Forever

Sometimes you make the wrong choices, and you hope that they are the right ones. And sometimes the right ones that you make are wrong beyond recall. It is always just a matter of time before everything falls into place, or falls apart (whatever is most likely in your world). There's a reason people are forgotten. They are meant to be. Broken hearts are just an excuse to express random sorrow. The kind that's accumulated over trivial affairs and the lack of them. You can keep holding back. You can keep assuming that there is going to be a reason for you to break free. You can keep kidding yourself and nurse a broken heart and perhaps learn to sing.

Kiss Good Bye

Is it what you feel or what you know? Deep down inside at the bottom of your heart where you're busy churning love in various new forms is probably where it all begins. The mediocrity of people combined with yours makes one big average. It's more average than the individual spirit. And then the standards are formed. To which one must conform. The big average becomes the guideline for things good and small. There are moments when you can feel yourself floundering and lost. And the scariest part is that you relinquish that too. Because it's alright to flounder in everyone's combined average angst. You sacrifice your anger for a time and once it finally comes and pats you on your back you drown it and yourself in misunderstood rage and selfish grief.

There is hardly a point to life. Except to simply feel the fact that you exist. Every single day. Just that. And everything else is simply a bonus - good friends, a decent place to live, loves of lives and the occasional craving for blueberry cheesecake.

The Love That I Will Choose To Keep

Where desires will be throttled, and hearts shall weep,
that is the love I will choose to keep.
When the nights are quiet and the moon hangs low in the sky,
when it's dark enough for the stars to cry,
I imagine I will stand in curious wonder
and give myself in wonderous surrender.

Arranged Marriage aur Hum

The marriage mafia presents..: not-eligible match for your idiotic, dim witted, pot-bellied, weird, uneducated bania lump of a son.

Name: Manasi Chatpalliwar

Height: 5'8'' ( yes too tall for your lump, I suggest you not read ahead.)

Date of Birth: 15/06/1988

Age: 22

Views on marriage: If it involves what's described above please kill me now.

Place of Birth : Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania (Will bet you a hundred dollars your son does not know which continent)
Time of Birth : 8.30 p.m. (Non- Manglik - which totally is besides the point but because your brain power is limited to thought processes involving fried food and getting married, discussions on this will help you feel intelligent and thoughtful.)

Qualification: B. A. Honours, History, Pursuing LL.B. - No package (Maybe that will deter you greedy bastards)

Other Details : Girl is a voracious (yes it's a word, yes it's very common) reader. Enjoys Music and travelling (trips to Manali in borrowed Innova taxis do not count as travelling). Family-oriented (towards her own family that is, not yours). Simple, not down to earth - chances are she might bully your son. Is said to be witty, which is a pity because all that humour will be wasted on your blob.

Convent educated, tall and slim.

Family Tree

Father : Government Official

Mother: Government Official

[Neither possesses the capacity to discuss your jewellery, cars and business beyond 5 seconds]

Brother: Possesses more intelligence in his little pinky than your entire khandaan put together and will be immensely cooperative in secretly poking fun at you behind your back after you leave.

Note: If still interested after reading this, kindly note that NO, we will not give your blob gold or a car or a washing machine, or a television set, or a house or pay for bathroom fittings etc. if by some sheer fluke this marriage does actually place.

My Ruling Planet

Mercury is a heavy metal. It's quite flippant as well. The moment you touch it, it disintegrates into tiny silver balls which go rolling in every direction. Mercurial people are no different. We're too restless from within. And those who are mistaken with the appearance of a calm surface waste no time in trying to plunge through it. They don't realize that they can't. We simply vanish in anger and disintegrate from within. There's no looking whole again unless collected and stored in a different container. Once spilled, we remain spilled... for quite a while.

All the stuff about Geminis and birth signs is crap. But our ruling planet is Mercury and that isn't crap. We're little silver balls rolled into one and till yesterday I didn't realize that inner strength has nothing to do with how fragile you are on the outside. You can collect it all in one place but you can't change it's nature or it's reaction to temperature changes. The volatile defense mechanism in which we give out small pieces of ourselves rather than the whole thing is because we're scared someone will be tempted to spear the unstable surface and leave us to disintegrate. We're afraid that we'll be unable to put it back together again.

Mercury is a very heavy metal but it lacks depth. When you bring all of it together it'll look whole and good but it's always ready to fall apart. It lacks resilience but is quite cunning. It makes itself smaller and numerous to withstand the necessary prodding and touching until one is forced to give up. But that's the thing with mercury. You can't give up on it. You can't leave it to exist as a small version of a bigger blob or in tiny silver balls underneath the fridge. It's a very broken metal. But it's always eager to be put together again. All you have to do is find a way to contain it. In one place. And it reaches out and puts itself back together again for you. As good as new.

Bright and Shiny

There are some ties that are made in an instant. There are some that are broken and repaired so many times that they're unbreakable even if you want them to be broken. There are silly moments when you want to sit curled up on someone's bed with a newspaper and do the crossword with them. There are rituals that were meaningless before and have become something of a keepsake.
One shouldn't have to escape within oneself. Mornings before college is when I do that. I indulge myself. I walk barefoot all over the house with my cup of tea and then stand alone at the window nursing it till it's lukewarm. The window that used to be a balcony. It used to be the place where I searched for playmates down below. Now I just look across to the other building and beyond that towards the horizon. At nights too I stand there. Hiding behind the curtains. Listening to conversations meant for me and without me. I thought I was bright and shiny. I'm not too bothered that I am not. The ties that I make are not bright and shiny either. I'm very bothered about that.

Crash

When the first plate smashed to the floor with a resounding crash it felt good. So I slowly picked up one plate after the other and smashed them all to the floor. There were some glasses. I smashed those too. I didn't scream or shout. The noise created by the destruction of china was enough to raise hell itself. It was strangely calming. Then, I stepped over the shards and decided to go to bed.
There were people saying something but I was drunk out of my wits to care. Someone grabbed my arm and I pushed them away. Hard. I wanted to fall. And I wanted to never get up. I wanted to do something so drastic it'd make me forget that bone deep love which you can't because it's bone deep.
I stared resentfully at no one in particular and when someone told me to lie down, I did quietly. I was hoping I'd sleep. Sleep didn't come. Visions did. I hated myself then. I hate drunk people. I hate all drunk people. It has always been so easy to hate. To hate yourself and everything you love.

Darrrrllllliiiiinnnngggg

Interesting realisation today while listening to a song on the radio as I drove to college: I am totally that girl. I am not refined. Do not wish to be. I am just slightly afraid of new people and am actually not that stuck up. And I love with gay abandon! People. Things. Everything that takes my fancy.
The song in question goes something like this : Munni badnaam hui.. darling tere liye!, Item yeh kaam hui darling tere liye.. and in the end she loses the plot completely and says le jhandu balm hui.. darling tere liye!!
Totally not a catharsis inducing song for most, I know. However, as I said. I can totally imagine dancing to this with energetic thumkas, numerous winks and lip biting. I can imagine most people reading this and rolling their eyes. I don't give a flying fuck. I am totally the girl that makes guys hug their pillows!

Us, Girls

Quick to judge and quicker to love. That's what we are, us carefree girls. Careworn too sometimes. Seemingly innocent, with shadows of doubts beneath our eyes, we get lost in our own various defences.
My trail of charm is different than hers and hers and hers. Maybe someone picked up the wrong scent and traced it back to the wrong girl. We hold our heads high in our fathomless mistakes made for and by others and secretly flounder.
I know I am always slightly confused and secretly alert. As I watch the others I know that they are too. All of us are on the lookout for the signs from each other about our own trails and travails.
Sometimes the most innocuous of words become infested with a plethora of meanings and then we ponder and think and construe.

And So It Begins

I stare at my lap. Look out of the window. Stare at my lap again. Look out of the window again. I have never been this nervous. Or perhaps I have and don't remember.
He seems fine. Drives. Smokes. Drives.
I wonder if he's smoking because he's nervous too.
"Is it the music?" he asks.
"No." I am mortified. I curse every single Western musician silently under my breath and then myself for never having been able to understand or appreciate it!
I'm actually very proud of myself for keeping so quiet! I guess he notices as well.
"What's with the silence?"
I smile. I feel like a retard but I smile.
He gives me this huge grin and I realise I'm fine.
It begins to rain and I gather up the courage to fiddle with the radio. I give him a sideways look to see if he minds. It doesn't look like he does. I feel myself suddenly relaxing. I smile again.
A long drive and a bit of rain and a little bit of music.

Oohs and Aahs

Orange and gold bangles,
mist in the air,
big strong hands
and kisses everywhere.

I spent the better part of the morning wrapping a present in blue and gold handmade paper and then tying it with pink and gold string. Beautiful. I keep looking at it and feeling happy. It's a good week. There are countless messages on my phone and lots of plans to make with lots of people. Not to mention the weather is fricking awesome! Just the kind for long drives.. which we managed to do last night! I'm slightly concerned about my phone addiction though. Sigh.. I'm in the mood to write letters..

Two and a Half Men

How do men do it? How do they always have their radars reading signals that are not even there? It's disappointing. Some things I'd like the men to know:

1. When we call you up to get someone else's number it is not an excuse! Honestly we're just not bothered enough to find a better way to do it.

2. Also if we call you up at a certain time of the night there is no need to read too much into it. Most of us are insomniacs and sleep during the day if ever and need someone to stay up with them.

3. If we laugh at something you say it is not because you are funny but because we find you and your sense of humour pathetic and ridiculous. Most of us who are above 20 no longer do the seductive giggle tactics on the phone! Especially never to prolong sleepless nights!

4. If you think you are witty and you are not please do not try to drive the person up the wall by simply repeating the thing you think is witty in different tones!

5. If you are aware that your wit is below average and your humour stale, resist the temptation to tell a well practised joke. The chances are that you will mess that up as well.

6. If you own a goldfish and somehow never tire of talking about it, marry it. Do not invite the person you are talking to to the ceremony.

7. If you have past girlfriends that were just like you, marry them and chuck the goldfish. Do not obsess about them to the other person over and over until they wish to kill you both.

8. If you think you are like any of the characters in Boston Legal, keep it to yourself. Constantly saying "Denny Crane" in little bursts does not give you the right to be so annoying.

9. If you think certain parts of my anatomy are appealing try not to make it obvious by staring. When I catch you staring do not try to stare me down. It is not polite.

10. If you believe in getting laid simply say so. No one is going to judge you. We will judge you if you declare you do not believe in it, because then you're just a weird guy.

Not mediocre

I have exams... And I'm not worried. Because something else is taking precedence. Something that consumes me from the inside out. Sometimes it meekly walks away. Sometimes it snarls and keeps up the torment. Somehow it is always there. These days it's a little insecure...seeing as I am winning.
They told me to write it down. They are stupid people. All of them who claim to understand. To feel and to know. It is always one against the world. Only the world doesn't want you to know that anytime soon.
These days I have dreams of those that I never saw before. Atleast not clearly enough.
I am thankful. For today I have made up my mind to live. To push and hustle!
I'd lost the faith. I thought someone took it with them. I had lost it. Not the faith though...

To you and you and you

"Ooooohhhhh.... I'd love to be skinny!"
"Give me your metabolic rate!"

I never knew thin was the cause of such envy... A certain someone told me they'd die to be so thin... I tell them often that I'll probably die because of it... :-)

I'm envious too.. of raging appetites and risky lifestyles..

IF I COULD I WOULD:
vodkas with cokes (more than half a glass) and
dhaba food and
sweet concotions and
chocolate milk! and
maggi, maggi maggi! and
chicken sandwiches from subway and
chhole kulche from roadside vendors and
momos from obscure carts and
glasses full of coke with loads of ice! and
ice creams after every meal and
chicken!! rolls, gravies anything!

This is for all of you.. who can eat and eat and keep it all in.. savour it! fuck the weight issues! they're dumb and stupid!

Here, There and Everywhere

It was high school. I was ugly. I saw it every day in the mirror before leaving for school. I remember walking down the longest corridor, with sweaty hands clutching a binder tightly to the chest as I tried my best to slink past the group of senior boys without getting noticed. Of course, it was not to be. I was the weird Indian girl, the one who read all the time curled up in secluded corners and ate her lunches alone because she was told Indian food smelled. One of them winked as I walked past and my stomach lurched. It was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears right there and then. I hated them. I guess they didn't like me very much either. It would have been the uncool thing to do.

I began to dread opening my locker. On Valentine's Day everyone had a red carnation sent to them by someone or the other (school initiave) inside their locker. I opened mine to find a bunch of smelly socks and a note which said : you won't notice the smell anyway.
I think I still carry that rage somewhere.

A year later. I had another note. It said: "You're beautiful". I mistrusted it instantly. I imagined a bunch of people were standing around waiting for me to smile before they started jeering. I threw it in the trash. The next day there was a red rose inside. I went to the school counselor to ask her for a lock for my locker becaues someone seemed to know my code. I cried at night. I couldn't understand why someone would mock me so.

What happened afterwards is a blur. I was in love... with the way he felt. I was everything I wanted to be because he could see me that way.
Seven months later.. there was another note: "I don't think you're pretty enough to be mine".
This time I smiled. It was the longest prank anyone had played. You had to give some credit.

I came back to India. Outside my car window a small child held up a rose and grinned. "Aap bahut sundar ho didi". I smiled. I loved my country instantly.

Full Circle

Complacency with lack of...and high horses and defensive yelling.. all seem to have such a simple explanation.
I was right about certain things in life being pointless. There are too many people on this planet. Not to mention in this country alone. You can sit in your room and have endless phone conversations with someone and be blissfully unaware that there is someone out there who got in between.. or maybe got there first.
It happens to people. In fact it happens to them right under their nose and they're busy worrying about stupid things like lies and hurt and doing the right thing.

Faces aren't easy to read. Not even when they're close enough for noses to bump. You can look into someone's eyes and see your own longing reflected back and happily accept. Even though there will always be visions of midnight kisses with others and perhaps more...

Purge

I wish I could scream. I wish that there was some place that you could go to and then just scream it all out. It'd save a lot of people a whole lot of trouble.

There are impressions of me that do not match. There are definitions that do not fit and there are lies which are sometimes so true it's insulting to have to believe otherwise.
Every single day, there are voices in my head and it's like they killed my angel and buried it somewhere so that all I can hear is myself and them.
I wish I could scream. I hope that when I finally do it, I will be understood.

Choke

"You leave me with a foul taste in my mouth."

I begin to plead silently for little parts of me to erode away into dignified oblivion somewhere..
By the end of it everyone is a stranger.
The space fills quickly with reverberating echoes of rancor and hate.

Rime

When they were newly married, they'd sleep in positions which ensured physical contact throughout the night. Sometimes, they'd be face to face so that their foreheads would touch, sometimes, he'd put his arm around her waist and draw her close. She would always end up saying his name out loud in deep sleep.

One morning, she awoke to find him looking her and was thrilled that he'd been watching her sleep. He kissed her on the nose and then lay back looking forlorn.
"What is it my love?" she asked.
"Why do you say his name every night, night after night?" he whispered sadly.
________________________________________________________

I hold his hand for lack of something better to do. The distance between where we are and where we should be is immense. The restlessness, anguish and pain of both our beating hearts creates a cocoon inside which we exist in each other's solitude.

If I find what I am looking for, I fear it may be something that will be the manifestation of my vilest most horrid beliefs.
His rancor, through which I have discovered a void within myself where I wish to be buried alive, has made my soul splinter into little pieces which do not feel complete anymore.

They say live... with it.... and without it...

I wish they'd tell me how.

Red Shoal

Stifled within yourself. An island in the middle of a red lagoon of pulsating nothingness.
You're mesmerized by the thought that the mind carries the body and not the other way around. In your case which carries which has never occurred to you.

There comes a certain moment when you manage to humiliate yourself and feel such degradation so deep somewhere that you begin to hate with this fiery intensity anything that makes you think.

Whenever you will pick yourself up and dust off the failure that others have piled upon you, there will always be others waiting to pull you back down again. Those that claim to love you are the most capable. You will let them think for you, all the while remaining an island and at the same time will try to float into a pathetic merged existence with them.

There is no respect. For you, or for your scathing resentment of all that there is around and beyond. All this while you never realise, that more than anything else, you have this need to destruct.

When you peek over the edge of the island. The red is shallow and your reflection is upside down...