Bulbul pakhi

Those who love me will tune into this song ;)
Bulbul Pakhi by Antara
Yes, its a bengali nursery song and you will still listen to it okay!

I can write a thesis on my childhood and spray them with nostalgia keeping these songs in my mind, but am on a disadvantage when it comes to time these days:(
So give me some of it, I d be back.Hopefully.


State of Mind:
Amazingly positive and negative at the same time. I really wonder if I am one of those people who have both +ve and -ve blood group at the same time;) No, no such specie has been found so far :P

See ya.


Some spontaneous lines as a comment by me on a thought provoking post. Post about? Life what else!!!

they r words... all tht u just blurted out, and they mean a lot...
we get trapped probably when we start thinking they make sense to whom exactly? and then starts flowing the thoughts of this unbearble burden turning us numb day after day...

i guess, we make a choice, to continue living with it and feeling more n more every moment or give up moulding into the rationalities around..

cuz if u gotto feel it u gotto feel it hard, its painful, n unfortunately tht's how it is..

n bout u...wht i feel is..Despite everything, u go on...exploring more, learning more, atleast wanting to know more, n u are aware of your lost and found oppurtunities as well..and that means something now...

-khamakha

And I smile...

Somtimes its okay to let some "doesn't make any sense!" thoughts just be...
let them just breathe
so that tommorow you know they existed
at some phase of your life
and its okay

but sometimes I can't write when the feeling of others reading it bothers me
so have decided, i d just write without any obligation of posting them(dun worry it's more of a self imposed obligation!)
On a lighter note, now that exams approach, the rational side of life, the urge to discover the other side doesn't stay calm
So herz another of my random scribbles- khamakha...n not so khamakha....





And I smile
___________________________________


You look for me
In the coldness engulfing the icy thirsty souls
You look for me…
You look for me now, when I am already gone
In the pitch dark planet of the bittered hearts
You seek the warmth of a wintry moment
Now that…
Winters have gone numb, summer has frozen, spring shattered into a slow death bit by bit
It was then that
words played around us
Oh! I could hold each word on my palm
Like a dew
Stare deep into its soul, for eternity
Unfold each emotion
And kiss its being
Until they would melt away into my lips
Drench my heart and drug me top to toe, inside out

It was then that
thoughts reclined under the sun
resting their arms on us
seeping into us at ease
through each pore
stir us
mould into violent waves
of dreams of tomorrow
of eternal giggles to be..

And now
Look at that sparkle dust
At a distance
I walk ten steps to be there
Each step growing heavier
Failing, crinkling with the roughness beneath and inside ….
Blurring my vision
with dusty misty past
oh! The angles mock too, leaves wither with the touch of my existence
Looking away, my eyelashes shift heavy with soul drops
To tenderly pick a blue shimmery piece of glass
Wrapped in the sparkle dust
What seems like once part of a royal window
Through which the princess must have awaited her lover’s steps
Must have looked so adorable that moment, chin resting on her right dry palm, barren blue eyes gazing out, her careless, lifeless, long wavy hair, touching the floor, while she waited with an hourglass and dreamt of days to come
The window must have broken
Blue pieces shattered to ground
Sands of the hour glass blown away by the angry wind
Smearing the fallen glasses into a rosy sad glitter
There goes
Another round of hope and despair
Another shot of filthy wrath

And then,
The blue glass pierced my finger tip
To wake me out of my muse
And out spilled red exotic drops
That they call blood
And dripped down with them
Uninvited, long forgotten
crystal pearls from my eyes
that they call tears

I let them flow and flow
Let them breathe, finally
Out of the stifling bittered zone of my heart
Let them trickle and drench the air, the thoughts, the words, and memories….
Let them drench the burning anger
Like the soothing touch of a mother on her feverish child’s forehead
Like the balmy breeze of the ocean mildly slapping the faces of the crestfallen souls

Tenderly, carefully, like a newborn baby,
I held the crystal drop on my palm
Watching it melt into the redness
And held it there
For hours
Stared deep into its soul
Like staring at the words on my palm
Remember?

They froze
They don’t move anymore
Icybrutal, ditched, and black
They have turned numb
Tears and words alike…


Emotions
Like whirlpool
Dance around
Hitting each vein
Teasing each thought
Chasing each desire
Desires… like molten iron scarring the soul
Pushing me to face my worst nightmares
Building illusions
Weaving collage out of hidden photographs, lost words dripping down the flying papers in the fierce wind, abandoned and never to be revealed
Mocking aloud
Celebrating the defeat
Dancing a wild dance of fake empathy and brutal sympathy

I stared hard and cold
And then
Laughed along
I raised a toast too
To another lesson learnt, another page flipped, in the book of life
And I smile…..

Too often the thing you want most is the one thing you can’t have.
Desire leaves us heart broken. It wears us out.
Desire can wreck your life.
But as tough as wanting something can be
The people who suffer the most
Are those who don’t know what they want…- Grey’s anatomy

untitled

She felt sick, ill, nauseated and miserable. Perfect, goes with the mood, she thought.
One of those migraine like headaches. Didn’t know what caused them. Too much of sun, lack of a cup of tea in the morning, or disturbing thoughts. Today was a mix of all of them, so the headache was pretty inevitable. Not an issue, but she wanted to avoid the way she felt then . She had hurriedly returned to her room in the evening after the classes, and made her fav flavoured tulsi and ginger chai. What a soothing sensation. But the ache had already started spreading and the treat did little to shoo it away. So that means she couldn’t delve into movies or tv shows that would help her stay sane cuz tht woud strain her eyes, forget about trying to read a book.

The evening remided her of a recent summer evening, when too much of heat had done the same to her, drained her of all energy and successfully got her bed-ridden. How she had mumbled incoherently about the sun outside when it was evening and her friend assured her on phone everything was alright and that she could go to sleep.

And today, she tucked herself into the bed, saw her roomie enter. She had requested her to give her a 10-min head massage which she so direly needed. She hated asking for favours. She wondered, how her mom or sister wouldn’t like anyone to come near them when they had a headache. She so unlike them always looked for the touch therapy:) Her roommate forgot about the massage altogether, poor thing, not her fault, she has been too engrossed in one of her projects, that’s what a professional course does to you.
She craved for some one like her mother, her best friend Anita or …
She could always act unabashedly around Anita who would always sense she was ill and sweetly ask her if she needed a head massage or her food into the room or wanted the lights off and some silence!
Some faded images of her childhood filled her senses too. Whenever she fell ill, her father would make her lie on the bed with her head on the edge, take a bucket full of water and let some water run through her head for some time. She with her eyes shut like a baby would forget all about the pain letting the water drip down her hair like a cool pleasant cascade. Funny, but she somehow couldn’t help the memories. Seems like succha distant thing now. Those unique methods that only the elderly know of. And now…she often wondered, suddenly the so powerful ever youthful elderly ones had begun to grow old. They all only speak of anecdotes that surround their children’s lives, how they have grown, their achievements , marriage , their kids. With such ease they slip into the world of their kids away from individualistic seeks , dedicating all of their life…for the little ones.
But she still found her father so handsome and young , her mom still the most beautiful.
She popped in a paracetamol, played with her teddy, coaxing herself to sleep, delving into some of those fine fond memories…

wrath

Whatz my fault if certain things don't find their right places in my life
Am I doing this intentionally? You may at your sweet ease attach tags like mean, irresponsible, shouldn't-do, cuz you can afford do. If I could afford I wouldn't have cared a damn too. Whatz my fault if I can't ..whatz my fault if there are things that I know are should be some way but they JUST ARE NOT.
What do I do if the darkness actually engulfs me...
What do I do if some songs remind me of things I shouldn't.
What else do I do but to accept it as a part of my destiny to be victim to all that's happening to me
What do I do if I don't want to be like others want me to be
If I want my time by myself when the whole world out there is celebrating, and yet if I feel the pangs
What do I do if I can;t find solutions after seeking them and trying them out seems like widening horizons of confusions
If even after desperately trying to tie and untie few knots they cease to listen to me and refuse to get the bloody hell away from my way
What do I do when I feel angry like this
and I don't know what to do with all these anger
What else but to talk of detachment.
Period.

Back to life please!

Breathtaking view .. soft clouds of cotton, breeze swaying to the tunes of dreams, roads cozily cuddled up amongst the care of mountains, and droplets drenched in the magic....

A week, 10 days, two weeks...
Enough! After a point, I need to be back to civilization and bounce back to reality !
I need to see the roads,honking cars and the expressions indicating a hectic day lived ....

and I feel so lonely with too much of coziness around for a long time.
Space and time are not conditions in which we live, they are simply modes in which we think

Random thoughts of a dull moment

She lay on her bed, crouched in to the typical position when she felt that way… like she wanted to escape the reality… a baby in a womb craving for some protection, unwilling to be a part of the world.
How she hated the word hate, but it never ceased to love her. Hatred loved her.
It is on afternoons like this that thoughts she never wanted to come to terms with creeps in ruthlessly. Thoughts which were irrelevant, silly and slightly pushed to some corner of the subconscious, as they say.
She hated afternoons like this, when she felt depressed in such a typical way.
Even a light movie like Jaane tu ya jaane na managed to do this to her. Ideas that bubbled with concepts of relationships, love, friendship, confusions, decisions blah blah boggled her.
She shut her eyes slightly, praying for a nap, resisting work and conversations.
She hated every bit of communication at such moments, be it reading people’s thoughts on blogs, or facing questions at chats, cuz she hated to lie, and what would she anyway convey the truth as?
She found it really funny, such dull moments, she would rather feel numb. NUMB!
She hate the care that she felt for all her people, she hated the craving for some wishful moments. Like the actor in Serendipity, why did she believe so much in destiny…like things would happen if they are meant to be. She hated to express the most deeply felt thoughts, but why, why couldn’t she be just like so many others. Why the hell did she care so much at times. Not that they care as much. Then why should she, why does it come so inevitably to her. Why does let herself be taken for granted?
Why cant she be like Jay in Jaane Tu, forget the whole world on finding the so called love, be selfish and bask in the glory of the feeling itself. Why did she have to relate to Aditi, the darker side, and her confusions and pretence of being all happy…? Bloody, it wasn’t a movie that she was living in! She hated dull moments like this that brought such scary thoughts to her….


Never mind, like I said these are just irrelevant momentary thoughts and kindly do not let it hamper your peace of mind

katra katra

If you ve already heard this song, am sure you wouldn't mind melting into the memories that this song brings along all over again...
I haven't watched the movie yet and it has my fav Naseeruddin Shah:(

LYRICS

Damn embarrassing!

When frustration comes out in form of tears... and you do not find a space to bloody hide your face anywhere

immortal words

unke dekhe se jo aa jaatii hai muuh par raunaq
vo samajhte hain ki bimaar kaa haal achchhaa hai

hamko maaluum hai jannat kii haqiiqat lekin
dil ke Khush rakhne ko 'Ghalib' ye Khayaal achchhaa hai

U gotto move on

I have got so used to this chair
the open cabin
Manikchand Oxyrich mineral water duly placed to the corner everyday
Post-it notes with the to-do scribbles (btw, u must read its story here--> http://www.mmm.com/us/office/postit/pastpresent/history_ws.html)
n the timely tea cups
Boss coming to supervise my 'doings' now and then
the chik-chik around
Genuine hugs when you just need them
Healthy competition
The privacy when I need it
A balcony to go and laze around when I need to clear my mind while watching ppl around enjoy their ciggi-suttas
and the enjoyable walk back home in the rains --> chai-chappa-chai..chappak..chai
...the beaches to go and chill-out after work...wish I could just sit there whole night

and **** like they say....U gotto move on!!! and so will I
Whether you believe it or not..I truely feel life is weird! Just when you start getting used to something, u gotto bid it good-bye. A feeling that's got so ingrained in my system I can speak about it almost dispassionately

Moments of truth

She sat quietly in the vast space amidst a crowd of people chattering between each other.
As she gazed at nothing (the mode she often gets into) moments rushed past her, smiling, mocking and questioning her like naughty, innocent kids on the streets pulling your kurti for a penny with that captivating twinkle in their eyes.
Gently and tenderly she shut her eyes, ready to be back home.
It’s been a long time she had been home. Her home. Her heart. Where she felt belonged and special.
She felt music hitting her veins like a razor.. sharp razor…so strong was the impact of the soulful tunes that played in her mind, ruthlessly, again and again with slight pauses in between. She choked with pain but wouldn’t let go of the moment.
The calming darkness soothed her senses, the tranquility of the moment engulfed her existence in absoluteness.
Before she realized, tears rolled down her cheeks silently, yeah those saline, watery fluid, much against her will to give into her weaknesses.
Instinctively, her hands reached the centre of her heart and placed themselves comfortably there. She felt her heart. Right there, the beats, each beat…. She felt surprised at the discovery, the tangible discovery!
She felt as if her heart was craving to open up, it pleaded for help, it needed some nourishment against all the rationality that the harsh ways of living mercilessly ask it to cope up with.
Moments floated in air.
Hit her like powerful waves.
Images of a girl curving into herself , head buried in the knees , for solace, some protection….in her balcony, under the stars in the pitch darkness.
Days when she would fall asleep weeping with only the breeze acting as a balm for the open gaping wounds.
Of the little girl wandering off to unknown lands to chase the sun, just to be the first one to feel its warmth.
Her family
Friends
Fleeting images of some forgotten souls who never ceased to care for her, and whom she successfully managed to push in to the ‘forgotten list’

It all rushed hurriedly, as if someone had hurled bundle of things at her all at once, or like passengers at a local compartment pushing, tearing each other apart to find their ways.
She felt boggled, bothered and uncomfortable. Very very uncomfortable.
Gradually….
She drifted into an entirely different zone…like a soul floating and swaying in the smokes of the ashes of its deceased body. Free. Liberated. Yeah..almost.
Was it really happening? The phenomena…?
She reveled in the absolute cluelessness.
Her heart that she held on to so dearly, felt so exhausted… it really did.
It sought no sympathy. Just empathy. It sought a home. A dwelling.
It sought the tenderness, away from the dos and donts of the world…away from the fears of losing its near and dear ones, away from the truth of futility of life…
Whirlpool of illustrations that symbolized love, life, lust, relationships, insecurities and sacred secrets screamed aloud…tearing her heart apart….pleading to ‘let go’, pleading for some care.

Deep rooted gaps in life they say.
Unfulfilled, sacred wishes that would put Freud to shame and defy all logic of psychological findings.
The music was still playing, cutting her apart, but kinder and gentler than before…
like an asthma patient finally finding his lost breath again after a fatal attack.

Her left hand lovingly covered her forehead to let the thoughts out….confront them and breath in the air to feel the cool breeze..the kind that only embraces you by a sea shore.


A white light splashed and bathed her in the rays.
There appeared a tree out of no where in the far stretched fairyland.
She saw her sitting under it lovingly and carefree. There were angels flying all around, so close, like she could extend her hands and touch them .The rays from the halo touched her and kissed her being. She giggled..
Just then an angel sat on her shoulder and whispered a message into her left ear while she carefully listened to it. Her eyes lit up….
And she continued basking in the joy of being… amidst the angels, and the vibrant air, each atom breathing life , love and care meant just for her….
Her palms opened up to receive…She felt the tranquility engulfing her again.
The unconditional surrender helped her receive far more than she had expected.
After a long time, what seems like ages, she felt at sync with things around her..not in the absolute sense.. but only she knew how much she needed this.

She didn’t want to get back to earth….but as she softly opened her eyes, the lights around didn’t pierce her vision. She felt like being okay…
She still felt the bliss in every pore of her body, she still felt her heart….that tangibly…
yes it existed and she is alive..:)

That was the most intense form of meditation that she underwent after a long long time, for all she knew she truly deserved the treat.
Life keeps happening to us , now and then…but then such moments of truth just help you get a little closer to life and reaffirm you faith in the miracles around.

quick nice read:)

IT'S NOT HOW

GOOD YOU ARE,

IT'S HOW GOOD

YOU WANT TO BE.

__________

-Paul Arden

chat

She sub-consciously performs her daily ritual.Types her Gtalk Status message first thing in the morning:
..selective memory....does it help? if atall
A message instantly pops up
a: It helps.
Who does it help is the question?
b: hmm
yeah..who does it help?
doesnt help me..cuz i can brush away memories i dun wanna rem
i mean cant *
a: which is not such a bad thing.
if you can do it , that is.
selective memory is not necessarily by design.
b: then?
a: by default too.
one's mental make up may be such so as to remember a certain set of things.
b: thts wht am sayin...
there r things i d better off put aside
a: so that can help , no?
b: but doesnt happen thtw ay..
hits me like a wave now n then
a: hmmm!
anything in particular that you wanna talk about?
b: hmm..nt reely...
just random thots
4get it..ve just lost it:p
how are you....?
a: Good!
Losing it is the best gift you can give to yourself.
b: :)
ah..now tht makes me feel good:P
__________________________________________________-
(hope 'a' doesnt mind for me having dared to extract the conversation into my quiet dark dwelling here)

destinations

My first and best boss/collegue ever quit today.
I was kinda sad... for all she taught/gave me in these few weeks is incomparable to anything else. Like a mentor and true friend.
For all the lessons on thinking big and implementation of plans and on rising above mediocrity..
For teaching me that romance between professionalism and spirituality can co-exist...
For the memories..

thankyou:)

Just brings to my notice that the last time I was sad of this kind was when my dance trainer had to leave us for better destinations waiting for her. I was in 8th then. Just that the eyes could afford to get moist then . and now. people come. they leave. All I can afford to do is smile with the 'that's life afterall' look in my eyes and a slight pang in the heart.
After she is gone,
I come to my desk and read an unusual status message on my gtalk..
probably someone else has logged in from my system..
no.wait. Its my id only.
and the status message reads 'pyasi padosan'
another prank by some wellwisher!
My eyes go wide...and I burst into a laughter few seconds after..
lol
That's life afterall..
kabhi khushi kabhi gum

phases wher even a ':P' seems forced
n ':-/' becomes a state of mind
the soul craving for rains of '>:D<' s
n a genuine ':D' from within oh! so distant

ummm...
neva mind..:P

Silent screams (blank noise)

The futility of few practices.
How beautifully we acclimatize to ‘certain ways of living’ to the extent of almost taking it for granted.
You know what I mean right?
Umm..say..like those on and off one para reports on women getting gang raped and the incidents of molestation ..candles..mob fury..blah blah blah…Wait there is more ..how could I forget the ‘talk shows’. Feminists clutching their teeth tight, blaming patriarchy, abusing the whole male fraternity..with those exclusive token of thanks to the lecherous Indian men . And why shouldn’t they? As intangible as an ‘issue-to-be-solved’ it probably is, your deepest wounds do come alive once in a while when few disturbing scenes flash right in front of your eyes, ruthlessly. The helplessness, the humiliation..the ongoing injustice that almost seem like a norm.
It is anything but ‘normal’ unless you are bold enough to accept the ruthless as a pattern of normalcy.

For me it was Calcutta. Years back….
My memory fails me to trace incidents that can hint at how old I must have been then. It was after watching a movie in the popular city theatre ‘Nandan’. I was at my best mood having got the opportunity to have a family outing, go out, eat and watch a movie. Lol. It used to be a big deal convincing parents, mamajis and bade mamajis to let us watch a movie in the theatres then. Anyway, I was with my elder sister, maashi and few others I don’t seem to recall. All I recall is the ‘weirdness’ of those moments. As we were walking in the beautiful Kolkata street filled with people from all facets after the noon show, I stopped all of a sudden. I wish I was exaggerating..but it actually was that numbing an experience!
Someone had groped me skillfully and managed to rush past like a usual street side fellow rushing to catch his bus in hurry!
Instinctively I turned back..mumbling something like that guy..that guy…
Nobody paid attention , unless an elderly man calmly declared, oh yes, that guy, he misbehaved I know, I saw. He declared the statement with that look of ‘aisa hota hai lil kid, get used to that entire bonus that comes with you being a female’ expression.
LIKE HELL he saw….
That’s when I realized that the passer-by had 'misbehaved’. I felt like…Like what?..umm, it’s funny! ..wish I could explain.

I stood still, my fingers pointed at the guy rushing/running away(am sure there must have been a slight tension but greater smirk @ the bastard’s innocent face), until that oldie confirmed something went wrong.Um..did I feel like crying. What the hell would I know at that tender age when wearing a tight top was such an excitement, when I could get out of my frocks and pick the latest trends of jeans and tshirts that came in my size as well.
My sister, the angel she is.. immediately calmed me down sensing ‘it was my first experience’. That’s when I realized all the control I have on my body! The sense of calm was soon overpowered with a deep rage to the letter e…
How dare him..how dare anyone. Okay.. so it means any damn guy on street can fiddle and tamper with my body without my permission? So, what’s this big fuss they make about sex being sacred, preaching the divinity of chastity, and all..I mean ..all those whispers and secrecy revolving around baser truths of the relationship between a man and a woman? I am as curious even today…

LIKE HELL that old man saw. Like hell his wisdom served any purpose..oh yes, it did for sure teach me the most ugly lesson of life as a woman, a teenager, a girl, a baby girl..
Could he not just try clutching him by his collar and slap him hard? Fine..am expecting too much? Could he not atleast raise his voice loud enough to gather some crowd..Kolkata of all the cities I knew brews a lot of heat if you want to make an issue out of things. All he did was patiently acknowledge the look in my confused..almost hypnotized eyes.

Leaving you humiliated, helpless and hypnotized..they all manage to strip you off your dignity with such amazing ease. The most unfortunate fact being it’s not those lecherous lot who would be going through these posts on the online project of protest against such practice, they in their circle of peers continue having the last laugh and heck, even if they read through the ocean of plight it’s not going to matter to them even a bit.

Vivid images of those few boys in their early teens--urchins should I say-- in the slum-like galis near my hostel in Calcutta are still fresh where they dared to pass filthy comments at my friend in a sleeveless top..umm..what was it like…'dekho dekho sleeveless pehen ke kaise khule sadak chal rahee hai’ once, twice and third reiteration of the nonsensical statement made me turn back and yell “bahut sleeveless ka shauk hai tujhe?ek thappad padega toh kapde pehnna bhul jayega” Startled he ran away with his peers. They seemed novice, new to the trade and hopefully would think twice before experimenting with eve teasing after that incident.

It was safe to do that because we were in a group, in the daylight and the street was full of people (remember the hot-tempered kol walahs!) ..but what about those faceless figures in the pitch dark corners of the streets..that jobless lot in lungis, chaat walas, frustrated job-seekers, or educated entertainment seekers…the ogles reflecting in the front seat mirrors of the auto you are traveling by? Those invisible hands you feel pouncing on you to grope you any minute ..rape you without a single touch..the conscious feeling so heavy even an innocent stranger belonging to the male fraternity seems like ‘the one’ looking for an opportunity to quench his lust..
The dilemma is with what frequency do you continue yelling back ”kaam dhandha nahi hai kya” and reacting? Or the sad part being how long do you keep wearing on the “I know what you are doing, but am bold enough to ignore you” expression.. I mean kitni baar?kab tak?
I would hate to stop to slap them because I would need to touch them for that.. so deep is the feeling of this endless hatred.

Don’t’ I have a life to call my own? my space..other than keeping an eye on who is lecherously eyeing me..?

Seek company every time? Not go out in the dark? Be in full clothes? Not go too far?

As if gang rapes don’t happen? Numerous daylight molestations are unheard of? Women in burkhas are spared? Abuses at homes are rare incidents?

Those kids with their stint at eve-tease I mentioned..they were the age of my younger brother. Sometimes I feel pity for them as well…when they should be constructively struggling to make a living or get some education ..they indulge in such momentary pleasures and go on setting an example of their power over helplessness of women in general, kyuki koi unke muh nahi lagna chahta and they continue... Ah! The never ending cycle…
Probably it runs deep down into the Indian psyche ..the patriarchy..the very form of year after year women’s day celebrations. Indian households where a man entering the kitchen is a sweet gesture against women in kitchen all day long ‘who can always do better’.

Of course when my mother objects at me getting under those so called provocative outfits (mind you provocative is anything that the people around are not used to..even if it’s just a pretty long wrap-around), she isn’t at fault..because the rage doest help when you actually step out of the four secure walls. With no choice left, you are forced to put on the sheets of adherence ..play it safe you see..
I understand protection..
I understand the importance of carrying an umbrella when it’s cloudy
I understand the funda of playing it safe in bed
But which brand of pepper spray do you use to protect yourself against the unwanted glares and ogles in every nook and corner?
How do you pepper-spray-off someone against the piercing verbal flood of filthy remarks..or those non-verbal signs of attempts at communicating with the sexy but weaker sex. Technology! Right!

Like the whole street turning into floating images of pornographic realm..like a nightmare lived everyday on your way to work, nearby grocery, a café , an emergency…the ugliest part is we have to live with it every single moment even when it’s non-existent ..like polluted air..all pervasive and shattering to the core. A trepidation despite all the expertise you might have on martial arts..like the world was already any less of a hell.

The spurts of anger are sudden. At my diner table once, I spontaneously told my mother “If that uncle ever comes home am probably going to slap him hard..or that guy in the neighbourhood or this cousin who is married with a kid now”
She went.."What… why?”
Because they tried molesting a girl I know.
And then I drifted into the thoughts…those flashbacks..those snippets..
Did it really happen..
Her stubbornness to go to her mama’s place with this uncle ..the tantrums..and the one night train journey…no extra seats available…8 years old her with this fleshy grey haired uncle…and the uncomfortableness. She was sleeping..may be she was dreaming? No concrete proof. Just the instinct..like my sister says..always always trust your instinct!!!

Or

This cousin who would get up to drink water midnight in jam-packed homes during weddings…her eyes would intuitively open.. wide and awake..and ..his attempts..

Or

This neighbour who would try calling her on his terrace to display his affection..

Nothing happened because she would usually smartly escape..and yet the pangs..

Mumma at dinner table made that helpless face(trying to be indifferent but deeply hurt) and went “Oh! Don’t be silly. Its history I guess..stop acting silly”
Right!silly!just because its history just like every second guy on street manages to turn the seemingly insignificant act into a trivial incident not worth being taken up after the act is done with.

Something wrong with no solution, still is wrong at the end of the day, because somewhere in your subconscious the marks are etched..even today..like the fear / inability to walk straight on streets (back upright, shoulders pulled back)..the ‘conscious self’ trying to handle the hunch even on a chair..
Often the truth of the hindi essay, “Nakhoon kyu badhte hai”(y do nails grow?) rings in my ear. Say when am sitting by a beach..the overwhelming vastness bringing all those buried anger with the undulating waves. The author points out at the marks of uncivilization still existent within the society in the forms of our growing nails..which grow as soon as we cut them off..and keep growing…reminding us of the futility of our trials at faking a civilized society with sane individuals.

Source of inspiration for this post: One evening the crush of bodies was worse than usual, and I felt a clammy hand first on my arm, next on my waist (two bare inches of it, where the sari and blouse don’t meet), next the hand had moved further south. I whirled around and saw this most disgusting expression in the man’s eyes, my hands flew to his face as I delivered a stinging slap, before swinging my heavy hand bag across his chest. He looked startle…but only momentarily. Then …he laughed! Yes – he laughed! At what? My powerlessness to stop him from doing it again and again? I saw that mocking leer and lashed out at him once more(the crowd pushed past us in a couldn’t care-less way, two steps back and was gone within seconds leaving me standing there feeling utterly violated and very foolish. I had tears of rage stinging my cheeks as I walked home. Should I tell mother. What was the point.? My mother had never ever walked by any street by herself in her entire life. Come to think of it, she had never left her home unescorted. Ever. What would she know of the brutality right outside her home and hearth? What purpose would it serve to tell her? – Shobha De (Superstar INDIA)

What do u Mean when you say you Can’t take it anymore?
Like you wanna die or something? end it all?
Or just change…go numb…
Or carry on with the deceptive expressions, shielding the real you beneath the ocean of suicidal thots
Carry on like the rest of the world, the feeling killing you deep within tht u gotta carry on like this for the rest of your life..?
Revel in few moments of ecstasy not knowing if it’s even meant to be?
Let the piercing razor cut your heart every time you let a movie or book bring out the deepest fears and emotions in u? Make you vulnerable to the big bad world out there?
Or go take sanyas in the Himalayas…wht do they call it.. Seek peace?!!
no really… WHOT?
I wonder What do I mean when I say tht I Can’t take it anymore.
Funny to the core!

happy? sad?

who cares.
Just feel like staring blankly like that for hours.

In silence.

Happy Holi

its a lonely err..lovely weather here today.

I whiled away the whole day...sleeping...getting up...sleeping again...

Heavy. very heavy..what? My mood, my heart... Afterall poor little thing wants to feel free.

Finally a refreshing shower and moments at my balcony...and the cold soothing evening breeze relieved me a bit...

I welcomed summer..

Sometimes when nothing else works you look for solace in the harshest of things.

Its holi tommorow...Colours...lots of them. Extreme joy of togetherness when everyone drenches in the hues equally...

I'd be running away from them, cuz I dun wanna pretend...get drenched when I don't want to.

These days I enjoy celebrations only when they are subtle and true....



Wish you all a Holi thats filled with colours of fondest thoughts..its a beautiful festival..may it be truely beautiful for you:)