.


Earlier, I could separate their such private behaviour, seeing it as just one part, unsavoury, but isolable aspect of their whole personality; even making allowances by saying to each its own. But these days, I find it increasingly difficult to like or trust such people, no matter how they are with others. No matter how truthful and loyal they are toward their loved ones. No matter how they conduct themselves in other areas of their life. I am finding it very difficult to talk to such men and women and not feel disgust.


And I am, not liking such prejudice on my part. I am hating it in fact. 

Cobwebs Of Emotions...

"I will not", is often confused with, "I can not". 

Justice, Now On The Menu...

Who would have thought that something as irrelevant as food can affect a judge's ability to dole out paroles?

Turns out that the odds that prisoners will be successfully paroled start off fairly high at around 65% and quickly plummet to nothing over a few hours. After the judges have returned from their breaks, the odds abruptly climb back up to 65%, before resuming their downward slide. A prisoner’s fate could hinge upon the point in the day when their case is heard.[Source]

There’s an old trope that says justice is “what the judge ate for breakfast”. It was coined by Jerome Frank, himself a judge, and it’s a powerful symbol of the legal realism movement. This school of thought holds that the law, being a human concoction, is subject to the same foibles, biases and imperfections that affect everything humans do. We’d love to believe that a judge’s rulings are solely based on rational decisions and written laws. In reality, they can be influenced by irrelevant things like their moods and, as Frank suggested, their breakfasts.

So much for intelligence!

Pink Balloons...

I am craving a love story :) With loads of warm dreamy innocent toppings :)

Feathers...

There will always be that struggle between what you are and what you could be...and sometimes the price for what you could be is set too high. 

The Clock Keeps Ticking...

Apparently the reason why I am always torn between decisions is because I am middle brain dominant. Atleast now I know! :|

Burn Those Skirts?

Some years back when I was travelling on an international flight, I was harassed by an Arab guy. When I told my friends about the incident, everyone asked me why I didn't complain to the air hostess right that minute when it happened. It might not sound like a very intelligent answer, but I was petrified. I was so shocked I could not open my mouth. I had to cry to get out of the shock once we landed and I knew I was safe in the women's loo. In hindsight yes, I should have complained. Even later when the flight had landed. But you really can't be prepared for such incidents.


Back then when I told this to S, he first got angry at me(for not complaining, no words of sympathy there) and then he asked me what I was wearing(I was wearing a rather boring black jacket over a black spaghetti top with blue jeans and pumps. Nothing too sexy). Funny thing, which I now realise, none of my girl friends asked me what I was wearing. But a guy did ask.


For those who didn't know, there was a slut walk held in Canada on April 3rd. Here's the link.

Demonstrators take part in the "Slutwalk" protest in Toronto, Sunday April 3, 2011. Protesters hit the streets to protest against rape and sexual crimes in response to Toronto Police Const. Michael Sanguinetti, quoted as saying "Women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized."

The recent rapes in Delhi, the slut walk, and a recent conversation with a friend, reminded me of that incident on the plane. One does not necessarily have to be dressed provocatively to be molested. In a sexually charged situation, a man will jump on any woman, even a woman covered from head to toe. Or like A would say, even a man wearing a kilt with a cat. But time and again we keep hearing the same thing: dress properly, dress properly, dress properly. And I am forced to wonder, what does "dress properly" really mean?


I have thought a lot about this topic, dressing, cause it's a topic close to my heart. I love clothes. I love dressing up, always have. And when I have to think 10 times before deciding what to wear, I hate it.


Now I am an advocate of free will. Do what pleases you, as long as your choices do not harm anyone else, in any fashion. So, if some girl out there wants to dress up like a slut, by all means, she has the right to. It's her life after all, and no one should object to her choice.

But here's the thing, what do all those rights and all that freedom really amount to? I have realised, nothing.

As a 21 year old, I would have angrily told you to back off and not interfere in my life had you told me what to wear and not (which is why I never shop with guys). But as a 26 year old, and I hate that it should be this way, I understand that one can not always do as one pleases, even if one's choices do not directly affect another being. Sad huh?

One does not have to be as dramatic as this book suggests, but a woman, like it not, has to come to terms with the fact that:

"[..] a woman’s presence expresses her own attitude to herself, and defines what can and cannot be done to her."


As a woman you have to understand and realise that ultimately you and only you are in the end responsible for everything that happens to you. So if you want to wear that mini skirt, understand the responsibility you owe to yourself and realise the danger it could pose to your life, and then take the decision.


It might seem that by saying women are entirely responsible for their own safety, I am letting men off the hook. Which is not the case at all. No man, even your own husband, has the right to touch you without your explicit permission, no matter if you are sober or drunk, no matter if you are covered in a burqa or naked. But, can we really control anyone's actions and reactions? Nope. So what do we women do? We learn to assess risks and dress accordingly. In short, "dress properly." If you're going to a party with close friends to safe place, you can take that sexy number out of the closet, but you know you can not dress provocatively in a bad neighbourhood.


It is sad that even in civilized societies, supposedly safe environments like your own home, women are not safe. In an ideal world, a question like, "what to wear", would probably never arise. But lately, I have realised, that we might live in a free world but there are still invisible boundaries that we can not cross without getting hurt. So don't burn those skirts, but definitely throw away those quixotic glasses. 

Some Spinach Please!

The Dalai Lama, when asked what surprised him most about humanity, said this:

"Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived."

Don't know if Dalai Lama really said that, but those words makes so much sense, no?


The sad thing is, today we'll read those words, nod our heads, promise ourselves that we'll adopt healthy living, even plan it out well, and then tomorrow forget all about it and order a Mac Maharaja for lunch/dinner. We young will never take those words seriously, cause we don't understand the importance of health now. We don't know the pain of ailing joints, broken vision, failing heart yet. And by the time we realise how health is really wealth, it'll be all too late.


Oh yes, I had a visit to my doctor today :) Time for some disciplined living!

Sooner Or Later...

You can run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Sooner or later God'll cut you down
Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Go tell that long tongue liar
Go and tell that midnight rider
Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down

Well my goodness gracious let me tell you the news
My head's been wet with the midnight dew
I've been down on bended knee talkin' to the man from Galilee
He spoke to me in the voice so sweet
I thought I heard the shuffle of the angel's feet
He called my name and my heart stood still
When he said, "John go do My will!"

Go tell that long tongue liar
Go and tell that midnight rider
Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut 'em down

You can run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Sooner or later God'll cut you down
Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Well you may throw your rock and hide your hand
Workin' in the dark against your fellow man
But as sure as God made black and white
What's done in the dark will be brought to the light

You can run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Run on for a long time
Sooner or later God'll cut you down
Sooner or later God'll cut you down

Go tell that long tongue liar
Go and tell that midnight rider
Tell the rambler, the gambler, the back biter
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down
Tell 'em that God's gonna cut you down

Filial...

You can't fight your genes. 

Pleasure In A Box...

This is beautiful. 

Stitched Up...

Such pitiable sad lives we humans have, but we still hopeful, lick our hurt, wipe our tears, stitch our hearts, embrace our failures and go on and try to make something of our sorry selfs, our miserable lives.

We might be depraved, arrogant, foolish, we humans, but there is something good in us. Something, which, I hope, never dies.

Pat yourself on your back today. In spite of our insignificant existence, we want to live. Such courage. We deserve happiness for that, if nothing else. 

Why the Sun Follows the Moon...

Folk tales from Philippines, loved these two :)

The Legend of the First Rainbow
A farmer noticed that a wall he built keeps getting knocked down. He waits one evening and surprises three star maidens. Two are able to escape while one is left behind because the farmer hid her magic wings. They get married and have a son.
One day, the star maiden finds her missing wings hidden near their house, wears them and takes her son up to her skyworld.
The gods take pity on the farmer and so they built a rainbow so that the mortal can sometimes climb up to the sky to visit his wife and son.

Why the Sun Follows the Moon
The Sun and the Moon used to be married and shared the sky. One day the Moon had to gather vegetables in the forest and asked the Sun to watch over their children. She warned him not to get too near the sleeping kids because they might get burned.
He watches the kids from a distance but, because he wanted to kiss them, forgot his wife's warning. He bends over near his children and, horrified, sees them melt. He hides in the forest. His wife, the Moon, returns to find her children all melted. After some time, the Sun shows himself to the Moon. They fight: He throws the vegetables to her face and she leaves him.
On a clear night, when the Moon is full, you will see traces of vegetable leaves on her face. Their children have turned into stars, while the Sun keeps chasing after the Moon in an attempt to reconcile.

La La La...

It's raining :)

White...

U know whenever I think of u, I remember the 7th, when I was totally pissed n ignoring u, n u like a true friend still stuck to my side. I'm sorry :(  (though I still wish u guys wud hve been there for da ceremonies) but still...muaaahh 

Waise I dreamt of u yday .. it was like I was leaving n my mom tells u to meet her even after I'm gone, n u start crying n leave. :(  

Come here!

Love,
Munira

Miss you :(

Goats & Dogs...

1,600 Chinese workers embrace Islam in Saudi

Wondering why?

Here's the story: When a multi million railway contract to build a 450km rail road linking the holy cities of Makkah and Madinah via Jeddah and Rabigh was won by the China Railway Construction Corp, they were told they could not bring Chinese workers to build the railway, cause according to the Holy book of Kuran, non-muslims are not allowed to enter the holy city of Mecca.

"The majority of scholars – including Muhammad ibn al-Hasan among the Hanafis – are of the view that it is not permissible for kuffaar to enter the sanctuary of Makkah at all, The view of the Hanafis is that that is permissible if there is a treaty or they have permission.[link]"

So what did the Chinese do?

1,600 of them workers converted to Islam.

I don't know which is a scarier community. But I am scared. Terrified.   

Our World...

External World (click).

Crazy Stupid Love...

*Oh Goddddddddddddddd*

Can I say the word? On a public blog? No need right?

Ryan Gosling, sweetheart, will you please please please be my slave? I swear on the G-spot I will treat you with love and utmost (non)kindness and lots of chocolate and whipped cream.

Promise.

And oh no baby, it's not bothering me at all. Nope. Not one bit.

Yours Lustfully,
A

Hanging On A Star...

:)

Miss Misery...

I'll fake it through the day
With some help from johnny walker red
Send the poison rain down the drain
To put bad thoughts in my head
Two tickets torn in half
And a lot of nothing to do
Do you miss me, miss misery
Like you say you do?

A man in the park
Read the lines in my hand
Told me Im strong
Hardly ever wrong I said man you mean

You had plans for both of us
That involved a trip out of town
To a place Ive seen in a magazine
That you left lying around
I dont have you with me but
I keep a good attitude
Do you miss me, miss misery
Like you say you do?

I know youd rather see me gone
Than to see me the way that I am
But I am in the life anyway

Next door the tvs flashing
Blue frames on the wall
Its a comedy of errors, you see
Its about taking a fall
To vanish into oblivion
Is easy to do
And I try to be but you know me
I come back when you want me to
Do you miss me miss misery
Like you say you do?

I'll Wander...

The sun, it stripped me of truth.
There wasn't a thing I could do.
The moon shined with hope, but then bade me farewell,
So I chose to follow the blue.

And friends, they took what was theirs.
Then went on to making their plans.
They told me to grin as if pain were a sin,
So I left them standing back there.

Who needs a home when there so much to see
And so many things to do.
Lovers and friends, we'll meet once again
If wandering leads me to you.

And trees, they grow from the earth,
But sometimes they take to the sea.
No one could have known where they one day would be.
So come and wander with me.

Together we'll search for a place
And listen for the hidden sounds
Of wind, and dreams, and all pleasant things.
Come, let's wander around.

Who needs a home when there so much to see
And so many things to do.
Lovers and friends, we'll meet once again
If wandering leads me to you.

And old man sits on his roof,
Sleepily watching the world.
He wandered away all the years of his youth,
Now he's got something to hold.

Well man, I'll be just like you.
I'll see everything to see.
And maybe one day I'll settle to live
With someone who's loving me.
With someone who's loving me.
- Genry Gene

Hello Kitten!

Life, I just can't be arsed about you.

*****
Oh these long unyielding nights! I have started to fear these unfriendly sleepless nights now. The despairing panic that blankets the sky come evening...the long wait ahead drowned in cup after cup of sweet tea.

Nothing happens.

Sometimes, tangy tomato soup to keep me warm. Still. Nothing happens.

The cicadas try to keep me company, but I reject them. They make too much noise.

I sit close to the warm, humming machine instead, scrolling word after word.

Numbing.

Days are no better. Left on the coffee table in anonymity, they shift and shuffle, unattended.

Banal. I reject them too.

*****
Dreams, evade. Nothing to dream of. Death too escapes. Nothing to live for.

I have given up on death. It has nothing to offer. It will cheat you into surrender and then poof. Nothing. It will not deliver on what it initially promised.

There's no hope.

*****
The other day I dreamt that some mad scientist has brought the dinosaurs back to life. And that people were living in mansions and houses that float.

I wonder what will happen if the dinosaurs come back to life. I, for one, will welcome them.

*****
Maybe I should go have a kid or something I am thinking. It'll keep me occupied and busy enough for me to never realise that I am not living.

Busy enough to inhale and exhale enough number of times through the day without questioning why.

That's what women have done in every generation. Have kids to escape this never ending unhappiness.

And in turn, created more of it. But maybe I can do it better. Arrogance.

Maybe, after all, there is some hope.

I'll go polish my knuckles now.

Wilting Ears...

Dear Universe,

Why is it so bloody(forgive me!) difficult to find a decent man who is also a thrilling conversationalist?! Why? WHY WHY WHY? Answer me this dear Universe!

Why can't I meet a guy who can talk about geography, literature, history, economics, finance, science, politics and any and every topic under the sky and above it? When I can, why can't I find another one like me? Find me a man with whom I can talk till our ears bleed and jaws hurt and till we pass out from sheer exhaustion of talking. Send me a man with whom my conversations are so unbelievably awesome and interesting that even unbelievable good sex is the last thing on our minds.

If such a man does exist, parcel him right away dear Universe, and I shall forever be indebted to you.


Yours (most) loquaciously,
A

Blame It All On Oxytocin...

Love is indeed a many-splendored thing, but sometimes we all need to tie ourselves to the mast.

Whoa!!! Wait a minute, so according to this article, it is possible to fall in love with anyone with a help of a little squirt of Oxytocin? And it's also, therefore, possible to move on and not mope over a failed relationship, with the help of a drug that reverses the Oxytocin effect?

I am on the fence about the use of such a drug, ofcourse, cause it's not natural. Though, looks like, it won't be too far in the future when use of such drugs would be commonplace. What about all that romance and poetry then? Useless?

Link to the research quoted in the article above.

Also, interesting idea by Larry Young on why men love boobs. From Freudian, evolutionary, reproductive to now bonding eh? :)

Looks like, foreplay is the word :)

Cricket Reading...

I love cricket but I'll be honest and admit that I don't know much about cricket. Oh, I know the basics, but unlike Dad, I wouldn't be able to tell you why that four wasn't good cricketing. I enjoy watching the game, like I enjoy watching football.

How many Indians really understand the game? Most of us watch the game cause India's playing.

I might not agree with everything Aaker Patel says here, but this is true: Indians, most of them atleast, love India and not the game.

Most of us will vehemently deny it but that's how we Indians are.

Part II: True enough, our commentators are horrible. Which is another reason why most of us can't tell a good shot from a bad one. Instead of providing insight into the game, we have commentators discuss celebrities and say things like, "We have two Asian teams in the finals and one Asian team will win the World Cup." Like, dude, duh?

Cricket has become more and more commercialized. Somewhere, yes, it has lost its soul to advertisers and money making companies. Let's accept that if nothing else.

I wonder if we'll ever see good cricketing after Sachin retires.

Why you should care about Cricket by Wright Thompson. 

Bleed Blue :)

India World Champions 2011 :D

What's In My HandBag...

Every time I meet a new guy, he wants to know what I carry in my handbag. To be fair, I do carry a huge hand bag. A guy once told me I looked ready to go on a vacation with my handbag. It almost looked as big as a suitcase(to him). Another one told me I'd never need anything if I got lost on some Island, cause I'd be carrying everything in my tote. I ofcourse don't agree, but here are the contents of my bag:

(Ofcourse I am bored.)

1) iPod

2) Mobile

3) House keys

4) Sunglasses

5) A Scarf/Stole

6) Pens (Cause I can never find one when I need it. So I carry many pens)

7) Lots of random receipts

8) A notepad

9) Some scrunchies (Cause, again,I can never find one when I need one)

10) Red wallet (wallets to me should always be red) and some spare change (2 and 5 rupees coins)

11) A pink coloured comb (which I stole from Apeksha in college)

12) Tissues

13) And now to the real maal: A bottle of hand disinfectant

14) Fab India's Honey and Frankincense face wash

15) Neutrogena's Ultra Sheer Sunblock (SPF 50)

16) Fab India's Tea Tree face wash (cause I get bored of the same face wash)

17) Nike's Deo

18) Bath & Body Works Cherry Blossom Body Splash

19) Bath & Body Works Japanese Cherry Blossom body lotion (with VitaminE and Jojoba and shea butter)

20) Fab India's Bitter Orange Facial spray (When I need to look all fresh and dewy (Atleast I try!))

21) The Body Shop's Cocoa Butter for hands (I hate having dry rough hands)

23) Toothbrush (In case I puke or have something stuck in my teeth and I suddenly find myself face to face with the man of my dreams. I need a clean mouth to kiss dude!)

24) My makeup pouch (which was bought from Bhutan. Love it :)) with following contents:
    a) Fab India's Plum Passion Lip Butter
    b) A lovely pocket mirror bought from UK
    c) Avon Lip gloss gifted by sister
    d) Maybelline's Moisture Extreme Lipstick(Chestnut #917) My faithful lipstick!
     Muaah!
    e) Elizabeth Arden's Ceramide Plump Perfect lipstick (Perfect Brick #02)
    f) L'Oréal's True Match foundation
    g) Chambor's black eyeliner pencil
    h) Chambor's dark green eyeliner pencil
    i) Chambor's grey shimmery eyeliner pencil
    j) Chambor's midnight blue eyeliner pencil
    k) Avon's khol pencil gifted by mom's friend
    l) Chambor's curl plus length black mascara
    m) L'Oréal's Blush Minerals
    n) VOV's eyeshadow box with 15 yummy shades (Thanks to PJ)
    o) Faithful Tweezer
    p) Climskin gel for acne
    q) Pink, Yellow and Purple hair clips
    r) Pair of earrings
    s) A little tiny nail cutter and nail filer
    t) Fab India's Almond oil

25) And ofcourse the latest book I am reading :)

I don't think I'd survive on an island. I would need to carry a hot yummy man in my bag for that. Not possible now, no?

Why do I have a feeling I am missing something? Oh right, my mobile charger! :|

Right, so that's it. What's in yours?