She nourishes, she heals
A nurse, a doctor
She is both and still so much more
A teacher and the pupil,
The learner and the learned
She's a princess, a hermit
And all thats in between
The Virgin, The Martyr,
The Saint and the Witch...
A dreamer, a realist
The wanderer and the woods
She's a woman, a girl
A mother, a child...
The healer and the wounded
The soldier, the sacrifice
A pen, a story... a mystery indeed...
Friday, January 18, 2008
Friday, January 4, 2008
So much for Salsa!!!
I had to admit, how much ever I said that it didn’t bother me that Raj was all over me… it did; it so did! I never really felt any romantic feelings towards him, but since I knew how he felt about me, he was my ultimate back-up plan. God! I could curse myself for being such a bitch! I deserved where I was, all my best friends either getting engaged or on the family way… and me, as hopelessly single as Edith, the woman who played her worn down guitar for some change. No, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t that big a bitch to be actually jealous of them…I was happy for all of them, very happy, just sad for myself… actually, mini-depressed for myself. I had always had the most entertaining love-lifes in the history of love lifes! Not in the sense that would make girls go ‘Awww!’; but in the sense that would make anyone go, ‘Whoaa! Where did that come from?!’.To put it simply, I am not a nymphomaniac and what’s more, I am terrible at commitments; which to urban understanding is- I was bound to be single for a long long time!
My idea of fighting depression was walks, long walks in places I have never seen. I wandered aimlessly for hours. My favorite haunt was this little place near the beach. It was a bunch of hutments near the beach, the roofs were red and blue fishing nets hung on the door. The doors were almost always open. There were crude wooden racks in the front yard, obviously improvised, where fish were hung to dry. Right below the rack on a white sheet prawns were set to dry which would then be salted and pickled or stored at home for special recipes. These people had a life of their own! Even the air smelled different, that may have to do with the freshly caught fish… but yet it was peaceful being so close to the city which never sleeps, this place almost always day-dreamed and napped. Often I got lost walking through the little by lanes and had to ask the locals directions to civilization.
It was a Tuesday, as boring as Tuesdays could get… and I decided to walk to the beach and then to my discovered place (I visit this place often but I didn’t yet know its name). As usual I set out to wander around without purpose, when I noticed a little lane which I had never noticed before and took of that way. There were fewer houses here. I could see a lot of buildings at a distance but nowhere near. There were sparse houses and another lane which was cobbled and cute, but visibly artificial and new. I was curious and took off along this cute roadette, (it was small, I am used to make words of my own). It ended at a gate which stood in front of a cute duplex, red-roofed house. It was painted white and was the cutest house I had ever seen! But I knew somehow it wasn’t a house. The door wasn’t locked, either ways I didn’t knock.
As I opened the door, the sound of the Spanish guitar filled my ears… it was that song from Dirty Dancing 2 ‘Guijira’. I hated the movie but the songs would make me sway my hips in a way that would scandalize my mother. The music came from this huge room whose enterance I could see, slowly I made my way to the door. I could here people laughing and someone shouting “5, 6… 5, 6,7”. There were colorful skirts flying gracefully in one direction. There were couples, girls in skirts and stilettos and guys in shirts and flat shoes. It was some kind of ballroom dance which whenever shown on T.V would become a part of your ‘Things To Do Before 30’ list (I had one). I was mentally highlighting the part in my list about the dance I was going to learn before I am 30 when the person who was giving instructions loudly to all the dancers stopped yelling and looked in my direction. He was tall and well-built, with a Puerto Rican tan and had sea-green eyes!! His shirt was unbuttoned up till his first set of abs (yes he had a 6 pack!). I almost lost my breath when he smiled and waved at me to join them! I stepped unsurely towards the dance floor when he took my hand and yelled, “5,6…5,6,7, back basic… crossbody...” and some other words which I wasn’t sure of because he was dancing with me! When I didn’t even know what dance it was! Yet, I tried to follow his lead; since he made distinct hand movements and gave me slight pushes for me to know where my hand should be and where I should go!
It was the best dance I had ever danced!! Well, atleast I wasn’t mini-depressed now… I had found a new stress buster. Now, I mentally ‘checked’ my ‘Things To Do Before 30’ list, I would be learning this dance well before the big 3-O strikes… my saviour was Salsa and ofcourse, Juan!! Wish me luck!! ;)
My idea of fighting depression was walks, long walks in places I have never seen. I wandered aimlessly for hours. My favorite haunt was this little place near the beach. It was a bunch of hutments near the beach, the roofs were red and blue fishing nets hung on the door. The doors were almost always open. There were crude wooden racks in the front yard, obviously improvised, where fish were hung to dry. Right below the rack on a white sheet prawns were set to dry which would then be salted and pickled or stored at home for special recipes. These people had a life of their own! Even the air smelled different, that may have to do with the freshly caught fish… but yet it was peaceful being so close to the city which never sleeps, this place almost always day-dreamed and napped. Often I got lost walking through the little by lanes and had to ask the locals directions to civilization.
It was a Tuesday, as boring as Tuesdays could get… and I decided to walk to the beach and then to my discovered place (I visit this place often but I didn’t yet know its name). As usual I set out to wander around without purpose, when I noticed a little lane which I had never noticed before and took of that way. There were fewer houses here. I could see a lot of buildings at a distance but nowhere near. There were sparse houses and another lane which was cobbled and cute, but visibly artificial and new. I was curious and took off along this cute roadette, (it was small, I am used to make words of my own). It ended at a gate which stood in front of a cute duplex, red-roofed house. It was painted white and was the cutest house I had ever seen! But I knew somehow it wasn’t a house. The door wasn’t locked, either ways I didn’t knock.
As I opened the door, the sound of the Spanish guitar filled my ears… it was that song from Dirty Dancing 2 ‘Guijira’. I hated the movie but the songs would make me sway my hips in a way that would scandalize my mother. The music came from this huge room whose enterance I could see, slowly I made my way to the door. I could here people laughing and someone shouting “5, 6… 5, 6,7”. There were colorful skirts flying gracefully in one direction. There were couples, girls in skirts and stilettos and guys in shirts and flat shoes. It was some kind of ballroom dance which whenever shown on T.V would become a part of your ‘Things To Do Before 30’ list (I had one). I was mentally highlighting the part in my list about the dance I was going to learn before I am 30 when the person who was giving instructions loudly to all the dancers stopped yelling and looked in my direction. He was tall and well-built, with a Puerto Rican tan and had sea-green eyes!! His shirt was unbuttoned up till his first set of abs (yes he had a 6 pack!). I almost lost my breath when he smiled and waved at me to join them! I stepped unsurely towards the dance floor when he took my hand and yelled, “5,6…5,6,7, back basic… crossbody...” and some other words which I wasn’t sure of because he was dancing with me! When I didn’t even know what dance it was! Yet, I tried to follow his lead; since he made distinct hand movements and gave me slight pushes for me to know where my hand should be and where I should go!
It was the best dance I had ever danced!! Well, atleast I wasn’t mini-depressed now… I had found a new stress buster. Now, I mentally ‘checked’ my ‘Things To Do Before 30’ list, I would be learning this dance well before the big 3-O strikes… my saviour was Salsa and ofcourse, Juan!! Wish me luck!! ;)
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Growin' Up
What is growing up?
They say, when you grow up,
You know what the right thing to do is
Who knows what’s right anyways?
There isn’t any rule book that I know of…
Yes, there’s the Bible, the Koran, the Geeta and all of those sorts
But which one to believe in?
They claim that they say different things altogether
Though I see no difference,
They sure don’t agree...
What is growing up?
Becoming hairer and bleeding four days a month
Or being capable of reproducing?
That makes people with a 100 children real grown-ups!
They would know what is the rightest of all things to do
Whether it’s blowing up towers or bombing the cities…
If not, what is growing up then?
Knowing what to say when?
Knowing when to stop playing?
To quit exclaiming loudly when you see a rainbow?
Or is it when you stop believing in fairy-tales?
Is it when you stop crying in company of others
Even if you want to do it the most?
Or to laugh when you don’t really want to?
And say things you don’t really mean to?
Wow! I can’t wait to be a groan up!
They say, when you grow up,
You know what the right thing to do is
Who knows what’s right anyways?
There isn’t any rule book that I know of…
Yes, there’s the Bible, the Koran, the Geeta and all of those sorts
But which one to believe in?
They claim that they say different things altogether
Though I see no difference,
They sure don’t agree...
What is growing up?
Becoming hairer and bleeding four days a month
Or being capable of reproducing?
That makes people with a 100 children real grown-ups!
They would know what is the rightest of all things to do
Whether it’s blowing up towers or bombing the cities…
If not, what is growing up then?
Knowing what to say when?
Knowing when to stop playing?
To quit exclaiming loudly when you see a rainbow?
Or is it when you stop believing in fairy-tales?
Is it when you stop crying in company of others
Even if you want to do it the most?
Or to laugh when you don’t really want to?
And say things you don’t really mean to?
Wow! I can’t wait to be a groan up!
Kind of an Ode to Monotony
Monotony, my enemy
Ruins life
It cuts the living soul with a cold-blooded knife
When things don’t change for good or bad
The world becomes boring and sad
Cant stand when life goes just the same
Don’t like it when the world isn’t a bit strange
Life’s a broth which needs spices, salt and a wee bit o’ tang
Without these the feast is indeed quite bland
Life needs ‘em all; whiskey, rum and gin
Add in also, vodka, tequila and a beer tin
Imagine what it would be to drink only water!?!
The world will go mad if it didn’t get a quarter
Just like plain bread n’ butter ain’t no good enough
We need Italian, Chinese and Mexican food stuff
Can’t go on with just black and white
We sure as hell need other hues
The reds, the violets, greens, yellows and blues!
The difference makes a difference all the time
Life needs a kick of cloves and a dash of lime
Why should there be only one husband or one wife?
When variety, my dear, is the spice of life!
Ruins life
It cuts the living soul with a cold-blooded knife
When things don’t change for good or bad
The world becomes boring and sad
Cant stand when life goes just the same
Don’t like it when the world isn’t a bit strange
Life’s a broth which needs spices, salt and a wee bit o’ tang
Without these the feast is indeed quite bland
Life needs ‘em all; whiskey, rum and gin
Add in also, vodka, tequila and a beer tin
Imagine what it would be to drink only water!?!
The world will go mad if it didn’t get a quarter
Just like plain bread n’ butter ain’t no good enough
We need Italian, Chinese and Mexican food stuff
Can’t go on with just black and white
We sure as hell need other hues
The reds, the violets, greens, yellows and blues!
The difference makes a difference all the time
Life needs a kick of cloves and a dash of lime
Why should there be only one husband or one wife?
When variety, my dear, is the spice of life!
Narcissus... ashes of roses
Flashback, breathtaking-ly handsome young man named Narcissus enters the woods of a beautiful nymph called Echo. Yes, that’s right, Echo can only repeat what people say, she doesn’t have a voice of her own yet has the last word. She chases him throughout the dark woods without managing to woo this divine youth, who most certainly has left a long trail of broken hearts, men and women alike! However, Echo is bursting to say things that would melt his heart and make him hers forever… the poor dear cannot do anything about it. So, she is crying her eyes out behind a large tree by the lake when who should bend over and bring his heavenly face to the waters, but Narcissus himself. When he sees his reflection in the water, apparently for the first time (uh huh!), he is so mesmerized with his own beauty that he says, “I love you!” Now was the only chance Echo had and she said “I love you!” with all her heart.
But Narcissus who wouldn’t even look at anyone but the young man staring back at him with thick curly locks, deep blue eyes and a handsome physique, asked her to get lost. Apparently, Narcissus kept beckoning his beloved to him, who obviously wouldn’t budge. When he would put his hand into the water to touch this young man, the reflection would get disturbed which would break Narcissus’ heart! So, poor Narcissus quit food and drink and withered away in self love, yup, he died! However when Echo came in to fetch her beloved’s remains, where he lay by the lake, was no body to be found… instead there were a bunch of the prettiest flowers she had seen. Well… at least, all this tragedy had a good outcome in form of the flowers which are still called narcissus.
That was Narcissus, probably the pioneer of the cult we call 'metrosexuals'; but what about the young men who pretty much follow his footsteps? Most of the guys I know are quite taken with themselves and spend hours in the bathroom and in front of the mirror! Their hair are longer and better maintained than the girls (ouch!). Straight or gay, the men have taken over our stereotypically inherited domain of beauty. It’s no longer, gyms for men and salons for women… well equality among the sexes is one thing; and well, narcissism is another! Poor Echo and her feelings still remain quite neglected. I do feel sorry for Narcissus and all, but I can’t help thinking that he was such a jerk! And I am no Echo to be with a man like him… I’d much rather just move on!
But Narcissus who wouldn’t even look at anyone but the young man staring back at him with thick curly locks, deep blue eyes and a handsome physique, asked her to get lost. Apparently, Narcissus kept beckoning his beloved to him, who obviously wouldn’t budge. When he would put his hand into the water to touch this young man, the reflection would get disturbed which would break Narcissus’ heart! So, poor Narcissus quit food and drink and withered away in self love, yup, he died! However when Echo came in to fetch her beloved’s remains, where he lay by the lake, was no body to be found… instead there were a bunch of the prettiest flowers she had seen. Well… at least, all this tragedy had a good outcome in form of the flowers which are still called narcissus.
That was Narcissus, probably the pioneer of the cult we call 'metrosexuals'; but what about the young men who pretty much follow his footsteps? Most of the guys I know are quite taken with themselves and spend hours in the bathroom and in front of the mirror! Their hair are longer and better maintained than the girls (ouch!). Straight or gay, the men have taken over our stereotypically inherited domain of beauty. It’s no longer, gyms for men and salons for women… well equality among the sexes is one thing; and well, narcissism is another! Poor Echo and her feelings still remain quite neglected. I do feel sorry for Narcissus and all, but I can’t help thinking that he was such a jerk! And I am no Echo to be with a man like him… I’d much rather just move on!
Besides, which girl'd want a man who is prettier than her and gets manicures more times a month than she does! So guys, if you think the chicas will like you any better if u hit up the salons... you're wrong, cause we would rather have a badly dressed rugged looking hunk than a pretty guy dressed and looking better than us. It isnt for nothing that John Ab, cut off his locks and is hotter than ever! O and, keep that stubble, it suits you and works wonders! ;)
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Dusk
Isn’t night yet
Nor is it day,
But the sky shines bright
With a kiss of night’s ardor
A touch of ecstasy
Of deep crimson passion
To the wide blue of the innocent sky
The birds fly homewards at the brilliant sundown
Stars peep in to announce
The arrival of the moon maiden
She isn’t her diamond self,
But a pale dove with a promise
At dusk… it isn’t night yet,
Nor is it day,
Beginning of the end or the end of a beginning?
Nor is it day,
But the sky shines bright
With a kiss of night’s ardor
A touch of ecstasy
Of deep crimson passion
To the wide blue of the innocent sky
The birds fly homewards at the brilliant sundown
Stars peep in to announce
The arrival of the moon maiden
She isn’t her diamond self,
But a pale dove with a promise
At dusk… it isn’t night yet,
Nor is it day,
Beginning of the end or the end of a beginning?
Twenty on 20!
It was the dream final that left cricket enthusiasts pinching themselves to snap back to reality. Pakistan was 152 down for 9 wickets, 6 runs to go for 4 balls… a target quite achievable. What a nail biter! People were jumping around muttering curses, mantras, prayers, resolutions anything that could make them win.
After ages, the family came together to watch the titans battle it out… no one ate but there was enough food around. The chilled beers started losing out on the fizz, but nobody seemed to bother. Grandma and Grandpa had their malas in their hands… Mum left the kitchen unattended for the first time in years, Dad came home early. The phones were switched off, the teen queen wasn’t watching ‘Friends’ today, the rocker was home before time! It was drama at its best! Even SRK couldn’t resist flying all the way to the stadium.
It seemed everyone had lost interest in cricket after the whole ‘match fixing’ drama happened. Cricket had become too predictable until Zimbabwe, India and Pakistan beat the then World Champions one after the other. Twenty20 was a real hero for cricket in India; people loved the short matches, new players and of course, the cheer leaders! Young talent from all the teams got the perfect podium in South Africa, they won many hearts too. The finale was to die for, what better entertainment than India v/s Pakistan!!! Both teams as usual gave eachother a tough fight throughout the match, now however it was the final judgement, the last over. Anything could happen.
Joginder Sharma bowled and Misbah aimed for the obvious full toss, the ball went straight up in the air looked like he had it! But Sreesanth caught it… it was the catch that would be remembered forever. India did win the T20 WC but Cricket emerged as the ultimate winner, winning fans all over the globe it became yet again… a passion, a religion.
After ages, the family came together to watch the titans battle it out… no one ate but there was enough food around. The chilled beers started losing out on the fizz, but nobody seemed to bother. Grandma and Grandpa had their malas in their hands… Mum left the kitchen unattended for the first time in years, Dad came home early. The phones were switched off, the teen queen wasn’t watching ‘Friends’ today, the rocker was home before time! It was drama at its best! Even SRK couldn’t resist flying all the way to the stadium.
It seemed everyone had lost interest in cricket after the whole ‘match fixing’ drama happened. Cricket had become too predictable until Zimbabwe, India and Pakistan beat the then World Champions one after the other. Twenty20 was a real hero for cricket in India; people loved the short matches, new players and of course, the cheer leaders! Young talent from all the teams got the perfect podium in South Africa, they won many hearts too. The finale was to die for, what better entertainment than India v/s Pakistan!!! Both teams as usual gave eachother a tough fight throughout the match, now however it was the final judgement, the last over. Anything could happen.
Joginder Sharma bowled and Misbah aimed for the obvious full toss, the ball went straight up in the air looked like he had it! But Sreesanth caught it… it was the catch that would be remembered forever. India did win the T20 WC but Cricket emerged as the ultimate winner, winning fans all over the globe it became yet again… a passion, a religion.
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