tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-122592652024-03-12T23:11:05.202-07:00Mirth, memories and moremusafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.comBlogger167125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-14653555194141158042023-03-17T18:06:00.000-07:002023-03-17T18:06:05.438-07:0040<p>Music has led you back to this place.</p><p>It's the same song, or three. It's the same mood of the night. It's the same rabbit hole that you went haring down all those years ago.</p><p><i>Indraikkum Yendraikkum Nalla Naal Dhaan.</i></p><p>And just like that, one stray line, a whiff of a long lost memory, leads you down to where you haven't been in a while.</p><p>A long while.</p><p>Hello.</p><p>Maybe this is generosity towards yourself. Maybe this is weekend desperation. Or maybe it's just an ill-advised overdose of sugary substances before sleep.</p><p>Maybe. Or not. Who cares.</p><p>You are here, might as well make the most of it.</p><p><i>Isaithida Yennai Thedi Varanum.</i></p><p>Might as well see if the words will come to you.</p><p>Unbeckoned. Unforced. Unfettered.</p><p>See if there's rhythm in that stride. See if there's fluency in the fingers. See if there's want or if you're wanting.</p><p>(Damn, that bass guitar feels so good on the ears)</p><p>See if inspiration can still sail you along miles into your memories. Or will the wind wrap around itself leaving you high and dry?</p><p><i>Kisi Na Kisi Se Koi Kuch Toh Keh Raha Hai.</i></p><p>You just want to sit silently. You just want to remember the cherry red of a hard new SG Cricket ball, recall its leathery heft in the hollow of your palm. You don't want to think of the clothes in the balcony or that they have to be brought in from the rain.</p><p>You remember a hotel room in Perth almost 20 years ago and getting your hair cut by a woman. You just want to smell the morning on the grass in Hannover. You even want to watch the monsoon make its way high over the Western ghats.</p><p>There was a time when time was not so precious, but life was still a matter of life and death.</p><p>But then here you are, might as well make the most of it.</p><p><i>Kizhakkumugam Veluthuvittaal Irulukku Mudivundu Engalukku Vidivundu.</i></p><p>There's light sliding under the blinds, seeping through like water slowly overflowing out the bathroom door. There's a yawn, and another, and another. There's no escaping dawn, is there?</p><p>A few more hours before the household will haul itself up on its feet, and song will have to cede to sobriety.</p><p>Soon the lists will be on you and listlessness will ensue. Soon you will linger around laundry. Soon you will go back to where you just came from.</p><p>But hey, at least for now, here you are.</p><p>Make the most of it.</p><p>:-)</p>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-1859926662421897502018-02-14T13:43:00.000-08:002018-02-14T13:45:00.437-08:0035<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And just like that, you're 35.<br />
<br />
It's past midnight before you get a breather.<br />
<br />
And you feel like listening to songs you've not heard in a million years.<br />
<br />
Almost as if you wanted to see if a tiny fragment of you was alive and well.<br />
<br />
<i>Why did it take me so long just to find ... ?</i><br />
<br />
The emails kept piling up all day.<br />
<br />
Wishes from people who knew you before you knew yourself.<br />
<br />
Wishes from people who know very little of you, but wishes all the same, to keep you warm on a cold winter's day.<br />
<br />
A kind soul sends you flowers.Another sends you a beautiful card.<br />
<br />
A friend takes the time to write you after years. And then there are those who don't expect anything but still make it a point to call you.<br />
<br />
It is true. The kindness of strangers is the purest.<br />
<br />
<i>Do you spend your life / Going back in your mind to that time?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
You know you're capable of equal parts magic and malevolence.<br />
<br />
You know you can be both hero and hustler.<br />
<br />
You intimately know beauty and betrayal, duty and disappointment.<br />
<br />
You know everything there is to know.<br />
<br />
Yet you know so little.<br />
<br />
<i>And would you save my soul tonight?</i><br />
<br />
And just like that, you're 35.</div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-57879645560518589792016-10-22T13:38:00.000-07:002016-10-22T13:39:06.887-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's sunset and he's walking on Mount Road, towards the Nungambakkam flyover.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The traffic is heavy. It usually is at this point in time. People heading home. Heavy bus traffic, honks blaring. Of course, he can't hear anything, he has his earphones plugged in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The buildings yield, the traffic thins, the road widens and that's when the sky opens up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Glorious evening sky over Madras.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sodium smooth and radio blue, crow speckled, leaping from east to west.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Almost as if all that the sun wanted to do that day was lie down and die, and let itself bleed slowly across all of eternity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sattendru maarudhu vaanilai ...</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There was a time when such unbearable beauty would have torn his insides apart, left him feeling unhinged and unmoored, filled him with an urge to tell someone about it, tell someone that the world was beautiful and that life was thrilling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Somewhere, somehow, all of that has changed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">***</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Harini.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He was sitting at the Ispahani Centre bus stand, earphones streaming songs from <em>Minnale</em>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">His office used to be around here and he would often catch a bus from this very bus stand on a Friday evening to go to the beach or just take a tour of the city.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It was drizzling and he'd cycled through the other hit songs from the movie and was a little absent minded when <em>Ivan yaaro </em>started to play<em>.</em></span><br />
<em></em><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Roughly two minutes into the song, he sits up, pauses the player, slides the song back a little on his phone and replays it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There. No mistaking it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He pauses the song, and plays that bit over again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Nenjae nenjae unnai, ullae vaiththadhu yaaru ...</span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Almost as if Harini, otherwise peppy and playful in the rest of the song, threw a little bit of her soul into that one line.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Almost as if she wanted to lay herself bare for that one line, her voice straining, searching for that bit of pain to paint a pointless line with.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Yaeno yaeno yennai, paarkka seidhaai unnai ...</span></em><br />
<em></em><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There was a time when lines sung like that would have turned him inside out for life, left him feeling a little less desolate and made him want to lay himself bare to someone in return.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He smiles to himself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Somewhere, somehow, all of that has changed.</span></div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-23832877524160311142016-05-15T17:43:00.000-07:002016-05-15T17:43:29.634-07:00As Good As It Gets - Thoughts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I finally got around to seeing "As Good As It Gets" on TV. Thought I'd put down some thoughts while the afterglow lasts.<br />
<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>"And the fact that I get it makes me feel good, about me." This, and then there's another exchange when Melvin is strong-arming Carol into accompanying him on the trip to Baltimore: "You're saying accepting your help obligates me?"-"Is there any other way to see it?". And there are other scenes that I can't remember now. What I like about all these exchanges is how the movie is very comfortable in its skin about love, and kindness, ultimately being about one's own self and ego, no matter how much we want to say, or think or feel, that it's about the other person, or that it's about being selfless. There's an acceptance of our "self-centred-ness" in relationships that's very grown-up, world weary, tolerant, lighthearted and refreshing.</li>
<li>"It's very weird now not feeling that stupid panic feeling inside me all
the time. Without that, I just start thinking about myself, and what
good does that ever get anybody?" This is what makes one fall in love with Carol. Because she puts in words the guilt that all of us, in the midst of routines and responsibilities, feel on a daily basis.</li>
<li>Melvin's squeamishness when people are genuinely grateful to him, and also how he doesn't take advantage of certain situations, like when he doesn't let on to Carol that he's asked for Simon's things to be moved into his apartment even though it would help him score brownie points with Carol. There's something gentlemanly in his character which is otherwise curmudgeonly.</li>
<li>Carol waving to Spence from the bus. Carol calling Spence as soon as she gets to Baltimore. You can see the pensiveness and anxiety that comes from having to care for someone who's totally dependent on you. And then, when she hears that Spence was playing soccer and scored a goal, she becomes a butterfly who wants to go dancing.</li>
<li>The fluidity of the narrative and the natural ease with which one scene melts into the next. Great screenplay.</li>
<li>"Well, here's a little suitcase shocked that it's being used." ... "There's no way to pack for this trip." ... "Nice packing" As someone who's had to go on multiple unforeseen trips accompanied by last minute packing, and also as someone who's had to to lug suitcases down from the loft not just for myself but for the whole family because I was the tallest, these one-liners brought a smile to my face. But then, the movie is full of great dialogue.</li>
<li>Excellent acting from everyone in the movie. Nicholson and Hunt are downright brilliant. Their Oscar wins were well deserved.</li>
</ol>
I don't think I'll be able to do justice to the movie given that it's 6 AM and my insomnia is finally wearing off. I will see if I can write a Part Two, although it seems highly unlikely given how rarely I post here.</div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-28443364401996736032015-05-23T13:52:00.001-07:002015-05-23T13:52:07.561-07:00Kangana Ranaut<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">R. E. S. P. E. C. T.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">P. S.: A and I just saw TMWR.</span></div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-2211963321502001572014-11-27T14:18:00.000-08:002014-11-27T14:50:11.858-08:00Itni Khafa Nahi ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's 1 AM.<br />
<br />
We are somewhere near South Ex, the cab gritting its gears through unfriendly truck traffic.<br />
<br />
I'm playing chess on the phone, cheating a little by taking back moves now and then. The other guys are either sleeping or staring out, lost in thought.<br />
<br />
And then, out of nowhere, the ether comes alive on FM. I ask the driver to turn up the volume.<br />
<br />
<i>Kahin toh ... Kahin toh ... Hogi woh ...</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
2008.<br />
<br />
Innocence. Bushelfuls of it. And loads more to spare.<br />
<br />
Life was suddenly a series of trips. Buses. Metros. Flights. Stations. Airports. Never staying too long in one place. Never planning for anything beyond tomorrow. One day at a time. One step at a time. <i>Fragile. Handle with care.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Conversations. Possibilities. Uncertainty, brittle unforgiving uncertainty. Triumph. And disaster too, gut-wrenching disaster. How the world felt too big and too little at the same time.<br />
<i><br /></i>
2008.<br />
<br />
The year that's too full of memories. The year that just would not come to an end. The year that changed everything. Forever.<br />
<br />
And all it takes is that Rahman special to make me feel I can never be home again.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>Jaane Naa Kahan Wo Duniya Hai,<br />Jaane Naa Wo Hai Bhi Ya Nahi,<br />Jahan Meri Zindagi Mujhse,</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>Itni Khafa Nahi ...</i></span></div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-41634470915790282742014-09-22T14:07:00.002-07:002014-09-22T14:12:44.963-07:00Delusion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The seductiveness of one's own words. The thrill in hearing your own voice. The delicacy called personality.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The holiness of ambition. </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The cunning succulence of dreams. The plan behind plans.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The righteousness in honest pursuit.</span> The masochism of struggle after breathless struggle. The addiction that accompanies accomplishment.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The passion for opinion. The virtuousness of being neutral. The bliss of ignorance. The gravity in which judgment can be left suspended.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The innocence that permits guilt to freely parade itself. The defenses that are fortified with anger. The regrets that seek attention. The ease of hate. The clinginess of grief. The sly civility of compassion.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">The uncountable stories of the self.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-62670226944929397892014-06-13T14:00:00.000-07:002014-06-13T14:00:04.080-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Holland.<br />
<br />
Absolutely Hammered Spain.<br />
<br />
Reminds me why I watch sport.</div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-85169577750389428412013-10-02T16:04:00.001-07:002013-10-02T16:04:28.599-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Had the day off today. Spent it resting. It's been a crazy couple of weeks at work. Mind's still buzzed. Need to switch off. I realize it's the one skill that's going to prove crucial in the future - switching on and off.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the last few months, I've come to realize that I can get really obsessed with things. When I think about how I've behaved on certain occasions in the past, I can, with the benefit of hindsight, point out episodes of obsession: with playing sports, with reading, with writing, with work, with hobbies, with all sorts of stuff ... I get into this frame of mind when nothing else seems to get through. My mind picks up momentum and it just doesn't stop, doesn't let other things in, no multitasking at all. Whatever I'm obsessed with takes priority over everything else. My sleep cycle goes for a toss, I don't eat properly, I lose my appetite ... It didn't matter when I was younger, but at 30, I find this exhausting and draining. And it's taking me longer to recover from these bouts of obsession.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I'm obsessed, I somehow feel that it's all or nothing, that I have to give this everything every minute of the day else I'm not doing it justice. I have to stop thinking like this. I need to be able to put in a few hours of well-directed effort every day over a longer, much longer, period of time rather than invest my energies in a highly intense, concentrated burst of effort. I need to be able to say "Okay, this is how much time I'm gonna spend on you and after that I've got other things to take care of".</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Like I said, need to figure out how to switch on and switch off.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">***</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've also realized that I don't listen to music as much as I used to earlier. Heck, I don't even think it's 10% of what it used to be. So I spent the day listening to a lot of Adele and Ludovico Einaudi.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Adele is phenomenal. The power, the agility, the range, the emotions, the rawness and the honesty of her voice. She's a thing of beauty. Every time I hear her, I feel grateful for being alive. I'd like to </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">hear her live if I get the chance.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">PS pointed me to Ludovico Einaudi when I was in Bombay. I got back to LE today after a long time. Truly wonderful compositions. All I want to do is just lie back, close my eyes and soak in the music.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">***</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I want to start writing again.</span></div>
</div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-8762059075968488592013-08-24T16:21:00.001-07:002013-08-24T16:21:19.377-07:00Gratitude<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thank you.<br />
<br />
For saving me.</div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-68952089146745827772013-08-11T17:14:00.000-07:002013-08-11T17:14:09.242-07:00Origami<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Take a sheet of paper.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Cut it square to size.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fold once across the middle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fold again down the centre.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Peel back the loose flaps.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Slide your fingers inside the heart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Pull apart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A paper boat now</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">lies on the table</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">between us.</span></div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-37654749300046463112013-07-21T14:39:00.000-07:002013-07-21T14:40:04.109-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I feel sorry for Australia. Things could have been so different if they had won at Trent Bridge. Hope they put up a fight at Old Trafford.<br />
<br />
Is Australia the new India? They are losing everywhere, home and away.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Two movies across two weekends. Lootera and Bhaag Milkha Bhaag. Makes me feel productive!<br />
<br />
Farhan Akhthar carries BMB on his gym-or-nothing shoulders. If I was not a fan earlier, I am one for life now.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I've been reading The Power Of Habit over the last week. Was talking to A about how all that people seem to do in their twenties is lay all the good work from childhood to waste. Result? Mediocre lives. Including self? Time will tell.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I miss my friends. S is in the country but we can't meet. Haven't spoken to anyone in ages. ABJ, KSK, AG, K ... Need to get over my resistance to online media.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
Dreamt about dad again last night. I seem to recollect sobbing in my sleep. Wonder what's screwed up in my head.<br />
<br />
Dreamt of loosing my teeth again, the right canine this time. I'm guessing it's all the anxiety from wanting to do well on the work and home fronts.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
A joined a yoga group this week. She asked me to accompany her, to motivate her and act as a sort of spotting buddy. I refused.<br />
<br />
***<br />
<br />
I'd give an arm and a leg to be in Bombay now.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-27591552335196817932012-11-22T15:11:00.000-08:002012-11-22T15:32:03.687-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
and when it stops pouring,<br />
<br />
the wind evaporates<br />
between buildings,<br />
<br />
stealing the traffic<br />
to suburbia.<br />
<br />
wet socks and dripping<br />
<br />
umbrella, you find yourself<br />
<br />
square in the middle<br />
of a bombay puddle,<br />
<br />
with no ride back home.</div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-15759538380091468372012-03-25T09:40:00.001-07:002012-03-25T09:40:16.237-07:00Naivete<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I believed if you were good at heart, meant nobody any harm and went about your life peacefully, you would be fine, that you would be -- if I can allow myself to say it -- happy.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I believed that love could never hurt, that it would never shrink the heart, that it was the most beautiful emotion in the world.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I believed that if you found what you loved doing, you never had to work a single day in your life, that you would relish getting up from bed and facing the world head on.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I believed that the world was a lovely place to be in, that people were mostly good at heart and believed in a honest life well lived.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I believed in myself, that no matter what, I would always overcome and triumph.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Now I know.</span></div>
</div>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-23336756478101169142012-03-18T16:18:00.001-07:002012-03-18T16:19:42.810-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<ol><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Give. Never take. Never want to take. Never ask anybody for anything.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Never whine.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Read. Everything.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Value time. And being disciplined. These are no-brainers.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You will never cherish being lazy.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Purity. Honour. Truth. Honesty. Integrity. Dignity. In thought, word and action. Above everything else. If you're not there yet, try and you will.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ego. Desire. Anger. Renounce the ego. Desire and anger will disappear on their own.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Value people and relationships. But don't go overboard with it.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'Silence is golden'. There's a reason why it's a proverb. Don't talk unless necessary. Allow for meaningful conversation to happen, but don't go looking for it.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You will never cherish watching TV.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Write. Everyday.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hold your tongue. Don't gossip. Never speak ill of others.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Never give in to the lure of "cool".</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Be warm, to everyone. But don't be stupid.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Help when asked for. Venture advice when asked for. Don't be presumptuous. But learn to judge when someone wants help or advice but is too proud to ask for it. Develop and use your discretion in such cases. After having helped/ advised, forget about it.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Learn from the past. Then forget it.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Be grateful. Always. Even for the tiniest of things.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Respect everybody. Trust nobody.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You don't know everything. You haven't experienced everything. You're not God's gift to mankind.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Everything passes.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Patience is a virtue. So are resilience and persistence.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dream.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Eat well. Sleep well. Stay fit.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Refrain from judging. You're the pigeon one day, the statue the next.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Watch children. Listen to the squirrels. See birds fly. Gaze at the stars. Look at colours deeply.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
</span></ol>
</div>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-52649245682628628462012-01-15T12:14:00.000-08:002012-01-15T12:14:26.182-08:00The 100% Perfect Girl<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Winter is still here. The park is frozen.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You're wrapped up in an old green sweater that smells like home. Your nose is runny. Your eyes are tired, your hair clumsy.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">We've been sitting quietly all evening, the air between us heavy with distance. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">It feels like we have weighed it down with all the words that could ever be spoken between two people. It feels like we could go another hundred years without talking.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">But then you turn to look at me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Those beautiful big eyes blink into mine.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Before thought can spark into language and ruin everything, before the cold can clamp its claws around our hearts, before time can ply its trade and memory can trap us with its tyranny, our souls understand the simple truth in our eyes.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">A smile seeks its way out, feeble like the sunshine. On your face and on mine. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And the walls crumble. Just like that.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I want to reach out, hold your hand in my hand, ask you how you are, where you've been hiding from me all this while. I want to tuck the stray strands of hair falling on your forehead behind your ear, tell you how beautiful you look even though I know you'll snort in disbelief. I want to tell you that I'm sorry, that I've been an idiot, that I didn't know what I was doing and all the usual lies men tell women.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">But all that can wait.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I want to erase every memory, wind the clock back to the beginning of time. I want to take every word I have said and throw it back into the well of silence where it belongs. I want to hold you in my arms and never ever let you go; no, not even if you want to go sleep.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">But all that can wait.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For now, all I want to do is gaze back into your eyes, smile till you start squirming despite all these years, till you start laughing and ask me to not look at you that way, till you look down and away, shy all of a sudden.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">For now, all I want is this tiny piece of heaven to last forever.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Even spring can wait.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.mat.upm.es/~jcm/murakami-perfect.html" target="_blank">Title reference</a></span></div>
</div>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-78611735714462711742011-10-05T16:13:00.000-07:002011-10-05T16:18:00.756-07:00Hello World<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sunday morning. First sunny day in ages. Or at least the first one you've managed to see.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bend, double tie your laces, look left, look right, plug earphones in snug and set off.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Fifty strides in, Anushka Manchanda shuffles in neatly and starts to crank it up inside your head.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>Mit Jaaye Gham</em>, the chorus croon around all her spunk.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The delicious perversion of running to a remixed song about rebellion hits you. A smile spreads its warmth thinly across your lips. Smoking it up couldn't have found a more bedevilling evangelist.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">You find yourself starting to stretch your hamstrings. The calves begin to tighten. You reach deep into your lungs. Hold it. Stretch it. Let go. Let go. Let go ...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Let go.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>Mit Jaaye Gham</em>. <em>Mit Jaaye Gham.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The sun slips behind a cloud, the stride swings sweetly into form and hits the rhythm -- stretch, float, land, let go, stretch, float, land, let go ... You put the girl on loop. Her high-pitched angst screams its way into your soul. You let it flood your insides and pump it clean right out of your lungs.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Dum Maaro Dum.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">DUM.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">MAARO.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">DUM.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">One more stride.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Stretch.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Land.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Let go.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One more stride.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">HARE. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">KRISHNA. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">HARE. RAM.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Thirty minutes. Sweat starts stinging your eyes. The lungs start to hurt. The stomach tightens every time your shoe crashes down on the concrete. Every breath burns its way in and out of your chest.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The pain starts to wall up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">You start searching. Probing. Looking desperately inside yourself for something to hang onto, to keep you going.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And then out of nowhere, the voice cuts through the fog:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Duniya ne humko diya kya. Duniya ne humse liya kya. Hum sab ki parvah kare
kyun. Sabne humara kiya kya.</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Somewhere something gives. The sky explodes into a thousand pigeons.</span><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Hum sab ki parvah kare kyun...</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">You clench your fist, start grinding your teeth; the more it hurts, the harder you breathe. You turn a sadist after your own self.</span></span><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Sabne humara kiya kya...</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">With every step, you draw more into your self. Diving. Plunging. Snorkelling right down to the depths where you've buried yourself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>Andar ke bandar se ho guftgu si ek baat...</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Just when all hope seems lost and you're running out of breath and the pain threatens to drown you, you start to surface, climbing, shrugging aside all that sea-weed, out, into the sunlight where the world's waiting for you, and you alone.</span><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Hum sab ki parvah kare kyun. Sabne humara kiya kya...</span></em><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And just like that, there's no pain any more. There's no point to it any more.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>Mit Jaaye Gham</em>.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><em>Dum Maaro Dum.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Breathe. Run. Breathe. You just got yourself an unlikely anthem.</span></div>
</div>
musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-36867727122684461582010-08-06T23:51:00.000-07:002010-08-07T00:38:04.644-07:00Her first letteri'm chewing through my nails,<br />the thick sharp taste of dirt<br />on my tongue, when i read<br />your letter the second time.<br /><br />in the years to come, you might<br />never learn of this, my first<br />act of love, my needs<br /><br />breeding into greed; you will<br />never know how i touched<br />what you touched, how i ran<br /><br />around every bend your<br />evasive sentences took till<br />i lost myself between<br /><br />paragraphs, how i pursued<br />your blue words till they<br />surrendered all<br /><br />their meanings, how my eyes<br />paused for breath at the end<br />of the page only to climb up<br /><br />and start reading a third time.musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-73415214861631947862010-07-18T09:12:00.000-07:002010-07-18T09:18:17.870-07:00He looks at at the labels on the drawers.<br /><br />"NEEDED REGULARLY"<br /><br />The words cleanly snipped out from a print-out.<br /><br />"NEEDED BUT NOT REGULARLY"<br /><br />Tacked onto the laminated wood with a stretch of cellophane tape.<br /><br />"WANTED BUT NOT NEEDED"<br /><br />He wonders which one he falls into.musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-16324239891523328422009-07-27T05:51:00.000-07:002009-07-27T05:58:04.996-07:00Positive Impetus<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Goal for August: A sparkling sonnet in smooth iambic pentameter.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I'm putting this meter-and-rhyme bitch away for good.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I will.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Watch this space.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">PS: I don't even know how to count syllables properly :-/ {Oh yes, what's the point of achievement if you don't start off by undermining yourself? That way the dopamine lingers for longer :)}</span><br /></div>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-35042439994497909732009-07-22T02:53:00.000-07:002009-07-22T03:03:12.948-07:00:)<blockquote><p>3.2.19 ஊடலுவகை Sulking Charm<br />She<br />1321.<br />இல்லை தவறவர்க்கு ஆயினும் ஊடுதல்<br />வல்லது அவர்அளிக்கு மாறு<br />He is flawless; but I do pout.<br />So that his loving ways show out. </p></blockquote><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Look what I found in the good old kural :)</span>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-77297543334167686012009-07-12T14:14:00.000-07:002009-07-12T10:04:28.113-07:006:22 Slow to Borivili<span style="font-family:verdana;">the train worms its way</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">into the mouth at Dadar,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">wheels chewing in and</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">chewing out suburban track;<br />stations speck the distance<br />one route or the other.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">the platform seems to float,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">half-empty, like early morning</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">dreams or the inside of</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">a church after mass, bathed in</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">an aftermath of quiet, buoyant</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">with breathing-space.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">the engine ploughs to a halt;</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">a slipshod crowd steps</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">back from the concrete edge,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">converges quickly at the equally<br />spaced mobs</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">hanging from,<br />and hiding,</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">the doors.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">sunlight surprises faces</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">spent looking out years</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">of locomotive windows.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> </span><blockquote><span style="font-family:verdana;">the 6:22 travels at the pace</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> of a footnote, tunnelling</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">the collapsing slipstream</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> of the 6:21 <span style="font-style: italic;">fast</span>, a lesser twin</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">trailing the trembling shadows</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> of speed, an afterthought</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> on sedatives shunting</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> through quicksilver evening,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> trundling into sanatoriums</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> for the straggling, where</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> commotion is thin and</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> withdrawn, where the air</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"> is already stale with the</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">distress sweat of waiting.</span></blockquote><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">milliseconds later, it mows</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">onwards, motors humming, </span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">to Matunga. inside, subdued<br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">acceleration</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">drums</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">the ears; electric</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">smoke</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">shrills the nostrils; commuters</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">pinch inches, eyeballs<br />slapped stuck together:</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">slow-and-steady tortoises</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">squeezed inside a glove</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">compartment, shoving,<br />elbowing,</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">climbing, </span><span style="font-family:verdana;">testing<br /><br />each other's shells, cajoled<br />into a play for patience<br />in this caravan of twelve<br />aluminium cages that<br />at least doesn't flee<br />before it arrives.</span>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-57141970363701910122009-07-01T09:47:00.000-07:002009-07-01T11:34:10.193-07:00<div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;">I want to write. I want words from lands full of lush-white silence and bleeding-green language.<br /><br />I want to disappear and not have to explain why.<br /><br />I want to know that there is some meaning to the pursuit of truth, to wanting to do the right thing the right way with the right intention.<br /><br />I want to be left alone with my contradictions.<br /><br />I want my spirit burned clean by a pure blue flame from the skies.<br /><br />I want love.<br /><br />I want all the pleasures of music.<br /><br />I want the warmth of memory to flood my insides and ooze out the pores of my skin.<br /><br />I want to be reassured that intelligence can be gentle and uplifting; that wisdom is not boring, that it's worth all the delight and the pain of experiencing experience at its minutest; that ignorance of the heart's voice is the most vicious and vulgar of crimes.<br /><br />I want a solitude that will chant life into my ears.<br /><br />I want conversation that will make me want to come down from the mountains.<br /><br />I want a consciousness that will rise clean above the surface and see what we all need to see, feel what can't be felt.<br /><br />I want to be able to walk and breathe and run on and on and on and on.<br /><br />I want to live.<br /></div>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-25287831274970836772009-06-23T09:33:00.000-07:002009-06-23T11:49:12.578-07:00<div style="text-align: justify;font-family:verdana;">So, the rains are here. About time too. {cue: grin :D}<br /><br />And I have a cold to boot. Which is not surprising, if you know the history I share with my barely functional respiratory system. Falling sick when you're alone has got to be the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">suckiest</span> thing in the world. Yes, you grow used to it, but the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">suckiness</span> stays.<br /><br />Did I tell you that the rains are here? Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy {cue: more grinning :D :D}... everything is so wet and so f***in' green - it just kills you to look at it. Wait till it gets heavier. Just wait. I'm gonna stand outside my balcony and watch it pour. All day. Better still, I'll pull out a chair, sit with my feet on the railing and read a book. Who needs music?<br /><br />The last two weeks, every single day, I've been like <a href="http://www.s-anand.net/calvinandhobbes.html#19881127">Calvin</a>, except that I've been pleading for it to rain. And now it's here, and it's gonna be like this for a good two-three months. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy ... okay, okay, need to get a grip on myself.<br /><br />In other news, this blog is the first result on Google if someone looks for Neruda's <a href="http://www.google.co.in/search?hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial&hs=eHU&q=Ode+to+bicycles&btnG=Search&meta=">Ode to Bicycles</a>. {Pats self on the back} No, I didn't have anything to do with it. Apparently people kept looking and kept coming here. And Google rewards quality, you see. Or at least, that's what I delude myself into thinking. {Before people start lining up to explain how <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Google's</span> algorithm works, I'll be all snooty and say: I know}. The funny thing is that post doesn't have even a single comment on it. Bah.<br /><br />Talking about poetry, read this book of poems called "<a href="http://www.google.co.in/search?hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial&q=Ultramarine+Raymond+Carver&btnG=Search&meta=&aq=f&oq=">Ultramarine</a>" by Raymond Carver. Carver is a writer I'm beginning to like a lot. His poems are like short stories and don't quite fit the "notion" of a poem but I like them all the same. The intensity does waver a little here and there but it's a solid collection of poems. They are never about the writer or his craft, no showing off, no "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ooooh</span>! am i clever or what?", just moments snatched from a life and presented as is. It's interesting how he makes his poems work and how they leave that lingering bit of emotion in you even after you're done reading. Need to reread them again. One "cute" {<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ok</span>, so I just used that word} poem from the collection:<br /><br /><u>An Afternoon</u><br /><br />As he writes, without looking at the sea,<br />he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble.<br />The tide is going out across the shingle.<br />But it isn't that. No,<br />it's because at that moment she chooses<br />to walk into the room without any clothes on.<br />Drowsy, not even sure where she is<br />for a moment. She waves the hair from her forehead.<br />Sits on the toilet with her eyes closed,<br />head down. Legs sprawled. He sees her<br />through the doorway. Maybe<br />she's remembering what happened that morning.<br />For after a time, she opens one eye and looks at him.<br />And sweetly smiles.<br /><br />It's fascinating how he paints these "word pictures", as he calls them. Lots to like about the guy. In case you're new to Carver, you might want to read <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2007/12/24/071224fi_fiction_carver">this</a>.<br /><br />Polished off this book called "<a href="http://www.google.co.in/search?hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial&q=the+time+traveler%27s+wife&btnG=Search&meta=&aq=f&oq=">The time traveler's wife</a>" by Audrey <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Niffenegger</span> over the weekend. A friend had recommended it a few years ago and I finally got around to picking it up at a book sale last Friday*. It's "an old-fashioned love story" between Henry, who time-travels because of a genetic condition, and Clare, who meets Henry for the first time when she's 6 and he's 36, and gets married to him when she's 22 and he's 30. Did that intrigue you? Then you should read the book.<br /><br />It's a good, well-crafted book, although the craft does show here and there. The book is downright <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">hilarious</span> in some places {like when Clare asks Henry if he thinks they are having too much sex; like when Henry's librarian friends bet about why he keeps disappearing; like when the older Henry time-travels to teach the younger Henry how to pick locks and pick-pocket}, delightful in the way it carefully ties every knot, engaging, moving, and much much more, leaving you with a lump in the throat when you put it down finally. I really should put a review up but then it's so much work. Oh, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">gah</span>!<br /><br />Other books read during a surprisingly good month for book-reading: The Black Swan, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Vintage Book of Contemporary American Poetry, Selected Poems - <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Wislawa</span> Szymborska and The Essential Hemingway.<br /><br />Life is good :)<br /><br />Meanwhile, it's raining outside :D<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">* - In case you're in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Mumbai</span> and love books, you might want to check out <a href="http://www.google.co.in/search?hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial&hs=s1&q=Magna+Book+Gallery+Mumbai&btnG=Search&meta=&aq=f&oq="><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Magna</span></a><a href="http://www.google.co.in/search?hl=en&client=firefox-a&rls=org.mozilla%3Aen-US%3Aofficial&hs=s1&q=Magna+Book+Gallery+Mumbai&btnG=Search&meta=&aq=f&oq="> Book Gallery</a> in Fort; they have a 30% off on some books and 20% off on most others. The sale's on till July 3rd, if I remember right. They don't have a lot of books, but you can snag a few bargains if you're looking for classics. I got a Fitzgerald for 80 bucks :D</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">PS: A quick hi to people whom I don't know and are "following" this blog - much flattered.</span><br /></div>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12259265.post-12682542124019234702009-06-14T00:00:00.000-07:002009-06-14T14:01:15.756-07:00Wish you were here<div style="text-align: justify; font-family: verdana;">I keep feeding the darkness my loneliness and soon, the night morphs into a monster, one with a hundred eyes.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> Because silence can eat<br /> only so much.<br /></div><br />Nowhere to hide now. No use pretense. No escape. Nothing to do but lie back on the grass, hold on to my shadow, gnaw my knuckles and stare these fears down.<br /><br />I'm so tired.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> Because patience wrings<br /> the heart dry.<br /></div><br />Every minute is an exercise of tongue-biting will, every hour a recurring nightmare, every dreamless day a deliberate act of absurdity. Time agonizes, admonishes, apologizes, but it goes about its routine like only time can, quietly counting, one second at a time. Every night, I fall asleep out of sheer exhaustion.<br /><br />Never knew this could be this hard.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> One touch. One whisper ...<br /></div><br />So bloody goddamn hard.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> ... of eternity together.<br /></div><br />I hug myself, trying to feel you in the space between my arms, searching for the memory of holding you till dawn came looking for us. I try.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> One hug. One wish ...<br /></div><br />So hard, so hard, so so so so ... hard.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> ... for lingering bliss.<br /></div><br />Why is it that two people travel best hand-in-hand? Maybe I'm a little ahead of you on this road. Maybe, I'm a little behind. How would I know? You seldom call out. And so, my confessions are all a little tempered; my need carefully calibrated. Lest I get ahead of myself. Lest I lose you in the distance.<br /><br />When I was little, my father bought me a pair of binoculars, the green of a billiards table.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> Because distance breeds<br /> demons and doubts.<br /></div><br />One summer afternoon, I discovered that if you looked in the far end, where the black eye-pieces were smaller, the clouds no longer became bigger; they just grew tinier.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> Because truth is a trickle<br /> too little, too<br /> fickle.<br /></div><br />And if you turned the knob, the birds flew farther and farther away till all you could see was just the blurred outline of the horizon.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> Because evenings grow purple<br /> with twilight dread.<br /></div><br />Have you ever done that? There was always this brief moment, before I turned the binoculars around and looked in the right end, the right way, one infernal instant when I used to think "What if ...?"<br /> <br /><div style="text-align: right;"> Because tomorrow will come<br />crashing through the curtains.<br /></div><br />Have you ever been caught in that moment when you didn't know if your world was coming back?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"> And I will wake up<br /> wishing you were here.<br /></div><br />Well, have you?<br /></div>musafirhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15193219312921687895noreply@blogger.com5