“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 sat through coffee shops and disgusting brownies and entire lonesome hours eating away at a notebook and swallowing my ego. I guess with the bigger things in life gone in the flash of a second I learnt to strive on smaller things.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The year that broke down
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 gazed at how maliciously flawed this aspect of her life had turned into- an aspect where she could think of nothing beyond smoke. She walked through a brown sandy slit eclipsed by a refreshingly gorgeous green. She looked up at the sky hoping to absorb the enormity of it, she looked at the leaf hoping to memorize the texture of it and then she realized that she needed to shrivel up a bit before she could run and take a plunge into the hollow of her world. (Whatever they told us about black holes is true.)
The bark of a soul stuck out of the window, resting his hands on the cool, watery marble surface. The surface bore sufficient space to accommodate a delicately carved Victorian vase and a bland photo frame engulfing a picture of a few dearly beloved people who held a say in his life. The picturesque house lived on the basis of its own minute details and observations. They flourished in an eerie sort of way. They made way for things beyond themselves. He watched his blistered fate and the hands that shaped them. He waited for the storm to shape itself. He waited for her.
She arrived at half past noon. A Picasso painting greeted her on the way to the living room. A Picasso painting and the truth. Imagine...The distortion of a view, of something so bearably distinct – all rendered productive in the premises of a square or something close to a square. There it stood before you as you entered the house.
‘Do you realize that I am at my happiest when I’m with you? Why would you want to take that away from me?’ With that said she left. I had this image of her walking down the street after she said this. Hurrying up, distracted, ignorant of a rare zebra striped butterfly that passed her by, adjusting her bag time and time again, mumbling words of comfort to herself…quite seemingly the image of a well dressed schizophrenic. Do you really believe that a couple of words have the power to change the course of your life indefinitely? Precisely at this junction in her life she’d have liked to believe so. This particular junction where the streets ran into each other mindlessly. Disgraced were the clouds sharing her plight of inadequacy and dissatisfaction.
She was the savory entity of his life.. The crazed aspect of which he would have liked to and wanted to preserve. Sweat trickled down his chest that sultry afternoon. He woke up aware of what he had lost. Was she gone for good? He would miss those staggering “High’s and low’s” of her life that she subjected him to. Wounded pride- all in all a tricky affair. Perhaps he should forget- her peppery breath and the scar on her back, there she stood – his prized possession, unknown to the world and now gone in the flash of a second. Lost.
Take a peek at all the possibilities that lie ahead … they never seem to disappear.
The pickle of thoughts grew rancid with the passing moment. We are all lonely and at the end of the day she might have felt sorry for X had she known that X had crawled into her bed last night teary eyed and sullen. The guy on the phone was right. He’d told her life was beautiful. How? She must have asked him. Look around he must have said bemused and disgusted. Conversations were the castles she dreamt of living in, conversations that you could prick amongst a bunch of bubbly balloons – the bursting of which gave you a glimpse of glittering confetti now all over you shining like stars.
X was well versed at survival – that’s why she seemed so fake. Survival is incidental not an art to be mastered. X had empty spaces that Y chose to fill that’s why I hated Y as well. Darkness loomed over the city of X and Y, this darkness was the shadow I cast. It highlighted my arms, back, waist and everything I was ignorant about. This darkness was moving away. Y thought me to be hollow and couldn’t fill the empty spaces because he couldn’t and wouldn’t fathom the emptiness of the heart. This is when I realized that… men don’t see what they don’t want to see.
The bark of a soul stuck out of the window, resting his hands on the cool, watery marble surface. The surface bore sufficient space to accommodate a delicately carved Victorian vase and a bland photo frame engulfing a picture of a few dearly beloved people who held a say in his life. The picturesque house lived on the basis of its own minute details and observations. They flourished in an eerie sort of way. They made way for things beyond themselves. He watched his blistered fate and the hands that shaped them. He waited for the storm to shape itself. He waited for her.
She arrived at half past noon. A Picasso painting greeted her on the way to the living room. A Picasso painting and the truth. Imagine...The distortion of a view, of something so bearably distinct – all rendered productive in the premises of a square or something close to a square. There it stood before you as you entered the house.
‘Do you realize that I am at my happiest when I’m with you? Why would you want to take that away from me?’ With that said she left. I had this image of her walking down the street after she said this. Hurrying up, distracted, ignorant of a rare zebra striped butterfly that passed her by, adjusting her bag time and time again, mumbling words of comfort to herself…quite seemingly the image of a well dressed schizophrenic. Do you really believe that a couple of words have the power to change the course of your life indefinitely? Precisely at this junction in her life she’d have liked to believe so. This particular junction where the streets ran into each other mindlessly. Disgraced were the clouds sharing her plight of inadequacy and dissatisfaction.
She was the savory entity of his life.. The crazed aspect of which he would have liked to and wanted to preserve. Sweat trickled down his chest that sultry afternoon. He woke up aware of what he had lost. Was she gone for good? He would miss those staggering “High’s and low’s” of her life that she subjected him to. Wounded pride- all in all a tricky affair. Perhaps he should forget- her peppery breath and the scar on her back, there she stood – his prized possession, unknown to the world and now gone in the flash of a second. Lost.
Take a peek at all the possibilities that lie ahead … they never seem to disappear.
The pickle of thoughts grew rancid with the passing moment. We are all lonely and at the end of the day she might have felt sorry for X had she known that X had crawled into her bed last night teary eyed and sullen. The guy on the phone was right. He’d told her life was beautiful. How? She must have asked him. Look around he must have said bemused and disgusted. Conversations were the castles she dreamt of living in, conversations that you could prick amongst a bunch of bubbly balloons – the bursting of which gave you a glimpse of glittering confetti now all over you shining like stars.
X was well versed at survival – that’s why she seemed so fake. Survival is incidental not an art to be mastered. X had empty spaces that Y chose to fill that’s why I hated Y as well. Darkness loomed over the city of X and Y, this darkness was the shadow I cast. It highlighted my arms, back, waist and everything I was ignorant about. This darkness was moving away. Y thought me to be hollow and couldn’t fill the empty spaces because he couldn’t and wouldn’t fathom the emptiness of the heart. This is when I realized that… men don’t see what they don’t want to see.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
The white spider (apologies mr. Adiga couldn't help it)
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 describe the city as necessarily Indian,from men who spat out paan regularly after every five minutes to those who would squat on the streets without a care in the world.Street urchins and traffic jams..the perfect disastrous mix.I loved the sunsets though,they were exceptionally beautiful.Hence I could conclude that I wasn't really distraught and the ravishingly delicious fish tikka and mishti doi made me forget about my miserably failed and non existent love affairs..here i derive tremendous courage to deal with weddings.I would have gone from being a pro academically oriented nerd to a pro die hard feminist, but really these don't fit into me.Vulnerability has its own clauses.
When I came back I couldn't get a hold on my fresh number 6 smooth haired paintbrush.A chill in the air i assumed.It takes a lot to realize what you have lost and at the same time you are quick enough to assimilate the gathered stuff.Compromise is bliss isn't it? I know D lied to me when she said that my feminist charcoal versions of vague surrealist artwork were better than the ones she saw at the gallery.I could assume a shrivelled up position in the corner of a fabulous room like that..barely noticeable,unkind and unpalatable.I just remembered..the man sitting next to me on the flight back home was shaking uncontrollably.Parkinson's I thought,poor wretched soul.
What's worse than not having control over your hands?
not having control over your thoughts I presume.
I thought the flu would dismantle my 'stay awake and write despite being teary eyed' capacity,but it didn't.
Stand up straighter for your rights someone once told me.For once stop peeking through the hole and try standing on a nice pile of mega sized bricks to get a clear and breathless view of what you you really want to see.
okay..I said.
Ever notice the wind blowing across your face? At first you are a bit cautious that it might mess up your hair so you roll up the windows a bit.But once you love the feel of it you really don't care if it blows your face apart or the hair over your head.That is the power of "wind"
Likewise have you ever tried basking in the soft winter sunlight? Nevermind.Just asking.
I was just thinking....
What if I become one of those - the one who meets a hundred people every freaking day..all smiles and all laughter and goes home alone,an unfortunate tear dripping off her pale frozen cheek?
Something is better than nothing I keep telling myself again and again until I am finally ready to believe it myself.
We are told to be wise,dress down,not drink and not talk about sex.So we are told.
Jaihind.
The umbilical cord that attaches you to the society is inseparable.You would die here precisely at this point in the exactly similar frame of mind.
Absolute freedom does not exist.
2.15 am and the flu has got the better of me.
happy new year folks.
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 describe the city as necessarily Indian,from men who spat out paan regularly after every five minutes to those who would squat on the streets without a care in the world.Street urchins and traffic jams..the perfect disastrous mix.I loved the sunsets though,they were exceptionally beautiful.Hence I could conclude that I wasn't really distraught and the ravishingly delicious fish tikka and mishti doi made me forget about my miserably failed and non existent love affairs..here i derive tremendous courage to deal with weddings.I would have gone from being a pro academically oriented nerd to a pro die hard feminist, but really these don't fit into me.Vulnerability has its own clauses.
When I came back I couldn't get a hold on my fresh number 6 smooth haired paintbrush.A chill in the air i assumed.It takes a lot to realize what you have lost and at the same time you are quick enough to assimilate the gathered stuff.Compromise is bliss isn't it? I know D lied to me when she said that my feminist charcoal versions of vague surrealist artwork were better than the ones she saw at the gallery.I could assume a shrivelled up position in the corner of a fabulous room like that..barely noticeable,unkind and unpalatable.I just remembered..the man sitting next to me on the flight back home was shaking uncontrollably.Parkinson's I thought,poor wretched soul.
What's worse than not having control over your hands?
not having control over your thoughts I presume.
I thought the flu would dismantle my 'stay awake and write despite being teary eyed' capacity,but it didn't.
Stand up straighter for your rights someone once told me.For once stop peeking through the hole and try standing on a nice pile of mega sized bricks to get a clear and breathless view of what you you really want to see.
okay..I said.
Ever notice the wind blowing across your face? At first you are a bit cautious that it might mess up your hair so you roll up the windows a bit.But once you love the feel of it you really don't care if it blows your face apart or the hair over your head.That is the power of "wind"
Likewise have you ever tried basking in the soft winter sunlight? Nevermind.Just asking.
I was just thinking....
What if I become one of those - the one who meets a hundred people every freaking day..all smiles and all laughter and goes home alone,an unfortunate tear dripping off her pale frozen cheek?
Something is better than nothing I keep telling myself again and again until I am finally ready to believe it myself.
We are told to be wise,dress down,not drink and not talk about sex.So we are told.
Jaihind.
The umbilical cord that attaches you to the society is inseparable.You would die here precisely at this point in the exactly similar frame of mind.
Absolute freedom does not exist.
2.15 am and the flu has got the better of me.
happy new year folks.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Bits and pieces of conversations that save me..
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 one
She: Whoever heard of happy zombies? They don't have feelings.
He: Stop patronizing your feelings and capabilities
She: That's why I come to you time and time again
He: You are crazy.
She: If I get any crazier they'll send me away.
He: Tell them you don't have a passport
She: actually I wish I did have one
He: Then go get one and fly away.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
He: Kiddo whats you upto?
She: Just dozing off,tomorrow's another big day hopefully I get down to doing something worthwhile
He: I call it spirit
She: I Wish it was as bright as yours
He: p.s. fall in love...helps.
She: Tried,got dumped
He: Try again but make sure its a different guy and worthy enough to handle a little princess like yourself
She: smiles
He: I just earned 10 points.Gave you a smile.I get to go to heaven..yayyy
Smiles and stuff.Plan to make it to the headlines?
She: Death by suicide.That's the only way I can do it.
He: I'll never lose my hope in you..all i can say
She: I'll try living upto that
He: You'll never be able to..I'll keep raising the bar everytime you get near it,gonna kill you with your happiness
She: Try me
He: What are you? A washing soap on sale?
She : I wouldn't mind being that right now.
He: I'd pay a million bucks as an advance token to buy you..
She: We both know I am the cheapest thing that's not on sale.
He: Sleep.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Posted after careful consideration and deliberation.
I am very well aware of the fact that I can get sued after this post.
xyz.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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 one
She: Whoever heard of happy zombies? They don't have feelings.
He: Stop patronizing your feelings and capabilities
She: That's why I come to you time and time again
He: You are crazy.
She: If I get any crazier they'll send me away.
He: Tell them you don't have a passport
She: actually I wish I did have one
He: Then go get one and fly away.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
He: Kiddo whats you upto?
She: Just dozing off,tomorrow's another big day hopefully I get down to doing something worthwhile
He: I call it spirit
She: I Wish it was as bright as yours
He: p.s. fall in love...helps.
She: Tried,got dumped
He: Try again but make sure its a different guy and worthy enough to handle a little princess like yourself
She: smiles
He: I just earned 10 points.Gave you a smile.I get to go to heaven..yayyy
Smiles and stuff.Plan to make it to the headlines?
She: Death by suicide.That's the only way I can do it.
He: I'll never lose my hope in you..all i can say
She: I'll try living upto that
He: You'll never be able to..I'll keep raising the bar everytime you get near it,gonna kill you with your happiness
She: Try me
He: What are you? A washing soap on sale?
She : I wouldn't mind being that right now.
He: I'd pay a million bucks as an advance token to buy you..
She: We both know I am the cheapest thing that's not on sale.
He: Sleep.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*Posted after careful consideration and deliberation.
I am very well aware of the fact that I can get sued after this post.
xyz.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, November 21, 2008
Right out of the survival books..
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 time I found the experience mortifying.I hated it and this was no secret.Details couldn't flourish on their own.They needed the support of human existence.And now I've lost my train of thought.
I've watched her afar,up close and personal.She harbors the great Indian dream spinning it into different spools of flavors,colors and textures.Its 8 'o clock in the morning she steps out of her bath soft skinned and fresh,drapes herself around in a crisp sari and leaves her unwashed hair uncombed.Then she applies an insignificant bit of kohl under the rims of her eyelids.Some amount of jewelry is considered necessary.Then she dabs a bit of powder on her cheeks and the undersides of her chin and neck.
I stumble out of bed at 7.45 after effects of alcohol demurring my senses.Good someone's in the bathroom it gives me enough time to search for my aspirin without having to explain to her why I have the entire contents of my medication tool kit splattered over my unmade bed.
Her's on the other hand is immaculately clean.I made beds before but then again I slept well before.I don't remember much about yesterday.There was name calling,door banging and something else ..I might even have to pay him for damaging some of his aesthetic glassware.But right now my cell phone is hidden away in the most undiscovered places that the world has to offer and frankly I do not possess even an ounce of intention to perhaps hunt it down and come to terms with the consequences I would have to suffer for last night.
I felt mutant sore.
Numbness was the best best way to encounter social grudges.So here I was...numb.I glanced through the newspaper without really going through it.The usual fucking shit,why bother?
Then I am seated alongside consequences.Just for once I ventured astray,glimpsed at a few odd stars and finally retreated back home.I look like I haven't slept.
She walks in with a few flowers.I look perfectly calm whilst sipping my chamomile tea.My kitchen cabinet is an adobe for the most exotic varieties of tea..chamomile,jasmine,organic,green,earl grey,darjeeling orthodox tea,black lemon tea,tulsi pudina,ginger tea...the taste of tea calming my nerves is the only peace I've experienced after reckless nights.
She is beautiful...every step taken or to be taken bears witness to that.
Everything in my life seems diseased for now.I have research papers to write for the day.Some fucked up shit regarding ethics.I don't think I will be able to carry through with it.The numbness has clogged my brain.
"You look tired.." she smiles and I notice the stark and unpleasant whiteness of her teeth.Happy to have found a flaw I smile back."I had a rough night."
I've watched her afar,up close and personal.She harbors the great Indian dream spinning it into different spools of flavors,colors and textures.Its 8 'o clock in the morning she steps out of her bath soft skinned and fresh,drapes herself around in a crisp sari and leaves her unwashed hair uncombed.Then she applies an insignificant bit of kohl under the rims of her eyelids.Some amount of jewelry is considered necessary.Then she dabs a bit of powder on her cheeks and the undersides of her chin and neck.
I stumble out of bed at 7.45 after effects of alcohol demurring my senses.Good someone's in the bathroom it gives me enough time to search for my aspirin without having to explain to her why I have the entire contents of my medication tool kit splattered over my unmade bed.
Her's on the other hand is immaculately clean.I made beds before but then again I slept well before.I don't remember much about yesterday.There was name calling,door banging and something else ..I might even have to pay him for damaging some of his aesthetic glassware.But right now my cell phone is hidden away in the most undiscovered places that the world has to offer and frankly I do not possess even an ounce of intention to perhaps hunt it down and come to terms with the consequences I would have to suffer for last night.
I felt mutant sore.
Numbness was the best best way to encounter social grudges.So here I was...numb.I glanced through the newspaper without really going through it.The usual fucking shit,why bother?
Then I am seated alongside consequences.Just for once I ventured astray,glimpsed at a few odd stars and finally retreated back home.I look like I haven't slept.
She walks in with a few flowers.I look perfectly calm whilst sipping my chamomile tea.My kitchen cabinet is an adobe for the most exotic varieties of tea..chamomile,jasmine,organic,green,earl grey,darjeeling orthodox tea,black lemon tea,tulsi pudina,ginger tea...the taste of tea calming my nerves is the only peace I've experienced after reckless nights.
She is beautiful...every step taken or to be taken bears witness to that.
Everything in my life seems diseased for now.I have research papers to write for the day.Some fucked up shit regarding ethics.I don't think I will be able to carry through with it.The numbness has clogged my brain.
"You look tired.." she smiles and I notice the stark and unpleasant whiteness of her teeth.Happy to have found a flaw I smile back."I had a rough night."
Day two
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 reply
So then I cling onto curtains and window frames throwing my luck out of the window and never looking back.Loneliness is a bent condition I could straighten it.Wash the essentials and clean the peripheries and write about it all the same.
Scene one: The city.
Winter has set in,the chill zooms past the morning breaths of dog walkers surveying the early morning routes of a city on the brink of the busiest day ever.Sometimes I think of myself as a mute spectator scurrying past my own life to get a good look at what I see.What I want on the contrary is underlined and never mentioned.
HE: Sometimes I think why did you ever have to go through the trouble of knowing me?
SHE: Honestly I don't know.I wish I did though..
HE: Of course you do! That's precisely what I am accusing you of.
SHE: Well then I might just be a little slow in figuring that out.
HE: You always have answers don't you?
SHE: Well I'd like to believe that when I am with you.
HE: What if you don't have an answer to a question I ask you someday?
SHE: Try me.
The sun would be out any second now indulging my sickly pale skin in its lucid warmth and glow.This lonely spot would now be a traffic maniacs destiny.Farewell dew,morning joggers,dog walkers..oh you gem of people.Life is more fun when you drive a car they say.Picture pretty right.My job here is done.
SHE: You spoil me.
HE: Yes I do. Do you like it?
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 reply
So then I cling onto curtains and window frames throwing my luck out of the window and never looking back.Loneliness is a bent condition I could straighten it.Wash the essentials and clean the peripheries and write about it all the same.
Scene one: The city.
Winter has set in,the chill zooms past the morning breaths of dog walkers surveying the early morning routes of a city on the brink of the busiest day ever.Sometimes I think of myself as a mute spectator scurrying past my own life to get a good look at what I see.What I want on the contrary is underlined and never mentioned.
HE: Sometimes I think why did you ever have to go through the trouble of knowing me?
SHE: Honestly I don't know.I wish I did though..
HE: Of course you do! That's precisely what I am accusing you of.
SHE: Well then I might just be a little slow in figuring that out.
HE: You always have answers don't you?
SHE: Well I'd like to believe that when I am with you.
HE: What if you don't have an answer to a question I ask you someday?
SHE: Try me.
The sun would be out any second now indulging my sickly pale skin in its lucid warmth and glow.This lonely spot would now be a traffic maniacs destiny.Farewell dew,morning joggers,dog walkers..oh you gem of people.Life is more fun when you drive a car they say.Picture pretty right.My job here is done.
SHE: You spoil me.
HE: Yes I do. Do you like it?
Day one.
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 walk
How can I let things get to my head? They pinched at places my nerve endings intersected.
walk walk walk walk
I try to avoid the traffic and smuggle myself between two parked cars.I brush my skirt across a greased surface and that long red hippie like thing stains black.I feel like the Dixie chick who got her wedding dress stained on purpose.Only this isn't a wedding dress and I didn't stain it on purpose.
Well wishers have advised me not,I repeat not to walk more than three kilometers by myself.That is not what a girl with meaning would do or whatever.But I think my funny little slippers and my hippie attire would carry me anywhere I want as long as Jordanian's are not around the corner to molest me.
walk walk walk walk
How can I let things get to my head? They pinched at places my nerve endings intersected.
walk walk walk walk
I try to avoid the traffic and smuggle myself between two parked cars.I brush my skirt across a greased surface and that long red hippie like thing stains black.I feel like the Dixie chick who got her wedding dress stained on purpose.Only this isn't a wedding dress and I didn't stain it on purpose.
Well wishers have advised me not,I repeat not to walk more than three kilometers by myself.That is not what a girl with meaning would do or whatever.But I think my funny little slippers and my hippie attire would carry me anywhere I want as long as Jordanian's are not around the corner to molest me.
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