Inside my Head

Of late I have been falling in love with girls. They have always struck me as pretty, hugely identifiable creatures sort of like butterflies. Only, I don’t really identify with butterflies- well maybe the love of color and patterns. Sort of the reason why i find snakes so fascinating. All these gorgeous tracks and the skin that looks like leather but touch it, and it would be clammy. Kind of like certain people i know- oh so lovely, look utterly delectable from the outside but oh such a letdown once you reach or attempt to reach inside. Like those pretty delectably decorated gilt boxes you find sometimes in the Lifestyle shops. As a kid, ‘Home Centre’ and ‘Lifestyle’ used to be my favourite shops. Filled with little antique looking vases, papier mache roses with those tiny little dull grey beads in the middle. Pink edged gilt boxes with dinky lids and the Fur Elise playing when you opened them up. (I have always loved the Fur Elise. It sounded incredibly sad to me though, as a child when as a child when I’d only ever heard the beginning part. When I was a kid and didn’t really know of Beethoven but remembered the vague bits of information that stuck on in my head when I was outside of it, not building stories, this piece every time i heard it, would always make me feel rather sad- and conjure up an image of a blind man playing a great big piano in the moonlight with yellow pearl keys. And then we would rush off to play Hide and Seek. Babai dada would spot all of us, being the Giant amongst us all. Hiding behind the waterfall, hiding behind the beeg green plant, peeping out through the cracks, stifling fear choked laughter, when the Denner would pass you by, Strangely enough, i always felt awful when i was ‘found’ but i felt even worse when everyone else was found and i wasn’t like i was forgotten. But then we would start playing Marco Polo till the Rich-Benevolent but divorced Old Uncle who was the grand benefactor/father of the Bangiyo Parishad would shoo us out of his private spaces. Of course we would creep back inside. One of our prime and Most interesting things to do was tell each other ghost stories and scare ourselves silly, so that we looked over our shoulders and jumped at small noises. I Loved to be frightened as a kid. I don’t know, what sort of perverse pleasure I derived out of being scared out of my wits, but I think the adrenaline rush of the danger- the thrill that something might be creeping up JUST Behind you, is what got me every time. I’ve sort of remained the same since. I still love horror movies, but i haven’t found one that has scared me long enough. This was supposed to be a bracket really, squeezed in about what i thought of the Fur Elise but then it mutated into a paragraph. That’s what thoughts are like really. Or even Life when you come to think of it. Brackets, subplots, half thoughts, single events, chance happenings that mutate into chapters and maybe sometimes stay with you. Become a Main character. Having Main characters with character flaws is ‘in’ these days in Bollywood. They’re waking up to reality. Reality is what is larger than life today. Big bucks, ‘real stories’, actual connections and simple down to earth heart warmers. Box office blockbusters and relieved reviews in the newspaper like the critics have found kindred souls and are mighty relieved about it. I just feel like being all sarcastic about something at the moment so Bollywood shall have to take its brunt for the time being- I’m sure Bollywood is much affected by indifference, but like Gloria Gaynor, I’m sure it will survive the heartbreak.

Heartbreaks make us stronger right? I just think, if you get your heart broken badly enough too many times, there’s an extent to which you can sellotape it back together. Sooner or later little bits are going to come unstuck and then everything is going to become a little muddled together. Blurry- kind of like fog. Smog actually, with the dark bits in between that you ignore. I want a prince on a white horse. You know, galloping across with the horse neighing away to glory. Only the galloping is a must. Such a lovely word isn’t it? The horse shall gallop and the prince shall gallop over to me and my heart will gallop away. We shall all gallop.

I’m busy being a grump- I’m just tired really. And there are too many thoughts inside my head, all turning into one another. I’m lazy which is why I’m in my room bunking genetics and typing this out. I suspect I’m also a little sick- wretched snow! Why won’t you go?!

Trippin’, stumblin’, flippin’, fumblin’. Clumsy cause there’s Just TOO much Snow! For someone who is as motor retarded as i am, it is a challenge navigating your way to class among all the brownish mushy ickyslush that snow turns to when it has been trampled upon by a million disgruntled university students all trudging to class.

Right now the only sound in my room is ‘With or Without you’ playing softly and the sound of me tap-tapping against the keyboard. How i love the sound of the tap-tapping. For some reason this tap-  tapping always makes me feel very efficient. Like a secretary at some important office churning out lots of letters. Once as a kid i saw this lady in this red suit at the airport. She was smoking a cigarette and this blue-ish smoke came out of her lips. I think since then that has been the image i carry in my head of sophistication and success. I’m not sure why but our childish fantasies stay with us. Oh well, someday i shall be a sophisticated lady in a red suit, with a cigarette dangling between my lips and say “Darling” in a thick accent. I wish i could go back to being a kid. Things were simpler, ideas were more clear cut, and gender didn’t really exist. We were all asexual flatworm type of creatures who loved to play what I always called Catching cook. In hindsight it was probably Catch the crook. But then, this probably speaks of my permanent bhukkadness.

I’m writing too much and I’m emptying my head onto virtual paper. In a minute i shall post this, and have doubts. But then i don’t think most people bother to read such long posts. Or at the end, when you do read this and you reach here, you will be vaguely annoyed at having wasted time. And then i shall secretly be going ‘heehee’ in my head all the way from Canada because i have met a fellow procrastinator.

‘With or without you’ is ending and Friday is here. I love Friday. And for now i feel strangely sedated. Peaceful. Like a happy little monk from the monastery nodding his head. I wish i could nod off to sleep. Insomnia is So difficult to cure, and i don’t really need another defect to add to the list. I meant to write about different girls who i am falling in love with but i digressed. I was beginning to crush on this funny man but i keep getting side tracked by his ex and her blog. So real and interesting she seems. Then there’s the wife and the girl i have nicknamed who seems to bruise my heart in different ways. So far men have been bringing me heart ache and unnecessary complications. These days i find women more interesting and God alone knows how many complications that will bring if this continues, not the least of which shall be the most important woman in my life. Distance is necessary though.

And with that cryptic sentence I stop.