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 clutter in my messed up head. The wailing alternated with the sound of drums and other 'beats' whose origin was hard to define.
'What's that?' I say.
'Don't look..' says Mam.
Obviously I do.
I sneak peak through one of the living room window's upstairs. A forty something ragged wretch doing his version of a jingle on the street, hair flared up like a broom on the loose and white streaks across his emaciated torso (which bore the brunt of his ribs sticking out) making him look like an indie photographer's flavour of the month.
To his waist hung last century metallic apparel that had lost both luster and sheen. His bare clothing included a disarray of not so enchanting colours.
I call him 'funny' because whatever adjective I would address him with wouldn't be of much relevance to him or rest of the folk around him watching him silently with faces that spoke of disgust and ridicule but eyes that couldn't conceal a hint of envy.
Envy? whoa where did that come from? I'll tell you why..its because apart from the momentary insanity that the funny man left behind, he also left behind a certain nakedness of facts. A nakedness of entire perceptions and conceptions that are brain fed to us every now and then. Stark naked..and this we as followers of humanity cannot define.
That was all that was left lingering on the empty street after he left - a nakedness of the facts which was disturbingly sufficient for you to question - all that you were doing, all that you did and all that you once planned to do.
And what's funny is this..it takes a semi clothed wretch doing a jingle on the street to make us stop and stare and look at who we are and our respective places on this planet.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
In The End..
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.)
* 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.)
Friday, March 27, 2009
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 even be compared. But here in this country they can.
They can stand next to each other and co exist like a slum shack and a Mercedes benz showroom that I saw moments later.
2.What was really disturbing about that street urchin was the way he could squeeze himself out of the traffic amidst angrily glaring lights and venture out towards the lonely and darker side of the city. This I have assumed could only come with grief. A sustainable kind of grief. But grief as such was hard to tell on his already damaged yet content and serviceable body. He carried a poster of an over dressed woman probably a dancer and kept shuffling it between his skinny dirt beneath the nail hands. He walked carelessly yet professionally avoiding gravel,stone and shit. Somewhere along the way when I suppose he’d thought he’d walked too much he dropped the poster right in the middle of the street and detoured his way through the nearby lane and left me wondering why he carried the poster all along the way when he was bound to abandon it. He headed towards the parked cars and peered in through each one of those misty glass windows to catch a glimpse of what lay inside that remarkable invention. He must have been eight – at the peak of his imagination while his feet held him sturdy beneath the ground of hope and desire.
They can stand next to each other and co exist like a slum shack and a Mercedes benz showroom that I saw moments later.
2.What was really disturbing about that street urchin was the way he could squeeze himself out of the traffic amidst angrily glaring lights and venture out towards the lonely and darker side of the city. This I have assumed could only come with grief. A sustainable kind of grief. But grief as such was hard to tell on his already damaged yet content and serviceable body. He carried a poster of an over dressed woman probably a dancer and kept shuffling it between his skinny dirt beneath the nail hands. He walked carelessly yet professionally avoiding gravel,stone and shit. Somewhere along the way when I suppose he’d thought he’d walked too much he dropped the poster right in the middle of the street and detoured his way through the nearby lane and left me wondering why he carried the poster all along the way when he was bound to abandon it. He headed towards the parked cars and peered in through each one of those misty glass windows to catch a glimpse of what lay inside that remarkable invention. He must have been eight – at the peak of his imagination while his feet held him sturdy beneath the ground of hope and desire.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
“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.
“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.
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.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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