create a mess,clean it up

The year of Cynicism

2012-01-16T06:59:00.000-08:00

If 2011 was ruffled with protests and classic mess ups, 2012 promises to elevate the gloom to another level altogether. 2012 promises to be a cynic in the making. Cynicism, very rightly the Greek (ironic isn't it for Greece to take center stage at the onset of a very cynical 2012? ) school of thought is now far from what it was originally cut out to be. What initially meant selfless and

2012..@)!@?

2012-01-15T21:41:00.000-08:00

This year I saw myself falling in and out of love. I saw myself falling in and out with myself. I was an embodiment of nothingness in particular and yet something beautifully tragic. I lost something I never truly had. I owe it to myself and all these years of wanting to write. There are a few positively terrifying things in this world. One of them is sitting down to write with a dread that you

Why would anybody want to let go?

2012-01-15T21:40:00.000-08:00

6.15 pm and the sky is a beautiful little thing. Flaming crimson with a touch of cherry pink. Let go you’d say. Just let go and sit back and let things shape up into what they were supposed to. But I was never the one to let go was I? I’d carry it with me everywhere…in my bags, in my shoes, in my cup of coffee and in my mind until it would become a part of me. It’s funny because I thought I

2011, something you should know.

2011-12-30T10:57:00.001-08:00

The secret is : there is no secret. There is no method to madness. Those lists won’t help. The post its on my wall have fallen away.

9th November

2011-11-09T02:37:00.000-08:00

16.22 pm Currently unemployed. Its a beautiful sunny day though, I couldn't possibly blame the weather.

What makes you write anyway?

2011-10-20T04:21:00.000-07:00

What makes you write anyway? Is it a mouthful of distress that you just couldn’t swallow on your own? Is it sheer boredom that has you looking at a ticking clock like you’ve never seen one before, in your entire life? The fact that I couldn’t tsunami through a massive crowd drunk on ambition and religiously devoted to cut throat competition? Is it those unforgivably white, crisp sheets? Umm...

On why we love to hate Yahoo India.

2011-10-07T02:23:00.000-07:00

I get people mourning the death of Steve Jobs via Facebook and Twitter status messages. What I absolutely fail to understand is Yahoo India coming up with ' Celebs mourn Steve Jobs Photos ' Pointless. Bleh. Absurd. Barf. You'd rather flaunt glam celebrity (obviously photoshoped) pictures under another heading. http://in.movies.yahoo.com/photos/celebs-mourn-steve-jobs-1317887001-slideshow/

Fragments of fiction

2011-10-07T00:34:00.000-07:00

The room is all right, the laundry doesn’t sit at the side of the bed anymore. The walls are a pretty plum and you wouldn’t find much on them apart from the occasional post-it. There is something about the windows that makes me uneasy though. They look empty, lacking a certain window like quality. They make you want to jump out of them.She left a note before disappearing just like that. I try

The self immolation bid

2011-07-21T06:03:00.001-07:00

For the love of all things strange and beautiful

2011-07-08T00:21:00.001-07:00

It took one lousy question for me to reconsider my life. Once I was out late, drinking and this friend of mine who I’d known only for a couple of days spat out an absurd question: Do you believe in humanity? The drink went up my nose and I snorted before laughing so hard that I fell off the chair.Weird pieces of conversation fell here and there and after a few minutes I found myself staring at

Fragments of fiction

2011-07-08T00:10:00.000-07:00

‘It was my madness that you took with you wherever you went. My madness left at your feet for mercy.’All she left was memory. Hauntingly discontent memory. Six years is a long time to move on, not only from love but from the very evidence that you once loved and were loved briefly. It felt like she shrunk with every passing day and then finally disappeared into nothingness. There was nothing I

Love in the time of oblivion

2011-06-05T21:22:00.000-07:00

I know that it is rather late in the day to be reading Gabriel Garcia's masterpiece 'Love in the time of Cholera' but I just couldn't get around to wrapping it up the first time I read it. What he glorified as love seems to me as nothing more than an obsession, a perverted kind of obsession that lasts all life. So Florentino Ariza has to endure the curse of love and all its flu like symptoms

Behind Closed doors

2011-06-03T01:20:00.001-07:00

The doors are shut They shut long ago when you weren't looking. The knocking ceased, when somebody hung a DO NOT DISTURB on the once shiny door knob There is silence and sometimes a creaking when you climb the stairs. The stairs overlook a forgotten corridor where you'd once count your stash of juicy fruit or study or kiss your lover or sometimes a stranger and once your own best friend. or yell

Words for sale

2011-05-28T06:27:00.000-07:00

The Nuclear Aftermath

2011-04-25T11:00:00.003-07:00

I try to sound poetic todayas I go about my routine choresRight from the time I wake upFrom that moment thereafterA few split seconds I spendJust lying in bedFiguring out my lifeClouds falling from the skyMy memory failing meThese corners have gone blindI lie in my bed and count polonium orbsTwenty three and then I stopMy wife is fast asleepDreaming of the perfect breakfastBreathing gently, her

Culturally Defunct.

2011-04-25T08:06:00.000-07:00

So its seven and I curl up with Granta on my bed. I've been meaning to write for quite sometime now and I have trails of thoughts on post its, behind magazines, in journals, on random pages, on my phone.. in short - everywhere. So here I am trying to accumulate details of this city when I hear a weepy voice. At first I presume it to be boy trouble, so I don't pay much attention and then

The charming !990's revisited

2011-03-22T12:57:00.000-07:00

I feel so 1990's today. It always starts like that : with D and me reminiscing about the good old days when dysfunction was just a figure of speech ,when life unfolded bit by bit and so did the journal entires. With its feet held firmly on the ground, nothing about the 1990's was too fast or too complicated or too confounding. Since I grew up in the 1990's, the nostalgia is bound to creep in. I

The trouble with thoughts

2011-03-06T07:00:00.000-08:00

That's me. I step under the shower after a hectic day letting the droplets of water dissolve onto my skin while I trace out my life on those sepia tiles. Back. Forth. Right. Left. Turnaround. Never stop going left. Until you smash into a tragic dead end. The trouble with thoughts. They keep coming back.

A moment

2011-03-06T06:55:00.000-08:00

There is this moment, after I wake up and before I am fully awake.. this fuzzy little moment, dazed by the mere possibility of reality. That moment when I can't figure it out. Who? How? Why? Where? When? Those breathing possibilities of me being anywhere and everywhere. It is this fleeting moment that I wake up to everyday.

A random day in 1934

2011-02-28T02:02:00.000-08:00

Words flow easy when you are angry, done with doing over and over, the same thing I would eventually forget. Wake up on better days, not hiss at cats, not spill coffee or feelings because it turns out to be a mess anyway. I scan the traces of my clumsiness - a bruise here, a bruise there. Tripped. Brushed off the broken frame of a door. Hit the the edge of a table. Drunk, yet so sober. So bloody

Am I the product of tragedy?

2011-02-02T12:01:00.000-08:00

Note : This wasn't written to sound uncanny. This was written with a purpose to shrug off my MBAness for awhile. One of the foremost things that MBA has taught me was to not care when nobody else cares. A very straightforward and material fact, but skim the surface to dig out the underlying emotion and write them off like underlying assets or worse hedge them.Yes Miss Austen, as if literature

My wishlist on the last day of 2010 : Generous doses of serotonin

2010-12-30T22:11:00.000-08:00

I have one month to wrap up a part of my life this January, and I hope to do it well. And then hopefully I go home with sturdy and rational opinions, calories and calm. Sounding right is what I should be getting used to. Always remember : There are six impossible things before breakfast. There might be another city to look forward to as well. I can hear the bookstores calling for me already,

Because all I ever wanted to do was mow lawns, cut grass and kiss the flowers goodnight

2010-12-28T10:09:00.000-08:00

I have been dying to feel Tim Burtonesque since quite sometime now. The closest I've gotten to is wearing black.Weeks end badly. Worse, I feel Kafkaesque.I ran up the stairs today because that was the only exercise I could afford. I could’ve redefined the phrase ‘tired to the bone.’ A steaming hot water bath, boiling tomato soup, one black coffee, one cigarette and I am still cold. All of a

The dead man and his whore

2010-12-11T19:30:00.000-08:00

Fooled myself again did I? This is me filling out a post dinner feedback form.I do not like the shaping up of things at times. Two years ago, even though I was sentimentally whacked up at least I knew who I was. Here adding to the identity crisis is my existential crisis. But I have been writing really. Writing out fliers and write ups for a club that has pretty much over sensationalized every

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

2010-06-01T02:22:00.000-07:00

“I've grown tired of love You are the trouble with me I watch you walk right by” -Anne Sexton. The mesmerizing cat eyed woman. I read her when I was fourteen and I just wouldn't forget.

Hyderabad as of 20th May 7.00 pm

2010-05-20T06:58:00.000-07:00

I called a friend to go chamleon hunting together, they flutter about here and there around the campus searching for a new lease of life. I think I will name them. Storm swallowed the heat like a flimsy pill. I haven't written in ages, only this time i do not have the time to do so. I got a new skin, did I tell you? Its amber and hides the angst I carry around in my bag. My bag's red though. The

,.,.,.,

2010-05-02T06:38:00.000-07:00

In my loneliness I read the world and in my passion I ate it.

Star and I

2010-05-01T20:14:00.000-07:00

She has her eyes closed and he looks up to heaven and neither of them notice the grass is on fire - Jeanette Winterson 'Sexing the Cherry' You are half asleep and suddenly you wish you aren't. The hours gnaw at you. The dogs are barking, stirring up a racket and the half moon shines with unusal madness. The barking grows louder and louder until it grows on you, propelling you to get out of bed

A breaking thread moment.

2010-04-27T06:26:00.000-07:00

I dwell on these, I've been told not to dwell on these by the wise ones I know. I am not the sort to carry advice on my sleeve. I am all about proving people wrong. People and people alike. Self realization - a very basic human notion has been slighted by us - phantoms of fortune. Call me old school, but I am all about bringing it back.xoxo.

This Woman's work..

2010-04-27T06:03:00.000-07:00

Writing Tharoor off came easy and yet we hardly seem to bring to consequence the work of this woman, who leaves behind a crunchingly distasteful legacy of darkness and stone. Estimates of what she might have spent on her beloved statues add up to a whopping 80 crore (including expenses for security and maintenance) But

Donald Barthelme

2010-04-26T12:28:00.000-07:00

But have you noticed the slight curl at the end of Sam II 's mouth, when he looks at you? It means that he didn't want you to name him Sam II, for one thing, and for two other things it means that he has a sawed-off in his left pant leg, and a baling hook in his right pant leg, and is ready to kill you with either one of them, given the opportunity. The father is taken aback. What he usually says

21st cenutry romanticism

2010-04-26T05:26:00.000-07:00

He sits there, upstairs like somebody's ghostI go visit himI bring him cakeHe throws it awayand yet he takes.

Miss Parker and the vicious circle.

2010-04-25T19:46:00.001-07:00

Please God, help me write like a man. -Dorothy Parker.

The edge of reason.

2010-04-22T21:00:00.000-07:00

At first there was trouble and nothing more. The land was barren and the fields were unkempt. Slowly we carved a life for ourselves out of trouble. Harvesting some thought and planting a culture we forged on ahead into a fallacy. Then we grew discontent and weary with the sun, rain, wind and storm. So we walked straight back into trouble.And then all the madness began.

The day after thunder.

2010-04-22T20:48:00.000-07:00

The end of this one sided, constipated conversation was marked by a bitter irony.So how is it that I end up talking to your ego and not you?Slam goes the glass.Ego. The cataclysmic bird that flew way too far only to wind up in a barbed bush.There..I say and place mine on the table. Half open.He couldn't part with his though.The night was starry and stone cold dead. You could whisper and be heard

2010-04-19T19:40:00.000-07:00

So I am having quite a tough time doing the math on my life. I'd need some help with that.

A Hypochondriac? The buck doesn't stop there.

2010-04-18T21:30:00.000-07:00

Me? A Hypochondriac? Quite a baseless allegation.Though I might have faked panic attacks before Math exams and confounded a few friends here and there with paranoia and a propensity toward self destruction, it was all in good time. So then it happened.At a fancy little place. Having some fancy food. It could have been the prawn, chicken or the curd based chutney. I never knew and will never know.

But the tweets would continue nonetheless...

2010-04-18T20:55:00.000-07:00

It kills me to watch Tharoor walk out of the great Indian political coterie. One last strand of intellectualism wantonly wiped out. Its back to the Mayawati's and Mulamyam Singh's and Narendra Modi's and AXECUSE MI how can we forget - the Lalu Prasad Yadav's. The nature of this post does not however discuss whether or not Tharoor is guilty, infact considering the twists and loopholes in the

Raising a toast to myself..

2010-04-14T01:51:00.000-07:00

I just realized that this happens to be my 101th post. Although unread, unpopular and irregular I believe in a little celebration..So I am going to wear my hair down and ride off into the night. A presto.

Alla

2010-04-13T10:42:00.000-07:00

Forty one bloody degrees. With my lemon flavored Fresh Wipes almost nearing exhaustion, I finally decide to step outside the car and wait inside the premises of the clinic. Government run organizations barely provide any respite from the heat (except if you happen to be a politician ie)

I'm thinking..

2010-04-11T22:32:00.000-07:00

I am thinking what it is like for youngsters like ourselves to grow up in a confusing and distorted culture of thought and paranoia where the choice to believe or not to is constantly being threatened by the likes of popular culture on one hand and enduring toxic tradition on the other. I am thinking to what point could our judgements regarding sexuality, freedom, morality, pathos and life be

Very Quoteable indeed.

2010-04-11T21:54:00.001-07:00

Better drunk than a whore I'd say. -Anthony Hopkins in Short cut to happiness.

Before I left.

2010-04-11T21:53:00.000-07:00

I imagined pretty much of a party before I left the city. Endless coffee, conversations and hugs with people I thought I truly cherished. Quite contrary to that the days grow on me while I sit at home. Seems like I have managed to wrap up an extra layer of flesh on me. The other day I read Fireflies in the Garden by Robert Frost.And I just thought I'd put it in here : Not because I think it has

Crumbling paper

2010-03-30T04:51:00.000-07:00

Honey its called a writer's block and its not fantasy fiction.I am currently under repair and on the road to recovery. Eat well.Sleep well.Be well.& Don't let the heat get to you.

The color of memory - Geoff Dyer

2010-03-13T08:03:00.000-08:00

What if some day or night a demon were to steal after you in your loneliest loneliness and say to you : 'This life as you live now, live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and every sigh and everything unutterable small or great in your life will have to return to you

School for morality...

2010-02-25T22:09:00.000-08:00

School for Morality. First of all I would like to say that I love my school,every bit of it because quite frankly it made me what I am today and what I am is not a bad person although not tremendously accomplished. Also the coaching institutes are after all doing their job and delivering the best (or what they think is

Death of freedom of expression

2010-02-25T21:46:00.000-08:00

Art was supposed to have no boundaries, it was to flourish and redefine all forms of dogma and belief. Only it wasn't to be.. not in this country at least. I was thoroughly convinced of it today when reports of the legendary M F Hussain (who currently is residing out of the country on account of a self imposed exile courtesy the shiv sainik's and bajrangdal activists) was conferred upon with an

The book of the century..

2010-02-12T21:28:00.000-08:00

This book's been a saviour. Here are a few quotes from the book that keep the memory of it alive. "Stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone ought to be." "Never forget that once upon a time, in an unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a friend." "When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once

SNAKE

2010-02-12T11:53:00.000-08:00

Group discussion sessions are fun, not that I am expecting any fancy calls from fancy B schools - I just go there to have fun. Something I haven't done in quite a while - place my point across a table and walk off very elegantly. Well it could be disappointing as well especially when nobody's buying my point. After one such disappointing session I decided to withdraw from the next one.I always

Happy Now (Lucinda Coxon)

2010-02-09T22:52:00.000-08:00

I am wondering at what point it became acceptable for you to stand in this house on which I pay the mortgage, drinking the drink I bought out of the glasses I washed in front of the cake I baked and talk that fucking talk. All- and I think this is a lovely touch for which I must take full credit- while I'm wearing an apron.

Working towards a better tomorrow

2010-02-09T22:48:00.000-08:00

'Beauty is only the first touch of terror we can still bear.' - Rilke Sometimes we don't see it ourselves - the ripple beneath the surface of the smooth waters, the dirt beneath our shoes or the holes in our pockets. Behind the beauty stands the beast, he loves her and she loves him, that's how the story went and that's how the story goes. Today we pride ourselves in being the fastest growing

The things we don't care about anymore...

2010-01-19T01:06:00.000-08:00

A broken coffee mug, a dead plant, shoelaces, the dripping tap, the actors who aren't in the lead, the guy you dumped, the girl you dumped, failures, dead people, withered flowers, an ordinary day, a cold cup of tea, bills, unpainted walls, incomplete sketches, bad books bad movies,Angola, Cambodia, blunt pencils, pens that do not write, used up notebooks, the beggar on the street, the girl with

The year I turned Feminist...

2010-01-01T07:07:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year folks. I've been looking forward to the new year for a long time.I guess I just wanted to leave a few things behind.I'm excited about the new year,I drafted out a shady sketch of what my resolutions looked like over a pork pepperoni pizza (my last chance at outrageous junk food before I make my resolutions stick) Rosh had his fill of those weary garlic breadsticks. 2009 had its

Ka ching.

2009-12-29T07:27:00.000-08:00

Green Teaby Dale Ritterbusch There is this tea I have sometimes, Pan Long Ying Hao, so tightly curled it looks like tiny roots gnarled, a greenish-gray. When it steeps, it opens the way you woke this morning, stretching, your hands behind your head, back arched, toes pointing, a smile steeped in ceremony, a celebration, the reaching of your arms.

My room..

2009-12-19T21:36:00.000-08:00

I had been to this seminar once,something on stimulating creativity.It was conducted by a Brit with a cast on her left leg.She never really talked about practical solutions.I personally am of the opinion that scribbling crap on a blank sheet with crayons is not the way to overcoming a creative block.Nor is singing an African hymn at the top of your voice.Love the crayons though, and the blank

Doesn't get any worse than this...

2009-12-12T03:31:00.000-08:00

You said that I was a woman with ambition. I say I am worse than that. I am a woman who wants to prove herself and people who want to prove themselves do so at the risk of losing everything they have, and then they realize they didn't have anything to prove really in the first place. We call it a dangerous and ill fed notion.

Tiger tiger burning bright..

2009-12-08T00:33:00.000-08:00

Flawed perfectionism is enticing isn't it? Wouldn't you want to wake up to a morning with the certainity that even the best,smartest,brightest,most skilful folk screw up (as very loosely put)? Perhaps not very significantly but they do nonetheless. One mistake and your tumbling down that infamous disastrous street of ruin.We all have a ruinous aspect to our lives which consist of not so

This one..

2009-12-07T07:46:00.000-08:00

This one survived a badly drawn year. This one crawled out of the bushes. This one lives in denial. This one packed her bags and waited. This one thinks his life gyrates around a fortune stick. (What a magical stick!) This one is beautifully agitated. This one was impervious to considerate thought and detail. This one walked all the way home.

The dark eyed angel..

2009-12-07T07:31:00.000-08:00

So why is it that all I can think of (and will think of through the torrential rains to come and the howling night) is you, sighing so deeply in the darkness you and the smell of you and the windswept curve of your cheek? If this train ever stops I will ask that dark eyed angel,the one who hasn't spoken yet He looks like he might know. _Eleanor Lerman.

Expressions

2009-11-08T12:15:00.000-08:00

Old man getting off the bus : Health is not the only thing that could fail you. A girl painting her nails : Here's to the quality of women we cherish The beggar at the side walk : Society successfully floats over the system of the dammed Man going back home after a nightshift : Home is my much needed fuel right now Girl walking home alone after school : I am not old enough to run away either.. A

Her

2009-11-08T11:48:00.000-08:00

I suffer from obsessive usage of first person..Its high time I thought, I make a sincere effort to curb this disorderly conduct which is begining to seem very unwriterly (unwriterly? sheesh) As writers we tend to dwell on very unlikely subjects.The weirder the better we think.What we don't realize is that it is an important process of our own becoming,..that Gulliver was one sixth of Jonathan

I am your oldest scar..

2009-11-06T10:19:00.000-08:00

I am your oldest scar I am the one they stare at when they look at you and I am the one they see when they don't see you I have maneuvered the details of my place and being ever since you questioned my existence I am your oldest scar I would be the last to leave I have known a thing or two about falling,opening up,bleeding and healing I am made of broken things yet I have been resilient and

xyz...

2009-10-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

and this is my new blog natashaxyz.wordpress.com so if this burns down looks like I have another place to stay. Musings of the day Stardust offers Revital piils wit their latest issue Reader's digest (India) does the same with sugar free natura packets which makes me wonder..Are we catering to fat and depressed people these days?

Weekly bliss...

2009-10-17T23:39:00.000-07:00

Autumn Waitingby Tom Hennen Cold wind. The day is waiting for winter Without a sound. Everything is waiting— Broken-down cars in the dead weeds. The weeds themselves. Trees. Even sunlight Is in no hurry and stays For a long time On each cornstalk. Blackbirds are silent And sit in piles. From a distance They look like Something Spilled on the road.

2009-10-17T10:48:00.000-07:00

Happy Diwali folks.. I promise to stop clicking random stuff on my phone..{that is what it is predominantly used for these days} The streets are bustling and the air smells of smoke..my next post talks about what Mark Zuckerberg and I have in common (or not) Until then keep in touch..

Among the things I love..

2009-10-15T10:39:00.000-07:00

As random as you can be. I love the excitement of dawn creeping over you when you haven't slept I love strong,undiluted wicked coffee I love green herbal tea with a dash of lemon and honey I love reading in bed I love sunsets I love moments of silence I love the treasured hope of meeting someone fabulously new I love sunlight falling on things kept on a table as if shedding light on them very

Whore memories..

2009-10-15T09:44:00.000-07:00

They're kinky,they're slutty..they are The Whore Bunnies. They currently reside somewhere on the outskirts of Bangalore..more specifically Rosh's dorm-his butterpaper lined cupboard.Trashed out and sleazy the best stuff we could come up with on Rosh's birthday. We spent the entire evening and day after dressing them up in chichi beads,glossy fabric and attaching notes containing

Ignominies of a different kind..

2009-10-15T08:04:00.000-07:00

The air won't stir, not even a bit.I usually 'sit it out' in the evenings, cloud watching being my only respite from my derailed train of thought that I've come to mistrust and regard with much contempt. The fetor of the sticky air is very suffocating today, the picturesque beauty of it is unmatched though. 'What part of you is so oblivious to climate change?' I mutter as I pass by a shop

The chronicles of flower arrangement..

2009-10-01T07:24:00.000-07:00

Wikepedia defines Ikebena (the Japanese art of flower arrangement) as a disciplined art form in which nature and humanity are brought together.I call it an obsessive compulsive maniac's preoccupation with conquering the world. For once I can't stop prattling about 'the wretch' who just happens to be the mainstay of my recent posts.See there is something super fascinating about old age.It

Weekly Bliss- one out of a collection of my favourite poems

2009-09-24T04:57:00.000-07:00

What I Understood by Katha Pollitt When I was a child I understood everything about, for example, futility. Standing for hours on the hot asphalt outfield, trudging for balls I'd ask myself, how many times will I have to perform this pointless task, and all the others? I knew about snobbery, too, and cruelty—for children are snobbish and cruel—and loneliness: in restaurants the dignity and

Book Review : The Household guide to dying - Debra Adelaide.

2009-09-21T10:12:00.001-07:00

For a long time I was filled with that arrogant confidence of youth the conviction that you are desired as much as you desire.- Debra Adelaide.I absolutely loved it.At first I was vary of reading it in the presence of unbookish conventional company because the title of what I was reading made me look deplorable...but as I sunk deeper into it I cared less of what others had to say.She reminds me

Life's a smoke and waiting's a dick..

2009-09-21T10:09:00.000-07:00

'If only I had the perfect journal to write in..'I knew what I needed wasn't the perfect journal- it was the perfect moment.And it came to me sometimes - in between absorbing city life as I walked past crowded streets or in between enjoying a stimulating cup of wicked, undiluted coffee in the wee hours of the morning when no one was around - just me and my tranquil state of the arch being,

Punch drunk Ascent

2009-09-21T09:32:00.000-07:00

Froth glistened on the surface of a rock.The vines were mist laden and sublime.Far below people erractically dug into their freshly blistered salty corn and generously sipped some scintillating coffee.I am starting to tire of X but then again I have nothing to hold onto. Waterfalls are grand, even grander when the force of the water is unrelenting. I verge upon one rock at a time with bare feet

Days of our lives..

2009-09-14T10:37:00.000-07:00

"I'm dying," she must have whispered into his shapely and well proportioned ear on a rainy day (when the lower part of the window fogged up and the upper part of it was mist laden and sublime) or on a not so rainy day (when the sun stood on the horizon inches away from sinking into it,weary,after having witnessed rumblings of an entire day beneath him.Yes it was a 'him' because he only felt tired

If your life was a newspaper what would the headlines be?

2009-09-14T10:07:00.000-07:00

Someone died.The weather blew up in your face.Sordid.The party scene next door got uglier.A crash and then glass fell apart..someone stepped on it maybe or worse fell on it.They'd found a stash of dope stuffed away in his pockets.He was going to die anyway.Trains go off tracks.The swine flu masquerade party might be over but people are still dying.Only that now there is no fuss about it.Only one

Something I'd read over and over..

2009-09-14T09:59:00.000-07:00

Summer in a Small Town by Linda Gregg When the men leave me, they leave me in a beautiful place. It is always late summer. When I think of them now, I think of the place. And being happy alone afterwards. This time it's Clinton, New York. I swim in the public pool at six when the

Unverified Junk..

2009-08-28T05:58:00.000-07:00

Long time. I am in the running to officially breaking down this september owing to outrageous coffee consumption,terribly unstable nerves and loads of unverfied junk that i managed to ace up my sleeve.So I repeat slipping issues of health mags under my pile of clothes isn't going to make me adapt to a healthier lifestyle...Are you listening mom? The wretch called up my mum to tell her I was

The old,the living and the dying..

2009-08-01T08:24:00.000-07:00

After watching the two feet long reptilian wonder journey all the way from a shelf containing some very aesthetic tableware to the back of a Turner painting I reverted my attention to the incredibly sassy Betty Sharp in between solving some dogsick math problems.The clock read 5.30 a.m. not one mintue more and not one minute less.The silence was broken by the infrequent growling of the

The alphabetical stir..

2009-07-05T21:06:00.000-07:00

Here's a good one..

2009-06-04T10:20:00.000-07:00

Death is a door knob made of fleshDeath is that angelic farm girl gored by the bullon her way home,crossing the pasturefor a shortcutIn the seventh grade shecouldn't read or writeshe wasn't a virginshe was 'simple minded' we all saidIt was May - a time of lilacs and shooting starsShe's lived in my memory for sixty years___Jim Harrison.

Crunch

2009-05-30T11:19:00.000-07:00

# Cold cut chicken breast pieces (four or five maybe)# one cup creamy mayonnaise or Caesar sauce splattered over its contents# half lettuce head torn to pieces # sliced tomatoes# sliced red and green bell pepper# grated Parmesan cheese# salt,pepper and the likes.I dug deeper into the my chicken Caesar salad. This was the first time I'd managed to get hold of a salad for lunch all by myself with

So I was browsing through the poetry section of the library the other day and this is what I came across..

2009-05-19T06:13:00.000-07:00

Now it is important to know that these brilliant pieces are all by 'women.'I suppose I have been evolving as a feminist.Thingsby Fleur AdcockThere are worse things than havingbehaved foolishly in publicThere are worse things than these miniature betrayalscommitted or endured or suspectedthere are worse thingsthan not being able to sleep for thinking about themIt is 5 a.m. All worse things

The funny man and his drum

2009-05-18T10:07:00.000-07:00

I would like to comment on the title of my blog..not only is it reverting, it is also untrue. On second thought I wouldn't call the man funny and I am not really sure about the drum thing either.There was a wailing down the street at 8 in the morning. It was one of those days when I forced myself out of bed,early on to let the refreshingly cool morning breeze do its bidding of clearing the

In The End..

2009-05-09T23:49:00.000-07:00

In the end that's all there is..* you end up telling people you hate that they are not exactly 'bad'..(since everyone deserves to know and they just happen to be only ones listening..)* In the end..you end not loving those you once loved dearly.* In the end..you end up knowing more about yourself than you possibly could.(...because it just happened.)

2009-03-27T10:41:00.000-07:00

Darwin was wrong, it was much more than survival that crawled through the pages of the book of existence. 1.I saw a lame man begging in front of a knee joint replacement centre. He was more than lame. The lowest part of his body consisted of his torso. But he carried it with much pride, the same pride that a high society lady would carry her pearl necklace with. And to think that the two can’t

2009-03-24T11:08:00.000-07:00

“Is that how long you take to tie your wrap around skirt?”“Yea..I’m retarded”“Been that..man I need a new pen”“I need a new bra”Stops to look.. Continues writing. The virgin and the whore.This is generally how our conversations surface on troubled water. Watch the details of everyday spring up, it always gives you something to laugh about.Now thoroughly discarded I was a retard with a notebook. I

The year that broke down

2009-02-22T09:43:00.001-08:00

Morning came too soon. She would have loved to bask in the glory of a soulful sleep, slowly and eventually discarding the contents of the day. However with undone hair and a poisoned skin she forged on, listless and nullified. Sick of being conditionally tired she grabbed her gym shoes and ventured out for a nice walk avoiding casualties that stood her way (the cigarette shack). And then she

The white spider (apologies mr. Adiga couldn't help it)

2009-01-03T12:07:00.000-08:00

The web of life.A pale tiny thing.Complicated.Arachnophobic.The writer's view is dynamic,profound and the least sensitive of all.He sits on a broken leather chair and his words have the power to mend and break us (fragile beings).A shameless critique.Ruthlessly judgemental.Just got back from Calcutta.I must say I kind of fell in love with the city the minute I stepped out of the airport.I could

Bits and pieces of conversations that save me..

2008-12-04T04:35:00.000-08:00

She: What are you upto?He: Studying..Took a long break from work.She: Exams?He: Yup,25th..What about you?She: Well I am a living rotten zombie.He: Try being a happy oneShe: Whoever heard of happy zombies? They don't have feelings.He: Stop patronizing your feelings and capabilitiesShe: That's why I come to you time and time againHe: You are crazy.She: If I get any crazier they'll send me away.He:

Right out of the survival books..

2008-11-21T06:24:00.000-08:00

I couldn't deny the fact that I needed her and the things she did.They zigzagged their way into my survival book.How many of those things posed the bigger question.Had I not seen this coming before? Of all the things racing towards their destination I knew "help" wasn't one of them.Answers needed to be dug out of their graves.It was essential for me to be on good terms with the world.At the same

Day two

2008-11-21T06:07:00.000-08:00

The true essence of life is misery itself.Misery that shapes you down under,beneath the crusty exteriors and the folded secrets. HE: I am boring when I'm real SHE: I could make do with that,what makes you think I am so interesting myself?HE: I am no good judge of people but this I know.. you are "one good piece" SHE: you should know..I'm a broken piece. ##He doesn't replySo then I cling onto

Day one.

2008-11-21T05:50:00.000-08:00

Furious thunderdrops lashed out at this strickenly pale season.Gloomy sullen behaviour took its toll on the misfortunate lot.I collected the leaf and the twig and walked home,inhaling the pleasant aroma that cast dampness on the ground below.I must have looked haggard as i held that miserable wet itchy twig in my hand.walk walk walk walkHow can I let things get to my head? They pinched at places

A reminder list...

2008-10-25T06:49:00.000-07:00

1. You could be the president of India or the queen of England (unrealistic need not be unreasonable.)2.You don't have to wait.For anybody or anything.No one's coming if they wanted to they'd already be here.3.Little is more.4.It doesn't take much to get up and go.5. Who cares if you make a fool out of yourself.6.Bad decisions are made by people with unsound minds7.Correction- Bad decisions are

The story

2008-09-11T06:03:00.000-07:00

I remember the story well.Our story.I can hear the words even before you spread them at the tip of your icy lips.They throb and burn in my whimsical heart and I am forced to share an unwanted delight.But I trust your words, the shapes of then, the slight curves and folds.They stimulate the pores of my imagination and I am rendered hopeless to speech.I wish I could tell you what each wordless day

The poisoned leaf.

2008-08-09T09:09:00.000-07:00

Her poltergeist like spirit wandered the overwhelming skies,surpassing each cloud along the way.We have visions sometimes: of peace and sanctity,a beautiful world feasting on the scrumptious goodness of the soul.Blessed is the world we live in.Thoughts were too much to take,he hurried back home.The world would spin around some imaginary axis and each life that was counted withdrew a strange sort

This is fierce.

2008-07-19T09:46:00.000-07:00

Fierce looks old now.Fierce feels old too..he has lived long for sure.His hair have grown coarse,rough and stringent.Fierce is a forgotten soul.He was rediscovered recently after ages of hiding underneath pillows and being tucked under mattresses.However what seemed like neglect was actually the most sly form of escapism ever witnessed.Fierce faces the world again today with undeniable courage

another of its kind..

2008-07-18T07:08:00.000-07:00

So then I remain stagnated,under a cloud.The fuzziness,the moistness..the dream.This city is tragically owned and laughed at,being stomped upon every second by people with to do lists,errands,jobs and friends.People who eat,meet,breathe and rarely make great conversations. I walk this city too.There was loss and there were words and they didn't interfere.There was silence.Amazing,awkward...