Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
And you guys definitely make it in the priority list...
I am quoting my best friend because I miss her like crazy. I miss us as a group. But her, I don't even know where to begin...
Dear Best Friend,
The Delhi Winters are just not the same without you. They are not as colourful as they are supposed to be.
I remember how you would just sway every morning to college in your bright coloured muffler and multi colored socks. How we would just sit and talk all day long and muffins were all that we needed.
I want you to call me right now and force me to bunk work for some experimental paharganj like exploration.
There is so much Delhi left to be seen with you. There is so much life left to be seen with you.
There are too many memories to be created and too many to be cherished.
Too many gossips and too many realizations.
Come home. Soon.
And since I have decided to quote you, look what I found...
A hundred interpretations later, a hundred auto rides later, a hundred (apparent) shared rajma chawal meals later, a hundred messy realisations later, a thousand broke days later, a hundred money oweing escapades later, a hundred cute, happy fetishes later, a hundred tears over significant and insignificant issues later, a hundred missed classes later, a hundred bollywood trivia questions, a hundred unsaid things later, a hundred, rude but not so much, situations later, 2 boyfriends later, many friends, a hundred acquaintances later, a hundred differences but a million weird similarities later....
Monday, December 19, 2011
Well, for an entire week now, the universe has taken up the job with the KRA to prove me wrong. No seriously. Somewhere some crazy unacknowledged force is out there getting back on the world by tormenting the happiest winter person alive (me!).
Trust me it is so bad that someone like me has started blaming her astrological stars for the way things are turning out and the way they are completely (and violently) attacking my joy.
So it starts with a very simple off day when I drag my boyfriend to buy shoes using my parents' money. Sounds awesome? It did to me. But who knew what was going to follow. A week full of misery. Misery Misery Misery.
First to strike was the still-hurting-my-foot shoe bite. It was this huge, humongous, hurtful blotch on the back of my right ankle. Blotch by the way is just the way it looked. Wounded as I was physically, this shoe bite is the reason why I cannot wear a single pair of the two new set of pretty shoes I bought that day.
To make matters worse, the only time I wore one of them, despite being from an oh-so-expensive-apparently-trustworthy brand, the Velcro came off and the design tore. I mean all that pain for what?
Anyhoo, the shoes were returned. They are being sent to the company and I shall have another pair in a week. Meanwhile the shoe bite (yes it still exists, and itches) continues to annoy me day in and out.
The mysterious force was not done yet.
Two days later, boyfriend makes me wait for three hours in a Gurgaon mall and taking advantage of the location, I decide to pamper myself. So I go to this hot looking salon. I take off my rings before I get the oh-so-bloody-expensive-but-I-deserve-it manicure.
Capricorn Boy and I leave for home and some one hour later I realize that I have forgotten to wear my rings post my manicure. Since the salon was new for me and they did not do a great job, I hadn't taken their phone number. Distress. Oh life! (For information, I wear an old ruby encrusted gold ring and a pearl silver ring, which are freakishly expensive!)
Next day I drive all the way to bloody Haryana land to find my rings. Capricorn Boy (the awesome-ness that he is) lets me ride his scooty (yes that's what I have access to) till the campus gate and I very nicely park it there as we continue our quest to retrieve my rings in my car (wanted to be in the same vehicle hello!).
Two hours of driving and fretting later, as we reach the godforsaken mall, I look for my phone (an 8 effin mega pixel camera, fantastic touchscreen) only to realize that I have left it in the scooty.
And that too in the front compartment that is open (to prying eyes).
This is even before the rings have been retrieved.
To cut a long story short, several calls to the guards on duty and the phone was retrieved half an hour later. Also a small fight with the salon receptionist and the rings were restored to their former glory.
Or was it??
The mysterious force, the very next day decides to culminate the entire revenge (of i don't know what) in one sweet and swift Swish..
On the metro station (Gurgaon yet once more. Probably jinxed one would assume...), nature calls and I have no option but to use the Public Washroom. The Indian style loo looked more hygenic and clean. The decision is made.
The loo door does not have a latch. There is no way to hold the door.
This cannot be said in any other manner.
My phone, yes the same 8 mega pixel awesome touchscreen phone, slips from my hand into the pot. Into The Pot!!!
And since it is an Indian loo, it goes straight into the drain.
Just like that.
Not to return ever.
Just like Time.
Just like broken glass.
Just like fallen rain.
It just went.
I stood there, still holding the door, and not being able to comprehend.
I called for help but no safaiwala could reach it. The long wooden cleaning device was also of no avail.
I could hear the crazy, sadistic mysterious force laughing the devil's laugh. It stood there in it's secret hiding place, omnipresent in it's pursuit and it just pointed at me and laughed it's guts out.
I finally gave up all hope of getting my precious phone back. I finally left that wretched loo. I cursed and I cursed but what good could that do to the pre-written destiny.
Today is a new day. With a beaten down old Samsung and a horrible network connection. With a fancy coat but also with old and worn to shreds floaters rejected by my sister (shoebite remember?).
It is a new day.
I hope the forces of universe are finally in deep slumber, enjoying the weather with their victory....
I so Hope with all my heart.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Winter sun and all that breeze.
And the will to just bunk work and relax at a friend's place. To just bunk work and sit in a coffee shop. To bunk work and watch back to back Castle episodes.
To just Bunk Work.
And then have ceasar salad. Lots of it. With mayo and not healthy dressing.
To ask boyfriend to bunk work too.
To just ask for a over long never ending winter weekend.
To go shopping with awesome student sister with exams (lucky b****). To make her bunk studying.
And the works...
Sunday, November 13, 2011
This time I cannot decide for my own. I am willing to melt the hang-ups in my head. I am willing to let go of apprehensions.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
But there is a small subjectivity to this.
Did I judge you when you climbed that very same tree to once again bruise your knee?
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Zoom past the meadows, polluting the fine country air. Blurring the glimpses of the world outside and also blurring the lines of time.
You thought that you could whizz past the traffic and come out in the clear?
Just steer through the unending noise and conjestion. Blowing your horn and also your trumpet.
You actually thought you are capable of that?
You actually assumed I will follow you through.
Assumed that You will impress me?
Don't bother love.
Your car isnt the type. And neither are you.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
I am telling you.
The minute this chill sets into the air, a crazy excitement sets in my heart. I can never be unhappy in winters. Summers are torrid. Rains are gray. But winters?
They are colourful.
They are a never ending fun filled carnival.
They creep into the nights and make my cheeks rosy in the mornings. They crawl out of their cocoon and become the butterfly of my days. They cloud the skies. The sun warms from a hazy translucent fog and feels like silk against the skin.
It brings joy.
Lots of it.
Monday, October 24, 2011
I like Diwali.
It means I get a holiday. A day when my sister and I will make Rangoli all around our house. It means we will have a nice Puja, post which we will decorate the entire place with diyas and candles.
I stopped bursting crackers in 8th grade. I had signed an Anti Firecrackers Petition and I took it way too seriously.
But then last year it was different. Capricorn Boy, (being the sexy bomb that he is) lit my Diwali with phooljhadi and anar. He was the reason why the loud sound of patakhas did not bother my ears. It felt complete. And colourful.
I did not forget my oath and kept it limited. But it was a lot of fun.
It was like being 10 again.
And I am eagerly waiting for Diwali this year.
It feels like it will be fun.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Just realized that I had not written a word here in 2010.
I wonder why?
I think it was the whole I-will-be-an-entrepreneur phase.
I think it was also the I-am-creatively-and-emotionally-satisfied phase.
But that should never have meant that I stop writing. Nothing in this world should hamper expression. What we wish to express must always be let out, must always be said.
And there has to always be a clear demarcation between fantasy and reality. Very similar to what me and Best Fraaand discussed. Mix the two and we will be in soup. And that too clear soup where everything is visible.
Fantastic elements of my mind may never be understood by another mind. Because every mind is too caught up in it's own respective imagery. And why probe judgement when you can avoid one? It is always better to simplify things. That is the rule of nature. Complications are always unnecessary. And they hardly bear fruit.
Gladiator sandals are comfortable and trendy.
Dupattas are HOT. Especially bling ones.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
I want to capture the young me, the child me and store it in a big ornate box with extremely delicate and absolutely intricate carvings on the lid. I want to hide it in my wooden cupboard, lock it and hide the key. The small metal key which is easy to camouflage.
Then when I am sick of this horrible feeling of growing old, of years passing me by, of my innocence dying, of not being able to scream and cry when I want, of not being able to run bare feet, of money making, of horrid judgemental looks, of adult leeches using others like stepping stones, of people not being happy enough because of silly reasons....
... I will just reach for my hidden key and open the wooden cupboard. I will take my ornate box with delicate and intricate carvings on the lid and then I will simply dive into its velvet insides.
Purple and velvet.
Soft and comfortable.
I will imagine the insides of the box to be the insides of a genie bottle. The child in me will be the genie of the bottle and will fulfill my wishes. Three at a time...
I will ask for white snowflakes on the tip of my nose.
I will ask for a sparkling river beneath my feet.
I will ask for the last ray of the sun, right before it sets, in my hair.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Sharp edges of the Paper Cutter.
Erasers to erase. White Fluids to cover.
Dusters to wipe.
Ever noticed that a stain still remains?
Screws. Screw ups!
All kinds. Fountain, Ball point, Sketch, Roller.
Lots of it.
And once again. Makers. Marked.
Markers. Marking. Markings.
Stretchings. Of the sky.
Clean Rivers. Running rivers.