#11

[Hey you] 

and you 

and you 

and you 

and you 

you're late, 

too bad. 

i changed my mind. 

[The Song]

[10 to go]

#13

[Dilemmas and childhood solutions]

• Pkj: A day when we wake up from our dreams, realizing that life has become an upside down tumbler with us trapped inside... we search for ways outside... a small crevice enough to gasp in a lungful of air, the primordial factor of sustenance...
  
  
• eM: I'd think that someone who's the "victim" of your affection would be mighty special, But i really hate that girl
  Pkj: But, somehow i see in her all the virtues n vices i always wanted to live with,
  you know... me confusing?
  eM: no no youre not confusing me, because youre busy confusing yourself
  
  
• Pkj: is paar ya us paar... pakka...
  eM: god the extremist mentality!
  never moderate
  never mediocre
  drown or soar
  
  
• eM: ...should just be able to walk straight upto people you like and kiss them or something
  Pkj: man that would be so cool
  eM: yeah, dont know why more people dont think so...
  
  
• eM: you're not very bright. rather you're very dumb when it comes to this and i say this with a lot of affection, of course
  Pkj: of course you know i know its true, and i even know why.
  
  
• Pkj: totally screwed up, we are.
  eM: yeah! like your friend is standing at the edge of a well thinking, whether I should jump in or wait for things to get better. you come from behind and have this huge smile and then push me.
  
  
• Pkj: a 34 yr ol beauty.... who's still got some outrageous curves.... what more can i say? cost me 25k
  eM: that is beautiful
  *Sigh
  im so happy for you
  Pkj: thank-u thank-u :)
  
  
• eM: i have this urge to jump out of my skin.. to discard all that was and form a new vista.. a new perspective.
  Pkj: change your OS to vista, rather than shedding your skin. muhahahaha
  eM: I'd rather stay in my own skin than trade it for bad technology ;)
  

• Pkj: whats up with you ? We've been blabbering on about me all this while, sorry ;)
  eM: If im homeless will you feed me?
  
  

[The Song]

[12 to go]

#16

[Call me C***y]

• “Candy Is dandy, But liquor Is quicker”
  
  
• Approval cannot be trusted. It can be withdrawn at any time no matter what our track record has been. It is as nourishing of real growth as cotton candy. Yet many of us spend our lives pursuing it.”
  
  
• “If "ifs" and "buts" were candy and nuts, wouldn't it be a Merry Christmas?"
  
  
• “Come over to the dark side...we have candy”
  
  

[The Song]




[15 to go]

#21

[Number of]

• people i brazenly ignored
  7
• priorities i neglected
  5
• unnecessary people i allowed into my life
  4
  
• flimsy ideals i created and held onto
  3
• people i waited for
  2
• these things i wish i hadn't done
  21

[The Songs]



[20 to go]

#22

[I once said]

• "we deserve peace"
  
  
• "when calm is elusive, the nature of the storm is of no concern. for all storms ravage the same."
  
  
• "I am not getting out of the house today."
  
  
• "does thou posses, any balm for my frayed nerves?"
  
  
• "i painted my toe nails."
  
  
• "wierd=normal right?"
  
  
• "meow meow"
  
  
• "i made mixed vegetables, suuuuuuuuuper hit"
  
  
• "and to those with a bus to catch, everything is a waste of time..."
  "a bus... not a choo choo train"
  
  
• "all is doom
  doom is all"
  
  
• "so tell me.. if you can,
  what colours the sea?
  and what,
  gives flight to hidden stars?"
  
  
• "the time has passed,for frivolous niceties and sky gazing.
  for now i have to preen myself and take a bus.
  and you know what they say about people who have to catch a bus, dont you?"

[The Song]

[21 to go]

I: a reminder

I live for me, for myself. 
mine are the footsteps that will lead. 
I am untouched by feigned patronage. 
The right path is for me to choose. 
I refuse to be cast in moulds. 
my individuality i shall defend. 
I refuse to be manipulated. 
My right to freedom shall be respected. 
I inscribe my mind, my thoughts. 
my expressions cannot be oppressed. 
I strive for my cause,To win. 
My endeavor shall not be deterred. 
I am what i am deep within. 
my soul will not be broken by despots. 
I ascend the stairs to my empyrean. 
My walk is not towards the Styx. 
I live for me, for myself. 
Mine are the footsteps that will lead.

haiku.

like dental floss 

stuck in your teeth,

truth-the inextricable bother.

wouldn't it be fun if we could...

"Dear You,
Please accept my heartiest congratulations on your recent selection for inclusion in the short-list of
'what was i thinking' 
now would be a good time to return my King Crimsons. 
--
barely yours, 
 Me " 


for a friend, 
in a pang of empathy. 
you know who you are. 
<3

survival: a reminder

I was, I'm not. 
But, I will be.

you were the victim of my extinct ghosts, and I, of memories lost.

and now I'm learning.
to reason; to see.
and I will get there,
soon
soon
soon enough, my
friend, wait for me.

for now, for me

for now, just realisation;
acceptance follows behind.
tomorrow
trapped in silent pages
twisted thoughts today unwind.
conversation
round the corner lingers,
solution plays hard to find.
for now, just realisation;
acceptance follows behind.

sigh

"now you're back | You're coming home | Put on my coat | I'm out the door"

my best friend is home.

I can breathe again.

She Wrote

familiar

they still make me smile,
love, even though i dont;
you dont. maybe
its because i've,
forgotten all the
hurt. or maybe
its because i've,
forgiven what was
base. or maybe
its because i'm.
just downright stupid.


but you know better
than most 
don't you,
that none of those three
are true.
that it is because,
during all the hurt,
you just stopped 
being you.

tonight i know i cannot sleep; words, just words, offer no release.

I,

live life break mind close eyes laugh lies

sew hope lay claim heal self stay out
I,

dance true play nice love scorn rule high

care less want all buy time sow doubt
I,

dye dream slip not feel right know more

take turn write mess blot own choke shout
I,

leave sense force thought fail faith find shore

add note make chance tie down lose count

trick question

"I have the choice of being constantly active

and happy or

introspectively passive

and sad. Or

I can go mad by ricocheting in between.

-Sylvia Plath"

error detection and Correction.

you'd listen you say;

and the right thing to do 

would be to start; but then

im afraid i wont be 

able to stop, and then 

at some point, you'd 

start defending yourself; and that 

would just make me wrong, 

by default; now that

just wouldnt be right, 

would it.

yeah, i thought so. good 

night.

image courtesy maggie fitts

"The time has come," the Walrus said, "To talk of many things: Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax-- Of cabbages--and kings-- And why the sea is boiling hot-- And whether pigs have wings."

|    Warning: long read ahead   |

i am very very choosy when it comes to people.

and when it comes to people who write(and who i read) all the more.

So when it was time for one of those reflection-taking stock-introspection deals,

i surprised myself when i thought about how many bloggers i had begun to love in a few months time.

my girls, my dear, crazy, sweet, brilliant, abstract, idiosyncratic girls.

the boys of a hundred stories and a million crazies, rainbow-hued and otherwise

the poets with their words of pure genius,

the story-tellers untangling webs of memories and imagination

and every-day-ers with their simple tales of every-day-wonder-ness

all of you, a part of my world.

and mind you; here's only a few

in the order that is
the standard for things, as such and these

None.

• Zlaek: the nexus between her writing and mine, is beyond uncanny. like a blurred, yet in ways more obvious, reflection of the thoughts in my head. inside of me, there is an intense impulse to stop anymore unworthy minds from reading her, yet at the same time, wishing for the world to know what she is capable of. One day i hope the better of these two will triumph and prove the alternative wrong.
  
  
• Tris: she writes like she lives, boldly with just the right hint of recklessness and emotion. alter-native egos, of same boats and storms. drifting, learning, surviving.
  
  
• Cloudcutter!: all of the words i used above to describe "my girls" applies to her. i love all her names! right from the first, to the last to her pseudonym :) her writing always, always hits the spot. she picks all these sublime little truths and tosses a delicious salad, with dressing and muchies! our random conversations leave warmth in their wake.
  
  
• Spy girl: this girl's thoughts need to be bottled up and sold in exclusive-by-invite-only-parties. Hilarious is incorporated into her blood-stream. her writing is totally snort-worthy and she's the kind of girl who's willing to take my -tequila solves world crisis- style advices. ;)
  
  
• Quicksilver: her words sit primly in their perfect spots, like pieces of some beautiful puzzle, all completed. seamless flow, beautiful imagery, the absurdity factor, her writing has them all, along with that oh-so-alluring factor of craziness ;)

• Unsung: the sweet sweet boi whose life, like mine, is a full fledged drama. he writes about it in minute(albeit anonymous) detail, stays true to the rainbow and wears the drama-queen crown and I write obscure poetry ;) i can always depend on him to give me my 'make me feel better' fix whenever i need it. which btw is not often as one'd imagine.

• Orange: the boy who can think, rainbow thoughts and others.
  
  
• Meandering mind: the one who endeared himself to many, enthralled with his stories and then left without a trace. He took with him all that was and left us no reminder. no souvenir except his words, filled with warmth, sprinkled here and there.
  
  
• Brown Dude: who first played the good-boy role to perfection and then went on to become a celebrity, forgetting his voters/mere mortals fellow bloggers. now he's back he says, let's wait and see ;)
  he writes like i sing. hilarious enough to make anyone laugh their innards out. humour has a whole new avatar, because you see, He can comb his hair both ways. say wow!
  
  
• Kaarta: something that crossed my mind when i read a post of his- "one cannot write out of mere imagination, or experience. only a mind keen enough to perceive and brilliant enough to capture the subtle signs of life can 'write' in the truest of senses. his writing touches that 'most discerning' part of my mind."
  and what's more, he's funny, ridiculously funny when he needs to be. totally ROFL worthy.
  

• Diwakar Sinha:what strikes you at first is the sense of effortlessness in his writing. In his narratives, He constantly challenges accepted gender roles. and the voice of the narrator, neutral, observant, non judging, non preachy, keen.
  Reading him is like slowly sinking into a room full of cotton balls. rich, soft, indulgent.
  
  
• Shamanth: the story teller, with simplicity running in the background, curling the intricacies of the world into tidy little pointers and concise phrases
  you cannot stop
  the sun from setting
  just to admire
  its brilliance, nor admonish
  as it plunges, into seas
  of foolishness. and at
  the end of it all
  you know very well
  that the sun shines
  in another place, away
  from you but; wherever,
  forever it shines.
  
  
• Akshata: she doesnt write much, anymore. she talks a lot, im sure.
  she's depressed and doesnt know it. she's quite brilliant and knows that.
  falls into the 'crazy kids running amok' category. said with lots of affection ofcourse:)
  
  
• Iggy!: the one who wants to do everything under the sun, Today. which is only to be expected 'cause she's a gemini! (yes, i do believe that to be true) She's hilarious, a total laugh riot when she's not nursing a blogger's block or two that is ;) Now that you're back. Stay with us girl!
  
  
• Merin the girl with the name of a african serpant-god-with-four-heads. and her writing is filled with as much incredulity and hilarity as that. again, a gemini, a ferrari-fanatic, and the best of all, some one who is willing to don her previous-life-serpant-god avatar to slay Fuckilton. say wheeee! ;)
  
  
• Mikimbizi: boy O boy is she awesome or what, is what i would want to say. quite simply and plainly. But her writing, is so intricate, layered, multi dimensional. her work is like the collective mess inside a dream-catcher. good, euphoric, dark, esoteric, abstract and breathtaking, all in one take. she contains inside her, the true spirit of the hippie.
  
  
• Audacious hilarious Itisha Peerbhoy whose primary purpose in life is to make people snort into their coffee's ever once in a blue morning.
  
  
• wee Bullshee:  the one who drinks rum out of a beer mug and makes it sound esoteric.
  
  
• manisha a random little girl with her random little thoughts. or so she says. her stories are truly amazing, with a class of their own. emotions behind them always bang-on. and the way she writes them, it's like she doesnt know what being self-conscious is, like she takes on a whole new persona.
  
  
• Slash: the self proclaimed quasi-rocker. funny voice sings to him all day and at the end of it, we get to hear about it.  shrrrred that thing, twang twang twang.
  
  
• Kro bro: who flatters me a lot, stays polite and calls me things like Ms. Naidu, Ms. Subtle signs et cetera, all the while covertly digging his nose. he writes humour like it has to save his life, which according to him might be true, you know, getting a life and the whole process that follows.
  
  
• poe: Crazy lady, stays true to her name, loyal to her game. and still refuses to share the magic-herb with me. *hmph*
  
  
• Mentalie: she covers her fetish for obscenity with some super-neat writing. and when all's said and done about shakila's boob-ets she never fails to make me rofL.
  
  
• Mon monde: whose poems made us fall in love with them. their sheer simplicity paved the way for more to follow, into my life, that it would turn into complications of the largest kind, i didnt know then, but im still glad i read them.
  
  
• Maggie Fitts: i think/feel/experience she's already written about it. Between the two of us, we share a name, a love for sylvia plath, interest for obscure postcards, and an undisturbed silence. her writing is what i'd call dysfunction kitsch. <3 <3 <3 it.
  
  
• City in July THE poetry blog i love. her nonchalant familiarity of words, is almost disconcerting, like you are in the presence of some serious black magic. the title of her latest has haunted my mind ever since i read it. Medusa, Medusa, Medusa
  
  
• Jason evans: in my mind, i call him the crazy-post-man. that's probably because of some obscure childish notion of the postman's bag having all this assorted nice-nice little things inside it. but that's just what i find each time i read him. surprises surprises.
  
  
• Pundit's crisp blurring of imagination into reality, i only started reading him today and im hooked already.
  
  
• the salesman whose writing is straight from his heart and into your checking account. SOLD, each time. and him too, i just started reading.
  
  
• The nomad whose photographs i love.
  
  
• Aparna's Ayushi and her wonderful stories
  
  
• falstaff's whimsical madness 

there it is, the entire deal.

and to the ones that have been driving me crazy 

and keeping me sane.

my <3
PS: leave a <3 if you dont have much else to say, to show you've all been here.

change. for freedom and peace

" We welcome change and openness; for we believe that freedom and security go together, that the advance of human liberty can only strengthen the cause of world peace. There is one sign the Soviets can make that would be unmistakable, that would advance dramatically the cause of freedom and peace. General Secretary Gorbachev, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Soviet Union and eastern Europe, if you seek liberalization, come here to this gate. Mr. Gorbachev, open this gate. Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall. "
In a speech at the Brandenburg Gate commemorating the 750th anniversary of Berlin on June 12, 1987, Ronald Reagan challenged Mikhail Gorbachev, then the General Secretary of the Communist Party of theSoviet Union, to tear down the wall as a symbol of increasing freedom in the Eastern Bloc.

The same day, the bustling city of Vasco-da-gama was surviving a rainstorm; and at the Vasco hospital, a baby girl silently became a part of this troubled world.

Me.

Years passed oblivious to the knowledge of sharing my day with a event of such high import.

Yet, there existed a very strong connection of interest with the German struggle, which began before, and went beyond the high school history text books.

Years later, this would be termed uncanny, with discovery of the obscure similarity.

Today, on November the 9th, it has been 2 long decades since the wall of pain crumbled.

the first step towards the emancipation of germany turns 20;

and I, a few measly days over 22.

To most of you reading this, the nexus between the cold war and my existance will seem forced, deliberate, entirely megalomaniacal and altogether narcissistic. So, let me stress that I am not professing my birth to be a supernatural miracle or a momentous event of the highest order.

This is merely a naive attempt to connect the gossamer strands of serendipity, in hope that it will provide a foundation for something more sustainable.

Irrespective of what followed in the future, the day marked the beginning of the End of the Cold war, which had cost more lives than it saved, the end of a Dark era, the end of pain, alienation, loss, hostility, hurt.

a Change for the better

a Change for moving ahead, moving on

a Change for freedom and peace.

and today ,

I do the same.