There can only be one king, the others either retire or aren't good enough, yet

 It’s a cold Saturday night in November, a little past one. Some weekends, I don’t really like to sleep. Not quite early. So in a pretty romantic spirit, I wandered around my living room and slowly into rugged thoughts and eventually, when I was badly in need of some source of sound, I ended up rummaging thru’ the collection of music I fondly made this year. Not many. Just about three to four, thru’ the entire (well, almost the entire) year. The most beautiful of it was the cover of ‘Vinnaithaandi varuvaaya’ – such a pretty poster, it brings a smile of love to even the most unromantic. I played the newest in the list – the unplugged version of ‘Aaromale’ in the mesmerizingly classic voice of Shreya, released in the collector’s edition of the album, last weekend.

                    I had listened to it, maybe three times since it came out. But tonight, alone in the living room, with just a faded incandescent bulb in stunning silence, I could literally feel the song simply fill – and I really mean it when I say ‘fill’ - every ounce of air in the room. It runs about four minutes and a half, with a subtle violin and a few underplayed strokes of guitar in the backdrop. The first time, it felt different. The second, it felt completely different. It’s amazing how Rahman’s music transforms into totally new sounds of art during nocturnal hours. I played it a third time. And a fourth and maybe about ten more times.

                  When it finishes and leaves you at the hem of the silence again, it kind of rings - maybe resonates from the inside and the only thing you feel up to is going back to it and experience the strange, unearthly feeling all over again. It's, in a way, bizzare. Such a simple piece of tune, taking your entire, musically challenged mind all the way to a cosmic, perhaps, godly place.


                Many a time, especially during such hushed nights, when I listen to Rahman’s tunes, I feel a strange - I don’t know if it’s right to say, but – sort of a connection. In what way, I have no clue. But I just feel it. It’s like reading your favorite author and you kind of know the words that would follow in the next line.

Perhaps, one could never explain what magic Rahman's music unfailingly carries. As a raw soul that practically grew up listening to Rahman, I think this is what it means, in a personal sense, to me   -

Without music, we would have but been a mere ensemble of flesh and other anatomical parts.
Without Rahman, we would have but been mere victims of rusting commercialism of music, Indian and western.

It's that time of the year, again.

The calendar is probably one thing you should never look at if the age-old adage ‘Time and tide wait for none’ fills your stomach with a viral guilt. Didn’t we just step into this year, like, a few days ago ?? Hmm..a few three hundred days ago, I guess. On an unenthusiastic personal point, this time of the year can get extensively antisocial with my psyche – speaking out of several exemplified instances of alarming personal examples.

My brain just retards and goes on maybe a long drive to live with the sea turtles where it doesn’t return from until probably Christmas, when there’s better scope for emotionally engaging activities like eating more slices of cake than any other time of the year. I run away from my cell phone. My reading interests practically die. I live on hot chocolates until they make me sick and watch more movies than ever, from under the blanket. I wear mournfully old, pathetic shoes that have dingy, dangling stuff (who even makes them anymore?!). My writing however bounces back in a renewed psychological spirit which utterly frightens me. (You see? Another exemplified instance of alarming personal example).


I think I should be more interested in deeper introspections under such times but what basically happens, I guess, is that I simply hibernate.

So, it’s that time of the year. Again. And no matter how much I listen to Greenday or Hoobastank, it’s still gonna be a lousy winter. At the end of the year though, I am gonna bounce back with a terrific contradiction of what a beauty it is to end the year with a snowy christmas.

Forget 'title', what's that thing?

       I haven’t met anyone or experienced anything in the last four hundred odd hours that could have stood the remote chances of throwing in some random seeds of inspiration in me.

I feel blank.

Yup. After about twenty minutes in plain, blank nothingness to drag to this line, I’m convinced I do. What am I waiting for? An angel to slide down the sky and hand me a magic wand and kiss me in the forehead !? Gosh. For God’s freaking sake.

But actually, as a matter of everyday thing, what sort of sign is it when you have checked sleep out that door on a cool, moonlit night, because you wanted to spend some time in the living room listening to Savage Garden with a bowl of hash browns, but the song that a decade earlier sent warm butter across your heart, does – nothing, now and you realize, to shitty misery, that you have been scraping that empty bowl too long.

Honestly, what are we supposed to do when the infamous inspiration is hiding under the dead? - Mine might have slipped right off my wrist.

Sorry, I’m running fatally low.

No. I just ran out, actually

 
*

Life – a dream down !

It feels crazy, sort of emotionally destabilizing ! In the past twenty eight years, six months and twenty seven days, if there has been something that I was unbelievably sure of, it is this simple dream that I dreamt, over and over, night after night, so many times. And today, as I am writing this, that dream is quietly sitting next to me, folded into 160 pages, covered in an angel white glossy wrapper, titled ‘Sugar Spring Tales’. I don’t exactly know what is going through my mind. As I said, it’s kind of weird. But this experience of a year of writing and living with that dream has been liberating, heart-wise.

SO – that is that ! But after tones of hopelessly optimistic calls to various book stores, libraries and book fests around my new town, I came to terms with the fact that nobody damn wants to buy it. I will hang on though – her highness pride is something I have decided to let other times have of.

The book will be available on Amazon from next week for $5.99.
As for this moment, it is sitting for owners on

https://www.createspace.com/3438540

So buy it, if you feel like it. Please.
It only finds meaning at the reader's hands.

Would make a big deal of difference to my life - real big !

Meantime, I shall wander around the streets of hopeville, to find that gracious soul who would, for a change, smile, when I tell him, "I am a freaking new author. Could this lame soul please have a little room amidst these millions of books written by masters and geniuses ?"

If life is beautiful enough for that to happen, I will let you know.

At the very last, Thanks to you for reading this, for reading some of the most horrendous but true ramblings I made you read ! And Thanks if I have succesfully sowed in you, a feeling to just damn buy it.

CoFfEe Is NoT mY CuP Of TeA !

- or so to say for a filler !

As on today, life is like the weather at the Smoky Mountains - hazy, with a tiny glint of oblivious adventure !!
Who knows where I'll land up next...

In the crust of a sleepless night.

I am wandering around my tiny living room at 3:56 AM. Have been up since 2, I guess.

Pigged out on a bowl of left-over grapes, read for an hour, reloaded my ipod and arrived at being clueless to what else I could do, trying to keep at the nightly hush, so I don’t disturb my peacefully sleeping husband. I admit, sometimes I doubt my own levels of cerebral stability. I just like to call it, umm, let’s just say - hyper.

There are times you completely want to immerse in yourself – trying to redo the basic stuff that you thought you were made of and man, there has been a handful of moments when I have felt the desperate need from the roots of my heart to rebuild my entire self, all over again. This is one such phase, I just know it. What has changed is my ability to respond to such moments. That I no longer linger around my bed fighting sleep or being a mute spectator to meticulously detailed free shows my mind offers, about my life or just numbly laying there, terrified to move, glaring into darkness for, god, a bad long time, is a change that has merrily swung by. I am surprised I could ramble into the kitchen, hunting for a midnight snack, or open my laptop and write away the thrill of living thru’ such hours or simply settle to a couch with a book that makes me want to smile between lines.

What’s intriguing is that even at his hour, I am not in constant hunger to go back and have what I never did, in the first place. That’s untypical of me. How many people can say that? :)

Memoirs on memories

"There's no fence nor hedge around time that is gone. You can go back and have what you like of it, if you can remember." quotes, Richard Llewellyn, in his book 'How Green Was My Valley'.

If not for this damn thing called memories, we could have sold our souls off to deals heartlessly materialistic like ‘moving on’ and just be fine about it. Agreed, it's change that we all live by every day and may be with even the best, best-ever loved times, there comes a point when we actually want change, so the sweetness and all the good things about what we personally experienced with it does not become a carcass to carry around, in our minds.

What's my point here, especially when I am presently sailing thru' a pretty smooth life, with a job I am, at last happy to go to, a pretty neat little apartment I wouldn't mind spending my weekends at if malls declare shut, a husband who advocates feminine independence and if you ask me, the best of all, no babies with screaming capabilities potentially matching with the Kakapo, waiting to assassinate my late-twenties over dirty diapers. Phew, that's neat - here's a toast in honor of not having all that I always wanted to stay away from.

So why the heck does some things left to rest in peace pay unforeseen visits, making live-able days, tad heavy? People come and go, but not all leave pictures you want to store up. Okay, that was plain stupid. I know my posts are getting vague, talking of no particular incident or a person, also a clear indicator of the hazy transitions happening within. I should be worried about it, I think.

On the other side, I am right now playing host to some of the intense memories of my life and don't really understand if I should do something about it rather than being a meek spectator. Now, that’s the problem when you are trying to strike a balance between heart and mind. Sometimes they both are right and they are both forceful, but just straight opposite. I know they'll fade off again and life will get back to being wildly a glib until probably the next time. But isn't it actually trying to tell me something? I have this weird feeling that it is, just that I can't figure out yet. Well, atleast my blog will keep a memory of my random trysts with such experiences.

If some things in life have to come back as hard hitting as memories, why did they go away, after all? Okay- don't answer that.

I know - because goddamnit, some things just need to end; like this post.

on road to, I don't know where..

It may not sound spiritually accurate but I think I have found my word. If I need to be honest about the pursuit around it, I could get really dramatic. Because, it was dramatic – the whole point of me wanting to read the book again on no particularly sensible grounds and getting jammed over the same point where it talks about having your own word and all that nonsense and then me blogging about it and lastly the most hilariously alarming fact – finding my word in just about a week after. I seriously now have to consider this point I put in rollick in one of my earlier posts – may be I am really possessed, in which case, I guess I better buck up to face more truths, knocking my door.



I wish I could write about it, I really do, albeit a personal menace to many of the (best possible) practicalities I live with. ‘Cause it just feels damn good. But still, I might risk some of the finest luxuries I have. So, let’s just say, it will for now remain within the walls of restricted premises, which, by the ways, is just me in this scenario. I wanted to write this much because I had to express here the divinity of having realized another face of my own soul. I wanted to reassure that there is an answer to all that we seek. Yea, that's what it seems like. Probably.

I think it would be worth a try to dig whatever-that-has-possessed-me now a little deeper so I don’t have to be flabbergasted with myself in future.

I am just going to choose to believe here that my family or atleast a part of my family who check my blog out won't invite me to gunshot on reading this. Sorry, guys.


Okay, that was dramatic enough; anything more might make this post a big ass of itself.


I promise I am not drunk but whatever this is - is just bloody hell of an experience- Per se.

What's your word ?

If you have read ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ by Elizabeth Gilbert, this would have occurred to you. If you haven’t, well, on my guesses to a normal soul’s path of life, it might still have occurred to you – What’s your word?

According to the book, everything can go coupled with a word that best goes with it – everything -a person, a place, a book – just everything. It’s said to be more natural than we think.
Like, let me try -

-India – people
-Home– heart
-Fridays – boon
-My best friend – hysteria

- See? Simple!

Actually, it doesn’t sound that complicated in theory – a question you would have to answer in just about a word, just about what hits your mind, I think it should be - heart, before blinking off – what’s your word?

So why does it confuse the shit out of me, in practice, in real, into my face???

When I read the book a year ago, I decided to pretend I hadn’t read that question – after intensely going thru’ oodles of deranged hours on the couch, thinking about it, well, like you had guessed, to no answer.
For, again another deranged reason, I am re-reading the book, this time, with a wider eye for all that I missed during the first.
A word – okay, not necessarily ­about the type of personality you possess – it could be a thing that’s like a hymn to your soul, that breathes in and breathes out, that lives in your heart, that comes to life in dreams during those soundest sleeps, that without which you would not be you! And the truly magical part about it is-you gotta trust me on this-that you may not know it exists – but it does.

- Well, at least I like to believe it does even if I haven’t come to terms with it.

Play it safe – the book convinces that it’s ok not to find it even if you set out on a hunt with just all the honesty you could harvest from deepest roots of your heart. But you will, one day.

Now, fortune telling could be a different ball game, but I trust on this one – I will, one day. I hope, I will – damn, what the devil can the word be ?

I'm sure many of you might give a smug opinion that why would anyone give a damn. If it's so - good for you ! It keeps you from hysterical limits your soul can scale up to - umm, well, never mind!

I swear to God - this ain't normal

Okay! This is crazy ! This is the first time ever - ever in almost 3 whole years of blogging that I have something for a consecutive day of having posted another something.
I am cured of long-term ailment from potential numbness .Yea, that’s gotta be it !
It’s like a drug that went straight to my brains on an over-dosage run. I am hyper – I am really hyper – What the hell is wrong ????

I met a little someone today who embraced that inner soul – sweet smiled, noodle haired, dressed like chic – you know the type. You pass a stealthy look and gulp a ball of awe until you hear them talk. No, wait – much against the normal cases, she just got better when she talked. Between silent gazes of waiting for her turn in the long queue at the microwave, she smiled and nodded as if in perfect unison when my box declared a long 2.5 mins to heat. I hate it when the queue behind me stares down, waiting to jump right on after I move. Scary! Now, let me get back to this angel - I said LITTLE, because this lady behind me was not some five-foot-six-inch masquerade of wholesome good looks. Well, she had the good looks but she was probably just about 3-foot-not-more-than-3-inches composition of life. I honestly do not go beyond a smile at such impromptu-bonks but she ought to be different. She was. From what I gather from the 2.5 mins we stood there, she simply seemed more comfortable than psyched-up with the way the world moved. Why would she otherwise take another sweet 10 seconds to let me know that she loved the way Indian food smelled? But that was it. I couldn’t manage more than a humbled Thank You! And here am, writing about what was her name ?

This I am guessing is not the first time I am taken to a road of inspired-creativity by a woman. There have been quite a few instances in my history when I was completely consumed by the beauty and goodness of such female souls. Now, is that okay? I hope it is – because I am freaking straight but why am I quite in love with such stories? What's with a few counts from the male community who will make good story-pieces on my blog? Well, atleast.


But that’s not what I am worried about. What is more serious at this point is the spooky hyper self that has possessed. I am just hoping I don’t have to take a pill or something to get back to normal state of having nothing to write about. If I live life at this rate, I am gonna crash into total madness !!!

crooning to being comfortably numb..

It was rusted
The 6th string needed some tweaking
Lay in silence, cast off and muted,

I dusted away the cloudy tar
It shined underneath,
My first guitar

It was young, scarlet and supine
When dad bought it,
We played it with grandma’s wine
On Sundays after church

I once gifted it to my boyfriend
On a new year’s eve
But took it back, the next
To it, all my beings cleave

But times changed
And I quit playing the strings
Though as age brewed
Memory of first love clings

It is still young, scarlet and supine
I played a stroke
Fell in love and played it with grandma’s wine,
All over again.

The musings by 'The Muse'

She calls me ‘The muse’. Of course, I obviously do the harder part of creative thinking and imaginative writing, while she simply types out whatever I tell her. But basically, I am a mouse; a simple, intelligent, frustrated hybrid of white and gray. For as long as I can reckon, I live inside the head of the self proclaimed author of this blog, who steals my identity and regenerates my ideas, conveniently stamping those under her copyrights.
I love being me. It’s cool kinda being the pool of ideas to someone. It makes me feel good. Actually, it MADE me feel good. Yes, when she used to write something, sometime in the least to mention. I had a purpose. I loved to think. And always did my ground work on what to write next. I’m pretty smart, thinking, trying and raring to go. And like any other mouse, I loved eating coconut flakes and oatmeal. I thought I had a good life to live until my brain attained self actualization one day to realize the fact that this girl I live in is nothing bigger than a sleepy head!!
I mean, she has got a BIG head and a bigger nose, none of which serves any purpose to her existence, except for the breathing part to hold her alive. But if I had that big a nose, I would take a course on the art of sniffing and become like that little rat in the film Ratatouille. I would have written a book for my fellow mice family on how to think and lead better rat lives.
She stopped eating coconut and oatmeal, two of my favorite food. She says coconut is unhealthy and oatmeal makes her sick. But the real reason, I repent not being able to shout, is that she is one lazy bum to shred coconut into food. If coconut is unhealthy, god forbid those gummy jars of mayonnaise that sucks the life outta me every time she gulps down. And I have to run like crazy all over because it makes me sick!!
Okay, coming back to writing. After truck loads of motivating speeches and inspirational quotes about how those people do so many things in life and still manage to do what they want, out of sheer frustration, on this New Year’s, I renounced the idea of getting her to write. She wouldn’t anyways. And when she sits to write, her head turns towards her right shoulder (I have always wondered why she does that; come on, I sit on the left side of her brain) and gawk with a blatant look as if the words had promised to just break out of the wall on her right side!! She sits there so long gaping at the wall that I eventually fall asleep and then she leaves, sighing and wagging her hands that, I got a writer’s block today.
As if she writes great stuff every other day!
It’s like a yardstick rapped up on your knuckles!
It’s like that monster -website’s ad where you are actually a star but stuck up in a job that sucks!
It’s like you are ready to do homework, but the teacher wouldn’t give any!
I am exhausted and I have given up !! I am just done with living inside this dork-head.
So if there’s a soul out there who can be gracious enough to adopt me, then please, here I am, waiting to be all yours. I am pretty smart, quick and funny. Well yea, if you are a coconut lover, then I am more than willing!!!

Like I have always read in fairy tales, I am here, hoping and waiting for my foster soul.
Yours,
The Muse
(Actually, I would like to be called Sir. Wicky Ratington)

Sweeter than chocolate, softer than butter..

We sat in that rusty pie shop,the first time we shared an evening. The one on the 4th cross street, just two blocks away from where I lived. I have always been here, ever since I got to know pies and cakes. He was shy and that was nice. It was a first time, for me with a boy and for him in that pie shop. I waited for him to choose his favorite. “What do you like”, he asked me.

“ Umm, I have already placed my order and you?”

“An apple pie, with some melted yellow cheese and a coffee”, he winked at me and smiled at the waitress.

That made me smirk, rather sheepishly but I pretended to be such a cool person.
He had been my neighbor for four years and sure he would know what nuts I was made of or he didn’t care. But I knew his; bike lover, jogger, weekend smoker, shoe lover, sexy stubbles, black hair, clean nails, cute smile, well, pretty much of my kind, except for the smoking part.

I liked him and every one in my life knew that. Why didn’t I tell him? Because he had someone else in his life. Why am I here today then? Because we both were at the pie shop, in two different tables, alone and didn’t know what to do when our eyes and smiles exchanged greetings.
The table looked so clean and round that it was like a painted canvas when it was filled with our pies and coffee. My Coconut cream cake did to me what water does to lungs after an exhaustive jog. I wanted something bar my slobber to stroke my throat. It’s ok, I felt better and asked

“How come you alone here?”

“Why not?”, he replied with his pie and a smile and yet managed to keep his mouth half closed.

“What happened to you girlfriend?”

“What?” Alright. Those days, it wasn’t so easy or cool to be talking about love affairs, you see.

I munched on my pie and went, “your girlfriend, I have seen you here with her”.
He waited for the pie to be patiently swallowed and said “We are not together now” and gently smiled.

It was like how you felt when a plane you are in, takes off. Suddenly, the coconut cream pie and the raspberry sauce on top of it was the most exotic thing to eat in the whole world.

“Hmm, it’s wonderful, you should try it sometime”. The cheese neatly dripped and fell in place on top of his apple pie. Ohh yea, it must be. “The coffee goes well with it”, he said, sipping.
Nodding was the only thing I found sensible to do.

“I may be moving out of this town soon, will miss all these”. Smile intact, voice cool, he said that to put out a moment of joy that was gushing inside my veins. Yea, best things in life are free and come in small packages.

Fifteen minutes and a few heavy heart beats later, I decided I should leave. There was no point sitting with a guy who seemed to have his life all sorted out. I knew he didn’t feel the way I did for him.

I paid though he insisted that I let him.

I picked my bag, smiled at him and got up “Listen, there’s something I want to tell you. I have always liked you. I have known you for some time. And I think you are..” I didn’t have a word to complete it but went on “Anyways, I think it doesn’t make any sense now. If you ever think you like me, just give a call. I smiled like I would to a friend. “Bye and have a good life”, and walked off.

He called me from where he was.

“Hmmm ?” I didn’t know how he felt but I was pretty cool to just move on.

“I don’t have your number”

“Why do you need?”

“To tell you I like you”. He still sat there with a paper napkin in his hand. The only other thing I
could see in the entire world was nothing. Taking one sip of coffee as if to feed some reality, he smiled, yet again.

The usual chaos went on in the café’ with laughter and the clatter of coffee mugs, my heart tickled and that moment seemed just bloody perfect.

A year later.

The waitress passed on a warm smile saying, ”Apple pie with melted yellow cheese and two coffees?”

And we replied in unison “Yes, Please”.

One is not born a woman, one becomes one.

--Simone de Beauvoir:
A popular foward, I customised in my own thoughts and then words.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
Read a few great books which changed her thinking, taught her how the earth moved and kept her company during lonely times

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
A handful of friends outside her family, whom she can trust any day

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
Travelled alone

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
Had a career for herself at least once in her life

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
Presentable nails and hair

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
Clothing that she finds herself beautiful in

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
Dreams about her future and some guts to make them happen

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
One pair of jewel that her grandchildren will be proud to call their grandmom’s

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
Her own collection of music, books, recipes that she is willing to share

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
Fallen in love

*****
EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
How a bank account works

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
At least one perfect dessert to make on any occasion

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
To shake hands gently & firmly with a man

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
To smile at a kid even in times of distress

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
To trust herself beyond anybody else

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
Her parents’ birthdays & anniversaries

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
At least one story to tell the kids the way they like it

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
God. Believing or disbelieving him is a different question altogether.

Sometimes when the day is dark...

...the only way to light up the spirit is by hugging the memories and smiling over’em.

Moments of my life I lost my heart to..

*A month off in Chennai during final year, all in the name of project

*Icecream in Corner House,Bangalore
*Those rides in college bus.

*Late night phone calls that used to sometimes last till dawn.

*Staying over with friends, watching movies, playing and talking all night.
*Gulab Jamuns,especiailly the ones made on the eve of Diwali.
*First movie, bunking class
*Rides on Scooty

*A R Rahman's creations

*Group studies right the day before semester
*Morning walks in Indra Nagar,Bangalore

*Chilli Gobi at Nandinee

*Alaipayuthe, the movie
*First days on Orkut
*Chilling out over bajji with Smith,Meerkut n Pinks
*Afternoon drives with Smith & Meerkut

*Vacation after 12th standard school

*Life with BUGFRENTS

*Idlis with ghee from MTR,Bangalore
*Drives in Bangalore
*Westlife

*Bushra's friendship

*Backstreet Boys

*The warm aroma of Cookies from Forum,Bangalore
*Movies at Forum
*View of New York in the night from plane
*Mountain Dew from College canteen
*Vaseegara song from Minnale

*Denzel Washington in Crimson Tide,Siege
*Munnar
*Orange Souffle

*Undomestic Goddess, The book

*Evenings with music in a crowded park
*Princess Diana
*Evenings in Beasant Nagar Beach
*Dove chocolate

*Holi at Pune
*Jacqueline Wilson, the author

*Walks thru' MG Road,Pune
*Early morning bus rides through the suburbs of Nagercoil
*Barbie Vanilla Cake flavored perfume
*Madhuri Dixit
*Cricket World Cup, 1996

*Sunsets in Beach on December 31st
*Everybody Loves Raymond, TV Series

*Evenings spent at Jaffrin's house

*10th std trip to Kodaikanal
*Chilli Beef
*Kenny Rogers
*The Beatles
*Friday evening drives to Nagercoil
*College,College,College & College, every minute of it.

I me and more..

I took this from Anju's blog. But as I did it, it seemed to take a long time. Yea, someone rightly said the longest journey is always the one inwards, into the soul.

I am: pretty light with temperament.
I think: we need to slow down once in a while and lay our neck back and take a deep breath.
I know: I am not too target-oriented.
I want: to be the editor of a life-style magazine, have my own boutique, own a fabulous looking home, travel the world.
I have: a great blessing in the fact that I am capable of letting go of things.
I wish: people were more considerate about being kind and nice
I hate: it when cars don’t slow down to let the pedestrians cross or when you type a nice,long message on office communicator and the respondent just says back a ‘k’ or a ‘s’.
I miss: College,a few of my friends,Bangalore,
I fear: being left behind in the rat race.
I feel: a sense of vacuum inside my own self sometimes
I hear: people talking, the incessant hitting of keyboard, someone’s sharp heels giving a tap-tap on the ground
I smell: the mixed fruit juice that I had over lunch
I crave: for times I can just chill out with friends, with a drink and talk about anything under the sun
I search: my hair brush, my mobile, my hanky for about 4-5 times a day
I wonder: how life will be in a couple of years
I regret: having fallen into the box of being a computer engineer.
I love: Grilled Chicken with mayonnaise, coffee with chocolate sauce n whipped cream, being home on Saturdays listening to music, friends (both the TV Series and real-life ones), Early morning coffee with mom n dad , the aroma of flavored creams, AR Rahman’s creations, Sunrise from rooftop, to smile, to be me,to live and yes to love.
I ache:.when I don’t see value for relationships.
I care: not to let go of any relation I have, friends & family despite the disagreements and differences.
I am not: carried away by any kind of advertisements. I buy only for the value of the product.
I believe: that if you love life, it will love you for sure.
I dance: pretty good I say, but on the stage in front of people, my legs always tremble.
I sing: hmm, pretty ok I believe. Aravind asks me to sing some songs again n again, so I guess am not pathetic.
I cry: but I make sure no one sees my tears.
I don’t always: like something that the majority of my folks like.
I fight: sometimes to get over my insecurities.
I write: my heart out.
I win: occasionally
I lose: more than I win, but that’s how life is, it’s ok
I never: Use the F* word
I always: get up hoping for some miracle to happen that day, every day.
I confuse: myself more about why I wouldn’t just decide
I listen: to everybody’s opinion.It kinda puts things in very different dimensions.
I can usually be found: very easily around.
I am scared: of darkness, lonely nights, reptiles, spooky movies
I need: the power of mind to make the best of what is on life
I am happy about: feeling the warmth of love every now and then..

Home,Life etc...

The weekend was excruciating. I had a hard time cleaning up the mess my home went out to be after a month’s negligence. But at the end of the day, it’s great to have your place all tidied up and organized. May be I should capture a pic of it, not all often do I get to see the neatness I have of it. This is my world, it lodges all the craziness that maketh me. Sometimes I feel I should be more kind to it and think twice before flinging things all around and just go mad looking for them the next day. Okay, the triumphant emotion I sense after I find what I had been looking for is great, but the time and the emotional vagueness that form the saga of running all around drains some valuable life out of me, uuff ! Talking of it, one of the most beautiful feelings I go through every day is to come back home from a tiring and mundane day of work. It’s a blessing to have someone waiting at the doorstep with a smile to collect the milk packets that often are on the whim of eloping my handhold. That was my maid and am really thankful I have her at home. Or more truly, I am thankful there’s nothing or nobody that hauls me out of bed every morning, asking what’s for breakfast today. I enjoy cooking though, the tang of vegetables and ghee as you sauté them, the flavor of ground Indian spices, the aroma of the whole experience of cooking for the soul is blissful; it’s just that I can’t do it everyday as part of my daily chore. I cook for a hobby and that offers me the love to experiment. I recently discovered some exotic ways to make coffee. Ohh yea, Bru has come about with a wide spectrum of flavored coffee mixes. All you need to do is mix with hot or cold milk, shake up and sip ! I am pretty skeptical ‘coz the last time I tried Bru Cappuccino, it didn’t come closer to an actual cappuccino. This post is seemingly streamlining my ideas to kitchen. Shuffling up, music is the other companion I keep at home, my hubby being the 1st one, I must say. There is this channel named Rosebowl that treats us to some decent music and movies with comparatively fewer number of ad breaks. I guess the channel is aired only inside Trivandrum. I saw kelly clarkson’s video for the 1st time on this channel yesterday and she is more like Hilary Duff, isn’t she? Whatever, it’s time to wind up the day and my blog is blushing red after the fruity make over. I like this change, all reddy n goody ! Change, that’s one thing I can count on, let alone the humdrum timetable that boxes us in everyday. When we wake up tomorrow, there’s something or somebody new, ready to say Hello to us. If it wasn’t for change, life would have buried itself down deep in the woods when things shook up the whole of everything a couple of years back. Love, Life and all, it’s great to be alive, ready for the next change. Drr…trr….that’s me unconsciously sucking my empty cup. My hot chocolate has vanished into my tummy long back. So for now, Good night.

It was too long, but I had to come back !

Tuck-Clack-Tup, yeaa,, my engine must have dried up of friction, that’s ok continue flying. Hmm……(Wide grin), my paws accentuate the movement of my body to move on top gear. Gliding through the clouds, who said the city burns during May!! Am feeling like sliding on ice…oohh, that must be the white skies. Whatever, it’s all nice…I have had a pretty wonderful flight…. So far..! Tuck-Clack-Tup…again now what the hell is that….the noise nudges me to turn around…myself…and…what rubbish…my wings are gone !! My feathers…..my bird-like body……Gosh….I am no more a BIRD !!!! And I am dropping down…to the hub of cemented trees and the world of racing creatures !!! THUD-THUD-THUD…oh mine, leave my knees alone, they are already ruptured ! Nobody to help, grumbling, I lift myself up, Yea, I know dreams always have a horrendous end!! These weird ones I say !! And ho, my monitor dutifully flashes the words as I grumble over the aches my keyboard gave my forehead. I frown but manage to read them …….“Welcome Back to Blogging !!”

So far, so good

So….I seem to have quit getting bamboozled over not finding anything inspiring enough to write about all the time. Looks it’s alright if life gets a little sluggish. I am getting at ease with the luxury of getting paid for doing things that I only love at work. Anyways, I am kind of getting over the vacation-mood and seriously want some venture to be set in.

And the year so far has been okay enough. With all the resolutions and careful learning that I jotted down over the year end, I felt I usually lost the vigor of the New Year by the second week of it.

Kicked off my 2008 with a year end shopping spree. So that was loads of a reason to smile at the New Year. I bagged like 6 T-shirts for the cost of 3 and some junk stuff that would otherwise normally get stuffed into the closet forever (this time I am determined not to bury them there).

It's like, by the start of every year, I get a year older along. Yes, I turned 26, this Jan. With all the twists and bends life is riding on, I can’t do anything more than just nod when people tell me “You are a big girl now, get more responsible”. Sighing apart, it was a silent confession over the fact that ' ohh, yea, I am a big girl now”.

One of our buddies is back from a short term abroad visit and you can’t tell how much we’ve been waiting for her return cause so many celebrations had been put on hold until she came. Though it’s quite sometime since she returned and we have already resumed our plans, which were on the back burner, I want to give her a proper welcome-back, ’Smith, welcome back, it’s so nice to have you with us again’.

So, that’s kind of it; the year that just unwrapped, pretty cool, I’d say. And that made a post for me. Must say I am getting the attribute to keep my blog busy.

And by the ways, caught up with the music of Jodha Akbar and it’s a class of its own; you know, rustic, royal, mellow (some tracks) and easy on the ears, a pick for
hardcore Rahman fans like me.

First post of the year.

And there I go !! Tagged for the first post of the year by Bungi.
Self enlightening, I say !!

1. What did I learn?
I learnt that credit cards are like those one-night stands which could leave you with momentary pleasures but are extremely capable of sucking out,throwing over your due balances SMSs every morning. And you know your account is already running low. So the next time someone calls up and offers me a FREE credit card for a lifetime, I am gonna hack his brains with the same one he offered me last year and bury the card forever !!!!

2. What did I accomplish?
Well, I still have the to-accomplish list that I prepared for 2007 in shape and untouched. But, hey, it can’t be that bad. I must have done something. Yea, I, umm….lemme skip this.

3. What would I have done differently?
What WOULD I have ?? I would have done hundreds of things differently, given the chance to go back and live it all over again.


4. What did I complete or release?
A year in my 3rd company.

5. What were the most significant events of the year past?
Trip with mom n dad after a long time
Invested in an apartment
First anniversary of being married
Made some good friends
Brought back some lost friendships
I tried out quite a few things I’ve always wanted to like I tried making breakfast when my maid was away, I tried more glass painting, I baked. I might have not been successful, but who cares, am happy I did !

6.What did I do right?
Ignorance !!! I ignored so many silly things and just moved on. That made a lot of difference.


7. What were the fun things I did?
A lot ! Surprise weekend family trips, hanging out with friends, staying up all night, watching back-to-back movies, making a mess out of so many things I cooked, fighting with the hotel manager for reasons he was innocent of, playing pranks on buddies and a few more may be.

8. What were my biggest challenges/roadblocks/difficulties?
I don’t know; sometimes I have this fantasy for starting my own dream job which gives me a come-down-to-reality kind of hiccup when I think of my actual work. My job and I have fallen out of love. I need to look for new destinies I want to travel to. That’s the challenge.

9. How am I different this year than last?
I would say I want to take some responsibilities. You know, get careful with money, clean up the house more often, spend the best time with family and enjoy myself more. But it’s too early to judge how different I am this year. Things have just started.

10. For what am I particularly grateful?
All the love around me. I am rich with a handful of fantastic people in my life. The joy, the strength, the care, the fun, the comfort, the peace, my life is blessed.