Symphony in Sun-showers

2012-01-31T06:36:00.000-08:00

Every time I give a job interview I feel like Julia Roberts. Not so much 'I'm beautiful and mysterious and everyone is in love with me'. More like Julia Roberts circa 'Notting Hill': I'm just a girl standing in front of a boy/job asking him to love me, or circa 'My Best Friend's Wedding': Pick me, let ME make you happy.

2012-01-24T17:06:00.001-08:00

That moment when you're reading your psych textbook and see 'Morrison' cited, you immediately think Jim.

Life motto: Never be completely satisfied? Not sure. Work in progress.

2012-01-12T19:09:00.000-08:00

Can you be a million different people and still hold yourself together? How to avoid moulding yourself into someone hemmed in by your own fears, insecurities and prejudices? How to avoid the pitfalls of apprehension and doubt? How to avoid society's expectations of you or the reverse which is not conforming, for the sake of going against the tide?

How do you know if something you do today is going to impact possibly one of the most important things in your life years later? It's not even a probability game.

To rush or not to rush. That is the question.

I just HAD to share:

2012-01-08T21:34:00.000-08:00

If famous authors had written Twilight

Don't go by the title. It's not cliche`d or hackneyed. They managed to cover just about everyone from Enid Blyton to Alan Moore and Agatha Christie. Read the comments (which are also takes on authors).
Best thing I've read in a while. Thanks to wife for making me stop obsessing over unfairly hot hottie.

2012-01-01T16:11:00.001-08:00

new year, new beginnings, a mixture of new and old aspirations- perhaps moulded and twisted to fit better.

ma left today morning. in the hustle bustle of packing and running and where'smyposter, omgthechabi! and SO much luggage, there was no time to be sad.
return to waterloo via the greyhound got me tearing up a little- as i watched the toronto skyline recede further into the distance and the tall buildings and the canadian opera company transform into flat grey uniform suburbia, i felt my heart do a plop and sink sloooowly into my stomach. i think it got caught somewhere between there and my throat. been gulping back this stupid knot since.
waterloo is dead without the students and greeted me with pouring rain added to that time of the month. i struggled with my luggage and got home relatively easily. whooosh through the streets in a cab, not a human in sight outside. that's the problem with university towns- when the students leave, they die. makes me wonder how other people live there- non-students i mean. what on earth could possibly compel you to choose it over the hustle bustle and 1001 things to do in a big city? i just wasn't meant for peace, i suppose. gets on my nerves and makes me miserable.
home is fine, home is nice. turns out one of the room-mates is in with her boyfriend. 2 new ones this time- i'd be excited, but after the first year catastrophe with maddie, i've learned to keep my hopes down. this is quite a sad post for the first of jan, but it's not really. i mean this is just how life is. school starts the day after and then i'm hoping i'll be so consumed, i won't have time to think.
warm up the casserole of leftover birthday manghso-bhaat ma packed for me, talk on the phone with someone who keeps me sane and listen to drama from others' new years eves. mooch around reading half of an already read agatha christie, chat with a floundering friend who insists that she isn't, wish you could be half as self assured, refresh facebook. there is a boy there that you once had a crush on who wishes you very awkwardly. but that was a long time ago and things have changed now.
put off something you shouldn't put off, eat a bunch of cookies and baba ghanoush, read through 'hateship friendship courtship loveship marriage' that you were very excited to buy, let it enhance your vague disquiet, nap fitfully. wake up.
the best is yet to come.

Annual End of Year Reflection

2011-12-24T22:17:00.001-08:00

1. What did you do in 2011 that you'd never done before?

i) Got my first paying full time job (in dollaz, bitches. And it made the Scrooge in me vewy happy)

ii) Went to a sex shop(s)

iii) Lived in the shadiest neighbourhood possible, full of crackwhores and hobos, where every night there would be the regular whee-ooo of police cars and ambulances

iv) Discovered vintage shopping. And LOVED it.

v) Went to the ballet, professional English theatre.

vi) Will be turning 20 in exactly six days (noooooo)

vii) Had a pet cat (Toby for four months)

viii) Realized that I wanted to go to med school and did not in fact want to be a biochemist

ix) Sleepover with both sexes with parental permission

x) Decided that I was going to stop being a mindless consumer, and follow the mantra of ‘create more, consume less’

xi) Took my mum to a bar in gay village for a drink, and enjoyed it thoroughly

xii) Got asked out by a white man- a metalhead from a band working at a record store

xiii) Got hit on by homeless men (wtf)

xiv) Met a friend’s bastard ex and quite liked him. Had a massive adventure together, the first evening we met involving a homeless old lady who’d been arrested for trespassing and assaulting a cop with a dangerous object, a 911 call, drug dealers, a ginormous drunken man and his cronies who wouldn’t stop interrogating us and kept menacingly referring to the gold ring on my finger and the lateness of the hour (12:30am) and so on. We both got out of it alive and unscathed.

xv) Lost and got my passport returned by a girl I’d never met (GOD BLESS YOU ZUCKERBERG AND FACEBOOK!)

xvi) Bought and wore deep crimson lipstick- next stop bright red :D

xvii) Really, really, really got into webcomics- IloveyouQC!

xviii) Ate red velvet and hated it

xix) WENT TO A CONCERT! IRON AND WINE BABAY! (Not counting classical and Tolly club stuff with the ‘rents)

xx) Learned to cook properly

xxi) Lived in Toronto and loved it!

xxii) Got hooked on to 8tracks and started creating mixes- discovered the term hipster and realized that me and my friends probably are the textbook definition

xxiii) Got a third ear piercing- cartilage of upper ear =D (which hurt like a bitch)

xxiv) Lived in the same room, shared a bed with my mum for 8 months of the year

xxv) Got fired (sort of) from a job

xxvi) Had a complete nervous breakdown with hyperventilating and all.

xxvii) Ate wasabi and hated it. Ate fried pork cheek and octopus balls and love em :D

2. Did you keep your new years resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Erm I don’t remember em but I’m guessing they involved losing weight and being more focused, so no, not really.

Of course I will!

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

No.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Yeah. A very, very good man- greatly missed and fondly remembered.

5. What countries did you visit?

Canada, India. Same as last year.

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

Inner peace. Better grades. Significant involvement in a cause I’m committed to, an extracurricular I love. The right significant other? Better hair. More compassion and thoughtfulness. Patience. Better time management. A fitter and healthier body. The ability to see a good story through the initial few chapters to the very end. The start of a long term research involvement. The opposite of my usual inertia and ennui. Confidence.

7. What date from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory and why?

I sort of suck at dates.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Getting on Dean’s Honour Roll.

Getting with the plan and bagging the job I really wanted at a major hospital.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Getting fired.

Losing my temper more frequently than House popped pills.

Not getting involved in any long term extracurricular and being a flake.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Yeah. My bloody knee’s fucked up cuz apparently now that I’m 20, my body wants to make me realize I’m aging (wtf, body?)

11. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

The doctor-lady who talked me through my nervous breakdown and let me breathe for the first time in a month. Both of my grandmas’ for being strong women, my brother’s for surviving without my mum for 8 months

12. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

T and P for the fight. But they made up, thank God.

13. Where did most of your money go?

Starbucks? Junk food, I think. Eating out. I should really start cooking more.

14. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Back in April when I thought I’d have the time to write for the college paper. Getting my job at the hospital. Going back to Cal for the holidays.

15. What song will always remind you of 2011?

Erm. Possibly Crystallise by xx? But that’s just because I heard it a few days ago and really like it. To be honest, I discovered way too much good music this time but nothing jumps out at me as a 2011 marker.

Ooh! Maybe ‘While my Guitar Gently Weeps’ because I fell in love with The Beatles all over again, and played this wonderful, wonderful song on loop over and over. And maybe ‘In My Life’ and ‘Norwegian Wood’. And ‘Michelle’. Oh hell, The Beatles.

16. Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?’

Er. I dunno. I’m more volatile but also more chilled I guess. This time last year I’d just ended an absolutely horrible term and was absolutely convinced that I was a mediocre failure of a person. So yeah, more chilled-ish. Happy….grateful more like.

17. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Studying, writing, thinking before I burst out with a retort, talking to grandparents and the brother.

18. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Brooding, procrastinating, letting my short temper and sharp tongue get the better of me just cuz it was easy, watching T.V, eating junk.

19. How will you be spending Christmas?

I know exactly how cuz it’s tomorrow! I’ll be packing like a madwoman, going over to a very cool aunty’s place, walking along Yonge Street watching the lights and going out in the evening with a housemate and mum to either ISKON or Wendy’s Belgian Waffle Place or Pizzarustica for heavenly tiramisu and dinner.

20. Did you fall in love in 2011?

Na, I didn’t even slip slightly.

21. How many one night stands?

None.

22. What was your favourite TV programme?

House. Criminal Minds. Gossip Girl. Modern Family. HIMYM. After Tyra’s ‘written’ a waste of trees, I feel ashamed to even say I watched Top Model. Even as a guilty pleasure. Blech.

23. What was the best book you read?

I read SO many good books! I LOVE YOU TORONTO PUBLIC LIBRARY!

The Poisonwood Bible. Norwegian Wood. The Bell Jar. Beatrice and Virgil. I’m starting Kafka on the Shore tonight.

I started reading Terry Pratchett thanks to Linds, and for this alone she has my undying devotion. All of the ‘Wee Free Men’ series. Remains of The Day. I read a lot of Agatha Christie and I’m very happy about it.

AAAH ‘FAHRENHEIT 451’ AND ‘1984’.

24. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Leonard Cohen and The Beatles though of course I’d listened to em before. Happy, happy fixation you could call it. The Dandy Warhols!

I discovered xx so that’s as indie as I get. Mazzy Star. The Gorillaz :D Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Led Zepp phase, The Weepies phase, Radiohead, Madeleine Peyroux. Bon Iver, The Arctic Monkeys, Yael Naim, John Mayer phase, Tracy Chapman, Sha’air +Func- some of. Marvin Gaye, Melissa Etheridge for ‘I’m the Only One’ alone, Yeah Yeah Yeahs for ‘Heads Will Roll’ alone. Just discovered Prince- will be listening to a lot more of him, I think.

Yeah, I listened to a lot of awesome music this year. That was my only constant.

25. What did you want and get?

The aforementioned job and Dean ’s list.

26. What did you want and not get?

Oof. This makes me feel like such a whiner man. See number 6.

27. What was your favourite film of this year?

Er. I have no idea, sorry. I watched Coraline completely, and I loved that.

28. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

Coming up on the 30^th. Turning 20. Totally unprepared. I know 18 is the official age, but I feel like 20 means you’re actually an adult and OHMYGOD IDON”TWANTTOBEONE!

29. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Getting my act together. A best friend on the same continent. In case you haven’t noticed, I am unable to ever pick ONE thing.

30. What kept you sane?

Trisha, Piu. Tony. Ma drove me nuts and helped hold me together in equal measure.
Blogging.

31. Who was the worst new person you met?
I actually met quite a few odious people this time. C, J, Lav. Met an old friend after many years and quite disliked him.

32. Who was the best new person you met?
Shalmi, Emily, Eric, and Annesha I haven’t met in the flesh yet, but hopefully soon :)

33. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learnt in 2011.

Honesty is not always the best policy at the work-place.

Get out of the house more. It’ll make you happy and doesn’t always have to mean getting smashed and going clubbing.

Make and keep friends. Friends are useful.

Consistency is SO very important.

If you use food as a crutch, honey, your waistline will grow.

The key to happiness is looser clothes (draw the line at the point where you look like you’re wearing a sack).
Kindness is underrated. And so, SO important.

34. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

Des Yeux Qui Font Baisser Les Miens

For no reason other than I don’t understand what it means, and I think it’s beautiful. And I spent a large part of the year not knowing what I want, what to do, or understanding where the heck I’m going, but finding small moments of beauty and music in it all.

Fiction 2

2011-12-21T15:28:00.001-08:00

So here's the thing. I write and I write and I write. I draw doodles and I twirl noodles with my fork. I soak up all the existential angst and feel vaguely important. And then I wonder- now what? Days seem to have a pointlessness that all the blues in the world can't cure. Not Prince, not Louis Armstrong, not even Ella Fitzgerald. Speaking of which, I was reading Fitzgerald the other day and it reminded me of you. Not that Gatsby has anything to do with you- oh, who am I kidding? Everything reminds me of you. The birds flying in a V shape in the sky, the low guttural sound my cat makes when he stretches out, my pyjamas crumpled, as they come out from the washer. People making love on the other side of my cardboard thin wall, overpriced wines at lunches with friends, my graying boss. I was listening to Def Leppard the other day and I thought of you. Which doesn't even make sense because you hate Def Leppard- you don't even consider glam rock music.
I don't miss you. I don't wish for you to be sitting on the steps in front of my house when I return home from work one evening. I can imagine how you'd look- your cap tipped over an eye, a cigarette lounging by your mouth, and a faint aroma of smoke and coffee emanating from you. I'd see you and we'd both be very still for a second- there'd be a minute of awkwardness- but there wouldn't because you'd smile your lazy smile and come give me a one armed hug. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, like nothing had happened, like everything was fine.
But this wouldn't happen because I don't want it to. It's not that everything we shared was a lie, it's that I can't separate the truth from my fantastical creations. I cannot differentiate between a kiss and a dream, between a moan and a sigh, between ecstasy and madness, between comfort and numbness. I'm not saying that you're not a good person because you are. You really are. So I can't hate you- it was a mistake, all just a stupid mistake. But sometimes we can't brush our follies under the carpet, darling. We can't look the other way and pretend that we were distracted, we just can't. So we fall apart, you and I. I walk in circles while you sail over the edge of a cliff, burning like ice with your secret heat.

Rant #26380

2011-12-20T19:37:00.000-08:00

So exams are done (wut wut!) but I still have a zillion things to do, and I apologize for sounding like a sorority girl (Oh Em Gee!) but this is what END OF TERM DOES TO ME. I'm aching to do some real writing, but that shall have to wait until the end of this week or possibly next year. But I have to say this:
Why? Why do people think it is okay to talk to you while you're in the washroom? And I don't mean washing your hands in a ladylike manner or adjusting the lapel of your blazer. No. I mean full on emptying your bladder (while trying to keep the audible trickling to a minimum) or taking a dump (really softly of course). Going to a public washroom is awkward enough, let alone going to an office washroom and running into colleagues. It makes for awkward eye shuffling and hasty retreats into cubicles. "Hi.." "Hi..Washroom party!" ".... yeah..."
No. This is not the place for conversation unless you're my best friend (and that's not okay either; my best friends just happen to be really gross people with no sense of boundaries.) or my mother ( likewise with the boundaries. "But why do I have to leave the room when you're changing? I have no wish to look at you. I'm reading, and this bed is comfy and I CARRIED YOU AROUND IN MY UTERUS YOUNG LADY." No mom, just no).
It is not okay to ask me when my last day of work is when I taking a leak. It is not okay to compliment my haircut when I have clearly been inside the washroom for longer than 3 minutes, and it is definitely not okay to discuss The Nutcracker with me over a plastic door with farts from adjoining cubicles for background music. Go away. And come back when I'm presentable, without any toilet paper in a 100 mile radius and preferably bring donuts.

2011-12-14T15:21:00.000-08:00

brief rant post to say:
- i love when a favourite band covers a favourite obscure song- yay gorillaz covering crystallise by xx
- i really CANNOT stand ellie goulding. i don't know- her voice just drives me off the wall. way too reed thin and something for my liking.
- i get burnt out way too easily- 2 weeks of studying and i'm pretty much out. my body begins to fail, acid reflux (at 19! wtf), zombie like blank stare and aimless shuffling, sitting comatose in front of the computer at work. if i can make it past saturday, it'll be a miracle. no seriously, pray for this miracle.
- i really really love ray charles' voice- all scratchy and whiskey doused and just the right kinda hoarse. so evidently i'm even more of a jazz nut than i'd suspected.
- alopecia is a massive cunt. more on this later. excerpt from conversation this week:
2:55 PM me: it's hard enough to find a guy who's okay with a morbid ocd bitchlet's add bald into the mix

2:56 PM yaaaay :D

trisha: Manfriend's best friend, C?

lives in the us

2:57 PM recently fell hard for (and got dumped by) a bald tattooed bipolar ocd psycho-chick who wrote his initials under a park bridge for love but then blackmailed him emotionally shortly afterwards

guys are just weird to figure out man

they fall for pretty much anything, and you are high on the list of awesome

2:58 PM there will be somebody, and once he's proved he can take me in single combat he can have you

me: heh

2:59 PM well if you spy a good looking mature murakami reading beatles loving guy who's also looking for an emotionally abusive relationship, you let me know, k?

- i Really want to go on a polyphasic sleep cycle. if i'm going to be as disorganized and hopeless with time management as i am, larger amounts of time would be helpful no? if you know anything about polyphasic or are interested, let me know.
- i also Really want to make a winter/ christmas mix, jazz mix, sountrack to a love story mix- if you folks don't know about the awesomeness that is 8tracks , go check it out asap. link leads to my profile but if you click on the globe icon at the top of the page, it takes you to the home page where you can see tons of new mixes.
- i'm lacking a frenemy right now. i've had 2 so far. horribly unhealthy but SO much fun. like greasy chips- you know you shouldn't, but you do anyway and then indulge in self loathing.
- the house opposite the guesthouse i'm currently staying in was surrounded by cops and whatnot all of day before. they seized 20 kg of crack. 20 kg. of crack. have i mentioned that i love where i live? (no sarcasm)

back to books :(
In retrospect, Manfriend sounds like a cheap brand of condoms. or lube. but he's not, i assure you. he's a lovely man who recently gave me The Emperor of Maladies in ebook format. And we have plans to murder Trisha in cold blood and divide her money. Yes, we are excellent significant others.

2011-12-03T14:42:00.000-08:00

Every single time I see a guy in Starbucks that I find cute, he turns out to be gay.
WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?

Fiction

2011-11-26T21:55:00.000-08:00

What do I think of when I think of you?

I think of the way you looked the last time I saw you. You had your face turned up to the sun, and the rays crept stealthily through your hair, making it a tangled mass of golden and brown. You glanced my way for a second and I searched your eyes for a glimmer of that searing feeling. It was a long second. I remember wanting to say something, wanting to reach out and place my hand on yours. Instead, I spent that day writing farewells in books with pink hearts on their covers, sobbing on shoulders, kissing the wall where we used to retreat to during recess- all of that. An all girls’ school carries within its walls a lot of love, unconditional support, bitchiness, judgement, and some ideas set in stone about how certain things ought to be.

Akriti and Sue are living in New York, did you know? They got married. They’re adopting a girl from Tamil Nadu.

I saw your name on a mutual friend’s list the other day. I bit my lip and fiddled with the mouse for a bit. You’re still beautiful. You still have a mole on your shoulder blade. You still cock your head to one side when you smile for the camera. You’re married. To someone called Aman.

I hope you’re happy. I hope you found what you were looking for. I hope-

2011-11-26T21:53:00.000-08:00

Haul of the day: 'Big brother is watching you' T-shirt, cute vintage purse, slouchy red cardigan, turquoise hoodie. Dark chocolate crepe +coffee ice-cream for lunch. Pizza con-carne for dinner. Watching the fireworks at Nathan Philips and the official lighting of the Christmas tree. One of a crowd full of young fathers with little boys perched on their shoulders, and children waving glowsticks and light-sabers. Toronto, I love you ♥

On the importance of 'lol'

2011-11-25T20:16:00.000-08:00

So Eric and I were discussing pet peeves on Facebook chat:

Riddhi
i dislike....
people who take 500 years to reply
people who reply with k
and people who say wassupp
4 minutes ago
Eric
lol
doesn't "lol" piss you off too
4 minutes ago
Riddhi
no. if we lost lol we'd be at a serious loss for things to say
4 minutes ago
Eric
hahahahaha
4 minutes ago
Riddhi
typing hahahah isnt appropriate always
4 minutes ago
Eric
i so agree
4 minutes ago
Riddhi
i mean imagine having to type
*quiet chuckle*
or *grinning but not laughing aloud*
or *i didn't smile but that was witty*
3 minutes ago
Eric
hahahahahahaha *that brought a quiet smirk to my face*

I yam what I yam

2011-11-22T21:18:00.000-08:00

I have a shameful confession: I really love this movie.

I know. I know it's clichéd and stereotypical and predictable and over the top melodramatic and flawed in so many ways. I know, I really do. But. It's SO full of life, and colour, and laughter and makes me sob like a little baby/ menstruating angsty teenager high on cheap booze and one box too many of cookies on a bad day. It's pretty much the peak of masala. Shahrukh was my first ever human crush (he was preceded by Simba- yes that one from Lion King- and Johnny Quest). Ever since I was a child of about 9 growing up on The Brothers Grimm and watching him on Kuch Kuch Hota Hain, 'Rahul' captured my imagination and occupied my day-dreams. For some reason they always involved him riding on a bicycle beside the window of my car. I realize this makes no sense, but what can ya do?
Looking back, I'm having a eureka moment. Methinks my weakness for dimples can be traced back to SRK. Shame on you , SRK, for leading me to make questionable choices.
Anyway, stuff like this is the reason that I know I'll never really be cool. I'll never be one of those people sipping on a beer in a trippy kaftan and oversized glasses talking about my exclusive love for Spike Jonze films. Don't get me wrong- I like what would be called 'the right films' and I read the 'right books' and listen to the 'right music'. "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" is one of my favourite movies, I nurture a deep and abiding love for The Beatles, Pink Floyd and Iron & Wine, I loved Fahrenheit 451 and 1984. You get the picture.
But also, I genuinely love Bollywood movies- they make me happy. I realize that my reality will never be like that; nor would I want it to. In real life, if a boy came up to me and started spewing dialogues while gazing deep into my eyes, I feel like I'd either laugh hysterically or do an awkward eye-shuffle. But it's nice to watch.A good masala film or a Koffee with Karan episode can cure my blue moods, listening to Bahara fulfills my intense craving for mere desh ki dharti, and I firmly believe that a cure to 'most all minor ills is a good Bollywood dance number. Does this embarrass me? Kinda. Am I going to stay in the closet about this and make snarky comments about Bollywood movies? No.
The older I grow, the less I care about what people think. I like this growing up thing- it's nice to fit into your own skin, without apology.

A very food driven blogpost

2011-11-16T09:51:00.001-08:00

So Boozy Baked French Toast was sort've a fail. The Mc Donald's Hot mustard sauce saved it. Next time maybe 1 layer of bread, 2 cups milk, 3 eggs, 5 tablespoons of baileys and half teaspoon salt. Much prefer the Indian way of making French Toast for now.

Next recipe to try: Cake. Will make either Apple cake cuz of all the apples lying around at home. Or Chocolate Cake. In which case, this recipe may be of use:

King Arthur's chocolate cake

First time, I'll be baking a cake. But the cooking bug's gotten into me. Smitten Kitchen and mum's nagging combined have driven me to the kitchen. So far made Huevos Rancheros (Mum liked, I didn't like the egg roll but LOVED the Salsa Fresca), Caramelized Shallots (nice), and Garlic Butter Roasted Mushrooms (VERY nice. Probably more lemon, less butter next time. ) Also scrambled eggs with goat cheese on toast yesterday got me craving for the french toast.

Anyway. Pictures maybe sometime I get over being a lazy git.

Oh! Also Murgir Makha Jhol which was phenomenal as always- recipe from Bengali Girl in the US who has never steered me wrong.

2011-11-04T23:42:00.000-07:00

she's the kind of girl who stays home on saturday nights in flannel pajamas and her curly hair poking out of a crooked bun. she wears a loose grey t-shirt, her collarbones jut out at an awkward angle. she's the kind of girl who sips wine out of a colorful mug with concentric circles- blue and electric pink, and orange and yellow. the lights are dimmed, the faint sound of swearing crack-whores and hobos waft in through the window that she's left open just a crack- she's the kind of girl that feels stifled when the windows are shut, even in 0 degree weather. she's the kind of girl who listens to 'fast car' over and over again, and wishes that she had black skin, cool and polished, reminding one of pots and the earth and hidden corners in large houses- beside bookcases, and by the stairs.she's the kind of girl who chooses to forego dinner and then snacks on mars bars, making herself feel sick from the 7 reese's peanut butter cups she had earlier on in the day. she's the kind of girl who realizes when she's had enough, but can't seem to make herself stop. in a strange way, she enjoys the floating feeling she lives with permanently. she's the kind of girl who falls in love with people she can't have. currently she has been falling in love with a close friend's ex. he is not at all handsome and quite arrogant, but when he smiles, his nose does this funny thing that makes it feel real. and he walked her home that one time they met. and when she asked him what his theme song would be, he thought for a long time and said romeo and juliet. he's the one who told her about 'fast car'- it's his favourite. so she sits, in the dim glow of the muted television, listening to 'fast car' on a loop and hazily dreaming.

The Fireman

2011-10-28T18:09:00.001-07:00

Sitar music is on. Mingled with guitar, I think. Dunno how come, but I’m grateful for it. The guitar bits sound like the beginning of Spanish Caravan. Spanish guitar, I think. Just finished reading Fahrenheit 451. Didn’t feel like doing anything after that. Just lay still, curled up on my couch (it’s brown leather and I’ve draped my black winter coat over it, so that it forms a sort of pillow for me, which is where I can rest my head, curled into a 4). I’m in Starbucks again, of course. The Asian girl close by has a virulent pink playboy bunny cellphone. It strikes me as odd and a little jarring. I’ve licked the whipped cream off my pumpkin spice latte (no spilling this time, no sticky sweet warm mess), crunched up the usual butter tart. There was a boy next to me for a while there, some banter. He had a small-ish beard that leaned towards ginger. Seeing him, I understand what it means to be young looking. Behind that beard, is the face of a small gentle boy. Perhaps the kind who liked to watch pigeons. Or shoot them- what do I know after all. I sometimes wonder if books swallow me up. I was reading ‘The Night bookmobile’ last night. Ma and I were discussing the dark side of reading. She didn’t think there was one, and was surprised that I did. She looks at books as a type of escapism. I said that books could consume you if you weren’t careful. Set your standards so high that you became unable to accept an ordinary life. Mundane everyday things start to bore you. Or on the flipside, you could start to notice the beauty in the small things. Get caught up in observing and reflecting, instead of doing- leading to a sort’ve stasis. I know that at times I’ve been so overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance of a piece of writing, that I found that I couldn’t write anymore. Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m composing the perfect life in my head, setting impossibly high standards- and that’s the danger I guess of really good art. Books, and music, and film, and oh, everything! They can inflame you, inspire you, spur you to strive for the very best. But if you don’t succeed, if your life is less than exciting, if at last you examine your life and it simply does not compare- then what? Then you’d be left with this sense of futility and failure, and most intolerable of all- sheer monotony. What do you have to look forward to? Fear can be crippling, if you let it.

Here’s another thought- too much stimulus. Reading, listening, watching, always rushing, rushing, rushing- doesn't leave you the scope to think.

“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there. It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way ti was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching. The lawn cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime”

“Stuff your eyes with wonder’, he said, ‘live as if you’d drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It’s more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. Ask no guarantees, ask for no security, there never was such an animal. And if there were, it would be related to the great sloth which hangs upside down in a tree all day every day, sleeping its life away. To hell with that’, he said, ‘shake the tree and knock the great sloth down on his ass’”

-Granger, Fahrenheit 451, Ray Bradbury.

Sunday

2011-10-23T16:38:00.001-07:00

Just one of those days again when nothing seems enough. Sitting on a couch by the window of a starbucks, I watch life go by. Straight asian couples, gay couples who stick their tongues out at me and wish me good day on leaving- very politely, a large gaggle of middle aged women, the baristas. Pumpkin spice lattes and multigrain bagels with herb and garlic spread (Philadelphia, mind you. I always secret the 2^nd sachet home). Everything rushes by in a blur. The music washes over me, creating a comfortable cocoon amidst vague snatches of the conversations around me. I read another book yesterday- The Poisonwood Bible. Surprisingly good, actually. So, I sit here in my orange beret, my mother’s oversized zebra-print kurta and black leggings. I balance my laptop on my legs which are crossed up on the sofa. My dusty boots lie abandoned somewhere by the table legs. The table top carries a discarded white paper bag, my green cell phone and a copy of ‘Wonder Boys’. I haven’t read it yet. I planned to, but I felt unusually responsible and decided to finish my work instead. They’re out of butter tarts again- Starbucks has the perfect crumbly kind, tiny little tarts, not too sweet or overly crammed with honey that gushes out when you bite into it. I haven’t been to the gym in three days- another uncomfortable thought. Push it away, push it away. The playlists they have here is wonderful- they played the beatles yesterday, alternating with the smiths. Today it’s mellow stuff I haven’t heard before, but reminds me vaguely of artists I would know. One half of the gay couple asked me if I wanted a drink and I instantly developed a crush on him (this was before they were kissing and sticking their tongues out at me). Mylo Xyloto’s out. I love my spot- it’s directly in front of the black granite fireplace. Another couple has come and occupied the sofas to my left. It’s actually a cozy circle of four sofas- the Caucasian couple to my left, me, and a middle aged bespectacled redhead on my right (she’s on msn. Why on earth is she at a coffee-shop on msn on a Sunday?). The boy is dressed in a shiny black leather jacket and jeans. The girl stroking his thigh (not in a gross way) wears a blonde ponytail, a red Indian looking scarf-thing and a black sweater. I’m no longer afraid of solitude- in fact quite the opposite; yesterday, I opted to stay home in a comfy sweater and finish reading ‘The Poisonwood Bible’ while eating take-out chaapli kabab, instead of going out clubbing with an old high-school semi-friend and his friends. We both stayed up till 3am. Sometimes I feel like my youth is passing me by (at only 19, whatajoke right?). But no, really. When I was 13, I was terrified that I’d spend my life alone. It’s not a very pleasant prospect even now. The girl has her hand against the boy’s cheek. He smiles up at her. Crow’s feet. They both laugh. Some female artist singing an indie-type song is on in the background. Now they both get up to leave. So does the middle-aged woman. Island.

What happens when a (almost) 20 year old has to live in the same room as her mum, in a big city

2011-10-20T19:19:00.000-07:00

1. Ma: Ami bolechi na? I don’t like this nightclub byapar. Go at 9.

Me: I asked Mohit already. He said that the dj only plays mixed tapes and the club is totally empty. No one’s there, and it’s true. Anyway, I’m 20, I earn, I do the dishes-

Ma: No you don’t.

Me: *ignoring her* AND I’m a 19 year old in a big city. OF COURSE I have to go clubbing at least once.

MA: I don’t even know who you’re going with

Me: You DO KNOW! Mohit!

Ma: Uff, I don’t KNOW him.

Me: Yes, you do. You’ve known him for five YEARS!

Ma: Yes. I never liked him. Kemon ekta mota ghyabla moton. Retest ditey eshechilo.

Me: You just saw him the one time! I can’t believe you’re being so superficial as to judge someone by their physical appearance! ALL the boys gave a retest for their preboards . Except Tony.

Ma: Na, I don’t like Mohit.

Me: You don’t even KNOW him!

2. Ma: You have to wash the dishes

Me: Ya, just give me two minutes

Ma: Na ekhon maajo na. Do what you have to do after that

Me: Arre, it’s just 2 minutes!

Ma: End e amakei maajte hobey

Me: Uff MA! Can you not just sit on the bed, relax? Just chill! You don’t always have to be doing stuff. You don’t always have to be standing!

Ma: Yes. Go wash the dishes, then I’ll sit

Me: No, you won’t. You’ll do other stuff. You’ll NEVER sit. You’ll ALWAYS be standing!

Ma: *pause* Shotti I tai. (It’s true)

3. Me: Yeah, Ma. Clearly, that is good parenting.

Ma: Don’t tell me about good parenting. Bolchi na, nightclub e jete hobey na

Me: Saying no to everything I want to do does not equal good parenting

Me: *looking at pimple in the mirror* I think I should put toothpaste on it.
Ma: What? Toothpaste? Why?!
Me: The internet said so and the internet know everything.
Ma: Kono din shunini. (Never heard it before). The only thing toothpaste is good for is burns. Soothing effect hoy.
Me: Na, bloody soothing effect hoy na!How would you even know?
Ma:*wisely* Haan, that is how you got through that plane flight.
Me: No, the bloody friggin 'soothing effect' isn't how I got through it. I got through it because I slept a lot and silently imagined burning you all slowly, in my head.

Ma: *rooting through books beside the fireplace?*: Kichu porar moto aache? (Is there anything worthy of reading?

*picks up 'Mist in The Mirror' Eta ki?

Me: It's a horror story. It's good.

Ma: *with incredulity* Horror Story?!!

Me: What?! It's a legitimate genre of fiction!

Aaaand this one’s been said before, but it’s so good, I have to say it again.

4. Me (while watching Koffee with Karan episode featuring Madhuri Dixit ): Ma, who are Deepika Padukone and Sonam Kapoor?

Ma: *very confidently* Madhuri Dixit er meye (M.D’s daughters)

5. *while watching me type this- I've begged off washing the dishes while I type this before I forget*

Ma: Ekhono tor du minute shesh holo na? (Are your 2 minutes not up yet?)

Me: Haan, ek second

Ma: Ekhon ek second!

Me: You can see it when I'm done

Ma: I don't want to see it, I want you to do the dishes.

Me: What is with the all consuming obsession with dishes?!

Thanksgiving

2011-10-10T21:05:00.000-07:00

MENU
ROASTED BUTTERNUT SQUASH SOUP
(excellent, creamy and just the right kind of filling)
BUTTERMILK BISCUT (quite tasty)
ROASTED TURKEY WITH APPLE ONION SAGE STUFFING
(better than i expected)
TURKEY GRAVY (much better than any other gravy i've had this side of the atlantic)
CRANBERRY SAUCE (excellent)
GARLIC MASHED POTATO (not bad- okay types)
FRESH VEGETABLES (fresh. carrots. beans. etc)
PUMPKIN PIE
(with whipped cream. lovely especially the crust. too sweet at the end, but otherwise delish)
$ 21.99 per Person
PEARTREE RESTAURANT (at 507 Parliament Street, Cabbagetown)

Me and Mum for dinner. So this Thanksgiving, I guess I'm very thankful for good food. :)

2011-10-05T20:04:00.000-07:00

"Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma - which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of other's opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary."

- Steve Jobs, RIP.

spewing

2011-09-19T11:52:00.000-07:00

I sort of want to abandon this blog, but I can't bring myself to do it. I'm in that odd sort of slump again, the one that resembles the vaguely annoying cousin that you're resigned to hang out with for n number of hours, since he's the only company you have at a party of adults. Somewhere along the way that metaphor got lost, bumped into walls and suffered a concussion.
Anyway.
There are ways. Meandering roads and dimly lit cafes, glitzy boutiques with names like Louis Vitton and Prada emblazoned across their walls. There are skinny Asian chicks with long black curtains of hair, a Gucci purse tucked under their leather jacket clad arm, and a Louis Vitton package dangling from a little finger. There is love and hate and the frustration that comes with a lack of space and privacy. There is Carrot juice and raspberries that go rotten within a day. There's a dull ache somewhere and a recognition of a small void. There's a new September TV schedule which brings back House, HIMYM and Gossip Girl (yes, i know >.<). There's Criminal Minds marathons every other night on television, and then there are vivid daydreams about Spencer Reid. There are cute greying, motion-impaired Italians and stuck up thong-wearing elegantly dressed Russians. There's a ruddy English guy with the accent who plays sports and pipettes with equal panache, and a Maria lookalike from SOM, who is about to get married. There are hosts of co-workers and a cushy cubicle without internet restrictions. There's my frayed bright neon green Benneton backpack which has a ginormous hole in it's side, and was my going away to college present from kuku-kuki. A dancing silver man on my spiral bound black notebook. Bison sausage on a bun with saute`ed onions and horseradish.A pair of raccoons scampering on my neighbour's balcony, looking up at me with alert beady eyes. Ignored online courses and an enticing Toronto calling out to me. Cramps and blinding migraines. The tattooes that I just can't seem to get.
This can't go on for much longer without me shooting myself. Life is good and kind of pointless right now. I should be really really happy but I've worn myself out. Stuff needs to change. And I need to snap out of whiny irritable self pity/loathing cuz they are so interchangeable. Longing for godknowswhat and waiting for godknowswhen. Snap out of it, you know? Where's the fucking motivation? Should I have just stayed back and become a stoner chick? SNAP OUT OF IT!

From Toronto, With love

2011-09-09T07:45:00.000-07:00

It's been a long, long time but you know that. I meant to write to you, Daff. Honestly, and truly I did. But I've been so caught up in just doing things and exploring and running all over the place, poking my head into places they clearly don't belong. It's wondrous, this freedom of being able to enjoy a place. To set off after a day of work to look around town and stare unabashedly at people, buildings, seagulls- did you know the first person I saw when I moved into my rather sketchy neighbourhood was a transvestite! She was dressed quite nicely but her being tall and burly sorta gave it away. I was Delighted, and mum nearly had an aneurysm. And then we passed a bunch of homeless people lolling on the grass, shirtless and smelling of weed. We went into this seedy looking Popeye's for lunch and in stumbles this drunk redheaded lady, her dress falling off and her breasts spilling out of her cheap black bra. She came in and kicked at the bathroom door, swearing like anything at the counter-people, who'd locked it and kept insisting that they didn't have a bathroom. She tripped over close to me and I held my breath, a little terrified and a little excited. Then she stalked off calling em sons of bitches. After that we crossed a BDSM shop and a bunch of sex shops- God, Daff, it's the funniest thing. Our house is located on this intersection-Sherbourne and Dundas. So right next to our house is this shabby huge cafe called True Love Cafe, replete with pink hearts and advertising 'Lovely Sexy Milkshakes'. Right opposite that is a church and about a few yards away is Filmore's Strip Club. It has those broadway bulbs blinking all night and says things like "When the sun goes down, and things get hazy. Good girls go bad, and the night gets crazy". I kinda want to go, you know. I mean, how many times am I going to be in the city at 19 years old, Right downtown? But I can't figure out whom to ask to come with me, who wouldn't be too freaked out and think I was a pervert or something.
Anyway, I'd better get back to work. I'll write to you soon. Tell you about the pigmy fairy sword juggling acrobat on the street. Not a joke.
Love and 'lovely sexy' hugs.
Rai

going home post- 2011

2011-08-09T19:31:00.000-07:00

so, i'd say "fuck you bitches, i'm going home", like last time. but i've actually grown to like quite a few of you this time around. so i guess i'll just settle for a resounding BUH-BYE BITCHEZ. i leave in a little more than a day. ohmyfreakinggod, if my smile got any wider, it would tear roads apart.

figures that the 100th post would be thought-rambling. happy century bloggay, i love you

2011-07-24T08:35:00.000-07:00

to have a kid is sort of a marginally terrifying concept. for one thing, i dont believe that unconditional love exists. all love is conditional. parents' love- the good ones, that is- probably stretches beyond its limits for the most part but still. i'm terrified of having a kid for a multitude of reasons.for instance- what would i do if i had a kid who didn't read? a kid who didn't like music or a kid who only liked top 40? the other day i was talking to a classmate and i asked her what kinda music she was into. her reply was something along the lines of..."i dunno. whatever's on the radio i guess. i don't really have one". i can have friends who are that way but never really identify with them. but if i had a kid who was like that i couldn't really segregate them into "nice but nah" into my head. what if i had a kid who was mean? just plain all out mean. or one without a sense of humour. or dumb? it's scary. apart from all the ways in which you'd probably fuck up your kid, there's all the ways that they will find to fuck you up. what if i had a kid who was into mindless gossip. who didn't like webcomics, who didn't like sports, who didn't like leather sofas or the wonderful feeling of sinking into a plush bed with crisp white linen sheets and plump fluffy pillows? what if i had a kid without feelings, without imagination? what if i had a dull boring kid? who didn't have dreams but cared only about money? what if (s)he was average? and content with mediocrity? it's so terrifying, i almost understand the concept of designer babies, perverse as it is. it's incredible to think about, but somehow the world has been carrying on this way unremarkably for ages. inconspicuously. parents pumping out kids who then pump out their own kids. and the world keeps spinning on its axis, with the exception of the few parents who freeze/ burn/ kill their kids. but i'm not assuming that they're sane, so they don't really count. it's crazy really, when i think about it. how on earth did my parents manage to love me through all the times that i was a disappointment to their hopes and dreams, or what they thought was apt, or ...i dunno. it's nuts. just madly madly nuts. if i were to have a kid, i would love to be there for them always. to introduce them to harry potter and roald dahl, and lemony snicket and watch their eyes sparkle. i would love to see them sit in a corner, absorbed in a book, forgetting time and place and the need to do Anything else. i should love to see them be rational and logical, winning debates. i would be there each time my kid scraped his knees, falling off a tree. and i would applaud as he kept running a race with bleeding knees just because he was obstinate enough to do so. i would bake them the world's most chocolatey melted fudge cake and curse the loser who dumped them. and i would bleed quiet tears for them inside my heart. i'd talk to them about politics and tell them about the glorious indian freedom struggle. i'd introduce them to the horrors of the holocaust and make them watch schindler's list. i'd see them realize that adverse conditions bring out the essential goodness in even the most self absorbed human beings. i'd nourish their faith in innate goodness of humanity and i'd rejoice as they went about life being decent caring individuals. i'd take them to the beach and we'd make sandcastles, and watch them be swept away by the tide. i'd explain how time changes everything and one of the saddest and the best parts of life was that nothing is static, everything is fluid. i'd push them on the swing and scare them enough so that they didn't try to leap out of it and break their heads. i'd push them through the boring, the frustratingly mundane aspects of student life. i'd teach them to view education and good grades as keys and tools to a better life. i'd try to make sure that they were educated in the truest sense of the term. i'd like to see them nurse an intense love for a subject and grow up to pursue it. i'd take them travelling on a whim. we'd run off to dusty roads and trail paths in little lost beaches, stopping for ice cream along the way. we'd get a beautifully mischievous dog and romp around with it in the backyard. i'd watch them grow up and hope that they wouldn't grow away. i'd watch gilmore girls and friends with them. i'd hope that they would teach me new things. i'd hope that they would understand that i was imperfect but i was only doing my best and that i loved them very much inspite of it all. i'd try to keep my temper and never ever strike them. if i ever did, i'd hope that they'd forgive me. and i would make it up to them a thousandfold. in all this, i'd hope that when they grew up, we wouldn't grow apart. and i'd hope that they'd love me as a person and not just as mum. i'd love to have kids for the love of all this stuff, but that's the easy part, innit? i'd want to not give up working for any longer than absolutely necessary. i'd want to travel as much as i could. i'd want to keep being a nomad, and in the way that i was brought up, i'd hope that my kids could find a way to put down roots, despite travelling and meeting a hundred different types of people. i'd want to work in different places and see the world as much as i could and do as much as i could with the tiny insignificant body i've been given. how to reconcile being a mother and a nomad?
i don't know. but i hope that one day i'll be able to do it.

2011-07-18T13:29:00.000-07:00

Canada and spring have been terrible influences on me. I've become so used to the "toodle-o" kind of cheeriness and the raised sunshiny Timmy's tone, that I find it hard to be angsty on my blog anymore. Or at least, I'm so generally tired out by all the running around and doing this and that, that I'm too tired to be properly angsty about it all. Out angst-ed by my own angst. Egad!
And you thought I was going to make sense. :)

Outdated

2011-07-10T06:35:00.000-07:00

dark chocolate.
kalbaisakhi.
getting drenched.
pudina hajmola.
soft kisses,near misses.
streaks of blue.
moods and hues.
sugar intolerance.
competetively psychotic.
rationally erratic.
Thunderstorms, D&G.
Guns n Roses.
chronic nobility complex.
genetically moonstruck.
rambles.
brambles.
peoplewhomakemylifemakesense=♥
new-book-induced adrenaline.
scribbles. giggles.
ami.

This used to be my facebook 'about me'. today- one swift sweep of the mouse. delete. :)

This be the Verse aka What terrifies me about having kids

2011-07-01T15:38:00.000-07:00

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
  They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
  And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
  By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
  And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
  It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
  And don't have any kids yourself.

- Philip Larkin

2011-06-25T10:08:00.000-07:00

Sad Steve is back! Sad Steve is back! Sad Steve is back! And in case any of you don't know who or what that is, he is this awesomeness right here.
Also, I just discovered Arcade Fire. Be jealous, bitches. Of course, other than that my life sucks massive balls right now, but who's counting, eh?

Update 1.0

2011-06-19T16:33:00.000-07:00

It's been quite a while since I've been able to write properly. Nose-deep in work and interviews and whatnot..the crazy roller-coaster that Waterloo is, has definitely taken a toll on my blog. So an update of sorts is in order.
a) As of September 2011 I shall be working as a Research Assistant at the lab of Dr. Andras Nagy at Mount Sinai Hospital in Toronto. The work involves a Cre-X-Mice database and stem cell research. This is awesome on so many levels that it is hard to know where to begin. Working with the team of a world renowned scientist who's been on the Scientific American Top Ten Honor Roll with the likes of Barack Obama and Bill Gates may just be the cherry on top of a potentially degenerative disease curing- ice-cream sundae.
Living in friggin Toronto! More and more, I'm starting to view Canada as a foreign vacation spot. This may have something to do with the fact that I'm not stuck inside my 2 by 4 room all day anymore, heh.
b) I went to my first music festival this weekend- the Burlington Sound of Music. A ton of really great Canadian artists and bands turned up including Ladies of the Canyon, Tokyo Police Club and Hollerado. Men Without Hats, in case you've heard of the Safety Dance. First official staying over for the weekend at non desi house. Meeting the fam and everything.
Highlight- my friend's adorable huge ass black border collie, Ringo who would Not stop sticking his face into my crotch. WHY do dogs do that? Very loud phone conversation with my brother while my friend was in the kitchen, preparing pancakes for me and totally heard him go , "So have the maple leaf people lynched you yet? Are you sleeping in the maid's room? But...they're white!" Steak sauce and barbeque, touching a GORGEOUS yellow python. We were walking down the street for the street festival and spotted these two hefty tattoed bearded men walking along with snakes curled on their arm. Ran after them and they allowed us to stroke their snakes. I'd always thought that snakes would feel slimy and clammy but they felt soft and leathery. I definitely want a snake as a pet now. Mmm...hippie lady at the carnival giving us sage advice about life in general and selling recycled shorts- they're stitched together from bits of upholstery, t-shirts, couches, pants etc. I absolutely LOVED the idea and wanted to get them, but in light of my recent revelation- which is that I have far too many clothes and I shouldn't be wasting money on any more when so many people have nothing; I now only spend money on food and education- I stayed strong and didn't buy any (I definitely botched up the punctuation on that sentence). Anyway, so Linds got inspired and bought hippie shorts much to the horror of her family, especially her preppy mum who kept going "Oh Lindsey!" She's normally a very put together preppy kinda girl herself so when she whipped out her Parisian beret thing, her dad very nearly had a fit. Heh, my work was done.
c) In related lame news, I seem to have built up my tolerance for alcohol. Vodka shots do nothing whatsoever to put me in 'high spirits' but I wake up the morning after with a hangover. WTF
d) I've started volunteering at the Cancer Centre of the KW Hospital, and I feel great about it. I think it's one of the few unselfish things I've done in my life, and I feel GREAT about it. Interacting with older folks who are so weak and helpless, and suffering from everything from hemorrhages to cancer, and being able to brighten their day or help them out even a smidge, makes me feel like I'm doing something worthwhile. Mum thinks it's going to be emotionally heavy, but I plan to keep at it for now at least.
e) I'm trying to come up with an alternative to printing out lecture slides and annotating them. The sheer wastefulness of it all really horrifies me, and I'm kinda sure that UW alone is responsible for deforesting a couple forests each year. Please- suggestions if any. Dragging your laptop to class is one- which I do- but it's impossible to do it for chem cuz of the graphs and equations etc.
f) I love my best friends. Really.
g) I'm going to Calcutta very very soon! August 11th to be precise. :D :D :D

Now that my hell week of midterms is over....I have more coming up .....aargh. There's more to say but I feel like I've bored y'all enough with mundane details. My writing's kinda fallen by the wayside now. Have a good week. Love and luck and peace to y'all

observation

2011-06-14T06:37:00.000-07:00

it is strangely heartening to notice that most of the webcomics i love are conjured up by canadian names. :) i might not like the national anthem, but i like the way you think.

2011-06-12T08:48:00.000-07:00

Favourite Led Zeppelin song by far. Yes, I know it's not an original, but they do it SO well. It doesn't feel over produced and has this incredible sort of rawness while retaining the musica- you know what? I don't want to deconstruct it. Beauty, ladies and gentlemen- can be described but never come close to the essence of the real thing.

Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard. Oh take me back to the start

2011-06-08T15:13:00.001-07:00

So not only did I not get fired at work (which I would have been secretly relieved at), I'm Superhero of the Week at the Front Desk.

Bizarre.

I've never felt less like a superhero in my life.

2011-05-29T05:31:00.000-07:00

Linds: N-E-Ways...Biochem makes spiders look cuddly, no?
Me: Please. Biochem makes the rampaging hormonal lovechild of a grizzly and an alligator look cuddly.

2011-05-19T21:33:00.000-07:00

Missing: Mojo
If found, please return.
Reward: Chocolate brownies and a mean honey-ginger chicken

2011-04-16T22:57:00.000-07:00

*Late at night*
Ma: Tui ki bichanaa'r chaador jherechish?
Me: Hyaan.
Ma: Ekhono kutkut korche.
Me: Haath diye er beshi jhara jay na! Jhaarte hole jhaata keno!
Ma: *making waving hand motions* Emni kore chaador ta tule tule jhaarbi!
Me: Ota ki lungi??
Ma: Tui kaar abaar lungi uthiyechis????

2011-04-11T20:35:00.000-07:00

She had been having vivid dreams for the major part of the month. Some days, if she was lucky she did not remember the dreams as she woke up. Other days she woke up tumbling from an alternate realm, clutching in relief at reality. The dreams were disturbing, they were recurrent and they were always scenarios that could happen in a psychopath's twisted sick visions. They involved people close to her and random fragments that peopled her memories. They shifted and heaved throughout the night, and never did she arise feeling well rested. She had been eating her dinner by 8, going to work and watching funny sitcoms. It was a fairly uneventful time in her life, where nothing really extraordinary or dramatic occurred. So tonight, she decided to watch something disturbing. She put on Girl, Interrupted and identified with Lisa being dead inside, Suzanna trying to fill the monster within her, and the deep fear that everything was meaningless. Then she turned off the lights and slipped into bed.

Fond memories of my brother, the Brat

2011-04-02T16:57:00.000-07:00

* Ma, Baba, Bhai, and me sleeping in our luxurious hotel room in Cyprus. Ma and Baba all cosy in the big poofy hotel bed and me and Bhai in the sofa-bed pull-out. Bhai is a VERY clingy sleeper- when he was young(er) him and Baba used to curl up like caterpillars and sleep. Ma requires her own space to sleep, though she would always put her hand on my thigh when I was a kid and used to sleep beside her. I take personal space to a whole new level. I cannot BEAR it if somebody is even touching me; I require the illusion of vaaaaaast space to stretch out. But I like having someone beside me I can lean against. Yes, I know the blatant hypocrisy. Anyway, so that night Bhai wound his legs around me, put his arms around my neck and clung on fast in his sleep, while I wrestled with him and freed myself only to have him do it again 5 minutes later. So I tried futilely to kick my poor brother away rather viciously, while retreating to my side in a mad attempt to eke out some smidgeon of space. And Bhai kept edging closer and closer. This simply could not go on, I decided. Being VERY inspired by Enid Blyton and Mallory Towers, my 12 year old brain formulated a plan. I went to the bathroom, took a towel and ran it under the tap until it was soaking wet. Then I crept back into bed and wrung out the water on my blissfully unaware brother’s face. I threw it under the bed as he woke up sputtering and going, “I’m drowning!” Ma woke up and told him to calm down- “You’re dreaming! Go back to sleep” Bhai ponders this advice and then bursts out- “BUT MY FACE IS WET!” Obviously, I got caught, but I was a very self satisfied criminal. Take that Bhai!

* At the kitchen table in Dubai, one night during dinner

Bhai: Samarth’s father is Ronaldo!

Me: I thought you said he was Ronaldinho.

Bhai: Sometimes he is. He is RONALDO AND RONALDINHO!

This is during the FIFA World Cup in 2002, where Brazil support is at fever pitch and we blast “Braaasiiiiiiil! Arararara!” in the car everytime we’re in it. Ma and I actively supported his delusion for a while just cuz he was that darn cute.

* Another instance at the dinner table

Bhai holding up his squash: My potol is leaking!

* Me and Bhai re-enacting Lion King. No specific age for this, since we did it up until a little while ago.

Me (hanging over the edge of the bed- well technically on my skinny knees cuz my legs at that point do not belong to a toddler) : Scar! Brother! Help meeeee

Bhai (crouched on the bed, digging his nails into my hands) : Long. Live. The. King.

*he unclasps my hands*

Me (flailing my arms around and looking at him in shock and despair) : AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Bhai: Heeheeeheee!

Me: Wanna do it again? You be Mufasa, I’ll be Scar.

Bhai: OKAY!

* Bhai and Ma are in an auto full of people, whizzing along the streets of Calcutta. He is somewhere around 5 years old. Suddenly,

Bhai (pointing excitedly at something): MA! GORILLA! GORILLA!

Ma looks out confused, along with the rest of the passengers and beholds- a cow.

* In Dubai- our family and Krishnakali aunty and Partha Uncle- all of us eating lunch at a café. Bhai is around 10 years old and missing his two front teeth. Suddenly,

Bhai: LOOK!

Everyone looks. Everyone: What?

Bhai: THAT GUY!

Everybody: Whaat?

Bhai *very gleefully*: HIS BUM! IT’S BIG!

Everybody: Ooookay.

Bhai * very very happily displaying his missing teeth and beaming* : HIS ASS IS HUUUUUUUUUGE!

Note: My brother is very much alive and everything. Only, he turned 15 this March 3rd and it's getting harder to believe that he was once this sweet little baby boy. Today he is a very intelligent politically inclined, sports fanatic, articulate brusque teenager. 15! Every time I realize he's 15, I have a minor heart attack. At 14 I was dating my first boyfriend and falling in stupid love. At 15, I thought I knew it all- as undoubtedly so does he. Of course, he is a lot less meek than I was, and can be a lot more scary and set in his opinions than the eager to please girl that I was at that age. The age difference between us is 4 and a half years but he treats me like I'm the younger one. There was a point earlier on in our lives when he used to copy everything I did- from my sense of humour to the pranks I pulled. That stage is long gone, and I remember being an absolutely HORRIBLE sister to him when we were younger. I did everything from bashing his 5 year old head against the floor to stuffing his mouth with a dupatta, tying his hands and legs to a chair and locking him in the verandah gleefully. Very willingly he complied with me in all this. Today, I can look back at my pathological 9 year old self and laugh or be horrified, but I cannot help wishing he was born when I was a bit older, so that I could have appreciated him as a baby, rather than view him as competition. Somehow, God only knows why- he does Not hate me, and we have a pretty healthy relationship. Living in another continent doesn't exactly foster closeness, though I really wish we were as close as pea-pods. Being very reluctant to grow up, I played pretend games long after he grew out of them, and I can remember many enjoyable afternoons spent building trains with cartons and tents, going on voyages on mighty ships and getting shipwrecked on deserted islands. Then came the bubble baths and cricket cards. Made up games for the backseat of the car- rock-paper-scissor, lady-hunter-tiger,fire-water-lady, hand-chess, zoom, antakshari. Then WWF, then Life with Louie and Drake and Josh and Naturally Sadie and Life with Derek and Black Hole High. Then coming to India, being miserable, being sick, constant fighting, then unexpected support in the form of a mail to SJB, when I was heartbroken during the ugly time. Then the move to Canada and barely staying in touch, being dismayed to find it matter of fact-ly easy. It's strange. You spend your life growing up with someone, fighting over food, the remote, clothes, everything, and then when you go off to university, you miss them but not nearly as much as you expected. And it's mutual. So either my family is heartless, or life is just plain weird. But then there are those moments when you really Long for your sibling, miss sharing a joke or ganging up against the grown-ups, resolving a fight together, squaring up in the face of parental conflict, comparing popularity and friend-lists. My brother has amazed me, annoyed the constipated crap out of me, brought out murderous tendencies, hurt me, stood up for me, beaten me up, and made me laugh till my jaws ached. He has given me company for 15 years and I am truly blessed and grateful to have this spoilt Brat in my life.

P.S- If you've read till here, I salute you. This was a random urge to put it down-post. May have something to do with the general happiness today or to do with The Mad Momma's blog.

2011-04-02T11:26:00.000-07:00

WORLD FREAKING CUP BABY! FUCK YEAH. YEAH YEAH YEAAAAAAAAH! SUCK THAT UP, AUSSIES IN 2003! HELL YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH :D ;D :D

Saturday mornings make it Soooo hard to get out of bed

2011-04-02T08:51:00.000-07:00

1) Nouvelle Vague- Dance with me, This is not a love song

2) Norwegian Wood- Haruki Murakami. Maybe someday I will name my daughter Midori, only I know someone who has named her cat that, so.

3)Raske bhare tore nain- Ustad Barkat Ali Khan
4)Broken- Lifehouse. (Canada beginning hystericalmelodramaticsong)

4) Sing again?

5)Cook honey garlic/chilli chicken and/or egg do piazza, mustard mayo dip

6) Keep up with India Srilanka finals score. Was watching match since I woke up to the sound of India's innings, but then Sehwag got out, and people kept getting out so I followed the old superstition and stopped watching. Last I checked no more people had gotten out, so I guess it's working?
-Just checked again. Whatthefuckiswrongwithlivecricketstreaming?! Aaaaargh
7) Poetry- Auden. Must.

Mother of God!

2011-03-23T18:43:00.000-07:00

Today my mother tried to stab me with a knife. Accidentally she says. This was after she came home with frostnip in her feet, after standing in the snow for an hour. She kept going " OH GOD OHGOD OHGOD", while vehemently refusing assistance or 911. A couple of days ago she cut the vein in her hand and proceeded to spurt blood for an hour, completely soaking through the cotton and bandages I was trying to clamp against the blood-wound. Accidentally while chopping vegetables. And then she refused to call 911. She keeps commenting on the frequency of the buses that pass on the road outside our window with a sense of amazement that would be more appropriate when in the presence of the Dalai Lama. I always knew that I got my retardedness from somewhere but I'm beginning to wonder if I should be scared.

2011-03-20T02:37:00.001-07:00

Monsoon Wedding is full of all kinds of awesome. You cannot Help dancing in your head and in your seat when Aaja nachle ni nachle comes on. Catch me if you can is also a recent favorite. And while we're on culture, Room by Emma Donoghue is pretty damn brilliant. I've never come across a more endearing or loveable protagonist in my life. Meltedy spoon is now my new favourite word. I may just even call my first born that, just for the pleasure of saying it aloud often. Downtown Guelph is full of all sorts of cool stuff. Went exploring with Ma today instead of sitting at home eating and zoning out on House like the usual. Came across these freaking awesome boho/ hippie/ hemp shops with feathers and printed dresses, pretty bags and buddhas and incense. Harmony has THE most fantabulous dresses but at 38 dollars you've gotta be either Blair Waldorf or very very generous with your money. Me being neither and still possessed by the urge to go boho, I went on my first consignment store shopping expedition. Wild Rose turned out to be a complete disaster. The clothes were odd, shiny and fluorescent. Utterly unattractive, and the place itself was dingy and shabby. The only happy customer I saw there was this black chick with a wonderful Jamaican accent who positively Preened in a shiny green horror of a dress. She's going to wear it to the formal, God help her. From there went on to discover Meow. So as I'm entering, I see that the door is pink and has pink cats on it. I enter and I'm greeted by this Victorian teashop atmosphere- stuffy and full of pink cats reminiscent of Umbridge's study from Harry Potter. BUT I swallowed my distaste and climbed down the stairs....into wonderland. I kid you not. It has the most Beautiful collection of dresses and skirts and tops. I touched the tip of the iceberg today and came away with one gorgeous red and white spring dress that I cannot wait to wear. It has these hideous white ribbony things holding it up but I'm going to tie it up as a halter, and voila- problem solved. Yes, my inventiveness amazes me too. Other discoveries- one Wong's Diner which sells an obscenely huge lunch combo with egg roll, chicken chow mein, chicken fried rice and sweet and sour pork, all for the low price of 4.89. I don't get it. HOW? And WHY? Also Ma took me to Bookshelf which was quite wonderful. I want this graphic novel, Blanket. It's supposed to be seminal, and I really loved the cover . Also Scar Tissue and The Handmaid's Tale. Not enough money, but I'm going back to Meow very very soon. My heart bleeds when I buy clothes instead of books but Ma keeps reminding me of the bookshelf in Calcutta which is barely holding itself together under the weight of all the dusty books. I despise ebooks, and I can't watch any more movies tonight. Julie and Julia and MW have filled my quota for the night. I think I'm going to hit the sack. It's 5.36 am and it's Sunday tomorrow. I can lie in bed reading The Light Fantastic by Terry Pratchett. Goodnight world.

Deconstruction

2011-03-15T21:04:00.000-07:00

"I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale

I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet
Lead her up the stairwell"

3 years ago

one girl crouched on a carton in the spare room, cradling a cordless phone in her hand.

"I love you"

*pause* just the sound of the waves as they crash against the shore and one boy struggling to keep his voice from cracking

"Hey....it's going to be fine."

"Yeah..yeah, stop crying sweetie"

"You stop first!"

*pause* the boy catches his breath and finds the words

"I want to see you."

she hesitates. her parents are in the next room packing up her life in soul less grey suitcases. she is only 15.

"I'll meet you at the back of the building."

she runs out, not bothering to make an excuse. hopefully by the time they notice that she's missing she'll be on her way back up in the elevator with a pack of chewing gum.

he is waiting and she sees him at once. she throws herself into a hug. as she melts in his arms, she feels certain that this is exactly where she is supposed to be. they kiss. he tastes sweet- of seven-up and longing. she looks into his eyes as she says what he cannot put into words and runs back into the building, thankful that they got the chance to have a proper goodbye.

3 months later

one girl crouched in the verandah of her house cradling a phone in her hand, struggling to catch her breath under a suddenly claustrophobic night sky

"i kissed her"

this time she can't restrain the sob

"i don't care okay? that's how crazy i am about you. i can't lose you over something as stupid as this"

"you have to move on"

disbelief battles with hope and then she hangs up, hating herself

"Holding on, the days drag on

Stupid girl, I should have known
I should have known"

2 years ago

one girl pacing in her grandma's bedroom one winter afternoon cradling a phone in her hand trying her best to swallow rage and grief

"if you'd just let me explain!"

"i really can't talk to you right now! i have an exam tomorrow and i can't deal with this."

"you don't know the full story! please, just give me a minute"

the only answer she receives is the dead flat dialtone of the phone.

the maid enters the room- "what happened? "

"nothing, come" hastily she pulls her lips into a smile and leaves the room to sample pickle and chat

"This ain't Hollywood, this is a small town

I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it's too late for you and your white horse, to come around"

today

they pass each other in a crowded library. he has his girlfriend at his side, she's on her cell phone talking to her best friends. they exchange perfunctory smiles, a how do you do and then walk off in opposite directions. indifference is the emotion of choice.

The Big Three, and then some.

2011-03-08T20:06:00.000-08:00

Today draws to a close, uneventful for the most part. It was International Women's Day today though, and being somewhat of a feminist at heart (and of late, at tongue even), I can't let it slip by without acknowledging some of the most kick-ass people I know.

Ma- i wouldn't be exaggerating if i said i owe her my life- doubly so. i mean firstly, labour is about as painful and enlightening as getting your hand sawed open with a rusty blade while himesh reshammiya serenades you. also she figured out my suicidal tendencies and abandoned her dahi-phuchka at v.p to hunt down my birthday-celebrating, patient-fleeing, gone-into-hiding doctor, and say "DELIVER THIS CHILD!" infuriating, bangali spiritual snob, lover of all things rabindranath, stubborn as a mule about politeness and hospitality even to s.o.b's, the most fantastic "a little here, a little there" cook, self sacrificing- my mother was never an ambitious woman. but she's built up her career time and time again after carelessly giving it up for family. she's been a daughter, a wife, a mother, a friend, a lecturer, a teacher and currently she's reinvented herself as manager of an art gallery. mum is proof that no matter how many times you've been knocked down, you can always get back up and kick em in the nuts- all in a dignified and modest moddhobitto bengali way.

Trisha- it's been barely two years since i met the intimidating woman with spectacles perched carelessly on her button nose, waves pulled into a pony tail and big eyes that seemed at once intelligent and bored. i could never have predicted that we'd wind up wife and wife, but i am so unbelievably glad that we did. black belt in karate, soon to be published author, bharatnatyam someshit, director of a play, lover of blood, gore and comic relief, witty, sarcastic and a total bitch- she looks freakishly impressive on paper. what i think is more impressive though, is that from time to time i get to say to her, "make me a sammich, bitch"

Piu- rabid woman that she is, i figured she was a vacuous skinny chick when i first met her. then she got with the poster boy of our college class in the days of yore and i didn't know what to make of her. in what has got to be the weirdest start to a friendship ever, our friendship was cemented over transatlantic post breakup phone calls between relative strangers. piu was born to be an earth mother. lover of all things furry, surprisingly smart and intuitive, creative, inclined to 'older' professorial fantasies, unnecessarily graphic about hygiene and bodily functions, theatrical tendencies- both on and off stage, fantastic cook, fellow pre-birth suicidal soul sister- she's the number one thing i need to thank trisha for.

So my eyes are rebelling at the lateness of the hour and writing about the three of them has been easy considering I spend at least one one third of my life talking to them. However there are other equally wonderful ladies whom I absolutely must mention cuz they teach me everyday how to be a successful woman.

Upasana- for being the quirky intelligent adorable bundle that she is. one total surprise of a person, that woman was. begone all you south point preconceived notions.

Mishtu- for just being her. in a way that i cannot really explain she makes me believe in happiness and contentment by just being herself. i wish we'd had the chance to hang out properly and get to know each other better, but i'm definitely glad to have met her. she contributes beauty to my world and proves that small packages can pack subtle but powerful punches.

Karishma- whom i do not know but wish i did. one of my favourite bloggers out there, wonderfully positive and introspective (which seems like a contradiction), and freaking smart- i mean dude. the woman's a doctor.

ShY- whom i named, who can be my turn-to frenemy, who is capable of writing beautifully haunting poetry, who bubbles over with gossip and giggles, who can put herself out there with astounding ease, and who has graduated from being one of the guys to being disgustingly mushily in love and loving it.

Rhia- okay, so she's not a woman yet. but she is friggin adorable and precocious and beautiful and intelligent. no, really. my baby sister bestest! :)

Annu- for being wise, calm, grounded, perceptive, non-judgemental- all while holding fast to her faith

Soumya- for rolling her eyes at the "goofy guys" and making getting thrown out of class fun. because she was my angel, and because she could be anyone's.

Sakku- for "main jahaan rahoon", for being sweet and utterly uncomplicated, and for genuinely caring in her own way. for always picking up where we left off, whether it's been a week or half a year. for proving that we never really grow out of our best school friends.

Sabitha ma'am, Chitra ma'am, Anisha ma'am, Mrs. Gomes, Mrs. Sengupta- for being so much more than teachers, for imparting life lessons, for making an impact on your student that has lasted far beyond school and classes, and above all for truly caring.

My grandmothers- whom I love to bits and pieces and even more, whose reserves of strength, vitality and compassion continue to astound and inspire me.

There's always something happening

2011-02-28T21:32:00.000-08:00

Things have been kinda mellow lately. I've been learning to cook and enjoying it. Yesterday amid conversations with Piu, wailing over superhuman Rhodes scholars and my utter lack of anything that qualifies as an official 'outdoor activity', I decided to try my hand at making deemer daalna (egg curry). It turned out to be quite edible, a beautiful reddish-yellow colour and (Gasp!) tasty at that. Inspired by my success I went on to make Achaari Chicken without oh, say 3 or 4 of the main ingredients. It wasn't as khatta as it should have been, but it was pretty damn fine- my mommy said so! Feeling very self satisfied I deposited myself in front of the computer and busied myself with checking out previous Rhodes scholar biographies and fb-chatting with Tony. A few minutes later my smug smile had slunk off with its tail between its legs and I was making hysterical declarations like "What. The...HOW can she possibly be a neurosurgeon and still have the time to open clinics in the Himalayas and go canoeing?! How does ANYBODY have the MONEY to open a clinic?!" Tony as usual was saying soothing things like " i dunno O.O" while probably watching Bleach. After frantically searching for a bit I discovered with great relief that my university has various Sports Clubs, some of which happen to be free! Apparently ballroom dancing is a sport, as is outers and parkour. I got excited about Judo and my enthusiasm was cruelly squelched, yes squelched, by Tony. He was like, "Can't you choose something that doesn't brand you as a lesbian?" After giggling incredulously for a bit I made the only logical response to this statement- "Huh? How?" According to him all that grappling in various positions is slightly suspect. Sooo Judo's off the list. I'm contemplating taking up running again, and perhaps ballroom dancing- if I can pluck up the courage to inflict myself and my two left feet upon my unsuspecting partner. Yeah, that's right. I'll be a very zen athletic, cooking, cancer-centre volunteering molecular biologist.

Moral(s) of the story: Smugness is never profitable. Free will is an Enormous deal. George Orwell is a badass. There is nothing quite like listening to Devendra Banhart go spanish on your ass while Natalie Portman dances with a hairy bellied man in a Sita costume. Err Portman that is, not the man.

2011-02-27T20:12:00.000-08:00

Some things just make you feel warm and squishy inside. Like this

And this

Valentine's Day

2011-02-12T07:35:00.000-08:00

So most years for some vague conspiracy-theory reason, I'm always single on Valentine's Day. With the exception of a certain year when I was fourteen and on D-Day I picked up the phone and whispered my own version of sweet nothings to my beloved Sucky Jocky Boy.
SJB: Hey...so since yesterday I can't stop thinking about you
RGD: Oh. Um, well my mum found out about us soooo we have to break up now. Happy Valentine's daaay!
Ever since then it's been a slippery slope. Divine retribution? Oh well.
Last year I actually watched Valentine's Day on Valentine's day. Three hours later I was weeping to Piu about how pathetic my life was and how I'd always be alone, and maybe somewhere along the way get a dozen cats. Well, I have one now so the wheels have been set in motion.
Later in the day I was at a Toronto club being groped inappropriately by random mostly drunk men, who kept going up to SJB (who was valiantly trying to protect the izzat of Future Manipulative Girlfriend and I. Aww, in hindsight, poor SJB. Awkward.) Anyway so there he was balancing two girls on each arm and there they were, the men circling like sharks and occasionally surfacing to mutter things like "How's it fair ya got two?! Gimme a call when yuh done wid em!" So charming.
2009, I was "striking arrows through the heart of Would-be-knight" (this is verbatim) by confessing my inability to get over SJB despite his being a sucky jock boy doing typically sucky jock things and giving me mixed signals- sample the "Call me when you're sober episode".
2007and 2008, I was deliriously happy with SJB. A month later I was flying away-as they say- forever to India.
And before all this I was a bhalo bachha with secret cat-lady-fears and my parents were scolding me for rebelling by pulling stunts like not studying. Hahaha parents, haha.

So predictably, this year I'm single again. I had actually forgotten about it till Tony felt the need to remind of the upcoming pink day. Today I'm going out for sushi with a friend and on the actual day I have work to keep me busy. BUT it did make me want to do this for no good reason except that I felt like it:

LOVE

Hash and Anju

the wife, the spice and I

bhai

sleepovers

the only place where tess and lennon meet

baby love

grade 11and friends who made the world go round

teachers who were more

i feel the love, oh yes

summer afternoons

trisha's surprise birthday lunch- piu's cooking

an entire day spent doing nothing and quite spectacularly may i add

dubai dreams

when we were young

2011-02-06T21:10:00.000-08:00

Reading- Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk. It is quite strange and grotesque. Not sure whether I should finish it or not.
Watched- Nought, the short film. Full of weird foreboding and strange feelings. Had nightmares about Pansy molester guy and sharks and people being upset at me.
Watching- House after I discovered a box set just lying around, surprises abound in my new abode =)
Ate- Mangsho-bhaath (mutton curry and rice), daal, baingan bharta and chicken
Listening to- Salvation by Scanners, Three Wishes by the Pierces and Believe by The Bravery
Discovered- that cute Arts boy reads and quickly stole Faust and Do Androids dream of Electric Sheep from him
Writing- Application forms *sigh*
I love this header picture,by the way. It is one of my favourites that I have clicked. It belongs to that sweet summer period at the beginning of Jude. Summer '09 :)

No amount of coffee, no amount of crying, No amount of whisky, no amount of wine

2011-01-24T18:53:00.000-08:00

It is the particular trademark of writers that they imbue the mundane, the everyday things with a quality of romance and state the unbelievable matter of factly.

It is in good writing and in the coloured thoughts of another that I seek solace again, and again. Amidst the pretty tinted lenses of Bollywood talk shows, their banter lending colour to my pale complexion and some life to tired eyes, a sudden burst of laughter that had dried to a trickle at the corner of my mouth- I spring to life for a few moments. Not the recommended amount, but perhaps enough to clutch on to living for now. I refused to watched "I Hate Luv Storys" when it released, preferring to spend my time instead with a friend, her dog and my almost-friend-again in the cool afternoon languor of her house. Puppy love peppered with ciggarette breaks, unhurried conversation and Coraline. What I miss about Calcutta and India- both meaning the same thing in my head- is not the frenzied rush to meet up at Aqua Java or chilling with cup after cup of endless lebu cha at VP, one day blurring into another as the days sped on by. I miss the quality of absolute belonging, the certainty in my heart-and I say this with a straight face- of being at home. Homesickness, I've discovered is not something that lessens with time. It dullens and then strikes you all of a sudden, when you thought you'd left it far behind.
So it happened, that after finally watching "I Hate Luv Storys" last night, I found myself longing for my workplace last summer, of all things. "Bin Tere" was a song that Pri Di was very fond off and it blared on and off as I performed my mad scientist feats with tissue culture. I find myself marooned, having joined a program so sure, so certain of my ambitions and future that I never could have predicted that I was cutting myself off from any possiblity of returning home or that it would matter this much. For a child who has only spent at the most 1 and a half years of her life in India, I have an extraordinarily large reaction to being away from it.
I've been reading Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie. The protagonist constantly veers between wondering desperately what the purpose of his life is and an inflated sense of self importance. Resemblance, much? Perhaps in another dimension, I'm an artsy hippie, who's finally learned to play the guitar and is attending the Doverlane music conference right now. Someday, I really really hope I'll know I got it right.

2011-01-19T16:09:00.000-08:00

What I've been doing:

1. Working. For pay. FOR PAY. In the government of Canada. Okay, so it's in the Agriculture and Food research sector, but the pay's not too shabby, the work is new and interesting and the boss is...well that brings me to
2. Having innapropriate thoughts about my supervisor. Attractive. Around 20 years older, complete with wife, shiny gold band on ring finger and 2 chubby babies who own pink fluffy princess outfits as evidenced by the pictures plastered in his office. GOD, I feel creepy.
3. Moving on from supervisor to younger but still non-single would be friend/firang . Let's just say all creatures from the basement are not icky.
4. Listening to massive amounts of David Gray. *Jumping Jesus, holy cow/ What's the difference anyhow/ Baby till your heart belongs to me/ Be mine, be mine*
5. Fighting and patching up with Piu and Trisha. For a while there I was contemplating the fb status change.
6. Reading. A lot. Indiscriminately. Here, I must beg you- if you're a woman- to pick up a copy of Backwards in High Heels and BUY it. Smart, touching, witty, funny- all in all, a wonderful wonderful book.
7. Taking care of Benji/Toby the cat. His name is actually Toby and he came with my new house. When I moved in initially and the other 5 students hadn't turned up yet, Toby was there, mewing and purring and twining around my legs affectionately. Starved of affection, lonely, attention-whore massive fighter cat that he was, I had to call him Something! My mum just kept going, "Beral! Aaai beral!" but I came up with Ben, which evolved to to Benji and when I'm feeling stern, Benjamin.
8. Worrying about the future. Confusion, crazy demands. Maybe I'll be a bag-lady.
9. Having raging headaches and perpetually tired eyes.
10. Polishing off entire CANS of babaganoush at a time.
11. Fighting with Ma-
12.- because she drives me nuts and makes me do unreasonable things like grocery shopping and fruit eating and tandoori chicken making. Also she seems to be bristling at the new realization that my declarations of never entering wedlock are entirely real. As a consequence of which she is proposing things like taking shombondho to the parents of a past boyfriend (the only one she liked and the one i dumped for chotolok). HAH! Good luck with that, Mum.
=)

Something different

2011-01-12T17:02:00.001-08:00

“So”, said Cujo, glowering at the terrified hobbit standing beside him, “I’m going to Australia maite. There ain’t no good sheep meat here”. The hobbit scurried off and returned with an odd bucket type of vessel- shaped like a turnip, and for no good reason at all, painted yellow. “Canary yellow!”, thought Cujo incredulously. They would do anything to make you cheerful here, terrified as they were of bad tempers and saying the wrong thing. Just yesterday he’d had a hard time shaking off the battalion of pointy nosed, bespectaled “Feel-gooders” that kept following him around the city suggesting things like a ‘nice cup of tea’, or an “inappropriately clothed nurse-with-questionable-morals fantasy”. When Cujo finally lost it and yelled at them to “Clear the frack off and leave him the hell alone!”, he thought they would weep. Grown men, at that! Now he stared at the bucket wondering what he was expected to do. Beside him the hobbit beamed. So Cujo glowered at him some more till the hobbit realized that Cujo wasn’t overjoyed or even rmotely elated. “Praxis!” , the hobbit squeaked as if this would make all things clear. “Your mother’s bloomers!”, growled an exasperated Cujo. “What IS it?” “This, sir- THIS is the QUASIHELIUMETTE.” Despite himself, Cujo was a little impressed. Finally, a unique invention, he thought. Laughing gas..maybe? “Well, what does it do?”, he finally asked as the hobbit continued to beam. “It’s a yellow turnip shaped bucket sir! It makes you laugh.” “How?” “Because it’s funny. A TURNIP shaped YELLOW bucket!Hahahaheehee” Pardon me sir, but I find it hard to control my laughter when I see it. Oh turnip! Haheehee!” “I would like”, Cujo said very slowly, “to go to bed.”

The next morning dawned bright and early, as mornings in general are wont to do. The sunbeams crept out of the sun’s nose and out of his every other orifice making their way into Cujo’s bed through the slit in his drawn curtains. Cujo was still dreaming when this happened. He was dreaming of his favourite things. For the most part this included the smell of freshly brewed coffee, his mother’s Mince Pot Pie, money turning up in unexpected places and Glen Harrison crying while his face turned interesting shades of purple and blue. Buried deep in the recesses of his mind was the burning desire to Do something- something spectacular. At the moment hwoever, this desire was masked by something even more urgent. “Godammit, I Need to pee!” Cursing his bladder for robbing him of a few extra minutes of slumber, Cujo woke up.

For an ex rockstar Cujo was an embarrassingly definite morning person. In the golden glow of the early morning sun, Cujo became almost…chirpy. Now having performed his bodily functions and groggily brushed his teeth, he was feeling the effects of his minty fresh breath and the cool crisp air. Then he realised that he shouldn’t be feeling any cool crisp air since he was inside the room. Cujo looked up and discovered a gaping hole in the ceiling. Though this partcular fissure could hardly be called a hole. It was a very neatly cut out square which was definitely not there when he went to sleep last night. Now Cujo stared up at the square not-a-hole and it gaped cheekily back at him as if to say, “Here I am! In all my glory! Hahahaheehee” As his mind filled up with “Hahahaheehee”s, Cujo’s temples filled up with a familiar sensation. It was one he had been facing ever since he’d arrived in this strange place filled with hobbits and not-a-holes. Cujo had a headache.

2010-12-31T16:32:00.000-08:00

Happy new year, y'all. Here's to one more shot to get it right, one more chance to turn it all around and one more year that falls under the category of interesting times.

2011, here we come. :)

2010-12-08T13:40:00.000-08:00

I live, I laugh. I turn into other people; mostly I stay me. Sometimes I absolutely refuse to turn into anything. I lie, I eat, I stuff my face with 2-bite brownies, I turn into a size 2. I have never been a size 2 in my life, I have never felt so asexual tape-wormish in my life. What is happening to my world? I let my books gather dust, I drag them around and dog-ear them, I rough-house but not once do I dig in. Organic is an ugly word. Your FACE is an ugly word. I run into memories. I turn this blog into whatever I want it to be. Of late, it seems to be going the same way 'Glee' is going- Downhill.

2010-11-23T20:44:00.001-08:00

It’s funny how the same person that can make you cringe and roll your eyes can also make you long for the safety of their embrace and the refuge of the nonsensical and funny. It’s funny what nostalgia and loneliness can do. How second-guessing becomes second nature. When the chinks in your armour show, and when people get too close for comfort- it’s funny how the very people who used to Be your armour are the ones you’d do anything to shield yourself from. Pity, surprise, remorse, relief. Emotional wastelands. This is just a collection of words, a feather of sighs and the sunset on a day satiated with emptiness. This is two bottles of Xanax and three hazelnut shots too much. This is the story of a life untold. Reversed. Repolarised. Redundant.

Borrowed words

2010-11-23T20:01:00.000-08:00

"Hold my head inside your hands
I need someone who understands
I need someone, someone who hears
For you, I've waited all these years
For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come
Until my day, my day is done
And say you'll come and set me free
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me"

"Things they do look awful c-c-cold (Talkin' 'bout my generation)

I hope I die before I get old"

"If there's a god up there

Something above
God shine your light down here
Shine on the love
Love of the loveless"

"Excuse me too busy you're writing your tragedy

These mishaps
You bubble-wrap
When you've no idea what you're like

So, let go, let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown"

"Dancin' where the stars go blue

Dancin' where the evening fell
Dancin' in your wooden shoes
In a wedding gown
Dancin' out on 7th street
Dancin' through the underground
Dancin' little marionette
Are you happy now?
Where do you go when you're lonely
Where do you go when you're blue
Where do you go when you're lonely
I'll follow you
When the stars go blue "

2010-11-11T17:52:00.000-08:00

Real life mimicking art/ entertainment mimicking real life?
I feel like so much of the conversation we have, or at least that I have with my friends or acquaintances or you know- people with half a brain, seems like it could belong in a sitcom. With a laugh-track thrown in. The witty comments, the hilariously dumb moments, the aww- times, the over the top whines. That kind of stuff. And when conversations are different or quirky or ABSAlootly outrageous, you feel this sense of accomplishment. Something along the lines of- "we're so special, we have such special lines, nobody else in the world could come up with this stuff, we crack us up, our lives should be a movie, cuz we're cool like that". Not that we'd admit this, or even really think it, save in that smug little glowy corner of our brain. All the quirkiness, out-of-the-ordinary-ness, being your own person- all of that. There is SO much of it going around, quirky is kind of like a 'thing' now, it's become a trend. And the more people come out of the closet, so to speak and the more 'individual' they become, the less 'special' it is. As I grow older, especially now, I start understanding Catcher in the Rye better. And I don't think empathizing with the sentiments of the protagonist really bodes well.

"and the more they are the different, the more they are the same"

I think too much, I know. I'm not saying people should stop trying to be individual. I'm just trying to figure out what individuality might mean in a larger context, really. On a different note, I went to Counselling Services today for some help on majors and focus and stuff like that. In the form I had to fill out, I added depression as one of the issues. So when I'm leaving after submitting the form, the lady comes to me with this concerned and very markedly kind expression on her face. "This problem you've mentioned", she says, pointing at my inconspicious yellow form. "How are you Feeling right now? Are you-" I interrupted her before she got all het up. "Oh no, I'll live". At this she looked even more alarmed, so I reassured her saying that I wasn't suicidal or anything. It made me laugh at the time.

Lastly, on Wednesday morning, which was Hell day considering the TWO godawful midterms I had (Organic Chem and Molecular Biol), I discovered that I'd forgotten my money at home and my Watcard was out of funds. Delirious with hunger, and after some hemming and hawing I decided to ask the librarian if I could borrow 5 bucks from the library and explained the situation. The evil woman looked at me and very firmly said that no, they couldn't have that here. My friends weren't anywhere around and I had to live in the library till 5:45 and the Biol exam. Clearly, I couldn't study on an empty stomach. This stubbly guy standing around the desk offerred to lend me his Watcard and refused to let me pay him back. The fact that the people at Timmy's thought I'd stolen the Watcard because I am not a bearded brown guy, is a different story. Usman Asaf, I don't think I'll ever bump into you again, but THANKYOU. Good samaritans really Do exist :)
Also, I love my ex boyfriend. Being called bitch has never made me laugh as much or feel so comforted. And no, I'm not telling you which one.

mad scientist- i was in the university paper

I am the Eggman

2010-11-04T22:12:00.000-07:00

Deathly exhausted. Bile hovering somewhere in between throat and mouth. Dizzy unfocused bleary gaze at the blue glow of the laptop. A pounding in the head getting incrementally larger in magnitude. 'Duniya' from Dev D playing, the "jee, jee, jeejeejee" performing a strange loop-the-loop in my head. Now it's "She fucking hates me". Bless Puddle of Mudd for coming up with "She fucking hates me" and following it up immediately with "la la la la". This song always makes me chuckle and grimace simultaneously. It could have described the situation with Dissy down to a T. Only, I have a feeling that somewhere in that head of his (which doesn't understand simple concepts like sometimes, just Sometimes, you ought to actually answer a question) he would say the same about me. Now it's "Angel" by Dave Matthews Band. Aaaand my first proper meal of the day is ready. The microwave has beeped, Kraft Dinner Mac n Cheese is done. God bless KD, God bless Dave Matthews and most of all, God bless Terry Pratchett for creating this wonderful world which I'm about to sink into with my Mac n Cheese.

Classic comfort no, this? Mac n Cheese, Terry Pratchett and peppy music.

the perpetual look on my face these days, wincing at assignments and exams and Job-frikkin-mine.
So attractive, no?

2010-10-25T23:00:00.000-07:00

this is a very trippy image. i like it, i like it very much. i feel this way half the time. kinda cool when you think about it.

P.S: I need French songs to listen to while studying (I don't know French). Recommendations?

We're both from The Great White North- only I listen to Maeri

2010-10-24T18:29:00.000-07:00

If I were to write a story right now, it would go something like this:
Once, there lived a girl whose head exploded. Before that she ate sausages. Then her head exploded. The End.
(The "The End" would have to be in twirly letters like they always are at the end of fairytale books and Disney Stories). So I won't. I want to write, but I can't. I would like to dress up for Halloween, I don't know yet if that's going to be happening. I want to get over this state of inertia and I want my Facebook password back. :( I think I'm undergoing Facebook withdrawal symptoms. Loser, I. Unhappy loser. No, not really, I suppose. Just, inert, and in my case there's nothing noble about it (Inert, noble, geddit, geddit? No? Come onnnn! It's a Chemistry joke! *sigh* never mind). I wish things would come clear, as I wish the papers would end or that something would HAPPEN to shake me out of this unproductive glazed sort of monotony. Urgh! Dispassionate this, and detached. Food must stop. Like yesterday. *cue to sigh again*
Sometimes I wish I were a nun. Or 25 and already done with this crap. Just someone, somewhere, FAR away, calm, serene and happy. CONTENT. That would be nice. I watched 'Nanook of The North' directed by Robert Flaherty with Ma on Saturday after much cajoling (I'm not a huge fan of silent films- the 2 that I have watched- 'Birth of a Nation' and 'Intolerance' actually lulled me to sleep). I had a midterm on it anyway so we watched it, Ma curious and me, prepared to be bored. On the contrary it was a BEAUTIFUL movie. Some Really lovely scenes and his smile! Good God, I don't think I've ever seen a smile of such innocence, such undiluted pure JOY. I literally smiled back every time he did. It was impossible not to. Ma said it was because of his being a simple person. Right about now that sounds very Very good to me. Being in The Great White North in Hudson Bay, hunting seals, overpowering huskies and making sure you and your family didn't starve pretty much Does cut down things to basics. No time to moon, or worry or obsess when you don't know if you're going to have enough food to get you through the week. Nanook was an excellent hunter and a loving parent it seemed- there was this scene in the movie where he was teaching his young son how to use a bow and arrow, won't try to put it into words. It was just one of those scenes from the movie that stuck with me. His wife, Nyla with the naked baby tucked into her fur hood. All of the family, shedding the hides and skins and curling up beneath a great blanket-type thing, Nyla bare chested, her long big breasts, hanging loose. Completely unselfconscious. The little boy with his tiny husky puppy, cradling him against his chest. The fight for dominance between the leader husky and an aggressive mutineer. The frustrated manic snapping of the wolf who longed to sink his teeth into the massive rolls of seal blubber but had to watch chained as Nanook and his family scarfed it down, like animals, after a week of starvation licking clean the flippers and blood. Nanook's happy face peering out of the igloo door and his SMILE. Watch the movie.

trying to pull the struggling seal ashore

fascinated by the record player; he bites it a few times in his curiosity

nanook puts his child's hands to his cheeks to warm them

nyla and Her husky

nanook. almost smiling. i wish i had a proper picture.

I almost wish I was Nanook but not really. He died of starvation. So. And, no, I haven't given away any spoilers- it isn't that kind of a film. So the weekend ends. Tomorrow I get my Organic Chem paper back. Jesus.

Someone slap me. Quick!

2010-10-17T15:07:00.000-07:00

I want to fall in love. Not the unrequited variety.
Maybe I'm in 'nyaka'-girl mode right now, or maybe it's just that ache in that place you feel someone needs to fill up- just so that you can Breathe. Like strong, deep, Safe breaths. (Oh, and for the people sniggering at previous line, NO, I'm NOT talking about literal places to be filled up. T.R this means You. Heh.)
But honestly, at the risk of sounding terribly naive and preteen-girl-with-alternate-pink-and-black-nailpolish- ish, I'm going to try and explain what I mean. Maybe if I put it down on paper, so to speak, I'll realize I'm being ridiculous. Hopefully.
I've been in love before. But back then it was mostly because I was stupid. My head was in the clouds and well, my heart was in somebody else's hands as Dawson's Creek puts it. Yeah, I loved Dawson's Creek- that should probably be enough of an indicator. Now I'm rambling like always, but I'll go on cuz it's been a while since I've written anything substantial and cuz I really really need to express this to myself.

Anyway so obviously, the whole high-school love story didn't work out for various reasons (Rachel and Ross 'on a break', anyone?). Which was..actually a good thing, though it didn't seem so at the time (and the two years after that in the intervals when I wasn't busy being mad and psychotically whiny). I dated other guys, most of whom have been awesome people, none of whom have worked out- obviously since I'm writing this. Had some really fun and some really shitty times along the way. I've broken hearts and gotten my own heart broken into teeny tiny scrape-it-off the-ground-and-try-to-sellotape-it-back-together-pieces. I've been through all of that. I've gone from being a floating hopeless romantic to being a disillusioned bitter cynic and finally now, to being a cynic who can't stop longing for something she fears doesn't exist.
It's irrational, I know. It's a little spineless, I know. You're supposed to feel complete within yourself. You're supposed to be satisfied with the unconditional love of your family and the best friends you were unbelievably lucky enough to find. You're Supposed to be cool with being the strong independent quirky chick who was ambitious enough to put her career before everything that was safe, and warm and lovely. I mean, it was Your decision, don't you remember? Thing is, I'm not. I'm not cool with it. There's probably something very fundamentally wrong with that- for crissake, even the Pussycat Dolls have a song titled "I don't need a man (to make me happy. ha-aoo-ha-aoo-aah!)". BUT there it is.
I miss the feeling of wild abandon. I miss the feeling of being so abso-fricken-lutely certain that at the end of the crappiest day-when your world is going to pieces, your hairdresser turned out have a Rihanna obsession, you missed your Physics exam and your parents think you've turned into an anarchist- a single phone call will fix it all. Just hearing that voice reassuring you, or falling into that embrace makes you feel like it's going to be okay. Illogical, yes. True, also yes.
I miss having someone to associate all them songs with. Why don't they warn you, that those feelings that rushed to you when you first heard them and fell in love, are always going to stay, even when there isn't a face to fill your dreams with? I miss the Safety that having a pair of arms around you affords. I miss having someone to fill in the gaps between my fingers. I miss dwindling away the hours in quiet happiness. I miss feeling like I'm That incredibly important. I miss Having someone to feel that way about. I miss caring about someone with that kind of intensity.
I'm older now and probably not very wise but I know that love can't be built on just "I love you"s without any foundation or similarities as a base. I know that it isn't all about the butterflies in your stomach but I also know that the butterflies are important. I know that you can't mould a friend into a lover anymore than you can command a caterpillar to take flight. I know it isn't all sweetness and light and I know about the boredom and monotony that sets in with any long-term relationship. I know that happy marriages are few and far in between. I wonder if growing old together- and not because you have a family, or because it's safe or because you're used to it- but just because you Want to is even possible. Even so. Despite the commitment phobia, and despite the low boredom threshold, I still intrinsically want someone. Is this social conditioning or is it an intrinsic human need? Is it just my own inadequacies? I don't know.
I'm a bundle of contradictions and I'm probably a prime example of a corny cliche that has existed since time immemorial. Blame it all on these songs. I've been listening to them quite a bit.
1)Kaate nahi raat- Ustaad Sultan Ali Khan http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SAWvlqsUzNM&feature=related
2)Wicked game- Chris Isaak http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oaHHrNQVrg
3)She's got you high- Mumm-rah http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKypqSL49Pg&ob=av3n

2010-09-19T22:21:00.001-07:00

anuj & i - summer 2010

and as the night moves on

colors blur

and our brains come oozing out

of nooks

and crannies-

with iridescent hues

skeletons of souls poking out

glowy.

Lessons for the Day

2010-09-11T21:23:00.000-07:00

#1 Check how hot the water is BEFORE turning on the water heater and turning the tap.

#2 NEVER give your sleazy relatives you have a gut allergic repulsion to, your best friend's number.

#3 Don't leave your French book in a different continent. You might just land up with a French foreign exchange student for a house-mate who barely speaks or understands English.

#4 Don't sign a 1 year lease for the smallest room in the house without registering actually How small they mean when they say small. It May just turn out to be pantry sized.

#5 A full glass of Red Wine is a bad idea when you're suffering from Jetlag and moving in the next day- with your mum for company.

#6 Going Bohemian appearance-wise can justify almost any normal fashion must-not.

#7 Self- restraint, especially when it comes to a smart mouth is a good policy and may just reward you with carrot cake with cheesecake topping.

#8 Sometimes really really obese women are really Really REALLY good cooks.

#9 Jetlag sucks and coffee- immunity doesn't help.

#10 Abba and John Dever induce nostalgia. Even if you aren't a major fan.

Ok WHAAAT?

2010-08-16T00:07:00.000-07:00

i don't know what to write. i will probably delete this post later, but for now im trashing my own blog. more clutter. there is SOO much clutter everywhere. cleaning up room is pointless cuz brother transforms it into a seedy weedy jungle within a day. JONGLI bachha i tell you! but this is the last month in which im sharing a room, so itisokay. for now. clutter in life also. lesson # 1: learn to let go. will do, will do, doing. everything is in future tense by about EXACTLY 5 minutes. lethAAARGY. like some monster slowly creeping up and then LOOK BEHIND YOU! but it's already eaten you up and you're in its digestive sys-TUM. look, look, salivary amylase aka SPIT!! look, look trypsin, looklook, emulsification. im a biochem student, yuss i am.
epiphanies happen. good family weekend happens. this includes piu. mother's birthday happens. HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY! i put this in caps because the more significant event on 15th in household was mamma's birthday. more important in the grand scheme of things, heehee, snicker. cousin sister visits after a year, all of four years old, twirling and singing, making me teach her ballet. i decide to call her aisha and consequently have to spend the ext two hours dancing with her and singing "Suno Aisha" from that movie. Whatta bakwaas movie that. Side effect # 1. want to PARTAY! Side effect # 2. Want to get hot body and wear high heels and Chanel. Side Effect # 3. Want cute guy with a dimple. This means YOU. Abhay Deol, DUH.
timeisrunningout. and before you know it i'll be at the end of this sentence. and before you know it i'll be at the end of summer. and before you know it, i'll be far far away. but before that come mundane important things like finances and cooking and packing. and goodbyes.
i've become FAAAT. like its not even funny, i fit into mamma's clothes. and i struggle to fit into jeans. MUM calls me football now, and when That happens you know you're ear-deep in shit. but still i eat- biriyani, yummy egg curry from alladin. orgasmic kulfi faluda from ganguram. luchi cholar daal breakfast. kochuri and cholaar dal at dakhineswar. creamy chingri maacher malai curry and dhone pata dawa chicken and mutton kheema kabab and orange stick ice cream and butterscotch ice cream and pepsi and chicken pakoda and musurir daal with halka lebu and tomato'r chutney at tuku aunty, deep-dia's. black forest cake, chocolate mud cake, R-maach, eilish maach and chicken curry.payesh and mutton patties. then momo's with piping hot light soup, chilli sauce and stir fried pasta with shrimp. bacardi. red wine. at shoma pishi's. all this over the weekend. friday, saturday, sunday. BYAAS. i am turning into Putu.
everything is going Nanana when it should really be Hahaha. i think i'm getting contacts today. i think i'm probably writing like someone else, but randomness is comforting the way an old fuzzy blanket is comforting, the way an old good-friend-ex is comforting, the way a soft fluffy pillow is. i have two new books to read, that i've wanted to- On Beauty by Zadie Smith, and Vine of Desire by Chitra Bannerjee Divakaruni. I reread Dorian Gray, did not help the dissatisfaction. I have friends waiting for me at JU but i don't even know why i go there. something is missing, but it's going away, it's okay. i shall drag butt off to take long shower. then Ponds powder and the Freshness. i love you Blog. I'm sorry I don't have much to say.

So far, so good?

2010-07-27T23:40:00.000-07:00

Lost phone. Again. 2nd phone in 2 months and this was all antique-y. I'm starting to sound like one of them spoilt rich kids, I don't like it.
Met people who would intimidate me for no good reason. Funny how people who you thought seemed 'ohsocool' cuz of the zillion pictures back then puzzle you now as to where their appeal lies.
Family friends. Pictures. Prank Calls. Foooooood.
One nice evening in Jude. No 29, thank God. Music, general retardedness (have you ever noticed how weird ears are? They kinda look like misplaced trumpets), joint passed around (watched didn't take. Yet.), Sujith Da's cha. Roti, chilli chicken.
Called someone Turnip-head. Because you know the top of their head is flat and they just have That vibe.
Listened to friggin SEXAY song that I think you should go listen to Right now. Undisclosed desires by Muse. The beat is Something. Like a loop the loop playing over and over in my head, giving rhythm to my hips, making me bop my head in the street, much to the amusement of the chyangras on the road. Oh, and while you're at it. check out the lyrics. Unexpectedly sweet for such a slick-ish song.
Had Kulfi-Faluda for the nth time with Boy who looks like evil, but didn't display too many such tendencies this time. Perhaps it had something to do with the presence of Loopy Upi.
Resolved to stop swearing worse than a chotolok man. Haven't succeeded with that so far.
Guillotined the sweetest cutest little Swiss Albino rat at the workplace. Played with it, watched it take a crap, made it unconscious with Halothane so that, you know, it dies in a humane way and then picked up its tiny little furry body with blue surgical gloves. Placed it neatly on the stealy bladeof the mini guillotine and brought down the blade with precision. Once. Oops, little skin there, twice. Picked up headless body, discarded in bright yellow plastic bag. Presented head to Sms Poetry Da so that he could remove and slice up its brain.
All in the name of Science, y'know. Was slightly shocked at how less the first time I killed an actual living mammalian creature disturbed me. Cockroaches don't count right, they're too tiny and have too much antennae to inspire affection or feeling. White adorable rat? Headless rat once you're done with it? Didn't really affect me, went home, told Ma and watched her face go white as she went "You could kill actual people! How could you?". I suspect I'm a tad inhumane. Heartless, like Kanye said. Dayum.
Perhaps in payback, the Spice used me as her guinea pig as she experimented with make-up on my face. Smoky eyes, a touch of lipstick.Foundation, mascara, lipliner, eyeliner, kohl, compact, blusher, killer boots. Didn't look like myself when she was done, but I liked it, hell yeah. Heartbreak when we went out to Vivekananda Park for a smoke and the make-up melted away.
Wife got a tattoo. So did Wife's boyfriend, the Boudi. I want one too, but I don't want it on a whim and I'm not sure having a tattoo inspires much faith in your professionalism when you're aiming to be a scientist. I WANT a tattoo or a third piercing, but I don't know what to get or where to get it.
Resolved to lose weight, eat healthy, give up on a Kulfi-Faluda a day. Exercise. Brother decided to help me do it right, and we spent an hour locked in our room with him insisting that sit-ups were Totally useless and implementing military training, footballer workouts on me till I screamed with agony and Baba came running in demanding to know why he was murdering me.
Last 3 days at work. I'm going to miss everyone, but SO looking forward to having some time off. Learning how to cook, spending time with the gramps, getting things in order. Ignoring Canada which is set to become a reality pretty soon. Don't. Want. To. Think. About. It.
Need to get rid of Peter Pan Syndrome and grow up at some point. Need to be nicer to people.
Succeeded sort of in stopping obsessing about weird pseudo carpe diem thing which just Does Not get any better. Sequels are such a bad idea. Soil even memories of perfection. Come August, come resolution, for now things are standing still.
Afterthought- Pseudo singlehood ain't half bad, preparation, goodonly.
Watched Inception. With Ma. Silver class, good GOD, those chairs. Extravagance. Still like Dark Knight better.
Played with Elsa. And Lucky. And Rover. And Chuti. If only I could be surrounded by doggies and babies I'd be happy. For a while, probably.
Idle fantasies, self destructiveness. What? Why? Cynical hopeless romantic. Eyuckhh. Still, still, STILL WRITER'S BLOCK!

2010-07-22T23:31:00.000-07:00

Running after shadows
Scouring off the rust
Clinging fast to dreams
As they slowly turn to dust.

Words once lightly spoken
Still echo on the breeze
Carrying over miles-
And miles and piles of memories.

Playing at creation
Making mockery of sense
Soiling now the fantasies,
And recollection of past tense.

Time flies, goodbyes
Helloes and 'how are you's
Running round in circles,
Futility, greys and blues.

Abruptness is one ending
Unfinished is a word
Fleeting time is just one problem,
Exhaustion's another I've heard.

2010-07-13T09:38:00.000-07:00

okay, so I love you, right? you know that, darling. but i'm just Slightly bored. i still love you, of Course.but the monotony is killing me, to look at you even Once more would be cruel cuz it'd be destroying the magic of how you captivated me when we first met. i'd still like to remember you. low boredom threshold shall probably be the death of me, but oh well. if its not, running after the unattainable shall surely do the trick. u shall have your revenge then. till then, you stay suspended in time, my Morning Dream.
Right here.
With me.

2010-07-11T09:59:00.000-07:00

I'm in a very Gah mood. ghidkdfgkfjgp ffdjgkhfdkhg. Bleh.
Just. Go. Explode.
Need fresh air, need space for grey cells to inhale deeply. NEED SPACE.
Need intimacy. Need clarity. Need to be detached yet warm and caring.
Need to stop being contradictory.
gjdhgm. gjhglh. Bleuaargh.

BLEAURGH!

Someone leave me good music suggestions please? Genre no bar.

2010-07-06T00:26:00.001-07:00

Yore.
Isn't yore a funny word? Yore yore yore. Yoreyoreyoreyore!

I always thought 'loofah' was pretty strange too. Loooooo faaaaaah!

Does anyone else know any funny words? Pliss oblige.
Okbye.

Sometimes I feel like my life is more about the people in it.

2010-06-29T23:17:00.000-07:00

You are my leetle stud muffin, with a single dimple and twinkly scrinkly eyes to boot. *scientist, i wish i could tell you i'm tired of mindgames*
You are my cherry pie sweet, my scrumptious heartbreak, with witty, sarcastic retorts thrown in.
You are my separated-at-birth sister, Invictus- with untamed tresses and love for all things rabid.
You, you are my yellow light, my would-be knight- with mad love for stones and fixes.
You are my soul-twin, the Other square peg among the Cappis, with the genuine happy-wise-Youness you possess with quiet confidence.
you are inconsequential now, thankgod.
You are my conscience, the one I never quite grow out of, the pseudo mother, the only Real Christian I know.
You were my angel, the Earnest, the uncomplicated, my darling infuriating Book-thief.
You are the one I Did outgrow, sappy phone conversations bore; sweet, you stabbed me with a smile (and oh help you God, you didn't even know). I don't know how to tell you so.
You are the strange, the wonderfully weird, all these terms you impose on yourself; the awkwardly kind, standing forever on the fringes, plunging straight in all the while- I hope you break through.
You are unconditional exasperating concerned judgemental anxious strong love- with moddhobitto Rabindranath-jora, individual values.
you're inconsequential too! well, nearly there except sudden twinges for what seemed to/could have been. sudden patches of bonding. there can't be a back to before again, but maybe anew ain't a bad thing.
you're the one i thought was SObloodyCOOL. Then I grew up- 'killer' biceps tho bro, and the pay package don't hurt either, amidst the hookah smoke.
You two are old fusspots in your own ways- love, worry, love *kichu khao, na khele bhalo lagey na!*
You're gorgeous and you look exactly how I always dreamed of looking, with in your face confidence to boot. Your self assurance and ability to be vulnerable to adorable stoner-puppy are your most attractive features.
You're the classic friend, to whom I spill way too much for no good reason- with Chandleresque tendencies to boot (if he came 6 ft tall with a ribbon on him).
You're candyfloss- if it came tinged with blue. So sweet, and So upset by Tiny things- I'd like to shake you and tell you to grow up, but then you wouldn't be You anymore.
You are my Simple, moddhobitto, Bhalo, normal (with an assured steady future) sister-from-below. I'd hate you if I didn't love you, you know.
You are the crazy one, the crazy-smart and the crazy-pretty one, and you're leaving your insecurities behind. You're growing up, love, and you'll Never grow up, thank God. We'll always be 14 in some ways.
You are the living proof that boys and girls- well men and women now- can Totally be best friends. The Only one back then who got what 'asphyxiating' meant and Why that was a big deal. My hairier, skinnier Mallu Twin, we've probably spent more time together online than anything.

Yes, I'm having writers block right now. But this is MY blog and I shall be John Mayer inspired "Who Cares" typer.

2010-06-24T02:37:00.000-07:00

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming                 in
              a
   fish bowl,
                  year after year

Because the things you say and the things you do surround me

While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard
I was staring straight into the shining sun

I love balconies. Let you almost grasp. Linger lost on the edge of epiphany.

I've found a tiny bit of happiness. It's kind of surreal when things actually happen the way they were supposed to. Not very rational, but something Did give. : )

The Wife, the Spice and I.

2010-06-16T00:09:00.000-07:00

Warning: This will probably be incomprehensible or unfunny, or both to the majority of you. If it's not, I love you on principle. =)

-Phew, closing in on Yet another top in shades of black, white and grey.
Rgd: NOT another one!
Phew: *holding up grey top* But it's BOTTLE Greeeen!
Onoo, Rishav and I stare at her incredulously
Rgd: Adding a 'bottle' to it Doesn't make it green!

-TR (referring to Phew's preference for grayscale): Yeah, watching Phew during the first 2 weeks of college was kind of like watching a black and white film.

-Midnight conversation
Rgd: Yeaaa...*thoughtfully* No. Yeaaaa!
*Pause* Well, you know what I mean!
Phew and TR: *general agreement*

-Walking through VP, running home, half an hour late for curfew.*
Rgd (bursting into random song): Slimy maggotty littell creatures!
Phew (looks at the squelchy mud we're walking through): Slimy MAGGOTTY LITTELLL creatures!

-Referring to ex bitch's relationship dilemma on the phone
TR (very seriously): Do you think she will?
Rgd (also very seriously): I think so. *Pauses thoughtfully* Unless she doesn't.
*Profound silence*

-TR (referring to Noorton AV): Yeah, I don't think I like him. He leaves everytime I come.

-Phew (very calmly, and reasonably, referring to illogical fixation on P Dissy): Dude, but really, Why do you even Want him to ask you out? You guys have like nothing in common, and there's no point to it really, na?
*Pause for 10 seconds*
Rgd- But he's so Pweeedie!

- Talking about random guy
TR *very matter of factly*: Well I don't really know What to think of him. For a large part of last year I thought he raped his girlfriend.

-Discussing Rgd's strange depressive tendencies
TR : It's incredibly exciting to be best friends with someone so morbid. I never know if you're going to be around the next day.

-Rgd- Man, I feel like a puppy or something! Waiting for scraps of affection
Phew *passionately* Well, now you know how DOGS FEEL!
Rgd- Godammit woman, EVERYTHING ISN'T ABOUT THE DOGS!

-Walking through the stables at Tolly
Phew *very gleefully*-Automatic is shitting!
Rgd- What? That happens??

- TR, Adibidi and Rgd watching an episode of Dr. Who. Dr. Who and current flavor of the next few episodes running franctically, being chased down the hall by Rhino-looking-intergalactic law enforcers.
Rgd- Awwww, look, They're holding hands!
TR and Adibidi stare at Rgd with inscrutable expressions cuz Obviously that was the point of the scene.

Grey Street

2010-05-29T08:33:00.000-07:00

That kind of black mood in which everything is grey spiked with violent flashes of the violet part at the heart of a flame. Where everything is frenetic. Work and people. Friends and family. Trips to large chain book-stores where you can lose yourself amongst lots of non- readers and the other-world you carelessly picked out. Where you find yourself unable to get high, in any way, and as a result you try to overdo it till someone says something and you wake up with a sharp jerk. It's that kind of mood where you have to clench your fists to prevent yourself from showing people the finger, just cuz you felt like it. Where you carefully make incisions with your tongue and scratch away at the cotton-wool in which you've wrapped people over the years.
Where music seems repetetive, movies require too much effort and long phone calls replete with giggling sexual innuendoes and snarky digs don't make you feel all special anymore.
You came back looking for magic, expecting Carribean background music and product endorsement type snaps. You found that you fit in like a glove and that you'd already forgotten what it felt like to be in charge of yourself within a week, that responsibility had flown out the window and evidently so had contentment. You discovered that things Don't just magically happen and that while you Are important, you're much more important when you're unnattainable. Or on the flipside, If only you had been more available. You reached out for gratification and brushed against the veil.
Sandcastles are beautiful because they glisten against the rays of your imagination. Hold them too close, and they crumble to dust.

2010-04-28T19:22:00.001-07:00

I'm BACK home!
That is all.

Thoughtful Grinch drivel post

2010-04-20T21:19:00.000-07:00

Watched Dead Poets Society. Made me think about how good intentions are generally Not a saving grace. Speaking of parents, how do you know whether what you think is the best for your children, actually Is. Can you Really take the enormous responsibility of screwing up someone else's life? And of course taking responsibilty for it isn;t actually going to change a goddamn thing, it's the poor kid that has to deal with it right? Maybe safety and security aren't the corner-stones of happiness. To be cliche`d, being Alive has nothing to do with existing and evrything to do with pushing through the muck and making your way up- revelling, if even for a moment in the sunshine. Blinking at the sudden flash, sort of stunned that you're actually there.
Getting back to being a parent, of Course they have our best interests at heart. But no, really, honestly, i'd like to know how on earth you'd figure out what;s going to be good for the kid, and what's going to make him so miserable that he pulls the trigger. ''Saving someone from themselves", or "saving them from making them doing something they're going to regret"- "I'm doing this for your own good"- how many times on an average do people get this line in a lifetime? How many people give up what they want to do, or give up a passion thinking it's something stupid, or impractical or give it up, God forbid, under the burden of expectations, or being noble, or you know, to repay the sacrifices their parents/family have made. There's another thing- being a parent, you make or are obliged to make so many sacrifices for your kids, do so many things that mount up to this great ginormous mountain that just lies over there reminding them of how much you've given up for their happiness, for Their well-being- and how selfish it would be of them Now, to disappoint you, and how incredibly ungrateful it would be to chase after their foolish dreams instead of living out yours. Is that fair? It's just this cycle that you can't escape, you're going to do things for your children, cuz you know, you love them and then they're going to be obliged to fulfill your dreams, only when interests conflict- occasionally you have a Neil. Sometimes you have an Ethan Hawke. And the rest of the time you have people ' living lives of quiet desperation'. Say you defy it and ignore the obligations and tell yourself it's all for the best- Follow your dreams/ heart, as the movies and the books and thingummies out it. How are your supposed to get away from the guilt. And if you then Fail, or at least aren't the dashing stupendous successfull multimillionaire or corporate tie wearing, contacts making engineer, How are you supposed to deal with the streak of dull grey that invades your parents' voices. I'm scared oif being a parent, I'm pretty sure I'm going to fuck up my kids and probably present them with my own set of problems and insecurities like most people do wind up doing cuz come on, they're only human. How inadequate isn't it? Whole new generations and personalities being moulded by already flawed personalities- we're sort of unperfect from the start.
This is an incoherent self indulgent post of course. I packed up my whole entire room today, and it feels like a bare little cell. Stripping the photos from the wall, my pages of quotes and my Pacifist poster. Gone are my mugs and the lurid red frisbee that proudly proclaims Faculty of Science. Gone is my weathered copy of Inscrutable Americanns and Rebecca. My posters of Le petit Prince and Salvador Dali aren't the first things I see anymore and the only one that remains is the gaping mouth on my wall that is titled "Pink Floyd's The Wall" . Does Not make things any more cheerful I can tell you. I have to spend 3 more days here and then I'm OUT! On the stupendously bright side, I return to the City of Joy on the 24rth via 17 hour+ flight (Dear God PLEASE let me sit next to strikingly hot Chad M. lookalike with Brit accent and mad love for Fleetwood Mac). Also after writing the Physics 111 exam I missed last term. In other news, I discovered Paris Hilton has a show to find her new bff. It has multiple seasons. If I'm not mistaken, the term bff means best friend forever. Give me a place where I can replace my head and I'll be happy.
Ack thoo!

Graffitti on study cubicle at the Davis Centre (DC)

2010-04-12T18:30:00.001-07:00

"Time will pass. Will you?"

2010-04-11T08:22:00.000-07:00

I have to stop reading Jodi Picoult. It's like this Bad addiction where I spend an entire day reading Yet another page turner of hers and at the end of it, am left kind of shaken up and with this incredibly dissatisfied pit in my stomach. I shall now resolve to read only Enid Blyton's " The Land of Far Beyond" when my mind refused to cooperate with the knowledge that this is exam week and if I continue this way, I shall surely fail. Observe my virtuous halo.

2010-04-03T16:01:00.000-07:00

Your rain-soaked lips

Tendrils dripping,

On your neck.

Somewhere in the darkness

Someone murmurs your name,

And sleepwalks in a prayer.

Eyes dipping into forbidden cases

Mother-of-pearl earbobs and white sloping shoulders.

Ecstasy in a perfume bottle.

An oblivious candle.

A gust of wind.

A lingering sigh.

Surely a presentiment

Of what was to come.

Oh well.

2010-04-02T08:29:00.000-07:00

I am HAPPY! KT Tunstall type-er happy! It is SPRING! 22 blessed degrees Celcius, baby! Bring out the shorts and the spaghettis and the wind flowing through your hair and the sun warming it up if things get too chilly. Add to this seagulls circling the SLC beating out the dreadful honking geese for once, sounding at times like a child gurgling and sometimes like a cat mewing. Add to this the fact that I danced for an hour straight yesterday after I got home from my last and absolute final Computational Chemistry lab, and that too with a solid respectable 93%. So it seems computers and I aren't totally at odds. Point was that the dancing has caused my legs and arms to ache blissfully, yes Blissfully since yesterday night after I went for a walk with a couple of - well, er, friend and ex and potential "good friend" of ex, but let's not get into that and complicate things. Did absolutely nothing after that but then went to sleep for 8 whole hours, well nearly. Which is a Big deal for me, much improvement from the normal 4 and a half. Freshly squeezed orange juss with pulp in the morning from the caf, awaiting Easter/ Good Friday lunch at the moment. Revelling in Van Morisson's brown eyed girl (Why yes, I Do have brown eyes! *beeeeeg wide eyed beam*). Exams in a week and I haven't studied- oh well, that's not a very joyous thought. But y'know of Course, I shall study crazily from today- as Ma puts it- " paagoler moto por, dule dule por". Yuss I shall study Chemistry and complex ion equilibria but before that I shall stop skipping on my seat and turn off Fleetwood Mac's Go your own way (What A song). Add to general happiness the fact that I am a mere 3 weeks away from the City of Joy. From 8 months down to 3 weeks, and as you can see from the splotchy disjointed gleeful writing. In the words of James Taylor, "Shalalalalalalalala, ladida. Ladida!"
P.S- Am I correct in thinking that Brown eyed girl is the tune that plays in the background of SuperMario?

2010-03-26T16:06:00.000-07:00

I heart my new blog template. It is like my favorite moment all rolled up in comfort zone style sleeping bags with squashy down lining. Squishy as well. Long drive with the car windows rolled up, decent amount of brishti outside, droplets forming rivulets on the window, which I follow with my eye, racing raindrops in my mind. Purono hindi gaan in the A.C wala inside and lots of grown ups talking and laughing, sitting 5 or six of us, wedged into the backseat of the car. Uncles giving deep throated Ha-ha's and aunties with ample shoulder space forming crevices to lean my head against, me seeking comfort in the clamour of their golpo. A Bangla gaan sung by one of the Uncles- whoever has the best voice and there generally Is one of them. He is joined by corresponding Aunty. And then even the rest who can't stay in tune join in, and the car is filled with baritones, lusty voices and one or two out of tune squawks for good measure. Dhitang dhitang bole is Always sung. For some reason, I always heard this one line as "Aay re aay, komor bedhe aay, murgi ra shob naache, komor bedhe aay" as a kid and used to imagine a line of chickens, tied at the waist (do chickens have waists?) dancing away and squawking. Merry image, no? Actually, in all honesty, it kinda scared me- yes, I found livestock terrifying. I was a Brave little kid.
Another song that is always sung is "Ke tumi, Nandini", with pointed glances and flourishes of hands towards my mother, 'cuz if you haven't guessed it by now, She Is Nandini. But the one song that Always makes me happy is Mon haralo. I prefer it playing from a cassette. Then I'm tugged away into thoughts of Shantiniketan and other green places and nothing, no, not even livestock, makes me unhappy. A lot of the time, Uncle-with good-voice and Aunty-with-good-voice-and-wide-kaajal-rimmed-eyes aren't singing because they're too busy talking and then the radio is on, or some old cassette that someone dug up, precisely for the purpose of a squashy, noisy, happy long drive is put in. The majority of them tend to be purono Hindi gaan, and I sing along to "Ye ladka hai allah" while leaning my head against the beautifully cold window and staring at the raindrops, imagining daydreams in my head (generally involving Sharukh Khan driving along on a bicycle beside the car, till around age 10 for some reason- alright, I had a crush on him and don't shake your head at me, at least it's better than Simba).
Happiness. And I'm 18 now. I think I'm still a kid of 10 in some places inside my head.

2010-03-05T14:56:00.000-08:00

I just watched Before Sunrise. I don't want to review the movie and spoil it. All I'm going to say is that it's beautiful. Even to a persevering cynic, pretending to be adult like me. I'd like to watch it sometime with someone special.

2010-02-28T11:47:00.001-08:00

Two words. 85%. Genetics Finals.
We'll see, bitch. We'll see.

Inside my Head

2010-02-26T11:49:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-02-25T16:51:00.000-08:00

I love how sometimes you can have actual "Laugh out loud moments" when online.
Lol.

2010-02-22T15:17:00.000-08:00

I am Sotired. Soso, verytired. It is not even funny. I am tired of doing too much and doing nothing. I am tired of not sleeping and having a permanent Calcutta sleep-cycle hangover. I am tired of not having the motivation to just get off my derriere (isn't that a pretty word? it always reminds me of brassiere) and do it! Like Nike says. I'm tired of being complicated and being all too simplenaive. I am tired of being inadequate. I think i am becoming someone else and a mixture of people. I am tired of the color black. I feel a tad dyslexic right now. But it is somuchfun to write like this. It is like making up your own nouns. With an added emphasis. I am tired, ohsotired, soverytired of Itall. And that reminds me I am tired of imdb, Youtube, facebook, blogger and fmylife. The ugly Angel keeps haunting me and then the Quest takes over the job. God, if you exist, random chance and luck- if you do not exist- throw some my way. Please. I would like to get done with this week. If I get through it well, with all my dignity and rank and Watcard and keys intact I will make an offering of ..of..I will. Er, I will be happy. Veryvery happy. And I will work the rest of the term, work the skin right off my nose and try for brilliance till I can fly East for the summer. All the birdies flew away in winter-time, but now the green gooey goo-shit geese have returned. But today it snowed unexpectedly. Mini-blizzard took over and covered it all with snow. Snow in my eyes, snow on my hair- when I came back in, successfully brandishing Chicken fingers, my hair had glistening beads. Verypretty. Not Sweat though, cuz that would be a bit too disgusting.
No I am not trying to be a very retarded dyslexic Salinger, I am trying to listen to Genetics Podcasts. I am trying to concentrate. I am trying to go away now. Bye.

Another one I found, just lying around- See how well I rhyme!

2010-02-22T14:55:00.000-08:00

List of books most of them sitting unread in people's bookshelves to " make them look smarter". The rules are: bold the ones that you have read and italicize the ones you have started but didn't finish. Since I have Chem midterm and Genetics midterm and Lab report and Calc assignment due and since I prefer talking to X's and lovering with Phews, I now use even more time constructively.

1. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
2. Anna Karenina
3. Crime and Punishment
4. Catch-22
5. One Hundred Years of Solitude
6. Wuthering Heights
7. The Silmarillion
8. Life of Pi: a novel
9. The Name of the Rose
10. Don Quixote
11. Moby Dick
12. Ulysses
13. Madame Bovary
14. The Odyssey
15. Pride and Prejudice
16. Jane Eyre
17. The Tale of Two Cities
18. The Brothers Karamazov
19. Guns, Germs and Steel
20. War and Peace
21. Vanity Fair
22. The Time Traveler's Wife
23. The Iliad
24. Emma
25. The Blind Assasin
26. The Kite Runner
27. Mrs. Dalloway (well..reading is more accurate)
28. Great Expectations
29. American Gods
30. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
31. Atlas Shrugged
32. Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books
33. Memoirs of a Geisha
34. Middlesex
35. Quicksilver
36. Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
37. The Canterbury Tales
38. The Historian: A Novel
39. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
40. Love in the Time of Cholera
41. Brave New World
42. The Fountainhead
43. Foucault's Pendulum
44. Middlemarch
45. Frankenstein
46. The Count of Monte Cristo
47. Dracula
48. A Clockwork Orange
49. Anansi Boys
50. The Once and Future King
51. The Grapes of Wrath
52. The Poisonwood Bible
53. 1984
54. Angels and Demons
55. Inferno
56. The Satanic Verses
57. Sense and Sensibility
58. The Picture of Dorian Gray
59. Mansfield Park
60. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (I know I read the first page for sure..I honestly have no idea)
61. To the Lighthouse
62. Tess of the D'Urbervilles
63. Oliver Twist
64. Gulliver's Travels
65. Les Miserables
66. The Correction
67. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
68. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
69. Dune
70. The Prince
71. The Sound and the Fury
72. Angela's Ashes: A Memoir
73. The God of Small Things ( I was in the 8th grade...I give it another try sometime after this wretched week)
74. A People's History of the United States: 1492-present (Not happening anytime soon)
75. Cryptonomicon
76. Neverwhere
77. A Confederacy of Dunces
78. A Short History of Nearly Everything
79. Dubliners
80. The Unbearable Lightness of Being ( reading now, in between bouts of studying and other forms of procastination)
81. Beloved
82. Slaughter House- five
83. The Scarlett Letter
84. Eats, Shoots and Leaves (I think I flipped thro this.)
85. The Mists of Avalon
86. Oryx and Crake
87. Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed
88. Cloud Atlas
89. The Confusion
90. Lolita
91. Persuasion
92. Northanger Abbey
93. The Catcher in the Rye
94. On the Road
95. The Hunchback of Notre Dame
96. Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
97. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Enquiry into Values ( This is my perpetual on the plane- get distracted by movie and food and put down-book. I should read it on the ground once)
98. The Aeneid
99. Watership Down
100. Gravity's Rainbow
101. The Hobbit
102. In Cold Blood: A True Account of a Multiple Murder and its Consequences
103. White Teeth
104. Treasure Island
105. David Copperfield
106. The Three Musketeers

If this were an exam, I'd most certainly fail it. As for the coming exams, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be failing them too.

Book tag (stolen aeons ago from She whom I do not remember)

2010-02-19T16:22:00.000-08:00

Science Fiction, Fantasy or Horror?
Sci-fi – Hmm.. I’m pretty sure Animorphs doesn’t count. H.G Wells I didn’t much like. I want to start on Asimov. Aldous Huxley and Kaziguro were good if they qualify.
Fantasy- Er. I’m not sure what exactly you’re categorizing
Horror- Rarely. Dracula. Frankenstein. Bas.

Hitchhiker or Discworld?
Reading Hitchhiker, haven’t Discworld.

Bookmark or Dog ear?
Bookmark! Urgh, dog ears are desecration.

Asimov’s Science Fiction or Fantasy & Science Fiction?

So. I feel stupid now.

Alphabetize by author, Alphabetize by title, or random?
I used to be very big on arranging them according to title and favourites and author. Now it’s more like size.

Keep, Throw Away or Sell?
Keep. Keep all of them and accumulate and buy some more. Beg, borrow and steal till they grow silverfish.

Keep, dust-jacket or toss it?
Keep.

Harry Potter or Lemony Snicket?

Too different. HP is HP and I like Lemony Snicket’s grim humour of despair.

Stop reading when tired or at chapter breaks?

Stop reading the night before the exam. Or when someone calls or nature calls.

"It was a dark and stormy night" or "Once upon a time"?

Fairytales annoy me of late. Methinks I need some pixie-dust.

Buy or Borrow?
Borrow. Buy if I’d like to collect and read a kazillion times.

Buying choice: Book Reviews, Recommendation or Browse?
Browsing all the way. Book reviews also. Recommendations from selected people.

Lewis or Tolkien?
I didn’t like Lewis much actually. Tolkien I haven’t read. Yes, I know. DON’T look at me like that!

Morning reading, Afternoon reading or Nighttime reading?
Anytime. Lazing in bed in the morning, lolling in bed in the afternoon and much the same at night.

Standalone or Series?
Standalone.

Favorite book of which nobody else has heard? (dunno about the nobody though)
Cafe Tropicana- I don’t remember whom it’s by

The Land of Far Beyond, The House at Redroofs- Enid Blyton

Haroun and the Sea of Stories- Salman Rushdie
Coram Boy- Jamilla Gavin

Top 5 favorite genres of all time?
Anything. Not too much of a thriller fan though. Archer I can tolerate, Cook not at all and for some reason have always been allergic to James Hadley Chase.

Top 5 favorite genre books?

Uff, enough with the genre aantlamo. Some I can remember at the moment:

Sophie’s World

The Kite Runner, Not without my Daughter- Go classify

The Book thief, Chocolat, An Equal Music, Gone with the Wind, All quiet on the Western front

Comedy- The inscrutable Americans

The Hungry Tide, Opal Mehta, Rebecca, The Little Prince, Matilda, The Witches.

Currently Reading?
Milan Kundera- The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Virgina Woolf- Mrs. Dalloway

Love is a four letter word too. Bomb never should have been. RIP.

2010-02-17T23:27:00.000-08:00

Violence is NOT the answer. and it never will be. I guess when we hear about these Bomb blasts, we feel shocked for a while. But it doesn't really strike us. I guess it doesn't really strike the bombers, or perhaps it Does strike them and some incredible way, they just don't care, that these are real People out there. Actual living breathing people with lives of their own that are going to be scattered. That are going to affect a thousand other lives entwined with theirs.
I guess it does shock one for a while, and you know how bad it is. Or that, you know, justice and peace has been violated again. That this is a sad occassion. But stuck within our cocoon of all the things we build our world with, our tiny little crises and thoughts, and wants and desires, we forget about........the bigger picture? What Real problems may be like. How fleeting, and impartial and even ruthless life can be. And is.
This isn't a post really about how much we should value life or how important it is. Or then again, maybe it's a post reminding me of exactly that. But it's about more than that. This isn't one of those customary 'post bomb blast-passionate writing' thingies. It's just something that i Had to write. It's about much more than that. It's about how Unfair and how Incomprehensible and just how little sense it makes that people as brilliant and by all accounts as wonderful as Ankik and Anindyee and their friends had to be killed. It's about how difficult it is then to believe that good things happen to good people and stuff like everything happens for a reason. It's about how there is absolutely NO justification for these deaths.
I was just going through Anindyee's Facebook page- the tons of people writing on her wall, the group she had last joined and the normal Social interview questions. And it's so ....funny? ironical? heartbreaking? I don't really know what to say- it just Is. to see this stuff when she's dead. Her brother Ankik with a brilliant future ahead of him with a JP Morgan job and a gorgeous fiancee, a promotion and a new posh flat all lined up for him, now instead has bereaved bewildered friends and parents and an obituary and a webpage dedicated to him. Reading about this has really shaken me very badly, and why it should have this huge an effect on me, is probably 'cuz I can relate? It could have been anyone. It could have been any of us. They were young, and full of life and smart- all the things we belive ourselves to be. They were students. It could have been any of us and where the thought of ourselves dying seems incomprehensible except as twisted idle "Who will cry when you die" type fantasies, the fact of them dying contradicts that. It's an anomaly. Which Shouldn't have happened!
I believe 2 rickshaw wallahs also died in the bomb blast. But I'm not writing about them here 'cuz they're easier to dissociate ourselves from. But when it happens to people as close to ourselves as Anandi and Ankik, it becomes a terrifying reality.
I'm not really sure how writing this helps. I Definitely know that violence is not the answer. All the stirring up, all the protests and all the citizens being proactive type stuff that occurred after the Mumbai blasts- I'm pretty sure they meant well and they were trying to Do something. I just wish something could be done. I wish I knew what we could do. And that this could stop.
If this post is a little incomprehensible, it's 'cuz I'm a Lot shaken at the moment. And I'm unable to comprehend why these things have to happen.
In the meantime,
Love, not Hatred.
Life, not Death.
Peace, not Terror.
Light, not Darkness.

Cinder and Smoke VI

2010-02-13T23:13:00.000-08:00

Leo! Damn, Leo. Damn, damn, damn! I glance at the clock and see that it’s past 8. Another frozen dinner tonight. Leo must have eaten. I ignore her or rather tolerate her presence these days; our interaction is at best, limited but somehow, she’s always in my head- I have to go out, where’s Leo? I have to eat- Leo- has she eaten? I’m sleepy, is she asleep on the couch again? Leo. Always Leo. I feel obsessed. Behind the facade of this life we are living- no this stagnant Existence. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. Nobody blames me. I have the cushy job, I pay the bills, and I had the once gorgeous, brilliant girlfriend. I’m still young; I’m on Sheridan’s team, for the love of God. I have- I have “prospects”! Nobody would say I’ve shirked responsibility. Nobody would say anything. Mama would be rather relieved if she knew. Vinnie- she always liked Leo. Vinnie might refuse to be reasonable for a while, but she would come around. That is, if she even called one of these days. It wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t have possibly stopped it or seen it coming. She was so strong, so sure. I Couldn’t have prevented it! I stuck on for this long, trying to make it work. Did I? Did I persevere, did I ignore? At least I tried; didn’t I? I’m not being hypocritical, I stuck on this long. It’s not my fault! There is nothing left from who we used to be, no reminder of the life we led before. Nothing but the cracked remains. The chipped cherub in the hall that bears the ghost of Leo’s mocking smile. It wouldn’t be difficult. She could still have the house. I am a gentleman. And I did love her. Did? Do? I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know.

Leo with her mocking smile. Leo lost in my white shirt with wet tousled hair, humming Van Morrison. Leo on cold winter nights with hot coffee in her hand. Just Leo on cold winter nights. Leo buying Vinnie a big bouquet of gladiolas when she came to visit that one time. The way Leo smelled and the way she felt curled up tightly beside me. The way she loved to be kissed, softly on her eyelids before she fell off to sleep. Leo screaming and arguing-arguing furiously and suddenly laughing by mistake halfway. Leo‘s rich, husky voice. Leo’s love for anything that involved James Dean. Leo and her Bob Dylan-Robert Plant obsession. Leo. Leo’s face when she was excited. Leo on the rare occasions that she blushed. Leo running her fingers gently up and down my spine. Leo lying next to me on the balcony. Leo and her fiery brown-black eyes. Leo trying not to cry with her nose turning red. Leo making me laugh. Leo’s laugh. Leo. My Leo.

I have to talk to Leo.

"But my hands remember hers, rolling 'round the shaded ferns
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned”

I walk into the living room. “Leo”, I walk towards her. She’s asleep. Her hand flung over the edge of the sofa. Her eyes shut, barely breathing. Her tangled hair hides half of her face, her lips a little parted. She looks so frail. I take her hand and for now she is my Leo again. Things will be different. Things Can be different. Unsaid things don’t have to smother what’s left. Maybe we could- we could talk about it.
I kneel down beside her and knock into the bottle. It rolls away beneath the sofa, clinking into the chintz darkness and I catch a whiff of Leo's permanent scent these days.

“Cinder and smoke
You’ll ask me to pray for rain
With ash in your mouth
You’ll ask it to burn again”

Cinder and Smoke V

2010-02-13T22:34:00.001-08:00

The telephone rings waking me from the trance I’ve fallen into. I’m not really in the mood to talk, it’s probably J.D or God forbid, Madison calling about the latest brief. I sit on the bed idly, listening to the discordant clang of the phone ringing. Leo won’t pick it up, she never does. Leo. As I sit here on the bed playing with memories, she must still be in her stupor. Her self induced, poison stupor. It’s difficult for me to come back into the present. These perfect memories don’t fit in with the life we lead now. I feel like I’m dragging them through the mud, soiling them even as I associate them with us, now. The Leo I knew and loved and this Leo are so different. I don’t know who this person is; I doubt that even she knows. Or cares. Who even knows what Leo thinks anymore. She’s isolated herself from her circle of friends since she started flirting with drinks. One too many at the last party she had been to, and I gather she’d embarrassed herself. I hadn’t been there that day, so I didn’t know. I’d been working late as usual; it had been a busy period of time for me. We were working on a pretty high profile case as I remember. In fact, I’d come out of that looking pretty good. Got into Sheridan’s good books, and earned myself a most comfortable position. I heard about the party later. Not from her, a few chance remarks from an acquaintance. Something about Leo being in pretty high spirits that day. Btu I’d put it out of my head. Leo was always dancing around, I’d figured. Must have gone a little overboard. She didn’t tell me and I forgot to ask. Besides, I was preoccupied with work. But that was the last party she went to. Occasionally the odd invitation still trickles in. A discarded envelope in the dustbin or by the ashtray in the evening. People know now of course, or at least they suspect. It’s one of those things you don’t quite come out and say in polite society. Besides, vodka is a relatively tame indulgence for a lot of the people in her business. Her friends or whatever it was that she had, do know by now. They don’t blame me for it though. I don’t think anybody does. If anything they respect me. I get the title of being “the responsible one”, the “strong one”, “a really decent chap”. Sometimes they invite me over for dinner. Very rarely, I accept. Leo never bothers to ask me why I’m late. I don’t know how we slipped into this routine of not asking each other questions, or asking them and not waiting to hear the reply. That would be me. “How was your day, Leo?” Much too often she has fixed me with a blank stare in response to any questions I would ask. And now-now I can’t even stand to be in the same room. There was a time when we’d put off eating, sleeping, even sleeping together- though that, not very often- to just talk. She would talk and I would talk and then she’d talk some more. My Leo. And I’d listen. She would tell me about their old house by the cliff, the sound of the sea each time her father would return and her mother’s half smile goodnight’s. She would tell me of the glitz and the veneer of the sets she visited and of the worlds they took her to. She would tell me of the new idea that had just struck her and sometimes, she would practice her lines on me. She’d always wind up laughing though, halfway through them. I didn’t care. I listened some more, caressed her hair, ran my tongue along her ears. The hollow of her neck, where her shoulder and collarbone met- that was where she loved to be kissed. I would talk as well-when I wasn’t distracted. She knew about my solid childhood, my sister Vinnie and our hikes with Papa, Papa and Mama and the incredible safety they provided us with. Our country house, Frankie in the kitchen cooking pot-pi on Sunday afternoons. Papa with a pack of cigarettes, the perpetual cloud of blue smoke that surrounded him, Mama in her flowered apron and her crinkled smile, smelling vaguely of cinnamon. Vinnie and our imaginary fortress, her sneaking out to meet her first boyfriend, growing up with a cloud of friends and degrees balanced on her head, moving away and sometimes reminding me with an unexpected phone call that I missed her. Leo’s moon-river outside her house, her attempt to run away to bring her father back one day, her first boyfriend who taught her how to kiss, then her second boyfriend who taught her that her first boyfriend couldn’t kiss. Radcliffe and Rilke and a trip to Spain mixed up altogether. back to me- stammering till age ten, my fascination with red hair, baseball and hockey- the only two subjects she showed little interest in, though she definitely tried to fake it, university, J.D and our sudden passion for long hikes into unknown places, weed, my failed attempts at writing poetry, booze- lots of it and the guys, summer days spent doing nothing. More memories. More talking, then no talking at all.

Her mother was a dipsomaniac.

“Give me your hand
Your mother is drunk as all the firemen shake
A photo from father’s arms”

Cinder and Smoke IV

2010-02-13T22:24:00.001-08:00

I sit on the unmade bed for a while. No loose sheets litter the floor now. I was never given a chance to get irritated, you see. It simply hadn’t been long enough. Once my workday ends I’m not really sure what to do with myself anymore. Leo had always been the driving force at home. Impetuous and insistent. “Bear we have to!” she would shriek gleefully. And we would. Whatever she happened to want at the time. I would go along with her and we would have fun. I remember this one day on the beach. We had been driving because Leo had suddenly had an urge to go for a long drive. It was just that sort of a day where the sea was calling out to her apparently. I had woken up on a lazy Sunday morning to find a dark sky looming and a breeze swirling the leaves outside. “We have to go for a drive, Bear”, she’d said, as soon as she had seen me. I feebly protested and she waved aside my arguments with a kiss and some coffee. She was wearing something white I remember and she had her hair cut short just a little below her ear. She had lost a lot of weight at that point of time, and she looked like a little lost boy, with her elfin frame and pixie-like face. She had been unusually quiet for a while; stressed about this screenplay she had been working on. We had been driving in silence for a while with the only sound that of the wind and the sheet on the backseat flapping with it. I turned to see her looking at me seriously. It was so unusual for her, I panicked a little, I’ll admit. I thought she was going to tell me it was over and she was bored. Instead she smiled at me so sweetly, it almost broke my heart and said, “Thank you”. “What for”, I asked her, completely mystified, but she just smiled and nodded her head like an adorable little kid. We had nearly reached the beach and you could see the blue temperamental gray of the water. Hardly had I parked the car that she bounded out. She whooped and ran across the soft brown of the beach, spinning, arms flung out, and hair flying in all directions. The beach was empty for once, not surprisingly. The storm was getting close and the wind was strong now. Leo of course, loved it. She danced with wild abandon on the beach. That was something i loved about Leo. Unlike myself who had so many hang ups,, my image, respectability and just, “being proper” in front of people, Leo had no such qualms. She just didn’t care. She let herself go completely and she did exactly what she felt like without a second thought. Her moods dictated her actions. Perhaps, she hadn’t completely grown up, perhaps she was being immature. But to me, she was a wild, untamed spark. She was free. That day she danced with the wind and flirted with the waves. She danced with me.

She was laughing as she reached for my hand. She pulled me into her dance. Clumsy, uncoordinated, stiff fool that I was, I just couldn’t do it. Bound by my limitations, feeling like an utter jackass I tripped along clumsily. I couldn’t look her in the face; for the hundredth time I questioned what on earth this creature was doing with stolid me. Leo drew to a stop and put her arms around my neck. She smiled and then we were slow dancing. Unhurriedly, so close that I couldn’t figure out where I ended and she began. “This we can do, Babe?” She gave me her funny little grin, with eyes sparkling. “Music?” I asked. “I would say something like the music is in your heart, Bear, but you, Mr. Big shot Lawyer would need concrete evidence” She rummaged in the car and brought out a CD. “Def leppard”, she said grinning, like a ridiculously delighted child.

“Oooh, I miss you in a heartbeat.
Oooh, I miss you right away.
Oooh, I miss you in a heartbeat.
It aint love, if it don’t feel that way.”

The music washed over us and we swayed to it. Looking at Leo then, she looked so fragile, so incredibly/ bafflingly beautiful, I couldn’t say a word. Strangely I wanted to protect her. Leo is a strikingly attractive woman. But that day on the beach, in her white dress, and her little-boy face, with her blazing eyes shining- that is what I think of when I think of Leo.

I’ve never been a romantic person; I don’t have enough imagination I suppose. But nobody has ever had the effect Leo did on me. She was electrifying, she was-free. She scared me by the intensity of what I felt for her. She made me – happy isn’t the word. She made me, alive. She made me alive.

“Give me your hand
The dog in the garden row is covered in mud
And dragging your mother’s clothes”

Cinder and Smoke III

2010-02-13T22:13:00.001-08:00

I step out of the shower and start dressing under the cover of the darkness. The blinds are always shut in the bedroom; that was something she had always insisted on from the very beginning. She wrote better without the sunlight she said. “It’s too bright, Bear!” she had exclaimed, tossing her head. “All that yellow light pouring in just makes everything so goddamned Ordinary!” And of course darkness can be used to uncover as well as cover, so I didn’t complain. Now we hide in this darkness, seek shelter in the silences, leave volumes unsaid- not because there’s nothing left to say, but because we’re too afraid of what we’ll be left with if we do say them. An elephant in the room. Such a funny phrase isn’t it? But that’s what it feels like. From the moment I step inside this house, our ‘home’ there’s this tension like everything’s hanging in the balance and something needs to be done. Something needs to be said, but no one can find the courage to say it. I don’t know when it started and whether it was the drink that drove away the work or the work that pushed her over the edge. But she started to take refuge in it. It was strange and it didn’t alarm me at first, because oddly enough she had always been the one to stay away from drink, even social drinking. I’d teased her about it in the beginning, but she’d stayed firm. The strongest drink she would consent to touch would be a cosmopolitan. She liked the tangy taste of it, she said. She didn’t drink alcohol but lemonade was an obsession with her. Lemons with mint and sparkling water, lemonade with a hint of citrus orange. Lemonade with spices. Lemon tea. She loved the tangy taste and the scent. Even the perfume she wore had a distinct lemony accent to it. “Lemonora”, I used to call her. My Leonora. Leo, Love. Love, Leo. Where did you go?

“Cinder and smoke
Some whispers around the trees
The juniper bends
As if you were listening “

Cinder and Smoke II

2010-02-13T17:10:00.000-08:00

“Give me your hand

And take what you will tonight, I'll give it as fast
And high as the flame will rise”

I want her. I want to go back. I want to see her alive again, and see her gaze not dullened or stupid or indifferent. Fiery eyes. Not green, or hazel or blue or any of those exotic colors. Dark brown, blazing. Just the intensity and the determination, the spirit? Now I’m being cheesy, I know. But I never was the one good at words. That was always her job. She’d written me a poem. Just one. For all the amount of writing she did, I have to admit I was more than a little hurt that she’d hardly ever written anything for me. “You’re too good to spoil babe”, she’d told me once, matter of factly. Then she’d kissed me and I’d forgotten about it. I never told her this, for fear she’d laugh at me, and find it silly. But I’d written down the poem again and kept it in my drawer at work. J.D has a picture of his wife and kids on his desk, mine remains conspicuously empty of personal belongings, neat and clean, methodically arranged with the stacks of files kept according to urgency. I’ve been accused of being an automaton more than once by JD and the rest. But inside my desk, I’ve got that poem. It would remind me, that somehow incredibly, I’d managed to capture the spark that she was and hold its attention for so much longer than I could believe. She was fascinating, impulsive and changeable. I was methodical, intensely competitive and focused. The both of us were ambitious though. And we did so well towards the beginning. She did So well. They loved her, loved her incisive wit, her quirky use of dialogue and the words that made the scenes swim with color. Somehow though, it all unravelled.

“The snake in the basement
Found the juniper shade
The farmhouse is burning down”