I really wonder at times why am I here, like here in Delhi on my own when I could have aram se worked and stayed at home. I had more or less everything smoothly chalked out for me. Pinoo is there, yet why in the world would I put myself through this? I don't know, I swear I don't. It just happened and at this moment, I am happy that it just happened, cause I do feel like I am becoming a better person. Ironic nonetheless, that Delhi will be the seat of my transformation but yes, there is a change happening within me and I feel it. It's imperceptible, minuscule but churning with me. The seed has been planted, now wait for it to grow, day after day, time after time.

The song strawberry swing is playing on mind....it's such a perfect day....without you, it's such a waste of time...oh how much i love this song...listening to it, your day can never go wrong...

Last night, I heard my friend sing Hindustani music in her room with her guruji. I sat quietly with my eyes closed listening to her voice rise and fall, looping notes on a string of melodies. I was moved. I don't know what in me was evoked but I was ecstatic at that moment. We sang Bawara Man Dekhne Chala Ek Sapna together and then the lyrics of the song slowly unfolded their meaning before me. The flight of spirits transcends time and space and that is what pure music is able to realise it. Thank you for making me feel alive.

A typical morning in Delhi

The phone rings at 7 a.m.It's Daddy waking me up in the cold winter morning. I fumble and mutter my displeasure and then fall off into a semi-conscious sleep. I check the phone again to see if I have overslept.  It's 7.30 a.m., time to rise and shine. I crawl my way out of bed, relive myself in the bathroom, switch on the geyser and head to the kitchen.

I open the fridge, get out the cold milk and put it on the fire to boil. I open the oats packet and dunk it into the boiling milk. Stirring it slowly, till the milk and oats rises. In the meanwhile, I make myself fresh orange juice, which I absolutely love. Then put the cold bread on the frying pan for it to toast, after which i make myself nice butter and cheese sandwiches for work. I quickly have a nice warm water bath, wash my underclothes, get ready to take on a brand new day.

I stand at the bus stop, jump at the first bus in sight, nudge my fellow passengers, and quietly retreat into a seat (in case I'm lucky). I watch from the bus window the dust flying from the sweeper's mop, patient passengers heave a sigh of relief as they see the bus arrive at the designated stand, the ever looming flyovers that tower down on humanity. I start to keep a mental track of the route and certain landmarks. Gradually, the uncertain and the unfamiliar make way for the comfort of familiarity.

Slowly, I will be calling the buses, the roads, the buildings, the flyovers my own and then I will know that this city has become me.

Delhi buses are the raw deal. Loud abrasive conductors, servile insenstive passengers and an indifferent driver all ride together on the same bus. Mind you, I am a part of this 'crowd', this sea of humanity that surges on wheels.

It's quite in office. I am the only one who has come on time. I can hear tea being brewed on the kettle and the faint smell of gas. Reading the Hindu online and the unfolding 2G spectrum scam. Apalling to say the least. I have a number of documents to read but I am more interested in the news of the world. Wait, i should go and do what I am supposed to do-work:)

Delhi, please be kind to me. Take me under your wings and make me fly.

Today was beautiful. I literally died in my lover's arms. Sublime love, kindred spirits, feisty souls-we are made of stars my dear. Let's shine the light on this dreary world. Illuminated lives we shall lead, now and forever.

I am going to Vizag. Yabadabadoooooo!!!!

I am going to eat sea food. Yabadabadooooo!!!!

I am going to a beach.Yabadabadooooo!!!!

I am going to meet my sister and brother.Yabadabadooooo!!!!

Yes, I am in the mood for Yabadabadooooo!!!!

Severance

Closure, finality-I like those words, although I don't know what they mean. That's exactly what happened to me yesterday; it was my last day at work. It ended on a rather sombre note. My boss refused to bid goodbye. He stood there with a sullen/wooden face. It was awkward to say the least. But then I shook his hand and wished him well. I obsessed a little about what happened. But now in hindsight I realise that my 11 months and 18 days in GD has taught me that even your best intentions can be judged as your worst, so be prepared to face the flak. As long as you know honestly that you did your best, that's all that matters. I know I have cribbed, whined and complained about work ad nauseam. I guess it's payback time for my bad mouthing. So peace be upon this. I rest my case.

So I'm spending my last few numbered days in Kolkata trying to squeeze time out of a steely day. Farewells and departures are always manic. And I'm struggling to make sense of it all. Each celebration is laced with sadness. By the end of it, I can see myself as the lost sailor steering a mast-less ship. Onward ho, that's all I know!

To friends, family and lover, life will never be the same without you. Delhi can only be a empty void, filled with strange people bearing resemblances to you. How can I ever fool myself into believing that all this will be for the good, when all I want is you. Poetic justice is always undue and so I bear the truth.

There is no time left for musings and reminiscences. Only time to act. Fulfill all social obligations before I go and face a winter of discontent on my own. No one said it was going to easy but loving in the cold can only bring warmth and that's all I care for.

I really want to pursue a Phd. It's not that my blessed with academic brilliance but I know I will be committed to the subject of my calling. I just need to a be a little brave and apply. Not anticipate the repercussions of my decisions but act on my will to believe. Overcoming personal challenges is so hard cause you know your fighting yourself- a self that can let itself down. Love lost- yes, battle won- never. But the point is keep trying, not hoping. But that in itself can become an endless wait, especially when you are an obdurate and stubborn person like me.

I always enjoying walking with Pinoo. South Kolkata happens to be our favourite jaunt. Slowly winding our way through the streets as does our conversation, there is a sense of lurking familiarity. We argue, haggle, cuddle, eat on the streets whose names we may not know but whose landmarks we always remember. Like the famous Triangular park public toilet spot, where because of my hot temper, I walked off, only to keep Pinoo standing in front of the men's lavatory with men and piss for company. Or when both of us weren't earning, we'd have chai on the wooden benches of Golpark. Having shared so many bitter and sweet memories, I am feeling a sense of impending loss creeping up slowly on me. I know that when I come next, it will all be rushed, may be, forced. Buildings we identified with, food joints that we ate in, streets that we sauntered on will change or remain the same but we would have moved on with only the memories to remind us of where it all began.

The thought that I will never have to do this again is exhilarating. No more mechanical paper writing, report writing or any sort of stupid writing on this desk in this office. I am free now to make the same mistakes somewhere else but not here. Relative freedom, that's all I want.

There has been so much hullabaloo over Obama's visit that it veers on mass hysteria. By far, TIMES NOW is the most strident news channel I have ever come across. Always on the offensive, jarring in its coverage and jingoistic in its views. I don't understand how any reasonably minded person can tolerate the blood and gore that its chief anchor vies for. Simple intolerable. After a point, not only are you misguided but misinformed. Indian press needs to really grow up and take note of its boorish attitude to serious issues.

I'm sick. My nose is running, my throat is choked, my body is sore. Wanna a nice oil body massage to invigour me. Is anybody listening??

Went to Dalhousie Institute as a reluctant guest and came out as an ardent lover of all things quintessentially Anglo-Indian. It's true the Anglos know how to be merry. They have mastered the art of living and that my dear self is an attribute to love and cherish. They have no flashy lifestyle to boast of but exude an infectious warmth which grows on you. They do all the things we love to do- dancing to the music of a live band or crooning on the microphone or drinking in the company of family and friends - but only in a manner that is far more at ease, more comfortable. That kind of disarming candour which allows you to make peace with oneself and enjoy the moment. With an Anglo, you can only expect love and generosity. And it is this open-heartedness that will always keeps me coming back 'home'.

Minto

Curled up on the sofa next to me, trying to catch whatever sleep he can between the bursts of firecrackers, I realise that my joy is his pain. Must life always exist in binaries.

I'm going to wear a rani pink and gold brocade jamdani suit. Yes, I will make for a pretty bride.

Let this impasse be silent. For words offer no consolation to weary hearts.

Okay, so I'm going away. Delhi Version 2.0.

Episode 1- Make a home out of a house and a living out of a career

I'm all set. Let's play!

Shock and Awe

RS get a life. I am not your punching bag, so don't you vent your frustrations on me. Be glad that i'm leaving. Enjoy the joke, while it is on you.

I QUIT. HEAR ME LOUD AND CLEAR. I QUIT THE SHOW.

I got blasted my head off at work yesterday. Surprisingly, I kept my cool. Actually, I was numb. Drop-dead emotionless and poker faced. This is becoming a recurring affair, a source of both fear and loathing. It's simple, when you work, you make mistakes and you learn from them. However, in my case, I learn only to be beaten the very next moment. Why can't I do things right? Pinoo tells me its my bad attitude. Heavens! bad attitude and bad faith are my only defenses. Shall I stay corrected?

Sonar Bangla

Bangladesh has been a revelation. I will miss the lush and fertile landscape, the sumptuous food, the choc-o-block traffic jams, the friendly candour, the beautiful handlooms and the all embracing Bangali culture. I feel a sense of loss in Kolkata, for where I truly belong lies beyond man-made borders. Amar sonar bangla-you belong to me.

I'm in a job that is hard to keep, in a world where it is hard to believe.

Where do you go to my lovely?

Wrong question to ask myself. Sure-thing. Wait, wait how about the road to neverland?? Yes, that's where I'm headed at least in my head.

08.09.10

I love the empty streets of desire that is Kolkata. It is leaves me with a warm fuzzy feeling.  You feel different even though the city is the same. Bandhs completely change the character of the city. It's almost like wearing rose-tinted glasses. You walk in neighbourhoods of crumbling mansions with bougainvillea flowers growing between the brick and mortar. You see little champs playing para-cricket on the deserted city throughway. You hear the tea-stall radio play a lovely romantic number from the 50s. You smell the air that's free of pollutants. Everything is beautiful all at once and you realise that this city is just meant for you, for you alone.

No vilification, no sarcasm, no judgements, no indolence, no comfort zone, no understanding, no sharing, no happiness. I am done with all of this. I've made my mistakes and want to freed of this.

Work is worship. There was a point when I hated my work. It wasn't something I was ever prepared to do. To me, it represents a necessary evil, a step towards improvement. You have to persevere, you have to want to make it better. Idleness breeds discontent. And the moment you tell yourself you can do it, you will do it. It's all about the power of human will. No wonder chanting works!

Somnolent state. Being alive and dead all at once. Best friend is leaving. Boyfriend on holiday. Work as usual. What else? Of course, there is. Steinbeck and Mimlu Sen for company. Minto for love. Mom and Dad for cantankerous conversations. And Princeton Review for serious thought.

I am enjoying the books I'm reading. It gives me no other joy. This has been a late discovery of sorts and I'm sure I have missed many hours in ignorance and indolence. I now want to lay my hands on every book that interests me. As usual, I do everything in excess.

Sunday drives

Every Sunday evening at four o'clock, Minto, Daddy and me go for a drive to Rabindra Sadan. This has been a practice for the past few years and is almost a sacrosanct ritual, which we perform. Minto and me are usually in backseat, with the windows rolled down so that we can enjoy the sensation of the wind blowing against our faces. The ride is usually smooth with the occasional jerking. Along the way, Minto barks and scares his brethren, with instigation from me. They look around with a puzzled expression, not knowing where the source of their horror lies. Minto smirks, I smile.

With the car parked in Rabindra Sadan, Minto jumps out and immediately relives himself. He pulls me and off we go sniffing. His nose is on fire, with his olfactory senses sending a zillion impulses to his brain. He systematically marks his territory as we walk. All around there are couples snuggling under the shade of the trees. Watching them in the act, are solitary men finding vicarious pleasure. Minto invariably drags us to those sneaky corners, where couples want privacy and intimacy. So we pull him away, saving ourselves of the embrassment.

While Minto is busy at work, I deliberately hide behind a tree so that he can find me. Daddy eggs him into the act and immediately, he is frantically searching and smelling for any trace of me. In a matter of moments, I am found and we both hug each other in happiness. There is a sprite in his step, excitement as we walk back to the car.

Comfortable in the backseat, I can see Minto's small little tongue slide sideways. A smile breaks across his face. And happiness writ large over our faces.

Wanderlust

I want to go to Burma and Iran now.

Bagan

Persepolis

Priya

Travelling with you is a journey of serendipitous delight that stays with me forever in the memories that I cherish. You have this ability to warmly take people under your wings and make them fly. It is only in your company that I can dream of other possibilities, of fresh beginnings and hopeful endings. Your free spiritedness, earthy humour and zest for life invigorates me. In your presence, I feel the lightness of being. They say journeys are a map of the self and with you it's so true, like a discovery to be found anew. Being with you has made me realise the value of experiencing life with all its vastness and depth. For there is only one universal truth, as you put it, in the "power of NOW".

reality check

if there was ever a moment when i felt at peace, it was in sri lanka. thoughts curled in curry meals, white sandy beaches, green hill tops, ancient puzzles and natural wonderlands. it is only in travel that i find serendipity. life and being are in equivalence, just like it is meant to be.

back to black now, both physically and metaphorically. if only i could take wings and fly, high above the rainbow hue. no work, no love-just there-floating shiftlessly among the clouds, taking myself where the wind blows.

sunday morning

A lazy start to the day/ listening to 90's hits back to back/feeling nostalgic/they don't make music like that anymore/want to read something fresh/no stream of consciouness/i have mine to deal with/no conversations/just music ringing in my ears/crows talk and i sit hearing them speak/a language strangely understood/cloud cover, rain impending/quiet peace/right here, right now

Push the envelope and there are no boundaries to stop you. This is all self-created, all a part of the grand illusion. Maya they call it, I call it the mind. Tame it under your will and it shall be yours.

Head and Heart

What do you do when your head and heart are not in congruence?

When your heart speaks a language your head cannot understand or when your head relates to the world in a way your heart cannot?

Then you know your disconnected.

Monsoons

It's raining, the deluge has begun. The sky has opened up, pouring its soul onto these grimy streets. The gush of rain wets the human face, wiping away the sweat of labour. Ceaseless in rhythm, it thunders on.

Covered in our mortar houses, protected from the elements, can you really speak about the beauty of every passing season. Even with my window open, I am seperated from what is raging outside.

I can hear the kids scream with delight but I only scream under the neon lights.Can the rain that washes away the deariness of a summer's day, cleanse this spirit of mine?

No more i love you

Sitting at her desk, she can hear the clouds thunder and she can smell the wet earth. The lights are on in her room, as she types furiously. Her windows are closed and the curtains drawn. But she can see the clouds laden with rain fast approaching. She knows if she embraces nature at this very moment, she will succumb. So she resists but for how long?

cultural pariah

I am that dog that scavenges at your neighbourhood garbage dump, living off the waste rubbish discarded by others.

For Shreya

As I sink into the rooftop jacuzzi on Wednesday night and stare at the starry night, I will be grateful for the enduring friendships that keep me alive. Happy birthday mishti!

Gibberish

Write uninhibitedly,
Speak truthfully,
Love unconditionally,
Marry faithfully,
Sing mellifluously,
Dance gracefully,
Emote naturally,
Live seamlessly,
Die abruptly.

I walk the line

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Because you're mine, I walk the line



I find it very, very easy to be true

I find myself alone when each day is through

Yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you

Because you're mine, I walk the line



As sure as night is dark and day is light

I keep you on my mind both day and night

And happiness I've known proves that it's right

Because you're mine, I walk the line



You've got a way to keep me on your side

You give me cause for love that I can't hide

For you I know I'd even try to turn the tide

Because you're mine, I walk the line



I keep a close watch on this heart of mine

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Because you're mine, I walk the line

kanua+nidhi=the house of <3

A cool breeze blows through the door. Music fills the air and room. Pinoo sits at the edge of the bed looking at the swirling fan, lost in thought. I hear my song of freedom. Lady gaga:)

anger

Bend her back,
Cut her tongue,
Twist her morals,
And watch the fun:)

Forget it!

My life is on hold but the problem is there is little to hold on to. We have held this fortress together for years but for how long? The walls are crumbling and we lie exposed. And so the family drama unfolds, day after day. Waiting and waiting to just let it all go..........

Empire state of mind

Hope against hope

This year will be a break, a rupture to severe all of myself, who I am and what I can be. I will not be bogged down by what I am but find freedom in seamlessness. To be not exactly who you want to be but exactly what you can't be. Not a negative affirmation but a negation of all that seems true and holy in oneself. Bye Bye Miss Amercian Pie.

Losing it

Crazy you, crazy I
Crazy when the days go by

Crazy you, crazy I
Crazy together in a world gone wild

Crazy you, crazy I
Crazy as the 'tandav' engulfing life

Crazy you, crazy I
Crazy be the only way to survive

truth as on 22.03.10

Truth 1: Work teaches you how to be tenacious, to burn your fingers sore. Only this time I have burnt my fingers to the point it pains no more.

What do I want more than anything else in this world?

Peace of mind, tranquility of being, happiness of self--all that takes to make a lifetime of possibility.

For Bouji

I want to be 90 till I die. This is my prayer for life. I am going to be 90 till I die. This is the swansong of my life. I am 90 and very much alive.

Metamorphisis

In my present avatar, I'm a solid wodden desk.

office office office office.....
work work work work work.............
boss boss boss boss boss boss................
quit quit quit quit quit quit quit quit quit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

God give me strength to get myself out from where I am.

Unanswered Prayers

I desperately want a beautiful chanderi sari with batik prints on it. The desire to own this sari is veering on obsession. Unfortunately when you're as broke as me in the first week of the month, there is little else to do but hope. Mommy are you listening?

Thank god for mornings

There is nothing that compares to the feeling of waking up fresh and alive on a brand new day. To know that this day is different from the last, that this day could be your last. This is the very reason of living, of being. Caught  in the rut of ritualistic living, I forget that everyday is to be lived anew, like a promise you renew. If it weren't for this cloudy Thursday morning, with Minto curled up between my legs, I would never wake up and live.

A night to remember

Three girls and one bottle of Glenrothes makes for an unforgettable evening. We laughed, argued, bitched and bonded.

Got it

The cycle of life is ceasless and never-ending, always in motion. Yet it is momentary and transient. It is both real and chimerical all at once. Therefore, I beg to ask the question am I just a cog in this spinning wheel? May be I am, may be we are all the creation of this cosmic churning. Who is to know? Definitely not me, not you, because life's creation exists irrespective of our being. So, we will forever be condemned to asking questions and seeking answers, when all the while the truth is omniscient for us to see with our eyes wide shut.

A thought

If only this mind were an abode of peace and tranquility, of soothing thoughts and comforting words.
If only my home were a place of comfort, of "family happiness" and irrepressible love.
If only this life were what I make it out to be and not what it is.
For only then would these words be said in silence.

Lovers; Night Lovers

Oh! Pinoo, if life ever any easier without you. I <3 you.

Jan 28th 2010

Seven going on eight...........

Dates that define our lives, that etch our memories.

******************************

Love is not so much a number game,

But the decoding of the consciousness, of experiences and remembrances that number our lives.

Who am I?

I keep telling myself I don't know. This has been a reassuring thought for me, providing comfort in moments of crisis.

Not anymore. If there is ever a time I feel I am being torn apart by the forces of human nature, this moment would have to cataclysmic.

I am dying. I could probably kill myself in this heart-wrenching exercise.

I have choosen to live the the way I do because I have lived in fear of myself and others around me, like a rabbit in a hole.

I was not like this. When did I become like this?

I don't know. Or maybe I do.

Yes. When I ceased to think for myself and only think about those around me.

So there was never a real Me. There was only a Me which others knew and approved.

But when did I seek approval?

All the time. Not for myself but for others.

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

I don't want to be Me; I want to kill and bury myself and take a new life.

New Year's Eve

We laughed and laughed.

I laughed as he laughed.

He laughed as I laughed.

Like donkeys braying at night.

:)

Pinoo

I am a love psycho, kill me!

<3