dark rain, gothic enigma..

Words are winds and smoke

2012-02-29T12:13:00.001+05:30

Today I finally wrote.

I wrote about you, and I, and us. I wrote about the first kiss, the first touch. How we held hands the first time. How innocent and sweet yet scary it was. The time when I had felt something flutter inside me while talking to you. And when I finally saw something in your eyes. From this to now. Everything. Each moment, each pause, each breathe. Every doubt, every thought. Every color. The sunsets and sunrises I saw with you and without you, within you. The nights we spent apart yet together. The days we had carelessly given away to passion. Conversations, thoughts, ideas, words, yours, mine, ours, theirs. Sacred secrets, shared jokes, hidden delights. From the beginning till the end... or whatever one may call it, I wrote it all.

And then I burned it and watched it go up in smoke, like scattered stars at dawn.

I let it go.

To-do

2011-12-07T08:07:00.000+05:30

There are things that I have been meaning to do since some time now. Things which are not the normal, ordinary, day-to-day stuff we do. They are ordinary, but they are not something I would put down in my to-do list and then tick off the items one by one with some sense of achievement. I need solitude, I need a sense of space to do them.

I want to cry. To weep bitterly (I am not sure why it has to be bitter - but the word that comes to my mind every time I think about it is this), to let the imprisoned tears be finally free - let them escape and through them somehow find my own sense of relief, of freedom. Free myself of this choking feeling, free myself of this burden which I feel I have been carrying around since forever. I have no apparent reason to cry but since when have tears asked for a reason? The agony of tears is a secret they guard well.

I wish I could say that one word which I can no longer say. I want to say it softly, reverently. To quietly scream it so my soul can break into a million scattered pieces - or perhaps its already broken and it may finally patch itself up. (I cringe every time I think of this soul-breaking crap - its too dramatic, too cliche. But it somehow feels right). Its strange how much power a mere word can hold over oneself. I still cannot comprehend why the fact that I cannot speak out this word annoys me so. Its like those thorns embedded in my skin. They are insignificant, small, pesky little things. They ought to be incapable of affecting me in any way whatsoever. And yet they hurt - a dot of pain which has to be removed. But still I wonder, will actually speaking out the word help?

And now that I have some time, some space, tears have betrayed me and the word has gone back to sleep. Ironies of life.

Silent Conversations

2011-08-27T17:18:00.002+05:30

After what felt like eons, he finally held her hand. Gently at first, just the tip of his fingers caressing her fingers. Gradually, with every puff of his cigarette, his hold on her hand became more assured. And they sat like that, for what seemed like hours...

She wished the evening would never end. To sit under the shade of a benevolent tree, letting their coffee go cold, and rain gently cascading from the leaves of the tree... Saying nothing, doing nothing. A beautiful, unbroken silence. As if the silence passed on a secret understanding between them. And they sat like that, holding hands, each afraid to let go. He wondered what she was thinking. That sublime, unfathomable pleasantness, which spread in his heart,did she feel it too? And all this while, she tried to read his eyes, read his heart. She saw a deep happiness there... and something else she could not understand.

And still it rained, and they sat where they were, cocooned in their world of unsurity and delight, of silent conversations and a feeling of nothingness...

The Perfect Senseless Poem

2011-08-14T17:17:00.001+05:30

Corrupted expectations
futile, wrong
I can see the end - or can I?
for I still can't stop

Morbidity shadows me
and I follow melancholy
or is it the other way around?

Life-
not just a cup of coffee you label too bitter
Wishes-
another spoon of sugar
how much is too little?

♥ ♥ ♥

Melancholic Musings

2011-07-26T14:23:00.001+05:30

Sometimes this life, as beautiful and as charming as it may be, becomes dreary and desolate for no one's fault but what lies in the heart and the head. Sometimes it takes all your courage, not to mention all the mesmerising memories of wonderful people who surprisingly love you, to not reach for the lustful steel and caress your wrists with it.

But I miss the steel. I miss the smoke. I miss the carelessness. I miss the surety that all this could end, if I wanted to. Not anymore. For I am tied too much to this world now, and love my loved ones too much to cause them any hurt, any pain. Love makes you free, perhaps, but it binds you too tight, too. Its nothing if not a paradox.

I still have the melancholy. It lingers around me, faithful as a shadow, as a servant of the old. Yet there are times when it becomes the master and I end up writing such lugubrious posts. So, let it be. It will pass. Like life does.

Crap story I wrote long time back

2011-04-02T21:11:00.002+05:30

She didn’t want to go the party. Her mood was as jubilant as thunderous clouds and the last thing she wanted was to fake a smile and make polite talk when her very world was falling to pieces around her. But then, she didn’t want people to call her a coward, either. She wasn’t the one to hide, or the one to lick her wounds in private. Rather, she would rub salt on them, so as to keep the pain fresh. Pain made her more determined. He had hurt her. But she wouldn’t let him know that.

So she prepared to go. Clothes were never a hassle before but tonight she wanted to look perfect. Like nothing could touch her. Black was dispensed off as being the color of mourning, and red somehow seemed vampish enough to be worn by a C grade Bollywood starlet – and there will be plenty of them tonight. Yellow would be faking it too much and white was too demure. And so she picked purple, the elegant, regal, purple...mysterious like inky nights and as enigmatic as the royals who preferred it.

And when she arrived, one couldn’t help but notice her. She held her own among the glittering, titillating crowd. Her enchanting smile seemed even more enchanting tonight – if that was even possible...and the purple gown gave her a magical, ethereal aura...

He swallowed his scotch in one quick gulp and stole a glance at her. She looked even more invincible, still alive, enticing. After everything. Had he ever really known her?

Their eyes met and her smile turned mocking for a second, so brief that only he could see it...and suddenly he felt uncomfortable...

To Say Your Name

2011-02-03T23:11:00.000+05:30

She realised that this may well be the last time she would be able to say his name out loud. Maybe hidden in inane conversations. Perhaps, some rare solitary moment. But not as and when she wanted to. Not the way only a lover can say a lover's name. Like a sweet caress... No, she thought. It won't be possible anymore. It hurt her a bit. Which surprised her. She thought she was beyond all pain now. But then again, there is no such thing as comfortably numb, no?

Funny, if you think about it. For she normally didn't feel the need to say his name. But now that that right was to be denied to her, it suddenly seemed as important as breathing. She wanted to fight the world for this. For it seemed cruel that she couldn't even not say his name. He was not in her life anymore. But now, to pretend that he didn't even exist...

And so her soft voice carried out his name. Hesitant at first. Embarrassed at how childish it seemed. But she continued chanting it, and gradually it became a little melody. It made up its own tune. The hesitancy disappeared and an almost melancholic note seeped into her voice. Every letter of the word that was his name rang out clearly, and echoed back to her, filling her soul and heart with something she needed, something which she couldn't name. Her voice moved from nervous to giggly to thoughtful to husky to lugubrious... and then faded away softly.. sinking low till she wasn't sure anymore if she was speaking or simply thinking his name.

Speaking his name was like a soft, gentle touch, a balm to the unhealing wounds, a prayer - but to whom and for what - she had no idea ... but more than anything, it made her cry. After eons of barrenness, it felt strangely uplifting to let tears fall. And in that moment of sorrow - the only emotion which she considered real, after love - she felt at peace. As if he was with her. Finally.

The decade that was...

2011-01-05T05:42:00.002+05:30

Looking back at the past ten years of my life... the most eventful, the most life-altering years...its a long journey, and I have tried to remember the best moments, the memorable moments and the landmarks. But memory is always so unreliable. Side-effects of so many birthdays, I presume. So grab some popcorn or your favourite drink, settle down, and let's take a trip down the memory lane... but be warned, it may get exhausting!!

Studying Fine Arts & Psychology. Perspectives about people & life & art. Finally studying something I loved. It made a hell lot of difference to my grades, and hence, my confidence.

Moving to Delhi. The freedom, the struggle, the youth, the fears...

Hostel life. Bliss! Memories to cherish for life. Learnt a lot about relations here. And friendships. And my shortcomings. I still hate myself for how I behaved back then.

Chain-smoking... loving it, then hating it & hence quitting it.

Tasted alcohol. Hated it. Still can't understand its enigma, its importance.

Getting a job - and not getting fired from any job.

Living alone, loathing it, yet surviving it. Not recommended, though.

Doing a call centre job. Screwed me up for life.

Sunk too low... took me ages to crawl back up...

Falling in love...the pain, the hope...and the joy!! :D

Realising that nothing makes you as strong, or as vulnerable as being on love with someone.

Books, books, books... my sanity.

Blogging. I could finally write somewhere else other than my diary. And surprise! People liked reading it.

Making life lasting friendships.

Getting a degree.

Time when life was all about work, work, work and cutting corners to save, save, save. And time when I had the luxury to put my feet up and do - nothing!!!

No longer dependent on anyone's money. Its a great feeling!

Mobile phones. Internet. And free incoming calls. And Skype.

Learning that friends are not for life.

People who came into my life to guide me and then went away quietly. Forever indebted to them.

My brother - we became close once more. Am still amazed how can such a sweet guy be my brother.. one of us must have been adopted!

Finally understood that Family matters...

...and so does money.

Discovered HIMYM. Seriously. God bless Barney for legendary laughs ;)

My faith in God and his funny ways still unshattered. He knows best.

Did pretty much everything I never thought I would do. Found a reason for things I did...

Like getting married.

Understanding life. And the importance of sacrifices and adjustments.

My own home! After years of being uprooted relentlessly - a place called home.

Becoming the part of a new family. And getting so much love I don't think I ever deserved.

Getting valuable lessons. And forgetting them too.

Experienced Bombay Rains. Happiness drizzling on earth.

Faced the fact that some truths were no longer true for me.

Still struggling to be a better person...

These people came into my life - Pranshu (ha ha), Jaya, Divya, Minakshi & Rishi. There are others too. But I cannot live without these. Nopes. They are my lifeline, my everything. They give meaning to the word life.

This list could go and on and on... and perhaps, I may add to it occasionally... but it seems complete as of now. So tell me, what do you think? Did I miss something? And how was your decade?

Some things are too personal to be put in here. So even though they were turning points of my life, I simply cannot write them down here.

Never alone

2010-12-12T05:20:00.000+05:30

One can never forget.

Those who tell you otherwise, are lying through their teeth.

For how can you escape your own thoughts? They become your personal demons - haunting you forever, taunting you incessantly. Laughing inside your head and dragging you deep down into a never-ending abyss whenever you slip even a little bit. There is no escape. Never will be. Temporarily? Perhaps. But before you have even managed to breathe that sigh of relief, they will be back, stronger and darker than before.

Its such a funny shit. For after a while - eons or seconds maybe, you can pause, tilt your head and laugh at the injustice of the whole situation. You pay for your sins. And for the sins of others too. Year after year. Night after night.

Sometimes, you forget.

But they always come back. And you are never alone.

image: unknown

Love is the feeling I have for you

2010-11-22T11:03:00.003+05:30

Craving to write something. Since ages now. But there's nothing clear inside - as of now. Everything is jumbled up. Or not. Perhaps I have unraveled everything there is to unravel and hence, nothing is left to talk about, to take out. I have numerous drafts now saved by dutiful Blogger, yet none is complete. For when I am happy, its difficult to write here.

But I try.

♥ ♥ ♥

The bravest thing in this world is to fall in love.

And she did it too. We all fall in love, so how could she be any different? Not once, not twice, but thrice. Her first love was the love of youth, that beautiful intoxicating time, when you yearn all day long for a glance. She would wait all day just for his one glimpse, and sometimes, he would smile.

That innocent love, unrequited love. That naivety, when she believed that nothing was impossible and he will come for her one day, take her away and they will live happily ever after.

Yet he never came. She cried for hours in front of the idol she worshipped, begging for him, promising endless fasts and prayers. But her God just smiled down at her. And in the end, she consoled herself with the thought that it was perhaps penance for some sins she committed in her past birth.

Her second love was the one her parents married her off to. It was like a duty, something you subconsciously know since your birth. Love thy husband, worship thy husband. And so she did, dutifully trying to erase all the memories of her first love. He became her first lover, her God and her first child.

He brought breakfast in bed for her. Sometimes with a flower from the garden. She slaved over cooking his meals, looked after the house and made sure the kids were always polite, always presentable.

It went on well for a while. But for her. And him, too. She put him on a pedestal, and he tried hard to hold ground. She wished for more romance and love, soft whispered nothings, that look in his eyes, and praise for a favourite meal. He tried. But it was never enough. Never could be. Love and expectations. Such a silly combination.

Never try to love someone.

Bitterness filled her heart as years flew by. He stopped trying, and its always easier to hate than love. Easier to see the mistakes, the wrinkles, the over cooked food, the disarranged furniture. Easier to see the lost youth, the constant grumblings, the lack of finesse. Easier. And bitter.

It had to happen. She fell in love again.

He wasn't soft-spoken. He never told her she was pretty. But he sang ghazals and recited poetry comfortably in the middle of a conversation. He criticised her. Yet advised her. And she listened. Yet fought with him. It was good - the constant verbal duels - a way to all that was pent up inside. She never spoke sweetly with him, but always made tea the way he liked it - without milk, always made sure his favourite egg-curry was prepared whenever he came for dinner. And he in return, looked at her everytime he sang that line from her favourite ghazal...

She wanted to bottle such moments, like perfume. To be opened up when life is in its autumn and nothing seems more beautiful, more cherishable than a bottle full of untarnished memories. For memories are so gullible, so unreliable.

...and now, when autumn was glided away softly, and winter has wrapped her in a cold embrace, all those memories crowded around her, warming her heart like golden fireflies...

This is what I write when I stay up too late

2010-10-02T22:43:00.000+05:30

Emptiness and desolation
melancholy and angry passion
a Mahabharata between them
inside me
they all want a piece
a piece is all I have

I know it will end
one day, for sure
but today is difficult
today hurts
and tomorrow
always remains tomorrow

To catch a butterfly

2010-09-06T03:27:00.005+05:30

trying to make sense of my thoughts...

like catching butterflies...

♥ ♥ ♥

Remember when you were poor? No, not the "out-of-allowance" period. The out of money forever period. Time when you could either eat or recharge your phone and you went for the latter. Time when you skipped numerous parties - even of dear friends because you had no money for clothes or gifts or sometimes, even for the travel. Time when you longed to buy one new book - oh, but one, every month. Time when you wished you had a better pair of shoes. Time when it was your best friend's birthday and you wished her empty handed and even though she said she didn't care you felt dirty, ragged, rotten - and poor.

Time when you went to a parlour, haphazardly, mostly when you had no other choice - you went to a filthy hole of a place, where you were undressed unceremoniously and you suspected that the sheets, the strips, everything was recycled - and you hoped silently that a day would come when you would never need to come to such a place. Time when you look at the fortunate others with hungry, naked eyes.

Time when you would stay hungry for days and it almost became a new form of mediation ... and only you knew the secret of your smirk when people asked "oh, but you are so slim.. what diet do you follow?" Time when you would shamelessly time your arrival at someone's house around a meal time so you could have one decent meal that week. Time when you would work overtime in your call center job - not even taking those weekends off - so desperate was the need for money. Time when you felt your soul slipping away but there was nothing you could do about it.

Time changes.

And I am scared of that. I am scared that I will get used to it and then, it will change again. For worse. I have a problem with imagining things to be permanent. In my mind, people I love are forever leaving me or laughing at me or worse, dying, and other such horrible things. In my mind, I am back to where it started. Only its worse. because then I had nothing to lose. It was better then, really. And now that I have so much to lose, everything, in fact, I am scared. I end up doubting my best friends, get insecure of my husband - and money, I can never trust money.

I am afraid that this time when it leaves - I won't be as strong or as I brave as when I was when I was young. For I may get accustomed to the comfort, the luxury. So I refuse to own a car. I refuse to buy every luxury considered a necessity nowadays. (of course I succumb every now and then. I am but human). I try very hard not to take people I cherish for granted. And I panic when I realise that I am doing just that. This constant threat, this constant uneasiness... its like an ache which no one can cure. I sometimes laugh at myself and think that I am too fanciful ... but sometimes... I just wish I could stop worrying.. that childish as it seems, someone could tell me that this life has come with a guarantee. Immature, I know. But I can wistfully wish so, no?

Don't give me advise, please. If you can, share your fears, your stories. Show me how brave you are.

Image via here.

Wanted

2010-08-17T21:45:00.002+05:30

All I want is to sit with you and have tea or coffee. Whatever is your cup of tea. To talk, really, really talk with you. Tell you my dreams and fears..but more importantly listen to yours. And I want to be able to hug you and hold your hand at all the right moments. Or just nod. and I want to see love in your eyes, curiosty even. But not boredom. And no, I don't want to see a wait in your eyes -a wait for me to finish talking so you can make appropriate noises and move on. I want to see pride in your eyes when I tell you what did with my day - what I painted, what I thought of... I want an awww and a kiss if I am not feeling well, even if its 10 days in a row.

All I really want is to feel that there is no need to be insecure.

...

2010-08-13T21:26:00.002+05:30

Bad. Me. Evil. Me.

I wish I could undo time, undo all the relations I ever had and set everyone free from the mess called me. It would be such a relief. And really, I would rather be alone for this self-loathing.

Title? Who cares!

2010-08-06T18:05:00.000+05:30

never I asked of you
and never I gave
but you gave me your emptiness
that I'll take to my grave...

so let this heart be still...

Sometimes I wish that I had a battery within me. Or an on/off button. Something like coma, like almost-death, like hibernation. It would have helped pass those days when my emptiness becomes too much for me to handle and overflows. Overflows and drowns everyone around. It gives me enough guilt to last 9 lifetimes.

If you're leaving close the door,
I'm not expecting people anymore...

I am craving for solitude. Not complete solitude though. And that's the catch. The attachment is too much. And so I am craving for something I don't really want. For even when I am alone, you will rule my mind. You will invade my soul and perfume my breathe and dance to my heartbeat, and make me dance to yours. Solitude? Me? Ha!

A Loser of a Poem

2010-08-01T14:46:00.000+05:30

chaotic thoughts
again
bitter bitter
disappointment,
oh, so bitter

no matter what you say
and you...
no matter what you do
I always fail
Like I always do

am no field of flowers
after a spring rain
try hailstorm on a rainbow
and a failure's bitter pain

assumptions, and then rejections
useless, hopeless, heartless?
and my guts are gone for a long walk
"Its raining.." they said.

Tower of Tissues

2010-07-19T15:00:00.000+05:30

And then there was this girl who was locked up, up in a high tower. And the tower and its mast and its moat and the rooms inside and the windows - everything was made of tissues. She was trapped in a tower of tissues, because all she did was cry. If she was happy, she would shed endless happy tears. If she was sad, sad, beautiful tears came tumbling out... Everything and nothing had a profound effect on her and all she could do was shed those tears.

People had theories about her. Perhaps she had sinned in her previous life and hence was forbidden to smile. Or perhaps, she had tears instead of blood coursing through her veins...

Every year, when the moon was full and high in the night sky, and one could see the constellations of Hera and Erebos become one, the layers of tissues were taken off, thrown away and replaced with new ones. Because even tissues can bear only so much tears...

Tagged after so long!

2010-07-07T08:57:00.002+05:30

So here we are... it has been ages since I was last tagged... there was a time we would happily take on tag posts because it meant not struggling over what to post next.

I was tagged by the sweet Calvy, and I took almost a month to rspond.. am so, so sorry :(

Without further ado, here's more information for the voyeur in you ;)

1. Asked someone to marry you? Guilty. Took some time and persuasion, and finally... a happy beginning ;)

2. Ever kissed someone of the same sex? Yes darling! Twice. But the details go with me to the grave :P

3. Danced on a table in a bar? No, no :O would be fun but am too scared of being embarrassed.

4. Ever told a lie? Ha ha. Who hasn't? ;)

5. Kissed a picture? Millions of zillions of time... sigh!

6. Slept in until 5 PM? Only when I was very, very sick.

7. Fallen asleep at work/school? Guilty. Having a heavy lunch is so catastrophic!

8. Held a snake? Am actually not sure about this. Will have to consult Rainboy.

9. Been suspended from school? Nah. but now I wish I had been ;)

10. Worked at a fast food restaurant? No. Would have been an experience though.

11. Stolen from a store? Yes. I still regret it...

12. Been fired from a job? Nah, never :)

13. Done something you regret? Guilty. Again, who hasn't? And many many times.

14. Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? No.. I just choke :P

15. Caught a snowflake on your tongue? I wish!!

16. Kissed in the rain? Yes... its divine...

17. Sat on a roof top? Totally!

18. Kissed someone you shouldn’t? The same sex people I guess ;)

19. Sang in the shower? Guilty.

20. Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? No one will dare to. They know I will bury them alive. Plus I always considered it kinda offensive, never fun.

21. Shaved your head? One day, I will.

22. Had a boxing membership? No, but I practise daily ;)

23. Made a girlfriend cry? I will presume it is for my friends who are girls hehe. Yes I have, and then I have handed over tissues and begged forgiveness till eternity.. I can be such a jerk sometimes.. :(

24. Been in a band? Shaadi wala band? Yes! :P Just kidding...

25. Shot a gun? Nopes

26. Donated Blood? They say am underweight... :|

27. Eaten alligator meat? Am a vegetarian...and I doubt that even if I was a non-vegetarian, would have experimented so much.

28. Eaten cheesecake? Nopes.

29. Still love someone you shouldn’t? I have never loved anyone I shouldn't...

30. Have/had a tattoo? Innocent.

31. Liked someone, but will never tell who? If we are talking about crushes, then yes it has happened. Otherwise, no. I believe in spreading love and joy ;)

32. Been too honest? Oh yes. And it hurts.

33. Ruined a surprise? Many. All the surprises were for me. They never take in my superior IQ while planning a surprise, ha! ;)

34. Ate in a restaurant and got really bloated that you couldn’t walk afterward? Yup.

35. Erased someone in your friends list? Guilty. Some things come with an expiration date. Some things do not come under "Friends for Life."

36. Dressed in a woman’s clothes (if you’re a guy) or man’s clothes (if you’re a girl)? Of course. Girls wear men's clothes all the time :P

37. Joined a pageant? He he. No.

38. Been told that you’re handsome or beautiful by someone who totally meant what they said? I am never sure about these things.. so, no idea

39. Had communication with your ex? Don't have an ex. :)

40. Got totally drunk on the night before exam? No! Oh god, no. I hadn't tasted alcohol in those days :P

41. Got totally angry that you cried so hard? Millions of times. Yesterday in fact. Mostly, the anger is at myself.

Sex and the... education

2010-06-19T23:17:00.002+05:30

Sex.

Think about it.

When did you first knew this three letter word was dirty? That you were not supposed to use it in polite conversation? That you did not know, till after a long time (or short time, perhaps) what it means, really means? And how much it changed things? Changed how you viewed girls / boys, marriage, births etc.?

That you talked with friends about it...you tried to read all you could about it? And not a single word was from your school syllabus?

Why is it, that in a country like ours, who is known as land of Kamasutra and the second most populous country in the world, sex is a taboo? Why is it that sex education is still not compulsory for children?

And worried parents will think that perhaps we are encouraging kids to think about sex and do it. Yeah right! They will do it anyway, now or later. Sooner or later, they have to do it! Its better they know what they are getting into and how to go about it. The precautions, the risks, pregnancy, birth control etc. And what safer place to learn this than in a classroom, by a well-informed, knowledgeable teacher?

Better than asking people who have hardly any clue themselves. I have heard educated people (graduates, working) saying that a girl can become a virgin again if she doesn't have sex for 2-3 months or more. Ye-sss...

♥ ♥ ♥

Our education system is anyways going down the drain. Now kids are being told they no longer have to work hard, because hey, we won't fail you. No matter what your marks are, we will give a grade, even if you are merit-listed, so don't sweat so much! Life isn't so difficult you see. Why, there be will a reservation for your sex/caste/religion somewhere in some industry/field, so don't stress kid!

♥ ♥ ♥

Among other things, I have just added another page to my blog. It will be about my all other blogs, in case you already can't get enough of me haha :P

Baarish...

2010-05-07T03:35:00.000+05:30

तरस रहे हैं हम
एक बूँद के लिए
बारिश के लिए
बूंदों से भीगी एक खिड़की के लिए...

छोटे से शहर में एक छोटा सा घर
छोटे से घर में एक छोटा सा कमरा
छोटे से कमरे में एक छोटी सी खिड़की,
नीली दीवारें
और बाहर नीला आसमान

खिड़की से सटा एक बिस्तर
और बैठ कर वहां, तकते रहना बस यूँ ही घंटों तक
इंतज़ार करना उस नीले आसमान का बादलों में छुपने का
चमकती बूंदों के आने का
समां बदल जाने का

और फिर
बरसती है बूँदें
और तरसता मन
उड़ जाता है दीवारों के पार
करने बातें बूदों के साथ

सब कुछ, नया सा
प्यारा सा, अपना सा
भीग जाती है खिड़की बारिश से
और एक एक बूँद अटक जाती है उसकी सलांखों पे
जिन में झिलमिलाते है सातों रंग
इन्द्रधनुष बनकर

बस यही चाहिए मुझे
एक नीला कमरा
एक भीगी हुई खिड़की
और बाहर बादलों में सिमटा आसमान...

Craving for rain. So wrote this poem. Its 3:33 am, and I am drowsy and tired. Just lousy excuses for the poem. Just want it to rain and rain and rain...

The Orange Girl

2010-05-04T03:54:00.007+05:30

And I heart this. This is my new blog ( a month old actually). About things I see and like. Like design. fine Art. Fashion. Intelligent ideas. Anything that makes me happy. And kick-fires the grey cells :)

♥ ♥ ♥

"When the head is full of weighty thoughts, you can either say a few words, or keep silent. Mum kept silent."
-from The Orange Girl

How do you write a review about a book which isn't melodramatic, isn't harsh, yet touches your heart and makes you believe in fairytales? This isn't actually a review. Just what I feel every time I read this book.

The Orange Girl

This book is about a riddle from the past. Riddle about love, oranges, and yes, The Orange Girl. About a guy rediscovering his dead father through his letters. Its about the two voices of the son and the father, the past and the present, coming together in perfect harmony. His father writes in the most beautifully simple manner about his illness, about the Hubble telescope, about The Orange Girl, and the riddle called life.

"Sometimes I have to sleep a bit at this time of the day too, not because I'm feeling ill, but because I can't sleep at night; all the thoughts crowd in on me then, that's when they trouble me the most. Just as I'm about to drop off I get such a deep glimpse into all the unpleasant mysteries, into that huge and horrible fairytale that has no good fairies, but only black omens, dark spirits and evil elves. So it's better to forget about sleeping at night and drop off on the sofa during the morning when it's light."

I so understand this. Because I do this almost daily.

♥ ♥ ♥

The father meets her, The Orange Girl, a girl holding a bag full of juicy looking oranges, for the first time on a tram and realises immediately that there was something "unaccountably magical & enchanting" about her. And after heart-stopping moments of looking in her teasing and mischievous eyes, he somehow loses her. She goes away, just like she suddenly came. Like magic. Like a fairy.

And so begins a crazy hunt all over the city; in big supermarkets which sold luscious oranges in brown paper bags; among trams and among cafes... he stupidly, cutely, totally like someone in love - comes up with ridiculously sweet fables of why she needed that big bag of oranges, and how those oranges tied up with the greater scheme of life and most importantly, who was The Orange Girl?

Was she a part of an expedition to Greenland and needed those oranges so she doesn't die of scurvy out in the wilds? Was she part of a large family, the eldest of her four sisters and two brothers, and those oranges were for her little brother and sisters to take to school with them? Or was she "the mother of a little family that consisted of her and a Mr Nice Guy who had just graduated from the School of Management, and their little four or five-month-old daughter, whose name he imagined, for some reason, must be Ranveig?"

The story transforms more and more into a beautiful lesson on love and life and everything in between. Yet never becomes overbearing. And by the time the riddle is solved, the world suddenly seems freshly rain-drenched. Of course, it won't be everyone's cup of tea, but it is has very delicious, different aroma and a wonderful, lingering after taste. Try it once.

The Orange Girl by Jostein Gaarder
ISBN Code: 978-0-7538-1992-0

You can buy it here.

♥ ♥ ♥

Happy Birthday to Me...

2010-04-25T13:57:00.004+05:30

So I turn 27 today - something I am trying not to think about. Mainly because it means that I will be 30 in 3 years from now, which, frankly makes me want to get mummified and wake up after, say a 100 years or so. I realised that there are so many things I wanted to do but haven't done, because, well, one just keeps procrastinating. So I've finally decided to make a list of stuff that I have to do - no matter what - by the time I turn 30.. so at least, I won't feel so bad.. won't feel that I didn't accomplish anything even at this age.

But before the list, here are a few pictures of the surprise He had planned for me :D

Yes. The cake. I know. I loved it too. And yes, it was delicious.

He knows I love the tiny stuff. And the bicycle is a gift by my best friend who gave me a sweet surprise.
(Psst! He wanted me to write "nasty shock" instead of "sweet surprise".)

He made this sofa...

These were the guests...

Sigh!

♥ ♥ ♥

Anyway, the list:

Sell my paintings.

Join a dance class.

Go to Ladakh / or an awesome road trip like it.

Night out

Get drunk - wasted.

Try tequila.(just so I can crib that I have no idea why people have something so bitter - also - it may help me fulfill the aforementioned wish).

Create an awesome poster.

Stay in a cabin in the hills.

Color my hair.

Learn how to make awesome coffee.

Cook my mom a dinner - n give her an awesome gift.

Start writing poems again - this is tricky.

Join kickboxing classes.

Grow a beard and leave it for at least a month. Kiddin!

Sleep under the stars. Oh please. And we can make wild guesses about the constellations.

Learn to drive.

Have my own library.

Picnic by the riverside.

Spend one day lying in bed and not feel guilty about it. Just do nothing but read great books. Laze about. Ok, cut out the books too. Just be so lazy that laziness gets an entirely new definition.

Meet Ruskin Bond.

White water rafting.

Go on a photo-vacation.

Dance in the rain - done that - wanna do again.

Skinny dipping.

Master one dish which will be handed down generations :P

Get that book published.

Memorize the lines of my fav movie - all the lines.

Scuba diving / snorkeling.

Get over my fear(s).

Relearn maths.

Dance on top of a table. In heels.

♥ scrambled love ♥

2010-04-10T22:36:00.001+05:30

my silence begs you for your voice
say something, please
ordinary becomes enchanting
when you speak...
but you don't!
such a tease, no?
and haunting, haunting dreams
of your voice
whispering, cajoling
tantalising...
you don't let me sleep...

so much love in my heart
it overflows and drowns me
am floating in your love
yet very soon I will choke
come soon
and take your share
least i die
waiting for you
and your love kills me
...a beautiful death

♥ ♥ ♥

"पहले आती थी हाल-ऐ-दिल पे हसी
अब नहीं आती..."
-ghalib

♥ ♥ ♥

p.s.: did this make sense? writing poetry after ages.. feel all wooden and unsure...

I ♥ You

2010-04-05T22:57:00.002+05:30

I miss you. And the rain.

It felt so magical then. You know, ever since the beginning.

♥ ♥ ♥

I still remember when I first held your hand. Your hands, sun-kissed, rough, harsh...I fell in love at first sight. They felt new and strange and fresh underneath my fingers. Tracing your life-line in the palm of your hand - coarse, deeply etched, and thankfully, long. And when we interlinked our fingers, it was how it was meant to be. Since life began, this was what I had been waiting for. To hold a hand which called out to mine, which felt safe and heavenly, like coming home.

And like the work of a magic spell, you became my favourite person. I have no idea when, where, how, why. These how's and whys don't even matter.

♥ ♥ ♥

Do you remember, the silent walks, the whispered confessions, when feelings overwhelmed our tiny little hearts and tumbled out the way rainbow colored butterflies struggle out of their coccon? And beautiful, life-altering moments when I kept drowning in your eyes, pretending to myself it was just a game, another silly game we were playing.

Sweet, savoured, cherished moments.

It was so difficult, yet somehow so easy to bare my heart to you, strip my soul infront of you....after all, it was you.

♥ ♥ ♥

jism ki baat nahi thi,
unke dil tak jaana tha...

♥ ♥ ♥

You make me feel beautiful every time you look at me. You make me realise that live is short ,but wonderfully beautiful and full of happy surprises. Your love makes everything else fade away, yet somehow, it also enhances everything, like I am looking at everything with eyes full of wonder.

If I were a poem, trust me, I will dedicate myself to you.

image via here.

lil something...

2010-04-01T22:11:00.002+05:30

Clicks while travelling on a train from Punjab to Delhi

It was heavenly...watching sunrise and then gazing amazingly at the sun-drenched foggy land of my beautiful Punjab.

♥ ♥ ♥

I want to paint all the communication towers pink or purple or white or any color which looks lovely against the evening sky or morning sky. Which soothes the heart in blistering heat and warms it in arctic winter. Let them be more feminine, or more raw, and not an awkward red and white striped pajama.Wonder what Freud will think of this national obsession of sprinkling these phallus symbols all over the landscape?