Now, as I was slicing onions for mamma’s chilly chicken, I was thinking. If my life were a river, I was thinking how it had meandered through. Some day back in school, I used to be weak at studies. That was way back in forth standard. I remember, I was new to this city and this new school I had joined made life worse. The traffic, the pollution made me feel nauseous everyday in the school bus. How we used to be packed, like sardines…sweating and stinking.
I had no friends, and to worsen it a big communication problem with the kids in the class.
One such fateful day, my English teacher had announced to the class that she would be taking a test the next day. I don’t know how, I never slept off in the class like I do now, but somehow I didn’t get to know of it. The next day, I saw kids tearing off sheets from their class work copies, to write the test. I didn’t know what was happening around me. I felt like crying, a test in the next few minutes, and was unaware of the damned chapter’s name. she took the test and I scored a 9 on 25. My eyes went blank. Felt as if, that was THE END!
How would I reveal this to mamma? What face would I show her? As I got down from the (zoo-like) school bus of ours, the first thing I blurted out was my humbling 9 on 25. And I had my set of excuses ready, “I didn’t know of the test”, “I don’t like the teacher”, I wantta change the school”, “next test I would try and score passable marks”. And I was taken off my feet with the way she reacted. She said it was alright. Though I don’t remember clearly, may be she had kissed me also…I forgot the ordeal I had undergone at school. Even today, my parents surprise me by the way they react to certain things I do. The way they feel contradicts my expectations.
And from then on, seven years in that school, and things changed for me. I grew so attached to it, that I shed endless streams of tears in my farewell. I would be away from school, and besides everything else, I wouldn’t be able see my crush. I had one in 8th standard. (When did you have yours?)Ohhw! Painful! My first love would go down the drain, and he wouldn’t even know…
And I have changed leaps and bound after that. From being a silent nine year old girl, who sat pushed to the corner, to the nineteen year old one, who gets to hear the maximum number of comments in the class. And to not having crushes anymore, I am an old woman now. I have outgrown so many things, in life.
At the end of it all( lemme remind you that I was chopping onions at the beginning) , I find out that I am chopping capsicum now. And that the onions had given me a mild, cold
with time...
I can see the wrinkles. No one else can. It’s not my face that has wrinkled, my mind has.
I will just give one instance. My eyes can sense less color these days. It’s rare that they find anything pleasing. Earlier I had typical feminine eyes, I was crazy about dresses. I was obsessed about them. And now, I walk through the malls like a zombie. I can’t make myself to like anything, anywhere.
Recently I went out shoe-shopping with papa. I went to some 20 odd shops. I liked none. From one shop to another, time refused to pass by. In and out of those air-conditioned rooms, into those sweaty, dusty lanes, I dragged my body along. Every half-hour passed by, more sluggishly than the previous one.
I was feeling more frustrated than usual. I wanted something. Anything that could please my eyes, my tongue. Gupchup wala!!! It was like a rescue ship for the marooned me. It was then that I felt relieved, the sour and hot as if enlivened my taste buds and all my senses along with it. I got into the last shop of the evening-got the first pair of shoes that could engage my eyes for more than 20 seconds. And got done with it. Ha!
I will just give one instance. My eyes can sense less color these days. It’s rare that they find anything pleasing. Earlier I had typical feminine eyes, I was crazy about dresses. I was obsessed about them. And now, I walk through the malls like a zombie. I can’t make myself to like anything, anywhere.
Recently I went out shoe-shopping with papa. I went to some 20 odd shops. I liked none. From one shop to another, time refused to pass by. In and out of those air-conditioned rooms, into those sweaty, dusty lanes, I dragged my body along. Every half-hour passed by, more sluggishly than the previous one.
I was feeling more frustrated than usual. I wanted something. Anything that could please my eyes, my tongue. Gupchup wala!!! It was like a rescue ship for the marooned me. It was then that I felt relieved, the sour and hot as if enlivened my taste buds and all my senses along with it. I got into the last shop of the evening-got the first pair of shoes that could engage my eyes for more than 20 seconds. And got done with it. Ha!
of earhones and novels...
It’s a hot Saturday morning here. (Yeah, mornings are anything but hot. Every day I get up cursing the sun for having burnt up one half of my face. Changing sides and getting back to sleep doesn’t exactly work out. And of mornings and afternoons, the lesser I reveal, the better.)Anyway, where was I? It’s a hot Saturday morning. And I come to realize that I have eaten up almost a month of the two and a half month summer vacation. And I know that my semester results are going to be out on Monday that is the day after tomorrow. I really really want to spend these last hours of my life in peace.
And lemme tell you what I am up to. I listen to FM all day long. FM, forgot2tellya, is the latest craze in my city. Wherever you go, you will find people tuning into the three radio stations that opened simultaneously a few weeks ago. So most of the time of the day, when I am home, with earphones plugged in, I would be peeping into a novel, and sitting right in front of the AC (as if it’s a TV or something. but AC is like GOD for me these days). And all the bloody time, I try think of anything but results.
lovelorn
Last night was a long one. I slept for the longest time in weeks, and gradually dissipated all my fatigue to the darkness. And now I realize why I didn’t get up for so long. Because I was dreaming of my love. Of my love having come to the place where I live. And he meeting the guy next door. I saw him first, and it took some time to sink in that it was him indeed. And of me freezing that moment. And then recognizing those same eyes, that hair standing like that of a porcupine, and of course those long legs and he almost towering over the rest of the world. All the same as I had imagined. The same thing that had been disturbing my thoughts relentlessly for years was now standing right in my front, eclipsing the rest of the world from my sight. And I stared into his eyes like a lost, innocent child who had found a parent after a day’s long search.
But then, my vision went blank. As he smiled at me. Indifferently. And then it occurred to me that he was smiling at the walls, so brashly whitewashed and all cracked up at places. Was he blind? And dumb? And deaf? He never felt the call of my love? I was a part of the crowd for him. A limb all that furniture in that room. It was then exactly that I froze. Everything in me froze. Even the tears in my eyes, waiting to ooze out any moment did. I went limp with helplessness. And got up.
But then, my vision went blank. As he smiled at me. Indifferently. And then it occurred to me that he was smiling at the walls, so brashly whitewashed and all cracked up at places. Was he blind? And dumb? And deaf? He never felt the call of my love? I was a part of the crowd for him. A limb all that furniture in that room. It was then exactly that I froze. Everything in me froze. Even the tears in my eyes, waiting to ooze out any moment did. I went limp with helplessness. And got up.
quota?
Every time I think about the quota thing, I end up a little more frustrated. I belong to some upper caste. And somehow I am safe. I mean, at least I wouldn’t be unemployed, in near future. But there are many, who, have been underprivileged by birth, and have been born as NON- STs STs and now OBCs.
My tryst with quota began when I got admitted into engineering. I was frustrated with the branch I was allotted, in my college. May be it was parental pressure, peer pressure, or simply the want to get a better pay-package, by studying a (so called) better branch…and blah blah! And I saw, many people, who had ranks way below me, had been given better branches than mine. Just because, they had surnames that came under scheduled castes and tribes? Many of them belonged to the same city as I do. I had almost grown up with them. They went to the same tuitions that I went to. They stayed in houses like mine. Their parents owned cars. Then tell me how are they underprivileged? Did they deserve a quota?
I remember, I had cried my eyes out, for hours. On the phone, talking to mum, I didn’t even know how to vent my frustration. It was like biting my own pillow.
Even today, the poor of our country are sinking down the infinite abyss of poverty. Why? Because, we would never think about anything else that vote-bank hungry, ugly, cheap, sectarian politics. Politicians- shit on your face!
Whatever statistics say, whatever that slugging growth of GDP says, I don’t give a damn! And lastly, if I could, I would have dragged Arjun singh by his collar… ( heard me grinding my teeth?)
My tryst with quota began when I got admitted into engineering. I was frustrated with the branch I was allotted, in my college. May be it was parental pressure, peer pressure, or simply the want to get a better pay-package, by studying a (so called) better branch…and blah blah! And I saw, many people, who had ranks way below me, had been given better branches than mine. Just because, they had surnames that came under scheduled castes and tribes? Many of them belonged to the same city as I do. I had almost grown up with them. They went to the same tuitions that I went to. They stayed in houses like mine. Their parents owned cars. Then tell me how are they underprivileged? Did they deserve a quota?
I remember, I had cried my eyes out, for hours. On the phone, talking to mum, I didn’t even know how to vent my frustration. It was like biting my own pillow.
Even today, the poor of our country are sinking down the infinite abyss of poverty. Why? Because, we would never think about anything else that vote-bank hungry, ugly, cheap, sectarian politics. Politicians- shit on your face!
Whatever statistics say, whatever that slugging growth of GDP says, I don’t give a damn! And lastly, if I could, I would have dragged Arjun singh by his collar… ( heard me grinding my teeth?)
xpress urself
Heard about that Baroda university case, haven’t you?
Well! I have nothing much to say but about all that happened:
*it’s a shame to that university (came to know that it is nationally recognized for fine arts and blah blah!
*it’s a shame to Narendra Modi and his baseless hindutva…
*it’s a shame to that VC (fellow called Manoj Soni) who was made the VC at a mere age of 40( not that I’m saying you cannot have a young VC), by Modi-the great, just because he’d authored some bloody book: Third Space on the Gujarat carnage of 2002 with a staunch hindutva tilt.
*a shame to that unscrupulous group of VHP activists (that MOB to be precise!!!!) who claiming to be the moral brigade of a free n thinkin’ India vandalized the premises of an educational institution.
*a shame to the media which cashes on such incidents.
For god’s sake, can we leave the artist alone, and let him express himself. Who’s asking you to agree with him? At least, let him have his say…
Well! I have nothing much to say but about all that happened:
*it’s a shame to that university (came to know that it is nationally recognized for fine arts and blah blah!
*it’s a shame to Narendra Modi and his baseless hindutva…
*it’s a shame to that VC (fellow called Manoj Soni) who was made the VC at a mere age of 40( not that I’m saying you cannot have a young VC), by Modi-the great, just because he’d authored some bloody book: Third Space on the Gujarat carnage of 2002 with a staunch hindutva tilt.
*a shame to that unscrupulous group of VHP activists (that MOB to be precise!!!!) who claiming to be the moral brigade of a free n thinkin’ India vandalized the premises of an educational institution.*a shame to the media which cashes on such incidents.
For god’s sake, can we leave the artist alone, and let him express himself. Who’s asking you to agree with him? At least, let him have his say…
confessions of a girl
Hello, i am also a human being. i can also have a crush. i can also get infatuated to people. aren't you? why is everyone taken aback, when i happen to talk about these things in the normal flow of the conversation i generally have with people.i can sense that hiccup and i am told" it's good to hear a girl tell that". Goodness gracious, where am i? Which century do peeople live in? Gawd!How i wish i could whistle like you guys do...
holiday blues
the semester exams are the hardest time in the entire semester. literally, i would find no time to breathe. As our holidays start the very day the sems get over, i knit plans from the blue, for my holidays. We guys get a two and a half months as summer vacation.{enviable naah!} this i know, is the last proper summer vacation of my life. next year, i would be training somewhere. I dunno where.and the next year, i would be stepping into the 'real' world. i would hopefully live a life of my own. forget that. So where was i?
Yeah, i was talking about the grand plans that i make for the holidays. i plan to read, read, anything and everythings.{last time i had almost done that, i was do damn drowned in fiction, that, it made me sick}...Khushwant Singh's obsession with *** {u know what} and Shobha De' s compassion for monotonous page 3, particularly responisble...
Anyways, i also plan to watch movies. But my dream of finding that dream- CD wallah in my locality, who keeps good CDs of my-type movies, will never materilaise...
i plan out long solitary rides, at some break neck speed in these highways. i plan to observe the way my city has grown. but, i just can't do that...mum's return time rules are more stringent than that of my hostel... :(
i plan evening walks but find no companion...ehhhhhwww!
i plan not to gain any holiday weight, i plan out yoga and stuff. plans, remain plans for ever, particularly these ones. Also going back with the same err... figure i came with, is beyond my domain. Mum'z fault again :P
i try not to lose my temper on my kid brother, who no longer is a kid :D, i think i have been able to do this...
what els? let's see what things look like, i l keep you guys well informed...take carezzzz
Yeah, i was talking about the grand plans that i make for the holidays. i plan to read, read, anything and everythings.{last time i had almost done that, i was do damn drowned in fiction, that, it made me sick}...Khushwant Singh's obsession with *** {u know what} and Shobha De' s compassion for monotonous page 3, particularly responisble...
Anyways, i also plan to watch movies. But my dream of finding that dream- CD wallah in my locality, who keeps good CDs of my-type movies, will never materilaise...
i plan out long solitary rides, at some break neck speed in these highways. i plan to observe the way my city has grown. but, i just can't do that...mum's return time rules are more stringent than that of my hostel... :(
i plan evening walks but find no companion...ehhhhhwww!
i plan not to gain any holiday weight, i plan out yoga and stuff. plans, remain plans for ever, particularly these ones. Also going back with the same err... figure i came with, is beyond my domain. Mum'z fault again :P
i try not to lose my temper on my kid brother, who no longer is a kid :D, i think i have been able to do this...
what els? let's see what things look like, i l keep you guys well informed...take carezzzz
the rag picker
Today while I was walking my way back from the institute, I saw a child. Someone whose resemblance matched that of the rag picker of my thoughts. I don’t know how old she was. Anyways she is starved enough to look half of her age.
Dark. She had hair that hadn’t been oiled for years. Stunted and small. She wore a green skirt which was too long for her. She walked with a gait that told me that she had never held anyone’s hands. Her tiny feet had no chappals. The road I knew was burning with the afternoon heat. May be that is why they were hurrying away. They- my rag picker and her mentor. She had a man who walked beside her. He hurried her along the way a shepherd leads his sheep.
I tried to keep pace with them. And then they halted. She wanted to see the children of the well-off do karate. That amused her.
Those kids had everything she had always wanted-clothes, food, comfort, love, a future. She didn’t even have a present. She lived on the streets—like an animal.
I waited for her to turn her face. I wanted to see her eyes, pale and small…I wanted to read her mind.
But as I walked away other thoughts meandered into my mind…
xxx
My heart doesn’t beat like it did
Tears have stagnated
Emotions are deep asleep
I have become so stoical
I have forgotten to fly
I am myself
Always alone
I am almost dead
before death
i might die in a few minutes. i am having a terrible heartache. if this is a real one, my heart might succumb. and then i was thinking the way i will be burnt. and then of the way, i will be gradually be wiped out of people's memories. of the things that are exclusively mine, like my cell phone, my computer, my bed, and many things alike, what would happen to them? there are many things that would die along with me. things that smell like me, things that have so much of me within them. people would fear my ghost. and who knows this is the last time i am blogging...
on love...
We ended up discussing on what love is. Su, Kasby, Annie, n I.
Su’s and Kasby’s view:
That person has to care for you right from the beginning (without you having any feelings for him). And then when you realize the extra attention he gives you, you begin to reciprocate. An understanding takes birth. And then you begin to trust him. Then love. And then you commit. Then marry. This is when you suppose that love is a two-sided machine. You can’t love someone, who doesn’t love you.
Annie’s and my view:
Love is something more instinctive. An inner call. It is something right from beginning. Neither a process, nor something, which has a thousand intermediate states. It’s a one-sided affair. and irrespective of the other person's feelings. Love is passion. And it’s reasonless. It’s not about commitment and marriage. People can definitely more than once, twice, thrice and so on... It’s not a once and for all kinda affair. And also that love is a rare human feeling that can't be explained. Wotcha tinkin'?
We are girls. We like not to make an issue out of anything. No matter how serious the matter is, we would never let it take up huge proportions. We would like it to die, suppressed. Why? Just because we are girls. We fear being known. Known for having objected to things that were wrong. We are born to shrink our shoulders and dig our eyes into the earth as if we were searching for our feet lost on the floor. We let obvious questions that we should ask this society; die unanswered, in some ghastly corner of our saintly hearts. Let ourselves rise above everything inferior we attach with being female. And all I am asking is why can’t we retaliate?
xxxx
It takes more than just time to heal the wounds of love. It takes hours and days of sitting alone, and staring at the sunset. A thousand silent words of consolation. Which you whisper to yourself. Streams of tears let flow relentlessly. Memories to be left behind. Memories, that gathered here and there, like layers of dust. Pages of confessions of love in that diary, to be burnt alive.
many moods...
Just a few days more,
Then you will be gone, I will be gone.
That tiny speck of time
When we fell in love with each other,
Will become a part of the past now.
Love will be dead forever. Forever.
The things that we shared will
Run for cover…
The road we walked on
Will die barren
The trees beside it
Will never flower again
And for who will the breeze blow?
For who will the moon shine?
When our love will
Sleep forever, die forever?
@crazy
Today I was thinking about passion in my life. Or rather the lack of it.
My gender is so horrendously outnumbered, that we have very less exposure to everything. We kinda shrink into our own worlds, where there is more of monotony than anything else. Fostering a passion is generally considered abnormal. Being abnormal is considered insane. But you know what? I love being abnormal, because I know I am. I am insane according to healthy human standards. I am frustrated about life in my own kinda way. I am gratified about it in my own ways. Happiness for me a momentary state of mind. Long-term goals are an obvious no-no.
Basically, I am an observer, of things happening around me. Of these co-inhabitant homo sapiens. Yeah! I love to drown myself, observing these people. Whenever I see a new face on the street, all I want myself to be doing is to run to that person and ask him, “ will you tell me your story, your history?” I know that could mean being beaten up. I would also wanna ask, “ will you pose for my camera?, I wanna capture this moment, when I became a witness to the happenings of your life?” I would never get bored/impatient waiting for someone or something at a busstop/cinema/café’ shop etc etc. all I do is sit/stand quietly and merge myself with the background, and dissolve myself observing…
So we conclude that “observing” is one of the passions of my life. And I do have other passions like grabbing hold of any readable material. And writing. Off late, blogging. Biting my nails is another. And staring into the dark is next. Plus who doesn’t die to go for long walks (preferably alone)?
hair...
Having long tresses like those of shakira would be so sexy, right? Wet and entangled. Hair caressing your waist. Spanking awesome. My hair would show the free spirit I am.
The second thing you notice in Jiah Khan after her long legs, is the hair. Wild hair…not the silky shiny locks they show in shampoo adds. But hair that I ne’er cared to take care of…Hair that has been abandoned. Left to flourish in the vagaries of nature and life. Hair that speaks about the life I spent, about the person I am…
But you know what? Every time I decide to let my hair grow, I end up cutting them shorter. I am afraid; I would end up with no hair someday…
This is yet another of those challenges of modern day living…Long hair, for me, remains locked in the silver screen, or in that niche I carved out for myself in this crazy world of yours. God bless me and my hair.
journey...
Feels like
We will be travelling
Travelling and travelling
All along
rushing past,trees
and trees and trees
by the road we take
running ahead
leaving my rickety one
behind,far behind
Besides there are
nausea and nostalgia
to be tackled
I despise being
Nostalgic for the bygone
Helpless,lonely
My companion
dozes off on my shoulders
quiet and numb
S and A broke up. I knew this was to happen some day or the other. But even then, it did matter. Theirs was an affair I saw take birth, I saw them nurturing their bond with all they had. I knew how hard things were between them and how they gave in everything they had to make it live a little longer. But things didn’t work out, to say the least. And the inevitable was to happen. I do not know who the right man for her is, but somehow I always had known that A was not the good guy that S had perceived him to be. And sooner or later he had to show his true colors. Theirs was a relationship, which was born out of desperation more than anything else. I had always wanted theirs to be a happy life, and felt exalted whenever anything good happened to them. At least one of the two wishes was to live. And grow. But that was not destined to happen. Fate had it otherwise. And they did not last. Why? If only this was to happen, why at all did they meet? Why ever did they fall into that so-called trap of love? Why? Things would have been better otherwise. A heart without any scars is a thousand times better than a heart with so many. So many painful memories to be caged, so many moments to be relived every other day…so much of love to be thrown out of her heart. With all the strength that she needs to collect from amongst herself, I just do not want her to become weaker. And of course, I have learnt a lot from all this that happened, I have been an eyewitness to almost everything. Never did I ever have the chance to see something so fragile and real from such close quarters. I have learnt so much; so damn much, about everything that could have happened within just a year… to me….
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