Thursday, June 28, 2012

Pain cuts pain
So wierd but so true!!

Of late my heart has started resembling the toll plaza on a highway..

You give the toll, you get in...

You ask me a question , you get the answer..

You dont bother, there's nothing I have for you...

I kind of have no inputs from my side...

I don't give a damn, I really don't if you don't

Strange..

That morning walk

Its a summer dawn.The stars are still shining bright.I secretly slip in your room and wake you up. Its our time!! As I get ready, you are already waiting with your tracks. As I hurriedly try tying my shoe laces, you cutely tie one of them for me. How happy I feel!! We start walking then jogging. As the cold air sways my hair, I feel happy being with you, you know the protection you feel when you are with an elder brother!! As we run through the lanes, we pass a group of dogs. You know I'd be afraid. You change sides with me and shoo away the dogs. Maybe it dint mean anything to you, but meant a lot to me. A protective hand - I knew you'd be there for me. I try playing you sometimes , rather all the times I am with kiddy.
Each time I see you, this incident bounces back. Growing made us go far. Our lives, studies, jobs, what and what nots, but I still love and respect you like I did then.
 
Happy birthday bhaiya!!

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

MaGiCaL mOmEnTs..


When mum appreciates your handwriting
When dad calls you his princess
When your sibling stands by your side when your parents scold you
When that cute guy smiles at you
When your teacher praises you
When your school principal adores you
When someone you adore says they adore you too
When the first petal of your new money plant pops up
When you get a haircut and it turns out to be really good
When you wear that old pair of jean and it fits
When your puppy comes running to you as soon as you come home tired after office
When your friends remember your birthday
When you get a fat discount on the Nina Ricci perfume you'd been dying to buy
When you go shopping and get every item on your list
When a song is dedicated to you
When your secret admirer secretly keeps a chocolate at your desk
When you get a 10/10 in your Maths test
When you sing a song you love after ages and still remember the words
When you really can't sleep and find that there's atleast one friend in your chat list who is available to chat
When you make a paper flower and it turns out to be very beautiful
When you draw a beautiful cartoon
When someone says "I love you" to you
When you win a cooking competition
When you laugh till your stomach aches
When you eat a complete bar of cadbury
When you see that song you've been dying for on youtube
When you just start walking home from office and its drizzling
When you get up in the morning to be wished with a bunch of roses
When someone compliments from their heart
When your nail paint looks real nice
When you relish a "Devil's own" at CCD
When your cell rings and you love the ring tone
When you gift your mum a diamond pendant
When you get to talk on the radio
When you try a new ice cream flavour and it turns out to be really yummy
When your pasta has loads of cheese
When you eat a whole watermelon
When you peel grapes before eating them
When you surprise mum and dad with bed tea
When you win the debate competition
When you win the "Best Personality" award at a personality development course
When you wear the mascara for the first time and it looks perfect
When you gobble the last of the cheese popcorn in your popcorn tub
When you are enumerating magical moments and the list doesn't just end but time falls short.....

Life is so full of MaGiCaL mOmEnTs...
May God bless everyone with millions and zillions of these!!

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

LiTtLe ThInGs I dO oN wEeKeNdS....


Paper flowers and paintings and sketches...
                                                   My cute pink crepe roses....


                                  

Pink embossed roses...


                                                           Wall sketch....


                                                        Pink and red roses...

                                                             Lilies...

                                                             Hibiscus.....

                                                         Tissue paper flowers..

                                                          Loved this one :)

                                                         Made the basket :) and the flower

                                                        :)
           
                                                                       Painted my top

                                                     And my pillow cover... loved the steps

                                            And yet another pillow cover....

                                           And one more... Love birds!!
 
                                           Lotus...


Painting....

Watch out for more.....




Break Free...


Sky's my limit..
Do not tie me down here..
Let me be..
Let me explore..
My wings hurt.. behind these bars..
Stricken and bleeding..
Let me go.. let me fly
The world beyond is waiting for me
This is not where I belong,
This is not where I wanna stay..
Unlock these doors,
Open these bars,
Let my wings spread
Let me fly..
Let me be !!

Whites....

So when her husband passed away, she was left with little clothing choices. This world is not good with widows. If a man's wife passes away, the world forces him to remarry, but its a different story for the widow.She is not supposed to be associated with any color. So good bye colored clothes and welcome whites!! I really dont understand this. Was his death as a consequence of something she did? Isn't it God's will entirely? When we follow our traditional manuscripts, don't they read that life and death are not in a human's hand? Aren't we just supposed to be puppets in the hands of God? Then why the attrocities? What confused me more is that while Christians wear white during weddings, they consider it lucky ,sacred and as a sign of joy, then why does the Hindu culture believe in widows wearing whites and vice versa?
            Personally talking, I love my whites. I have white shirts , tees and kurtis in every form, white with red, white with blue, pure whites... and I absolutely love them. I dont think they are any form of a pain indicator nor should they be regarded as one. I love when I hand wash my fantastic white clothes and put them to dry. I love seeing them. I love the way they soothe my eyes and calm my soul. When I wear them I feel positive and good like the way I feel when I wear the other colors too... So I dont know why is any color for instance supposed to be related with sorrow?? Why? Lets let it be a person's personal choice as to what or what not he/she is supposed to wear.

Attachments

         
          I remember when I was a kid , how attached I was with my parents. Even my sibling looked like an invasion on my territory. When finally he became a part of my territory, I behaved as if I owned him. He was not supposed to play with anyone else but me. So, when I had my male cousins come over, I had a tough time sharing him with them.Then times changed.School made me attached to my friends. We wanted to be with each other all the time. She and I shared almost all our times together.When we got our bicycles, I'd end at her place everyday after school or vice versa. Higher studies changed everything. I realised there was no place for attachment with friends. Everybody had a busy life. Then came the boy friend phase.Everybody I knew had a boyfriend or a girlfriend. So, they'd always be busy.. Strange my soul cried out !!
         Today when I stand and look back, I know I have friends, some real good ones but dont know why everybody seems to be busy with their lives, marriages, boy friends, fiancees, husbands... I know I can call some of them anytime I am unhappy or tensed, but I know that may be disturbing. LOLZ :P  Now I know why they call "THIS" age, the perfect age to get married. I believe even I should get married now or loneliness can kill. Don't know where my self-made,self-written philosophies of being single and happy and independent disappear!!!  Never really understood why we were taught that "Man is a social animal" until now.. You cannot live without an attachment can you?

Monday, June 25, 2012

The proposal ring

It was a perfect Sunday evening. Dressed in her finesse just to please herself (an independent girl as she is , she dint believe in dressing up for others, some things should be done for your own self she often mused), she opened the tiny window. The raindrops were falling, the sweet smell of the wet mud hallucinating her. She started reading the novel and before she knew, the cool atmosphere and the warm comforter lulled her to a sweet sleep.




She wakes up... where am I she thinks to herself. She touches her ring finger, where is my ring? She feels a strange vacuum. Where am I? What am I doing here? OMG... she seems to be caught in a whirlwind of thoughts... She feels strange. It is scary and dark. She cannot find her proposal ring. She calls out for him, cannot even find him... The rain drops which were pleasing her now brought along a dampness she feared... She felt lonely...

She sat on the floor... Is there no one I can talk to? Is there no one? She checks her cell phone... Selfish people - they call only when they are in need or when they are free... She dials a couple of numbers and even before it starts ringing, she cuts the call. No I am not weak she tells herself... As her right hand constantly circles her ring finger, she comes back to reality... No ring is actually supposed to be there, she tells herself. She assembles her broken pieces, gets up and makes herself a strong cup of cappuccino.... A lot can really happen over coffee!!

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Happy Fathers Day !!

As I busy myself; indulging in each and every activity so that I wouldn’t remember what I usually did on this special day, I reach a void, a blank state where I know I can’t control my tears. And this time I don’t. It’s better to let them flow. Dad, happy Father’s day!! We know how much of happiness this day always brought us. Long before I could Google for father’s day gifts, cards, this, and that, I always tried making this day special. The smile on your face and the warmth in your voice made me feel my efforts dint go unrecognized...


So today when I walk down the memory lane, I wanna tell you how much I love you, how much I wanted to be like you, how much I loved being with you. I loved the way you kept this line of difference between the business and your life with us. Though this gave us very less time together, but those times were fantastic. I am lucky to have grown with you to idolize. I loved the way you diplomatically handled people. I really adore your art, the drawings, the sketches, the fancy dress costumes... Mum says my hands resemble yours, I can’t tell you how happy and proud it makes me feel. I loved the times when we went on our ice-cream eating spree and I really cannot forget the weird expression on your face when we had our first pan pizza at Pizza Hut. Though I never told you, but I cried with you when granny passed away. That was the only time I saw you cry and then my tears won’t just stop. I loved our cooking times together; don’t know how you got all the spices right for my oh-so-favorite-dal-tadka. I miss being your assistant in kitchen when we let mummy have her day off.

Surprise surprise Dad, now I have my own assistant in kitchen - kiddy assists me like i assisted you. Kiddy has grown to be a handsome young man, sometimes I think I shouldn't call him kiddy but each time I look at him I feel like he'z still a baby -remember the one who cried when he had to wear a bow over his suit. Mum has changed a lot... you'd know better... I can keep you updating and filling up the space, but you know everything better than me..

I love you and miss you... Sometimes absent mindedly call your number expecting you to reply, though I know the number doesn’t exist...

Happy Father's Day!!

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Don't know why all stories we hear in childhood have happy endings when that's not true in real life !!

The story of slap and sorry

Ok so, you think you love her a lot. You love her for who she is, you love her enthusiasm, you love the way her locks falls on her face, you love the way she dresses, you love the way she behaves.. in short you have found yourself a near-perfect-life-partner and you cannot think about anyone else than her. Once a flirt now you don't use your x-ray eyes to scan other chics.. .Oops did I mention chics.. Sorry; you don’t scan other girls, at least not in front of her. You are not that all-time-available-for-chat-guy and neither are you online on Facebook 24x7 like you earlier did. The fear of commitment has vanished; you really want to settle down with her. Till now you were the master of your own heart and your anger knew no bounds when someone said anything against your will, even though you were the one who was wrong. Now you have learnt the art of saying "sorry", which seemed like a rare possibility for you till you met her.

But as Newton said, "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction", so you have learnt the act of balancing the sorry for every slap (not literally though) So each time you mock her for looking fat (guys!! that’s a NO.. you can't call your girl FAT) you tell her she looks good. Each time you mock her for indulging in something you tell her you really love her enthusiasm or you love how she balances work and play. Each time you tell her you don’t mind if she talks to guys, when you are angry you make her realize that you know whom she is in contact with... and the list goes on and on... So you see, a slap for every sorry and a sorry for every slap... vicious circle...

Tell me how is she supposed to accept flowers from you when you already tell her that flowers according to you are a waste of money? Why will she accept a gift from you if she knows you hate the concept of gifting? Why will she think she is important for you make her realize that you have to go out of your way to date her? Simply talking, please keep the relationship simple. Don't complicate it. The biggest storms arrive after the biggest silence. So don’t take her silence or small rebellions as its-fine-for-now-next-time-i-hug-her-she-will-be-fine!! Doesn't work!! Saying sorry and then making mistakes all over again doesn’t help guys!! Remember she is as independent as you are and has all the rights to put her foot down... Are you game for it?

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

LAXMANREKHA.... The thin line between normal touch and physical abuse, which men should not cross !!

A true story of a little girl, who did not know she was physically abused till she was no longer a little girl - reason enough why kids should be imparted sex education.
          She walked down the imaginary ramp she had created for herself, her mum's shawl tied around her neck like a sash - the family's very own Miss World!! Everybody applauded, shy and blushing she ran to her mother. Good in academics and a cute and helpful child, she was the apple of her parent's eye. Dad's favorite, mum's sweet daughter, brother's cute sis, teacher's pet - her life was complete. Then the little girl started growing up, under the protective shield of her loving parents. It was time her mother explained to her what growing up for a girl was. As she bloomed into her teenage, her body started changing. A little girl as she was, she had problems wearing the normal clothes she did. She dint want to turn into a young lady, she loved being the girl she was. Later she would laugh at her feelings and be amazed how she had turned into a graceful lady from that tom boyish girl.
          So when crayons got replaced with water paints and she no longer walked her imaginary ramp, all concerns were towards her studies. She liked talking, kept chirping all the time. So when it was time for a debate competition in her school, she geared up for it. Democracy - as she read book after book to understand the topic (Google wasn't really so readily available then, at least not in her town) she knew she'd need help. A teatime aunty told her about a professor who could help her. As she headed towards his place, she was not ready for what was to come. Her son opened the door, a gentleman by what people had told her about the professor's son, she enquired about his father. He said he was away, but he would be glad to help. He invited her over. Harmless as he looked, she stepped in. 
          As they discussed about the Indian democracy, she understood that everybody had their say but dint know it would be of this form. As she got up to leave, he shook hands with her and as she smiled her sunlight smile, he caught her by the waist, dragging her to him. She knew it was wrong, dint really like it but his grip was strong. As he advanced and crushed her innocent bosom, she dropped an innocent tear. He touched her lips, that lousy bastard. She immediately ran out , he smiled wickedly and told her , he was always available for her. When she came back home, she was more silent than usual. Her parents asked her, but she dint know what to tell them.
          Today the little and innocent girl is not little anymore. She has seen life and now knows that she was physically abused. She loves the graceful lady she sees in herself. She loves the way her hair curls over her neck and the way her eyes blink with that radiance. But when she sits back and thinks over about that day, she knows she should have raised an alarm, at least confided with her lovely and understanding parents. There is this thin line between normal touch and physical abuse - the Laxmanrekha that every concerned male makes for the women in his life. Though it is not visible, but other men shouldn't really cross it. Taking advantage when you know the victim does not really understand or is helpless is too lame and immodest. What is lamer though is the victims are not aware till long about the wrong they have been subject to, and even if they do, they are afraid of the society, they don’t know whom to confide in… Strange but true!         
Time for education and awareness! Time to kill every Ravan who crosses the Laxmanrekha...

Monday, June 11, 2012

Rains, Roads, Rides, Romance, Remorse, Reflections …

“I love the rains. I love you. I love you more during the rains… “, she penned in her diary thinking about him. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink, blush. As she peeked in the mirror, reflections of her past made her blush even more. The rains, the wet roads, the romantic rides, his cologne – which always drew her to him, everything picture perfect. She dressed in dark clothes; he loved seeing her like that. So, when her white skin shone through them, she couldn’t but laugh at his eyes playing with her, waiting for her to be in his arms. When the raindrops trickled down her neck, he loved seeing the mosaic they formed with her hair and skin. He loved the feel of her wet skin and so did she, though she did not confess it like he did.


It was raining yet again today and she longed to see him. They met every day except the few days when he'd be too tired or too busy with his work or family. It has been long; she thought that she had enjoyed the rains with him. He had become very busy with work since some time. She understood, but how much she longed for those fun days to be back. The rain, the music, the wet roads and her loneliness, she picked up her cell phone. She kept it back, knew he would be busy or tired. As loneliness took over her, she reminded herself of the individual she was, her individual self, independent and free like a bird. Not that he had caged her, but yes, she had grown on him, like a parasite, just that she dint suck his blood. Everything she wanted to do, she would ask him. When she otherwise enjoyed being alone, now she longed for him. The lonely shadows made her afraid. As she tried to pacify her puzzled mind, reluctantly she picked up the cell phone again and dialed his number. Sometimes the heart scores over the mind!!

He dint receive the call. She negated the thought of calling him again, knew he would call back. However, he didn’t. She called again, this time sure he would receive it, but he did not. She dropped him one of her cute sugary messages he loved. She started getting dressed. She marveled how beautiful she looked when she thought of him, a simple T and jeans, but yet awesome. Love makes you look beautiful. She called him again, one last time she told herself. He received the call. Sleepy to the core, he sheepishly told her he wanted to rest. Lovingly, she quoted her "I love you" and "I understand" and disconnected the call. How could he not understand the longing in her voice? How could he not know how much she loved the rains and wanted to enjoy them with him? Not a big deal, she told herself, but 'not-a-big-deals' are usually big bloated bags of worry.

As she changed into her night suit again, she knew he would not come. Gone were the days when he told her on the phone that he was busy, could not meet, and surprised her by ringing her apartment bell. As she peeked in the mirror, her reflection changed. "I don’t really look that beautiful, do I", she questioned herself. Multiplied kilos, added inches, does he still love me? As the questions whirl pooled inside her brain and tears rained from her eyes, she stepped out in the rain. No, she dint enjoy it this time. Her tears brought sorrows that even the rains she loved could not soothe. Remorse filled her, regret for forgetting her own self, regret of giving no importance to the once charismatic girl she was, regret of not loving her own self.. He called... her heart skipped a beat... How much she wanted him to comfort her. He said he wanted to meet a friend over coffee. Priority, her agitated mind shouted. She brewed herself some cappuccino and dig into the chocolate pastry she had brought for him. He called again. She did not receive. He messaged. His coffee friends would be late, he had reached early. Wanted to meet her during the interval. This time, she did not reply.

He called. She did not receive.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Loss


It’s a cold December evening. Somehow yummy ice-cream compliments a cold day and warm blanket. So when I am digging in the delight and reading Godfather, Mario Puzo amazes me. He has written it so well. The novel reaches a critical point and I don’t want to sleep. Just a page more I tell myself and then I get a call. A call, which I dint know would have the strength to change my life, change it in a way not even the wildest of my nightmares would have shown me… Loss
                Unable to digest what my kiddy brother just said, I try calling Dad. He doesn’t receive any calls, how would he? I call mum, she doesn’t answer either. I call my aunt, she answers. I ask her if I should reach the hospital or home. I am dying to hear home and that’s what she says. But now I know I should have counted on the hospital; at least there would have been a chance to see Dad alive. So, yes he was gone, gone forever. He had broken his promise of being with his little daughter throughout her life. Time to act and not react, I told myself.
                Gathering up all my strength, I meet my brother and we start that oh-so-impossible journey back home. It’s a 3 hour journey. It was a habit or more so a ritual for Dad to call me exactly 15 minutes before I reached and pick me up from the bus stand. Then we spent some quality father-daughter time, dint want mum or kiddy to interfere, before reaching home. We had our little secrets and promises and planning, which were purely ours. It gave me an unadulterated joy which I cannot compare with anything else. This time when I was 15 minutes away, I called Dad a zillion times, I hope that could have warded off the bad omen , but the loss was done till then.
                When I reached the bus stand and searched for familiar faces a friend of mine held me, took me aside and told me to be strong. Entering home dint fell like coming back home, like it always did. I saw mum in tears, hugged her but she was lost in a world of her own. Everybody I met told me to be strong.  This one thing I dint really understand though, was I really expected to be strong when I was at loss, a loss bigger than anything else. The drawing room was devoid of furniture, the sofa was gone and so was the dining set. Memories started flashing. All I knew now was mum and kiddy were sad. I went to them, had a big family hug, for once I had no words for them. I knew from that moment the family hug would always be incomplete. Dad, I will miss you and I promise to take care of mum and kiddy, till my last breath.
                Don’t know why but the terrible loss couldn’t bring tears to my eyes. I longed to see and talk to Dad. As the night became darker and colder and I tried putting mum and kiddy to sleep, somehow I did not know what to do. I was pinching myself every now and then, thinking it was a night mare and would end soon and I’d wake up in my warm blanket – but that did not happen.  The morning did nothing to soothe, not that I expected it too. My hunger and thirst had died. As more and more faces ushered in my house, I seemed to be lost. I was waiting for that one face, dying to see Dad. That dint happen soon, when I did get to see him, he looked different. I dint recognize him for some time. The usual calm on his face was gone. As I held on mum and kiddy, I hope I could have held on to Dad, but I was not allowed to. As I bid him my final good bye, still not ready to believe he was not to come back, a silent fear gripped me. I saw mum fall on the ground, my aunts surrounding her. Before anything made sense to me, I felt a hand on my face, telling me to cry. But I was lost... senseless and numb, helpless… Dad left us.
                Each time I come home, I feel that urge of calling him. Many times I have involuntary dialed his number just to realize it doesn’t exist anymore. Home doesn’t feel like home anymore, how much ever we try. Life has come back to normal but the loss cannot be filled in. They say time is the best healer, but I have somehow realized that time just makes you forget things for some time, but each time memories flash back, it hits like a strong wave and shakes your very existence. Life has changed and so have all of us. Mum and kiddy are no more like they were, innocence lost I’d say. I am not the same either. Life cannot be the same without you Dad. I miss you and I miss the way mum and kiddy were...  But I promise to live by the promise I made to you…  Love you!!

Of broken trust and bleeding lips – her part of the story

Disclaimer :- This is just a story. Please do not relate it to me or anyone related to me.

                Love shows world in a different hue, or so she thought. Why else would shopping mean buying stuff for him, getting ready mean wearing clothes he loved to see her in, weekends mean staying by his side, friends mean his friends coz she dint have time to make her own and the likes. She saw herself -living and growing in him, for him and with him. Independent and living-life-at-her-own-terms, her parents were confused at the transformation, but what mattered was she was happy!! Happiness in itself has so many meanings, so when even the smell of washed clothes or the stroke of a paint brush would bring her happiness, now it was him who meant happiness to her. Not a different scenario though in the wide world where one can constantly hear of “Love stories” in every nook and corner. She dint want her love story to be very famous. She just wanted it to be successful… but it’s not life if it’s not tipsy turvy.



                So whenever they had fights, no matter who was wrong, she was the first one to rush with an apology. She was living in a fairy tale world. All stories she had read as a kid, she must have related it to herself. His getting angry on small things, mood swings, hurting her with words or hands really did not shake her belief in love, coz she just wanted to bring in to a perfect ending…  “And then they lived happily ever after…”  She knew he was not a bad person or she wouldn’t really be going bananas for him. And he was not. Each time he spoke to her rudely or hit her, he’d be sorry with all his heart. They had memories - good and bad. But as always the good memories outdid the bad ones. So, when he slipped that beautiful ring in her fingers on a cloudy morning, she felt like a princess. There was nothing else she could have asked for.
                Then, he goes away to a far off land, for work. He doesn’t want to but has to. They know it’s a tough time and tough times don’t last. Life is a mess without each other, but they are tough people. She tries to make friends, tries to get back to be the girl, she was. The girl he had loved once upon a time. She knew she had changed a lot. She tries every second to be the girl he loved. He gets an opportunity to leave that far off land and come back to her and that’s what he does. Her happiness knows no bounds. Then one fine night they fight, fight for reasons unknown to both. She makes up by saying sorry. She doesn’t know why but this time she is hurt. The fight involved ugly words for her; she never knew he could say them. He accused her of being with someone else. How could he? Broken trust…
                Maybe her ‘sorry’ isn’t worth anything anymore and the fight stretches beyond hours and days. New Years Eve is near. As they gear up, she is puzzled between going to her loved ones back home and being with him. How much she wanted everyone to be together!! One evening when she comes back from office, he is in bad mood. He fights with her, she doesn’t know what for. She is back to her old self saying sorry for anything and everything that must have gone wrong. But he has already geared up a lot of bad feelings against her. Physical harm and emotional torture, she cannot take it in. As blood trickles down her lips, she doesn’t understand what and what not to do. Her back hurts and so does her neck. All the parts he was possessive about are hurt. More is the emotional hurt. He sits back and cries over what he has done to her, her – whom he loved so much, more than anyone else in life. He doesn’t want to live this life of shame and tries to hurt himself. He doesn’t really understand that although she is experiencing pain, this pain is too much for her to handle. How can she see him being hurt? Her heart gives up the fight. She knows the pain is because of her. This is it, she decides. And the beautiful relation ends, for her. All her dreams shatter like glass and whatever he does or says, whatever she thinks and wants to say hold no stand. The harm is done. Her fairy tale has ended and it’s not a happy ending... And yet it’s the end.

Friday, June 8, 2012

My first tryst with black coffee... and hopefully last

Bad day at office. Had a bad fight with my friend. My senior manager gives me futile reasons for not giving me a promotion. The list starts with not-in-my-hand excuse to company-statistics excuses, both of us know which don’t matter. I forgot my favorite earrings at the dressing table. There are real less chances of me getting them bad *sob*. The food was tasteless. The only lifesavers were my classy "Calvin Klein" top and the short story I attempted to write. Gave me immense pleasure. So, when I head home I change paths to CCD - another life saver. Dint want to discuss the details of the day but had to. So the "filmy enthusiast" in me ordered a Black coffee. Remember Rishi Kapoor,Saif and Deepika sipping on the black coffee in Love Aaj Kal whenever low!!
A sip down my throat and I knew it wasn't my cuppa coffee :( Ended the coffee in haste. Hate myself for ordering it. Why did I have too? Why not order some yummy ice-cream or chocolate delight when sad like heroines do in movies?? Why instead opt for a black coffee? Anyways, so I return home. My head is spinning. I can’t really cook anything, not even the Maggi which I absolutely love. I feel like puking , don’t know if its the coffee to blame but that’s what I think at least. I lost my favorite earrings :( Broomed the room, but couldn’t find them.Eeewwww, nothing is really helping. Wanna sleep but sleep God doesn't just welcome me at His abode.. Start painting.. Wow!! This turns out to be nice....

Never ever ever ordering a black coffee...

Dear Diary,

          I am so happy to have you. I am really thankful to my decision of sharing my life with you. Now I have someone to look forward to,some one who understands my sorrows and joys. You've been the perfect listener and I love you for that. Now that I have you , I dont have to keep things in my heart. Thankyou for being there.Now I wouldn't have to see myself  from the skies in the obituary column You are a true life saver.


Love you lots,
Dipi

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Of Love and lust...

 - My first hand at fiction writing
          I feel sick. Come home from office early. Not able to cook, order food. You call. Want to have dinner together. I am already hurt. You do not have time for me. It has been two days, she is with you. You are not coming to office, helping her shop. You don’t remember I had an appointment with the doctor. I cancel the order, pop in an aspirin and dress up. There you are, with her. I feel like the third person. As we head to the pizza joint, I see how you compliment her. You know her best song and her favorite recipe. You know what she loves and what she hates. And why not I think to myself, she is your best friend. As time passes I feel sick physically - the aspirin doesn’t seem to ease me and emotionally - you make me feel like an emotional fool. Why am I even here?
          As you go bonkers over her, she is simply uninterested, as her friend has just stepped in. Now you have all eyes on me. Stupid me, I am happy to get your attention. As the clock ticks, I thank God the day is ending. You ask me to stay back. I do not want to. I get a sunken feeling inside. Why can’t you understand, fever has taken me in its stride. When I'd rather be in the laps of a sweet sleep, I am here with you, hearing her shopping chronicles. As you laugh on jokes better known to yourself, I so much want to leave you both together, to yourself. You request me again to stay back, I do not want to, but I decide I will. We head home. She wants to freshen up. You park your car some distance and wait for her. I get a call from you; it is too dark for her to reach your car alone. It hurts me, I am not insane and I would not anyways leave her alone. I see you flash your million-dollar smile when you see me come with my bag. Stupid me forgot everything the evening had shown me.
           As we reach your place, she decides to have vodka to celebrate your friendship.You force me, when you know I would not drink. As you gulp glass after glass, you entirely forget the world around you. The journey from intertwined fingers to touching shoulders to hugs and pecks on cheeks doesn’t take much time. I watch, quietly. As ice cubes continue to be unloaded from the trays, you slip one down her neck. A silent tear washes my cheek. I get up and wash my face to hide it. I now know I can hide my tears from you. That is it I decide, but I know I can't venture out. I pray for the sun to rise, but the moon has more to offer.. The drink makes both of you nauseous. As you hold each other and you fall into the arms of sleep, you rest on her bosom. Picture perfect. Two lovers meeting after a long time. Enough of the torture for me though!! I hit the bed to rest my sleep-deprived body. Better sleep alone than see more of your budding love.
          You enter the room with her. I keep one of the corners of the double bed. It makes me feel secure. As expected, she takes the other and to my dismay, you enjoy the center location. As you talk and the distances seem to end, I pray for sleep. She is asleep now. You head towards me. I feel like a slut. Don't want you even near me. Your hurt male ego advances towards her and both of you sleep in each other's arms. Not that I care now. Sleep doesn't come to me. My body is aching. Warm tears flush down my cheeks. The sun rises.
          You take me in your arms and obviously her too. I get up to leave. You show me the gift she gave you, something you loved. I had promised I would buy it for you. You dint let me. It hurts me even more. I know am not as beautiful as she is and neither as rich, so I decide to walk out of your life. I confront you. Your tears start flowing. I forget everything. I love you. As I return from the shower, I see her wrapped in your arms on the bed. No doubt you were drawn to her towel clad body, can’t blame you for it. Your tears spoke a different story, my eyes show me something totally different....
          Past now, we move ahead in life. You say I hurt your and her friendship by thinking all this. You say you are not able to talk to her. You feel bad. What I feel doesn’t count, does it? I tell you to continue talking to her as I don’t have a problem. You say she is your best friend. I trust you. Life goes on. I see you talking to her. You have that million-dollar smile again. I love it, so I don’t say anything. I see you talking yet again. Before curiosity kills the cat, I ask about her. You say you dint talk for a long time. You felt bad about what I had said about your pure relation. I don’t question you again.
          You want our relation to take a step ahead. I gear up to say "yes" as I am ready to forget the past and move on. There have been millions of fantastic moments together. Cannot forget them for one bad memory. You are talking to her again, you said you did not. I see the smile I love, but can’t take in any more lies. Please be with her. She makes you happy. I am not able to distinguish between love and lust... I don’t want to.. Let me be... I never stopped you from talking to her, then why lie to me? You say you do not owe me an explanation, when did I ask you to explain. I hate you but I hate myself more for loving you….

Dear Diary,


Strange things happening with me. Initially when I was strong not to cry even over really big things, today I cried at an absolute NO-NO thing.


But my eyes dont seem to accept tears anymore. Initially when I cried buckets, my eyes became red and sore and painful. Today its only like a couple of tears and my eyes are already drooping and paining. Maybe even they dont want any pain anymore.So henceforth, I'd avoid being with people who spoil my eyeliner!!
Love,
Dipi

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Happy Monsoons !!

          I tugged my warm sheets and turned my alarm off. Looked outside the window,loved seeing the chirping birds and the coconut trees, fresh and moist from the drizzle last night. (Did I tell you, the view is awesome from my bedroom window. Coconut trees and a variety of birds plus a spring flowing at some distance, picture perfect)
         As I moved out of bed and readied myself for my morning walk, it started drizzling. By the time I was tying my shoe laces, it was pouring (*sigh*) Then started the heap of questions --
Should I venture out?
What if it pours heavily?
Where is my umbrella, oh do I have one?
Where will I buy an umbrella from, you know the transparent one with polka dots or the pink one with lace attached to its edges?
Brushing away the questions, I finally stepped out. I'd always loved rains, so today was no exception. I let my hair down as the tiny drops played with my skin. Loved the feeling. First rains,sweet morning and Alexis Jordan singing "...in time I found myself in happiness with you.." on my music player, perfect !! And so I really did venture out for my daily walk. The drizzling partially soaked my clothes, but it was fun. The roads were almost empty, the plants were dancing in the rain and so was my heart..
 


                                                          HAPPY MONSOONS!!

Monday, June 4, 2012

How I can be a b**** at times!!

         So now, when I am so pissed of about appraisals and promotions, when I could have written a complete thesis on self help stuff and how it doesnt really help me when I need it the most and how I feel that I am that special "ONE" whom the snake bites each time I'd climb a ladder at the next dice throw, he is being congratulated. F** such managers should never be congratulated if they dont know what it means to appreciate and motivate their subordinates, when they dont understand that humans are prone to make errors and that code cannot always be bug free, that explaining requirements in words and not penning them down does create issues and the end product thus differs from the required one.So, everyone is turning back and wishing and we have people coming over to shower good lucks, the b**** I am dont even bother to turn back and look at the crowd. Not that it either affects them or me. But I dont have to be all goody and cutie all the time and be good to people whom I dont care about.
         I dont know why I used the word b****, I find female labradors pretty cute and nice. Why is the word bitch so offensive then??

Ice Ice Baby!!



I'd always fancied the Brewer's cafe right above Big bazaar each time I walked past it.Don't ask me why!!


Sunday afternoon :- So when finally on a hot (literally , in terms of the sun and my mood ) afternoon, when I stepped inside, I dint want to ask more. The smell of the coffee put me in a trance, but I dint want to drink hot coffee and cold coffee is really not my thing. So, I ended up ordering an orange slush and cool blue (curacao). Loved both of them, just that the cool blue had a lot of syrup so I had to refill the ice cubes to get my perfect cool-blue-on-the -rocks.


Fast forward >> Monday morning :- As I rush to office, I see a truck with loads of really huge ice blocks.Uncovered and lying on the dirty base of the truck, all I could say was 'yuckkkkk....' . As the truck sped across, I could see the overhead trees shedding their unwanted leaves over it and birdies shitting (poor birds how would they know !!) .So next time when you request for those ice cubes or even suck on that ice gola, do remember this dirty truck with even dirtier ice blocks...

I am sorry

        I am sorry but I dont have that perfect figure, nor do I have a chiselled face and neither am I so tempting that people would love me, the first time they'd see me.I am sorry I dont have that much-loved-accent of talk, nor do I have the Oxford vocabulary. I don't have poker straight hair , nor do they curl gracefully.I am not the best developer at work and obviously not the one who'd always get promoted. I don't stand a position when I see those chics out there, all modern and one with style, whom you'd look at with x-ray eyes.
       But one thing I am not sorry about is that I am what I am. So I really dont care what you feel about me. I am fine with my curves, so what if they are not at the correct places. I am happy with the work I do and I hate it when you compare me with others who can do it better than me. I hate it when you (who knows absolutely nothing about me) judge me.I am ok with my not so perfect facial features and it doesn't really bother me when guys dont turn back to give me a second glance, coz it really doesnt affect.I absolutely adore myself for the way I talk. I love the way my hair falls and forms a mosaic, I love it all messed up. I dont want to be perfect. I love the way I am, so please take a chill pill and dont bother to tell me what I need to improve.This is my life and I'll live it my way. So please, next time you think of telling me "ways to improve" or your "opinion about me" remember I am not hearing.

Fences!!


        As I opened the window , the soft sun rays brushed across my face, gently swinging my hair. The warmth made me feel good like a bear hug from a loved one. As I stared aimlessly at the swaying coconut trees, a nearby row house caught my glance. The back door of the house opened into a small kitchen garden. I couldn't see and recognize all the plants, but it was beautiful and colorful. What really caught my eye was the fence.. As I contracted my retina, I noticed the fence was made of wooden parts, in hues of yellow,gray,red and white. I was trying to find a pattern, grey-white-yellow-red.. nope grey-yellow-white-red.. there was none But still it looked beautiful in its own unique way.
        Not trying to write any philosophy (*sigh* I cant hope I could) but I could actually rhyme it with life.. Sometimes dark, sometimes light , sometimes pleasant and sometimes just fine, it need not be in any pattern, but once mixed the outcome is a complete frame..

Stand and stare, literally!!


"What is this life full of care,

we have no time to stand and stare"


I think we have taken William Davies way too seriously when he penned the above lines. So now when we see an accident or something wrong happening in front of our eyes, we just STAND and STARE and then move on. Its not uncommon to see people flocked around an accident spot but what terrrifies me is that they just stand,stare and do nothing to help.When faced with similar situations,we'd expect good samaritans , so why not be one when others would expect the same.

       And its not just accidents, I am talking about. We see violence around us and we do nothing about it. The other day when I was strolling in my gallery, I saw a group of guys badly hitting another guy. The herd had hockey sticks, belts, what and what not's. And there was a huge crowd around there, a lot of my society members, the security guards, but no one actually did anything to save him. Maybe he was wrong , so what? Beat him to death!! I then called the police.Fortunately they came in pretty quick and spared the teenager the torture.

        So please people, next time you see something wrong, don't just stand. Do something.

Letter to a friend

       She is my new found friend. Dont know how, but she has all the patience in the world to hear me blabbering about everything and anything whenever I want to. Maybe I can credit that to her managing her job, her smart blog, her Twins , her family, her love for reading... etc etc So, today when she has gone for a holiday, she has long been waiting for.. I am missing her..
 I hope you are having a fantastic time with BF and the twins.Here are some updates. Our money plants (all three of them) have baby leaves, which are growing fast and nice,glowing with the light and dancing with the AC. I have kept them together, so they dont feel your absence. I give them a nice bath and let them enjoy the sun for some time. The crane which we can see from our cube window still clenches the huge cement block. Dont know why it is up there!! Our cube has once again become boring for me, without you.. I made many flowers - carnations, lilies etc.. Will show you when you come back.I had a bad bad time last evening. I was wearing chappals to office, tacky chappals. Was praying to God to get me a rick back home, which I dint get. Foolishly I bought a watermelon and had to carry the load along when I walked home in my chappals. My feet are still sore :( And to make it worse, there was this group of guys on mopeds, were with me right from Mhatre bridge.. followed me home. I
could hear their cheap talks and comments. For once , I wanted to turn back and shout, but I dint. I felt very uneasy and insecure. I was scared.
       Yesterday, the promotion letters were rolled out. And everybody in the world except me gets promoted :'(. I dint want that to affect me, but it did. It hit me right in the heart and I felt like crying. I tried remembering all those quotes about patience and strength and failure being the stepping stone to success, but some how it doesnt really help... Am feeling so bad and helpless. I deserved it!!
        Anyways,now am off to sleep. Its just 10:00 pm but I gotta sleep. My thoughts are scattered like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle and I am not in a mood to sort them, so better give myself that precious sleep. Good night. This is Dipi signing off for tonight..


And as expected I dint sleep. Its 12:30 am, I just started weaving a paper basket, hope it looks good!!

Another lazy bum post!

As much as I love drawing, painting, claying and crafting, I have a lazy bum which doesn't move at all on weekends. It rests and rests ...