stories from neverland!

the mind and the body are like Siamese twins. only death does them apart. this bond that binds them should be respected. they cannot stay uninvolved in each other's business. sometimes the body enslaves the mind. sometimes the mind asks the body to shut up and obey. figuring out a path of non-alignment towards either is difficult. 

oh this sounds funny already. but i will write this out anyway. 

each has a wish of its own. the mind's wish is like a longing, the body's is called desire. . they start looking for a common point of culmination. and if they don't find one, then life gets messed up. 

this was just fyi..  

25% of me

So I have been tagged. And I have to write 25 things about myself. 25 is a huge number..
But, PFB:

1. I am a loner, and as is the case with loners, I have never given my friends the importance they deserve in my life. Lately, I have realized that I should, mend my ways.
2. I always wanted a teddy for myself. But then put the thought away as I thought it would occupy too much space on my bed. I need a lot of space, you see. And I love sleeping alone. But my friend got me one, and I am doing a lot of teddy-talking these days. You could suggest names for it, if you want.
3. I keep practicing detachment all the time. I keep telling myself everything is non-permanent. Whenever I see myself in a position fearing my life without a certain thing/person, I immediately step back and see the whole situation from a broader perspective. So the thing/person leaves me? So what? You know, you have no idea about the degree to which the human mind can adapt.
4. I love brownie ala mode at Baskin Robins. I don't like SubWay that much.
5. I love wearing skirts. I don't love wearing stilettos, I have never tried them really. This is to let you know that I am very down to earth. I am getting a pair of sexy stilettos for myself asap, by the way.
6. I track the readers of this blog. Because, when I get a hint that someone read a 50 posts here, I want to find out who was it. What went through his mind. Let's not be sexist, her mind. What held them on for so long.
7. In relationships, I am the craziest person you would have ever known. I am this exorbitantly demanding, insanely jealous, impossibly possessive, unruly like a thirteen year old kid, I myself would slap when I am sane.
8. I paint my toes.Not my finger-nails. I rarely do the former anyway. But I always paint them black, whenever I paint them.
9. I love going out alone. I am so used to it that now I love it. I love to see the expression on the face of the waitress everytime I ask for a table for one! You mean a table for two?
10. But sometimes, I like to have a nice conversation with a person on the other side of the table for two. With candles between us, floating on water, along with rose petals. I got very specific with this one didn't I.
11. Most of the stuff I put up on this blog is true. It is all based on my experience. Some are a little inspired from imaginations. But sadly, very very sadly, most of them are all about what I have been through, in flesh and blood.
12. I love hot showers. I love them, can stand in them for hours. I have done that, my skin gets wrinkles after that, but that doesn't deter me. I love hot showers in summer too.
13. I am the closest to being me when I am lost in thought.
14. I am yet to experience quarter life crisis. Or may be I have lived through it. But I am definitely not having it now.
15. I never regret. Sometimes I forcibly stop myself from regretting. I don't even regret the worst things I have done in my life. They continue to live within me, as nondetachable parts of me. And I want the day never to come when I would regret them.
16. I know, being in love is the most beautiful feeling in the world.
17. I think I am ugly. As in, not beautiful. Sometimes I blame everything that is wrong with my life on my not being beautiful. I know it's not fair, but it's an old habit.
18. My best friend is my pin cushion. I fall back on her whenever I need to. I would have married her had it not been for my gender/sexual orientation.
19.  I believe, 25 is a huge number.
20. I love purple. The more I realize this, the more I find out how much purple I have shopped for unconsciously. Purple three-fourths, purple T's, purple earrings. I only need to get purple shoes!
21. I always wanted to write with an ink pen. It is a very fulfilling act. I got myself one, it didn't work properly. And I got back to typing my heart out. But when I write a book, (this is not funny :P) I might have to revert to the ink pen, and quit/pause writing this blog for sometime/altogether.
22. Every person has an influence they have grown up with. I have none. I have no idols in life. No moral standards that the society has set for people to follow. I could try anything, if my heart wishes to. Just about anything!
23. My childhood has an enormous impact on the person I am. And what makes me more conscious of it is that all of that impact is unconscious. Yes, the incidents of my childhood hold my subconscious hostage. I get possessed when I try to remember.
24. I am wondering, if you have reached this far :P ?!
25.  The person who has tagged me, I have been friends with for the last 5 years. 5 years is a long time. Scary long. And we have been friends despite me, despite him.

And I tag no-one! Aren't you relieved?

a held thought

i used to be 9. nine. i was made to wear frocks that ended somewhere between my knees and my feet. and they had sleeves made of net, and were mostly red. my hair used to be short, like that of a boy. sometimes it used to grow in wild curls below my shoulders before being mercilessly cropped again. i used to play with dolls. rather, i used to live with them. i talked to trees. stare at the sky, sometimes blue sometimes black. i used to be scared of ghosts. my house had elaborate beds, they had designs cut out on them, i used to look through them, you know i am failing at explaining this to you. it is beyond my words now.

there would be places on the dressing table that has smudges of wax, remnants of a burnt candle, i used to play with. and in the monsoons, the muddy roads used to give way and form puddles i had to jump across. paper boats, i loved making them, i used to fill them with petals before leaving them afloat. one such day in the middle of monsoon, we were to see a certain girl. yes, with the intention of marriage, for an uncle of mine. 

and monsoons also were treacherous. when the incessant rain stopped for a while, it got so sunny that you sweat, but the puddles din't dry up. it used to be hot and wet, both. we set out, all of us, grannys, aunts, dozens of cousins, packed in a smoky old white ambassador, to see the girl. the first gust of smoke from the rickety vehicle would arouse my ever dormant nausea, make my head go round and round. they would make me sit on someone's lap near the window of the car, so that i could take in all the breeze and keep all the vomit inside.

so i started talking to myself again, and also to the trees i saw, like i always did. the road was a straight one, by the side of a canal, that was brimming full of muddy rain water. everywhere there was lush green, the smell of waiting rain the air. and there were trees everywhere, the kinds i had never seen, banyans over hundred years old, with pronounced aerial roots, i couldn't tell which one was the real one. in the midst of journey, the mighty old ambassador would have to screech to a halt, because one of the babies had to pee. 

it was an afternoon, herds of cattle were being led back home, on the way. we were headed to see the girl. somewhere in her purse, grandmother hid an ancestral ring of gold which she would slide up the girl's middle finger, is she seemed to like her. i wondered what the ring looked like, whether it had red stones on it.

the first thing i did after i saw the girl, was to never leave her side. and i said aloud to everyone, look, she has such long hair.

note to the reader: writing a post like this is difficult for me because it is difficult trying to get the perfect words to paint the picture i want to. i wrote this because i wanted to. i don't know how well i could recreate that bygone time.

Privilege of Chaos

Sometimes Red loses its significance. It merges with the background and keeps itself from being seen. It has a mind of its own. It does as it feels it should. Red is for love. Red is for anger too.

Lately, I have been angry a lot. And this has been taking a huge toll on me, because I have not yet found out who or what am I angry on. So as is the usual, I choose to blame it on my destiny. But it's just not fair to do that. Destiny would be a lame reason for my unhappiness. It is not a reason at all. The reason behind all my emotions is me.

I am alone, because I choose to be alone. I choose to draw a sphere around me where every other being is prosecuted for trespassing! I have chosen personal space over company. So much space, so much of it that it feels like a void now. But nevertheless, it is my choice. There would pros and cons of everything and I should be flexible enough to accept. And not to grumble over it. But the problem is I do. I want only the goodies and not the unpleasant side effects that come along with the goodies. I am looking for a way to sort this out. It will be good if I figure a way out before it drives me crazy!

Love? I have chosen self over love. Yes finally. Probably, there is no such thing as love. It could be just an illusion people worship for the whole of their lives. It is very hard to draw those lines. Between liking a man and wanting to keep him for life. It's difficult. It is very hazy. If I try to find out what love is, I never find it out. If I care not about the definition and just fall into it, let it enslave me, then my heart breaks. I think I should drop the topic altogether and take a break.

So this is it. Writing has been the only constant in my life for long. I want it to stay, that's the only thing I am sure about. For everything else, there is the privilege of chaos!

escaping the obvious

can the truth be forgotten for one night?
can i come back to you for tonite?
i promise, i will get away before u're up in th morn..
can we forget the split? like i sometimes daydream about..
like nothing happened, and be happy as ever
can we ditch the present, care not about the future
and slip into th past, just for tonite..darl..
the corner in your bed, that belonged to me,
can i have it again, just for tonite?

can i brush my fingers thru your hair?
and kiss your chin..?
and watch you sleep..
can i see you tonite?
one time, one last time
can i love you tonite?

my sweethearrt, my chocolate pie, my baby..


the sound of shattering glass

 It is just a story I want you to know. I want to trade a secret with you. Sometimes people confuse intimacy with physical intimacy. It is not that. I read this somewhere. Intimacy is trading of secrets in the dark. I have been very intimate with you. I have been you. And you have been me. Yes, me. In the moments we did that, we were intimate. But the day broke before we could trade all our secrets. The darkness ditched us, you and me. Our story couldn't end. It is broken, unfinished. I couldn't tell you many things I feel I should have. And I definitely wanted to know you more. Oh, so much more. I have moved into a new place. Change is the hardest thing to take in such circumstances. I don't go out of my room much. I stay in here and imagine I am with you. I part my curtains to play with the wind-chime that hung from your window. And I don't find it. There are these pangs that my heart feels it wouldn't survive, any longer. A feeling of a sudden loneliness, a realization that happens only again and again. When I part the curtains, to look out of the window, I see a graveyard. When I wake up in the night, crying, I stare at the graveyard where the dead lay, in forced peace. I secretly look at them, so that they don't get to know that I am looking. I wonder if they walk at night. I wonder if I could talk to them. I want to stay shut and scream aloud at the same time. I say I hate you and I love you in the same breath. I do. I had started writing about something else, and have ended up having written about something entirely different. But I will let this go, like I let everything else go. Like I let you go. My secrets suffocate me thesedays that I have noone to trade them with. So much that I want to talk to ghosts. Yeah..


taking to wings!

begins with a D, and hard to pronounce, that's where I worked. I will remember walking like a zombie with earphones plugged in my ears, like the songs are playing inside my head and I could only see a world that doesn't speak, at all; the fresh gust of AC from Ernst & Young, before I walked into my office, the shh-d the bays in there, that me saying hi's to outright strangers in the bus-stop, confusing them with the people I met the day before, and watching that look of total confusion form on their faces, yeah, I actually did things like that! Texting and walking, Texting and walking..not being able to make out absolutely real stones on my path, tripping over, spraining my leg, and all that! Love, ridiculously exorbitant phone bills, a broken heart, attempted nursing, all that! Walking by the sea, sitting by it for hours, with a friend who I know doesn't understand me, and nor he ever would, but still a great friend, the lack of emotional proximity, sometimes makes way for the discovery of the person inside me I thought I never was. Fantastic weekends, intoxication, exotic cuisine (?), intoxication again, yeah, a lot more, things I couldn't probably write down about here.. I had great company to choose from :).. And it was a privilege you know to get lost in a city, turn around, and see not a face you know, heaven! Late night walks, early morning walks, sitting by the lake, rain dancing, hmm..everything, everything!

rose petals and a candle, together on water

the wait..

begins with a D, and hard to pronounce ;)

a stolen moment! 

my Mumbai stint was something, wasn't it?! 


On my last day at work, my boss asked me what is it that I want in life? Pop came the spontaneous answer, like it always does. I just want to be happy. There were many affirmative nods and smiles from the others around. But c'mon! Don't be a spoilsport! Tell us the dirtiest, most materialistic dream you have..

Well a sea facing apartment that overlooks the highway, which has one entire wall made of glass by which I can sit and write, which I roll down when I want the rain to come in. And a balcony from where in I can lean down and feel the wind. And one bed with a hell of a cushy mattress, where I would totally sink in and disappear, with lots of pillows I can throw my legs on. And of course a kitchen that isn't in any way separated from the hall, where I can cook all my experimental cuisine and try them on myself. And a huge TV on which my favorite sitcoms run back to back, all the time. And a fridge with lots and lots of cheese in it. And Norah/Shakira playing in the background all the time, the volume of which adjusts automatically to my moods..

And in that whole dream, which just now occupies a tiny space inside my head, I see only me. And no one else. No one else deserves to be there along with me, I guess.

But hey there was another dream too. I was home after a few months into MBA, and my dad who is an amateur chef was thinking of quitting his job and we were about to start a restaurant! We were seriously into it, until one day I obviously went back to school, and Dad to his job..!!

Dreams they say..


my love is sacred, it's outrageously passionate. it's irrational and uncompromising.
your love is moody. it switches between maddening heights and unknown depths, it kills me whenn it does that, bothways
my love is pathetically possessive of you, yours is nameless
my love paralyzes me, it is as unconditional as unconditional could get, it doesn't crave for your response, yet it does.
you hold me hostage, you dictate my mind's every move
i don't matter to you, you follow the faceless like a lunatic
your love is divine, mine is human, very human
i need you and youare insatiable
i stay up like an insane insomniac, watching you sleep
you are a rock, while i explode to your every touch

it's badly lopsided..

my loveis love
and yours is not


what are we doing?

we are sitting on a bench, by the side of a lake, rubbing our feet on the grass, on the other side of
midnight, getting drenched in the first rain

Is this what we always wanted?

May be not. We wanted other things.

What other things?

Other things like love, may be. Yeah, love. The most beautiful thing in the world.

So why are we here?

Because love didn't happen.

The reason?

Noreason. The moment we to try to figure out the reason, we can't stop cursing ourselves. So we just sit quietly, trying to hold our cold shivers inside, looking at the lights from the highway reflect on the black peaceful water of the lake.

But what next?

We will walk back, like fallen soldiers, tearing the stillness of the dead night, back into our rooms. Lie down on our beds and hold our breath and close our eyes, and see a face inside our minds and remember..things that could have been. And finally hopefully at a certain point of time, may be, the ache in our hearts will be subdued by our need for a refuge in sleep. And then, may be we would dream, may be we would not..

Can two wounded hearts, heal each other?

Sitting on a bench, by the side of a lake, rubbing their feet on the grass, on the other side of midnight, getting drenched in the first rain, may be they can. Or may be they would never.

And I hope they never..
like a broken bangle
and like the remnant of the moon that stays till the morning sky
like an unsaid word
like a fire doused before it became all ash

you left me,


Men in my Life IV

wot's in common between the three??

just that they make me laugh my intestines out!


humor is the key..

do you get me..?


i never dreamed of a knight in shining armor. i just wanted a keeper of my secrets.

but that was not to be. after a heartbreak, the ghost of the heartbreaker remained with me, for a long long time. i forgot craving for my keeper for secrets. i began talking to that ghost instead.

throughout, i wanted a shoulder to lean on, not a knight in shining armor.

i used to have visions, flashes of sunlight emerging from the dark, a savior, an exorcist, the one who would drive away the ghost of my heartbreaker. now, i don't have them anysuch anymore, those visions.


i see those hypothetical shoulders becoming real in blood and muscle, and they look like you. also there are crazy clues to believe this is true. hence, i have stopped having those visions altogether. it is the most beautiful thing, you know, to see, my dreams trickle into reality, drop after drop. and those dreams are not lost in transition, may be not, i hope not, i want not.

but you still have those visions, you still see half hidden face of a virgin that keeps you awake, you still do. you still await the keeper of your secrets. and i am not the one, not the one for you?

will you break my heart, again?