AN EVENING

There are just so many ways in which one can actually spend an evening like this...the best way, for me, is to spend it carefully, in idle contemplation...sometimes life is so mesmerisingly beautiful in its connected wholeness, in its infinite potential, in its glorious epiphany, in its stingingg disillusion, in its absolute absurdness, in its incredible dynamism and its beautiful stillness...in the unsurpassed, surprised wonder of each new friendship, in the amazing incredulity of each newly-forged bond, each unthinkable kinship. In the unforgotten poignance, in quietly treasured joys, in its strange silences, its imagined romances and deep introspections. In the way in which Life whisks us across space and time, across people and places, across latitudes and oceans and unseen seas. Over Unknown meadows, far away hills, empyrean heights and deep, sunken gorges. I cannot quite understand and am trying in vain to figure it out. Everything both makes sense and doesn't. It seems to resist and invite intepretation...so alluring and evasive it is...

Just a Happy Love Story...in need of Much revision

Paranthetical insertion
Sheena cast a surreptitious glance at the boy seated next to her. She was inwardly fuming and flaming at the thought of being forced into this hasty alliance. Aunty Rita sat opposite them, her face caked with make-up, her heavily shadowed azure eyelids glimmering in the sunlight which streamed into the room. “We told you she was very striking,” she was saying while nodding her head vigorously in Sheena’s direction. Ma and Baba stood quietly in one corner, a little bewildered by the alacrity with which things were moving. Sheena took one glance at them and felt irritated. What was the point of feeling surprised now? Why hadn’t her father worked harder to deflect this ‘appointment,’ as she had expected him too? And WHAT was the deal with her mother’s exasperatingly vacillating expressions?
Uncles Anu and Ajay had taken their usual posts at the table, and were eagerly supervising the laying of the table by the aged and rather crusty workers at their house. “You must try Babu’s biriyani,” Uncle Anu hollered across the living room., while Ajay urged Babu to serve the guests with his signature mint and rose syrup. The boy’s mother looked directly, too directly at Sheena,or so it seemed to Sheena’s parents, whose anxious expressions belied their forced smiles and nods.
Sheena wiped her forehead. She’d taken great care to look as unkempt and care-worn as possible. Her hair was tied up in the most casual of buns, something she knew her parents hated. She’d deliberately left her eyes un-smeared with kajol, and she was wearing an old t-shirt and skirt which she had long since relegated to antiquity. What Sheena didn't realize was that her casual elegance was serving the perverse purpose of heightening her attractiveness. Her sandal-tinted cheeks looked flushed with anger and embarrassment, her eyes shone a little too brightly in silent rebellion and her tense body gave her a charm that was at once appealing, alluring and somehow dangerous.
The boy looked almost as uncomfortable as Sheena felt. His dark hair was frequently smoothened by a rather nervous hand, and he kept his eyes trained on the floor. He seemed to be surveying the carpet with great attention. Aunty Rita took this as an opportunity for sparking off a novel conversation. “This is from Iran. Sheena went there last year to visit her Married friend Natasha!” said Aunty Rita, wiggling her finger emphatically and adding unnecessary stress on what she felt was a significant word. Sheena sighed. That trip, with its myriad memories had ceased to conjure pleasant images in her mind, ever since she’d heard of Natasha’s unceremonious separation from her husband. It had been no one person’s fault. After the first rosy veneer of illusions had faded away, they had been left with nothing to carry on with. Sheena hadn’t understood at first. Weren’t people supposed to make an effort? How come Natasha and her husband didn’t realize this acrid truth during those two years of incessant phone calls and finger-numbing text-messages? How come they used to go out on those dates to expensive restaurants and movie halls? How could they have expected to get to know one another if they never really communicated with one another? They were always surrounded by people wherever they went, and it was as though they were serving some larger purpose by dating, contributing to the popular, prevailing culture somehow. But Sheena did not want to be too judgmental. It was always easier to analyze from an objective distance. Real life situations always have the ability to throw people horribly off-- guard. And Sheena began to feel that she was thinking too much about the whole affair while Natasha was moving on quicker. Sheena’s sensitive and over-empathizing nature was making her more bitter than either Natasha or her husband.
The boy’s mother pricked up her ears at the mention of Iran. “Iran…Tehran is such a lovely city. Do you remember Akash how your daddy and I took you there when you were 9?” exclaimed the lady with a dreamy expression in her eyes. Sheena looked into them for the first time since they’d entered their house. They were so warm, so soft and so, so liquid, Sheena felt herself thinking. Her eyes seemed to be pensively picturing the mist-clad mountains of far-away Tehran, where she’d been secure and happy in the company of her husband and child. Sheena felt suddenly moved, somehow suddenly touched. She glanced again at the boy next to her and saw him looking shyly at her. He would have hurriedly turned his face away had she not smiled.
It was only yesterday that Aunty Rita had bounced into their house with this laugh of a proposal. She had a notorious reputation for being a passionate binder of hearts, but so far Sheena had managed to escape unscathed. She was always so serious and studious, so impossibly and remotely romantic, that neither she nor her family members ever bothered about pairing her up in reality. Sheeena was content to satisfy her own romantic yearnings through works of literature and films. She was growing up, but not quite, not being one to renounce her hold on childhood that easily. What difference did a few measly years make when THERe was still plenty of time to behave like a full-on grown up she figured.
Well, so Sheena didn’t keenly feel the lack of a boyfriend, though she did have her wistful moments. It was never really peer pressure that got to her. It was more the phenomenon of sudden bursts of anxiety over whether she would eventually meet her soul-mate and be able to recognize him to be the “one.” She wasn’t crazy enough to expect him to appear on a steed of gold, with accompanying fanfare and music…rather she hoped for someone who’d love her forever in a quiet, steady and rather loyal way. Oh yes, and it would help if she found him a teeny bit good looking.

So there was Aunty Rita, her rapidly ageing face dolled up as usual, puffing and panting into the house. Sheena had just finished typing out her latest application essay when her mother‘s happy laugh greeted her ears. “And why not? Whenever he wishes!” Sheens heard her exclaim. “What are you talking about?” Sheena demanded as she climbed down the stairs to the living room where her mother was serving Aunty Rita with tea and her favorite Marie biscuits. “There is someone Rita-di would like you to meet…someone special,” her mother giggled like a hopeless teenager. Something inside Sheena squirmed and she glared at her mother in anger. “I thought I told you N-EVER to fix up or arrange anything for me mommy,” she exclaimed, aiming her comment towards Aunty Rita. Aunty Rita was not one to be deterred so easily. “It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything…let this just be a trial…who knows? You might even end up dating him.” She retorted. “Oh, I’m the first victim of your latest project, the blind dating academy?” Sheens found herself exclaiming, much to her horror. She’d always been so polite, especially around relatives, but she could not help feeling distraught and distressed. Aunty Rita was suddenly making her feel so hopelessly inadequate, as though she felt Sheena was incapable of garnering a boyfriend for herself. In fact, it was the ever-prudent Sheena who always turned down proposals from boys she found unsuitable. Anyway. Sheena rather dramatically turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. Her mother, who had been trying in vain to establish a modicum of peace between the two, wrung her hands in despair and rather dramatically collapsed on the nearest sofa.
Sheena had run up to her room and flipped open her newly acquired pink laptop. She’d not allow any kind of artificial arrangement, which was altogether too business-like for Sheena’s taste, deter her lofty ideals of romance. She made up her mind to be as difficult and stubborn as possible. Aunt Rita seemed exceedingly shallow and intrusive to her at the moment…and her temporary wave of anger made her forget for a while just how well-meaning and honest-intentioned a woman Aunt Rita was. She was a rather lonely lady, who had lost her children in a long-ago car crash. Her husband had decided to abandon her when she’d given birth to a second daughter. Aunty could have become a bitter cynic. But she’d decided to carry on with life…her unhappy past had curiously re-in forced her faith in God, and she had committed herself to helping others the best she could. “I literally want to bring colour into lives!” she’d exclaimed, when a few baffled people had criticized and questioned her decision to “always put on so much make up, that too given her tragic circumstances…” Some people dismissed her as insane, others found her eccentric, some found her heartless and uncaring…both those few lives which she was able to touch were never the same.
The next day was cloudy and rather grey. Sheena was rather annoyed. She loved savoring days when the weather was tempestuous, but today was already marred by Aunty Rita and her strangely concurring parents. However, she had to admit, if only to herself, that she was feeling slightly nervous and somehow excited. A part of her was curious, the part which made the butterflies flutter in her stomach. But she didn’t exactly know what to attribute this feeling to, and so rather tiredly began the seemingly arduous task of getting dressed.

Akash was feeling out of sorts that morning. His forehead felt unnaturally warm and his eyes seemed to sting. “Drat!” he said to himself as he looked out of the window near his head. A rainy and depressing day, he thought, just the kind he disliked. It was time for him to get dressed and head to someone’s place. Someone who might turn out to be a life-partner, a soul-mate. Akash usually kept an open mind about most things. Ever since he had returned from the U.S. he realized it probably was time to settle down to the idea of ‘settling down.’ He had always had a very strong paternal instinct latent within him. He loved playing with small children at family gatherings and parties, where they would inevitably flock to him like bees to honeyed flowers. Maybe his soft, velvety brown eyes were particularly enchanting to little kids who insisted on crawling all over his lap, requested him for stories and took turns to ride on his shoulders. Of late his thoughts seemed to be centered excessively around children. Maybe his father’s death had had something to do with it. He remembered how wonderful and caring a parent his father had been and perhaps wished to re-connect with his lost father by becoming one himself. Often he found himself wishing he’d become a pediatrition instead of a cardiac surgeon.
He thought of the vacant years which lay ahead of them…his father had been inseparable from his mother. So much so that sometimes even Akash felt himself feel like an intruder, in their company. His parents were never aware of it themselves, but every unconscious gesture or look on their parts suggested that they had lost themselves in one another. Akash often came home to a dreary house now, with his mother burying her face among the heaps of his father’s shirts in a cupboard. She had refused to emerge from her room for days, until Aunty Rita, her mother’s new neighbor, had really drawn her out. It was a surprising camaraderie, but it worked wonders for Mrs. Ghosh. Aunt Rita actually taught her to look back on her husband’s memories in fond remembrance, and to celebrate their years of togetherness, rather than solely lament for him. The very mention of his name no longer made her want to torture herself with agonized tears, but brought a sudden gush of instant happiness and a bitter-sweet smile to her face. More importantly, and perhaps strangely, she never felt his absence any longer. Somehow he was always with her, and she knew exactly what he was saying, and how he was helping her. She even surprised herself by regaining bits of her old, rather wicked, rather perplexing sense of humor. Akash was much relieved, and often marveled at Aunt Rita’s capacity to work wonders. She seemed to have spilled some carefully preserved sunshine into their suddenly darkened lives,without even having known his father. Had never even seen him. Some inexplicable things can really make a difference, Mrs. Ghosh thought.
Akash shook his head. His long working hours had begun to take their toll on him, and he found himself without an appetite at the breakfast table. His mother looked concerned and a bit jittery herself. “What’s up, Akash? Not feeling well?” she said as Akash fidgeted with his porridge. “No I’m fine, just a little un-hungry,” he grinned, not wishing to worry his mom. “I think you need a break…you’re wearing yourself out with your work. I’ve been telling you so for ages.” Akash sighed. “Mom, you know doctors can’t afford to be lazy or lax…you know how I feel about this, ever since dad…” his voice trailed off slowly and his tired eyes met his mother’s moist ones. “Sorry ma,” Akash reached over and patted his mother’s arm “see, I’ve taken this day off and have agreed to accompany you, without even a hint of an argument.” “You’re looking mmuch too pale for a prospective groom and your hand feels clammy…maybe we should just call it off for the day? Let’s go catch a movie or something?” his mom anxiously suggested. “Come on mom, I’m not that sick…you know I hate going to claustrophobic movie halls!” Akash grinned wanly as he left the table to get ready.
They had hailed a cab to the Bannerjee’s residence. Mrs. Ghosh would not hear of her son driving that day. She was not entirely certain if she was doing the correct thing by trying to arrange a marriage for her son. She had immense faith in love marriages owing to her own idyllic years with Ratan, her husband and companion of many years. Even as a young girl she’d never had much faith in the arranged marriage concept. If it worked, fine…even love marriages involved risks and chances…but the whole idea of putting two strangers, who knew not the first thing about one another , under the pressure of a marriage seemed bizarre. But she knew Akash was lonely, was too shy to garner a girlfriend for himself, and she also knew that he secretly craved his mother to find someone for him. She probably felt more nervous that her son, who was leaning back in his seat and trying to catch a quick nap.
Sheena didn’t know what to think. The guy’s mother was really nice, she thought. After a few moments of customary awkwardness, they’d struck up an interesting conversation. She discovered Mrs. Ghosh’s love for Leonard Cohen and L.M.Montgomery. “I grew up on a healthy diet of Lucy Maud’s books…and I even got my husband and son hooked to them,” she smiled in fond remembrance…”much as he might not admit it now,” she continued, glancing at Akash, who had turned a bright shade of crimson. Sheena looked at him and he felt he that should try to release his tongue from the fetters of silence, and say something to her. “So are you studying Literature? That’s what Aunty Rita told mom yesterday! It’s such a fascinating field.” He managed to say. Sheena smiled, without looking at him. His eyes were too intense and she suddenly faltered under his gaze. “Umm…yes, it is…” she managed to mumble. “Why don’t you take him up to your room and talk in peace?” Aunty Rita chimed in, wishing to push things as much as she could manage. She was delighted that things seemed to be taking off. Sheena glanced at her parents. Her mother gave her a little encouraging smile and the slightest nod, while her father looked away, embarrassed. He just couldn’t come to terms with the fact that his little child was old enough to be considered ‘marriagiable.’
Sheena led the way upstairs. Akash followed rather hesitantly, as his head had begun to throb again. He was now beginning to feel more than a little alarmed with the whole episode, and was suddenly feeling confused and dazed. What if this attractive girl had a boyfriend? What if he was about to listen to an unceremonious rejection in her room? What if she found him a dismal and dull person, not worthy to be spoken to? Sure, he’d had lots of friends of both sexes , but he suddenly felt as though he’d never had a single conversation in his life before…he felt devoid of speech, blank and vague. He forgot that he was a lovely, fun person to be around, that he was a brilliant conversationalist, with a unique sense of humor. So he walked into Sheena’s look feeling every bit the nervous wreck, without realizing that Sheena was feeling much the same.

Akash leaned against the wall and looked out of the window. The rain was really pouring down now, making visibility difficult. “I love the luscious rains!” Sheena said dreamily, feeling a bit more relaxed. “You’re looking as perplexed as I feel!” she exclaimed with a laugh. Sheena had a sudden, infectious and rather delicious laugh. Akash looked at her and smiled, feeling his apprehension melt away, by ‘soft degrees.’ “Why don’t you sit down?” Sheena said and pulled up a soft, cushiony chair. “After you,”Akash said softly. Sheena sat down by the edge of her bed and Akash lowered himself on to the chosen seat.
“I don’t know how you feel about this whole thing…” Sheena found herself saying. This boy was alarmingly good looking, in a very unusual sort of way, she thought. She found herself being enveloped in a cloud of diffidence and began to stammer a little. “I..It is not as if I’m…I mean I’ve never been…it might sound strange…but I’ve …you know…never really been in this situation, or in a relationship before this…not that I’m labeling ours as…I mean…I don’t know what I mean…” Sheena finished with a gasp. What was she saying? He must think her awfully stupid and not in the least like the powerful speaker an English major ought to be. Akash’s eyes laughed but he kept a straight face…”Are you an expert in legilemency apart from literature? I mean, you just echoed my thoughts verbatim!” he smiled, and found himself feeling rather paralyzed by Sheena’s casual charm and her unpretentious personality and her intelligent yet innocent way of speaking. Her eyes were so hypnotic that Akash had to force himself to look away for a bit. Sheena somehow knew she could trust this lad. She didn’t know why, but she just knew it, with a confidence she’d never felt before. He came across as one of those instinctively pleasant people. What they both begun to secretly realize that they were both young, romantic and hungry for love, and they might just end up being wrapped up in that emotion. They might have things in common, they might discover a multitude of differences, they might have quarrels, they might hurt one another, but they both suddenly hoped they’d stick with one another, no matter what…idealistic yet practical…or so they thought to themselves…
“I haven’t been too well today,”Akash disclosed. “Oh I’m sorry to hear that!,” Sheena exclaimed genuinely concerned. “Would you like to lie down for a bit?” she said. “It won’t be awkward!” she quickly added. “No it’s fine… I’m just feeling a little bit over-strained!” he confessed. “I have always loved the medical profession. But you mustn’t work yourself too hard…” she added gently. “It’s what I use to keep myself distracted…ever since my own father…passed on…and I was called back from the U.S…it’s been a tad difficult…” Akash never confided in people easily, but somehow Sheena already felt like a kindred spirit. The fact that they were expected to become husband and wife didn’t exert any pressure on him…in fact, that knowledge coupled with his instinctive feelings towards Sheena somehow made it easier for him. Sheena had always been a good listener, and she’d often dreamt of the day when she might assume the role of her beloved’s confidante, whom she would be able to help and care for…whose feelings she’d respect and be respected in return. Sheena’s heart warmed to Akash who spoke in such an earnest way, so as to not demand sympathy or attention. He gave her a candid account of his hopes and desires, to help people who were unwell, to see his mother happy, to perhaps be a good parent someday. Sheena blushed. She loved children too…she thought nothing as sacred as motherhood…and she gently broke these feelings to an elated Akash. “I’ve always earnestly believed that motherhood should never be an imposition on women,” she explained rather confusedly. “I mean, it should always be allowed to remain a choice. A woman who does not want to be a mother should not be labeled an aberration by those who do….I’ve always wanted children for myself…but I see why some women might not!” she finished. Akash nodded rather seriously…”I know what you mean…only I could never phrase it as eloquently as you just did.”
Sheena secretly thanked God that she had refrained from following the paths of some of her, well rather unrestrained friends, who changed boyfriends every week, till the novelty of romance completely wore out for them. If she had succumbed to peer -pressure, would she have felt as ‘blythe’-spirited as she was feeling now? Akash, too, had always been teased for being too idealistic and romantic, by his friends. “Just cease the day and grab a chick,” one rather offensive guy had once told him…”But doesn’t she have to be the right one?” Akash had rather emphatically asked. “Is ANYONE ever the right one?” the guy had said, throwing him an exasperated look. “Well, at least I have to be deluded into thinking she is!” Akash had responded before turning away. Now it seemed as though he had deluded himself enough to work up an appetite for the biriyani that awaited them downstairs.

RAPTURE

Just what IS it about L.M. Montgomery’s writing that makes me fall so overwhelmingly in love with her again and again? Her works have become such an integral part of my consciousness; my soul seems to have entirely imbibed her inimitable imagery, her startling humor and her liltingly melodious language. She is an author who seems to offer me more revelations about myself and life, more than most others. I come back to her books after long breaks and each time I re-discover her poignant brilliance, her subtle artistry, her keen sense of observation, her alluring aesthetic appeal, her vivid characterization and her mesmerizing linguistic charm. She is the writer I’d like to passionately defend from (sometimes justified…perhaps?) criticism. Once this person I knew said that her books need to be re-written from a postcolonial perspective. I love Post-colonial Theory myself, but I don’t see why and how this statement is relevant…yes, we do hear mentions of missionary workers in the Oriental lands, but I don’t think L.M. was saying anything offensive, or out of her own immediate context. I do not want to be a litterateur who seeks to problematize when it comes to her books. I am unscholarly and biased, when it comes to her work. Her works have guided me through my adolescence, have seen me through my teens and into my twen-teens like a softly shining, always enchanting, sometimes evasive little star. Her emotions are expressed so beautifully, her ideas are so well-developed, her writing is so acutely introspective and mature…I have begun to realize just how mature her writings are off-late, when I cast a few retrospective glances at how they have helped me and continue to do so. And I will fiercely defend her from the charge of being a weaver of sunshiny and romantic yarns. Her stories never fail to explore the darker side of life, the many sadnesses which accompany every individual, and her war literature is so personal it’s touching. It’s just that her philosophy is so positive, so inclusive, that her writings can’t help but make one feel happy. I do not like it when people condescend to relegate authors solely to the restricted realm of ‘children’s’ writing. I have the greatest respect for children’s literature and am absolutely fascinated by the way in which authors can play upon the imagination of a child’s eager, open and curious mind. If a writer can appeal to children and adults alike then he/she is a truly commendable author, because one does not grow out of her works but simply re-discovers newer aspects to them, with age. And when a writer is writing for children, who, by virtue of their age, have limited 'Prior Knowledge,' I'd say they're no less talented than adult-authors.
P.S.: i LOVE THE PEOPLE WHO DON'T AGREE WITH MOI...you know who you are

My Blog Reads My Mind

'Man is by Nature a Political Animal'......t'is the qoute of the day on my blog!!!! and to think I came across and ruminated upon this quote thrice today, when reading a book on Comparative Governments!!!!

The Helen Schlegel in me is still alive...

much to my relief.

The heat was unbearable, the humidity terrible,
The curtains inadequate shields for the sun...
How was I to while away, this sultry, resinous April day?
Was there a way, if only one, To bear the burthen of this sun?

I picked up a book I never thought I would...
The front and back covers didn't seem too good.
'Not literary enough,' said my fine 'sensibility,'
This tome is trash, an unwanted liability...
But I felt brave, and flipped it open,
Romance I'd craved all morn you see...
And it did seem to me
That this book would be soppy enough to please me
Mushy enough to annoy and tease me
And apart from the irrate comment or two, (or maybe 3)
It did mostly woo...
my mind. A most troubling yet gratifying find.
It did too help, that I
Imagined, *here I sigh*
**r*** **h**'s form in the protagonist's role,
Down to the very last mole...
And I fished out romance from the most unsavoury parts,
and skilfully escaped the author's chosen darts...
He couldn't pin me down to his biases or opinions,
My imagination flew off on a pair of forged pinions...
What am I writing, oh for the sake of rhyming,
My mind is whining, I should be dining...
SOOOONEER

more sooner

I discovered what it feels like to re-visit a city which never ceases to feel like home, having been mine for a good couple of days.The past week has been indescribably hectic, but rewardingly memorable...down to the rough bed-sheet at the #### hostel room. They passed me by like a whirling dervish, carrying me, a half-conscious, half-willing bundle of contradicting emotions, with it...

An ode to an Arboretum

I am surrounded by beauty of an excessive sort...of a pulchritude which refuses to register itself in my mind...this place should open a botany/ecology department, the whole campus would be an ideal class room...and the campus can also qualify as a literateur's muse...the stone walls, the bafflingly-beautifully confused architecture...I want to get lost here forever, to drift among the lone paths, to stumble upon unexpected flowers, to discover weeping butterflies and benign bees...to listen to the wild murmurs of the Night flies...IIMB, thanks for this chance...I will remember it forever....and also Professor V.M. for being so encouraging and literary!!

MellowWallow

I am deeply unhappy
AND
As a consequence, rather snappy.
I am sad, my head feels bad,
It aches, the world makes
no sense...morose is me,
Even
A cup of my favourite tea,
Didn't quite do the trick.
Prick! go my nerves,
Or maybe they don't
Maybe I should laugh it off...
But maybe I won't...
Maybe I over-react
But I'm entitled to a fault
Why doesn't someone just hug me very tight?

TO TB

I have constructed the warmest and most huggable teddy bear in my imagination...I hug you whenever I'm feeling low...I rarely feel this down...but your soft arms pull me up again...your nose is always dog-wet...thanks for being my cuddle bug, my comforter...I love you. Thanks for that warm, goofy smile...that shy look, which always comforts and dis-comforts.Thanks for being there for me always, whenever I need you...thanks for doing exactly what my mind wishes you to...and Memory, I respect you...I will not let go of the memories of the good times I've had with any of my friends....JU or Cis or BIS or DI...and I will use my 'icy personality' as often as I need to. I love you Cuddles. And I know you will always be there for me...always always.

Leia Broods

Tonight’s a night of indescribable melancholy. Of an earnest, yearning and persistent pain. Strange notions of sadness are floating aimlessly across the air. I am bereft of your company. This is one of those nights when this awareness hits me all too sharply, sharper than the most stinging vinegar on an unsuspecting tongue. I wish to be near you, but this thought pushes us farther apart. What is that music, which is emanating from the moon? What crossword puzzles are the stars trying to solve, edging past one another, amidst the chaos of those clouds, which gift-wrap the sky? Is the breeze whistling that tune we used to hum? Is my imagination flying off with the screeching owl, into the realm of silent seas? My fingers tremble as I reach for the phone, but, suddenly, your voice is not enough. The sound waves which can traverse the Atlantic make me feel inadequate, and make a mockery of our love. I would have said a lot more, but right now I feel like jealously guarding my own intimate emotions and feelings…I will only whisper them in your ear…when I can see and feel and touch your ear…but not now, not like this.

TOEFL aargh!

All's well that ends in a 119! Yes, the ecstasy has finally sunk in...but I can't believe I missed the BOI-MELA...WAAHHH.

adopt your own virtual pet!

Murmur

My heart aches, my soul breaks, the world shakes...
We just don't seem to have what it takes
To make this work out...I shout
At you, I even say a thing or two
I immediately wish I could take back...
I rack
My brains to find a way to make it up to you,
The stakes
Are simultaneously too high and low,
I can, but can't quite let you go.
will somebody show
Me the way to do things right?...
WE fight and love with equal ferocity,
We epitomise reciprocity
And yet, we as a couple atrophy,
I might have worked this differently,
Had I another chance:
I would've re-worked things through a single, conciliatory glance.
But it's a whit too late, much as I hate to admit it.
I'm not entirely sad, nor am I entirely glad...
I mean, you were a cad...
Or weren't you?

Randomness? Random mess.

okayy, this won't be the greatest post ever. WHY?
I am tired
My stomach hurts for some incomprehensible reason.
I am sleepy.
I seem to have sprained my neck.
Did I mention being sleepy?
so Life is living up to its complicated image...all sortsa creepy problems are cropping up...don't ask..
People are strange...weird...okiedokie...but I'm lucky to be frinds with some of the greatest people on the planet.
Sometimes you can extend the olive branch to ameliorate a friendship gone sour situation...and sometimes the olive branch is very primly shaken, as if it were a formally extended hand, and that too in the most condescending manner EVER!
And the there is the problem of ..... what is it that goes on in their heads? or wherever?
and then there is the ever piling course work...
and the application jhaamela
and the anxieties which accompany this arduous process.
And then preparing to leave JUDE...whatever preparation that may entail.
I don't wanna read Dream Play...oh dear...

...

A kiss is flying through the air,
Now it's entangled in my hair...
Why, it's staring me in the face,
It's moving again, what a pace,
But now it hovers, gently static,
Ecstatic...
Paralysed by its own fulfilment.

WHY did I write this? gawwd

The sun had not come up in days. Leia lay in bed and looked up at the fan...its services were not needed for a spell...as afternoon waned away, and evening reluctantly approached, she hoped this night would be better than the last. Vardaleck was being too persistent...at this rate, her parents would diagnose her with an acute bout of anaemia. Why couldn't he go gentle on her blood? She shivered slightly, and sighed. Her enervated body was cold, as cold as Vardaleck's icy grip, his frosty touch. She didn't know how to shake him off. It had all seemed so fascinating at first, being wooed by a Vampire and all. He would literally and metaphorically sweep her off her feet, and they'd graze the sky together, at unearthly, unlordly hours. His cloak would serve as her magic carpet, and she would view the distant world of mere mortals from her newly gained dizzying height. But all that soon changed. Now he only wished for her blood. He'd been gentle at first, loving even, when draining her of her erythrocytes/leucocytes. Now he was insistent, harsh, his demands increasing by the nocturnal minute. She would soon have to leave this world...and then V. would probably leave her, to court another healthy, blood-filled mortal.

?

you eyes said nothing to me that night,
why did they seem
So hollow, so vacant, so bereft of sight?
I tried to penetrate their silent reticence,
but they remained unyielding, shielding
your thoughts. What nonsense
Am I writing? When you
Will do
nothing to
Put my mind at ease?

AVATAR........!!!

ok, so despite what most people seem to think, i quite liked avatar...yes, there were loadsa issues up for analysis in the film: the evils of colonisation, illegal/insensitive land acquisition for mere material gain, the representation of 'the other,' assimilation into a foreign culture...the White gaze of the outsider....but I think the film dealt with all these issues in a way which didn't offend me. I didn't think Pandora was depicted in an 'exotic' way...it was just a very beautiful, enchanting world, bio-luminescence and all!
so some might say that why was it necessary for Jake, an American in his avatar to lead the Navis' to victory? Well, he always re-iterates the strength of the people of Pandora, and he makes a choice to stay on and help them? Is that such a bad thing?

thoughts

T'is that time of the year,
When Spring seems quite near...
But not quite,
though this Spring might
linger for a spell longer
than usual,
being the remnants
Of the coldest, boldest, Winter
I've felt in a while.

In Summer, it takes me
hours to get through each second,
to cheat the sun, to beat the heat.
Monsoon's nocturnal showers thrill me,
AS I spend my nights
tracing the tunes of the rain drops,
as they break into my dreams and tear into my sleep.

This Winter evening, I walked several miles
In the snug company of friends.
The chill of dusk
Settled around me,
Unsettling me, teasing my shawl,
challenging my inadequate sweater.
Imminent night, with its falling degrees,
Was fast falling on us, as we walked.
The mosquitos annoyed us
With their incomprehensible melodies,
And their un-amorous bites.
My ears rejected their bold proximity,
Their un-desirable intimacy,
while they drew out my blood.
Un-charming vampires of winter nights,
I'll settle for Count Dracula any day.

hmmm

there are days when you indulge in some unflinching introspection...and those when you look back upon life, in lazy retrospection....there are moments when you have to make those tiresome, life-changing decisions, there are times when you are on your own, just you and your life. i feel like an architect, (yes, that analogy had to come in), trying to construct something of a career...but i am a desultory being...i wish i could pursue anthropology now...i wish i knew what is best for me...can any one ever know? the concept of one 'best' decision...whether it pertains to one's career/partner/friends/etc is problematic....best among all the options seems a better bet....i am re-kindling old friendships and that feels good. have i really dug my roots into JU? will i miss it as intensely as i still miss school occasionally? i don't know...only time will tell. as of now, i just wanna make some new beginnings.

*blink*

in the light of the tilted orange lampshade,
with the half broken bulb,
the words of the book
stared dimly at me.
my eyes were swimming
in the blurred,
articifial twilight.
my brain kept rejecting
the words, which tried
forcing their entry:
my sleepy mind
the faithful sentry.

a night lamp is just not the way
to prepare for these tests every single day.

statement of purpose

thst's what i'm supposed to be working on, the operative word being obvious. it's simplistic to assume that a 500 word essay can ever hope to contain the desultory ambitions of this confused being. sometimes i wish i could be engaged in activity that's more "hands-on"...not that scholars are remote analysts or distanced aesthetes. it's just that i'm still looking for a calling to respond to, and narrowing down my choices has ALWAYS been the hardest part, ever since i had to choose my subjects for my O levels. i sometimes can't help but feel that i am exceedingly different from most people my age...with the exception of some friends...was it my school, or my family or what? am i over-wary, are my foot steps too cautious? sometimes i read the blogs of others, and more often than not, they invariably strike me as more complex, deeper, their posts more evocative, somehow more experienced. but i have no regrets...it's just so much easier being me...atleast for me...does the world in general has a prediliction for complexity, which is sometimes a synonym for pretension.
and it's not that i lie in a pearly sea shell...i've been through a vast number of hardships which life has intermittently belted out. but so what?

title?

ok...so i was wondering...a recurrent past-time...about things in general...so much rubbish happens in the name of "love and relationships" i see it all over, more so in the microcosm of my uni...how about some old fashioned, marshmallow flavoured romance? now i don't know what i mean by that...but sometimes a tiny part of me wishes that life was a little less complex(read:ulterior motive infested} and a little more, well,for the lack a better word, romantic. hmm. people fall in love so indiscriminately...and most often because they are bored...wow, wayyyy to beat the monotony.
also some people write SUCH pretentious academic essays on blogs...
also some friends were just NOT worth it...so glad that's over...at least for the time being...and i thought things were going fine for once.
and i'm haaaaaaappy about several things as well!! life's good. great and delicious////ohh, and i never grow too old for books...they grow up with me...and i just discovered that Tagore and Beatrix Potter have some ideas in common.
and i still lurve beverly clearey...and for some random reason, the name Darla suddenly appeals to me...
ok, would the randomness of this post qualify for the stream of consciousness category?

//

believe me, i loved her,
beneath the feathered skies of a blurred Moon night,
the moon flitting in and out of sight...
protecting our privacy, yet on guard
to ensure all we did was right.
the sands on the beach were listening
to our bare feet shuffling
along
like two crabs
only our grip on love
was not as tight,
as theirs.
the stars were swaying
or was it our heads?
while she was saying
what i'd never said.
and what i never ever managed to say.
that was the last day
i remember with her.
it'll be sixty years ago
this year.

buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.......................

i'm tired and sleepy, exhausted and drained, but still awake cuz' my mind is buzzing with activity...maybe it's the inertia of writing a never ending term paper.i hope the alphabets on the keyboard will lull me to sleep, the clickety sounds will serve as my lullaby. man, is this a cheesy post or what? but remember i'm tired, and this is my own little blog, willing to forgive a few occasional lapses into cheesiness on my part...ok, ok, i know...i should really go...and visit sandman for a spell...aah well.

yay/wail

i had such a great diwali weekend. a complete maelstrom of hurried, flurried activity!! hyper - social as i like to say. so many new people i met, i can't say. i was pampered and stuffed with dish after delelctable dish.hmm. i wish i could have gone for the kali thakur bisharjan with my neighbours. i've been twice and it's a divine feeling, it is. travelling in a rickety open air truck, under a 'fireworks' sky. and then you see whole hordes of other bisharjan groups staring over at your vehicle, and for once you don't mind the stares. you're all a part of an inexplicable, collective process. and then the insistent clamour of the kasha. hmhm. why do i have to write term papers whn i could be enjoying a perfectly poetic, incredibly intoxicating, mesmerisingly memorable night out? ohh and not to forget the chaos on the ganges and the last minute goodbyes to the pratima who has silently accompanied you on your journey. she stays silent though all the festive sounds are occasioned for her. and the wonderful, warm people who feel like family!! and the squeaking balloons we annoy the sound out of on the return journey and the salty taste of warm groundnuts we are always treated to...and finally the delicious warmth of a snuggly bed, after a long, tiring, hard day's night.

unresolved crises

hand in hand
over land
and sea
we
travelled, the
untramelled
bits of the world.
round and round
unbound
and free were we
as we
strolled.
him and me.
we had nowhere to go
but that didn't slow
us down.
not one frown
of worried anger
corrugated our brows
now
was the time to roam
with no desperation
to find a home.
to explore
and create
new homes, in new plots
each in different slots,
each called us with
a different flavoured voice.
ephermeral
seemed better than eternal.
until we had to make that one choice.

bisharjan blues, sharod's hues.

the other day i was curled up on my balcony railing, the sound of valedictory dhaak beats resounding through the air, and i was battling an incurable case of bisharjan blues. this inexplicable(hardly) malady afflicts me without fail on an annual basis. and since i spent most of my pujas pent up at home, things seemed doubly worse. sobsob. i am always comforted, however, by the intoxicating fragrance of the wild chhateem flowers that toss their perfume so indiscriminately into the incense filled air.
the funny thing is that i actually saw Kash phool for the first time on the drive from Mumbai to Pune, and they were the featheriest things i've ever laid my eyes upon...erm, barring feathers. sorry for my newly developed sad sens'o'humour. i am in pune now, and if i could eat the weather i gladly would, it is so delightfully delicious. sigh. the sky is many hued, complex, clear, bright, mysterious, alluring and evasive.
life can be really delectable and deplorable...like the whimsical, half made up mind of a child feeling suddenly capricious and difficult.

i've been up to some prosaic deeds off-late. like mending the undone chain/zipper of my bag. and i really miss the last year, as in pg 1.

left and right the city breeze blows, scattering the scent of the urban rose.

people complain that my blog is devoid of posts...and so it has been of late...i think i'm suffering from emotional anaemia...and every time i think i might just wish to begin liking someone, i suppress it as quickly.

i can't come up with titles

jasmine looked over her wedding jewellery yet another time, sitting on her silent bed, isolated from the boisterous bustle of the rest of her house. the necklace was an ornate affair...a symphony in gold and emeralds...not that she cared much for emeralds...at least that was what she'd told varun on those pleasant evenings which now seemed so distant. her eyes didn't reflect the heaviness of her heart...maybe because she wasn't feeling as bad as one ought to on such occasions...perhaps she was relieved that she was spared the ordeal of an ugly confrontation with her family. or maybe the heavy make up, which was causing beads of perspiration to trickle down and tickle her neck was doing a good job of concealing her grief. she was being given away to an unknown stranger, a man she'd only seen posing against a huge car in a flashy photograph. and to think she used to squirm at the mere mention of an arranged marriage! or had she secretly accepted this as an inevitability, through out the long years she dated varun? maybe latching on to varun was her devised method of keeping this final truth in abeyance? i can't make up my mind. and what am i doing imposing my fertile imagination on a woman who might be a perfectly prosaic, formerly unattached bride? i move away from the open door of her bedroom, leaving her to admire her jewels in peace...and turn away quickly, before my mind concocts a new story.

boo-hoo.

i want to sob into the comforting shoulder of my blog. snifff sniffffffff.

even in the cold glare of the broken neon
her face looked beautiful
bereft
of the glow offered by sunsets and half moons
her beauty remained unviolated
and unchanged...
being of a different breed...
a beauty which doesn't change
with time or settings,
or the frail flicker of Age's flame.

the rant unravels

see, as i've said before, Calcutta really strips the romance out of rain. i've been fervently praying to the weather-workers for a sound drizzle or two, but i had SUCH an experience last night. Mrinalini and I had gone over to the B.C.library and had a fun time immersing ourselves amongst shelves of Romatic writers. then i insisted on maintaining my tradition of whiling a while away at the new-fangled cafe...on descending, we really walked into the heart of a tempest. and it wasn't quite as romantic as it may sound. we waited, exercised varying degrees of optimism, and finally decided to venture out when the shower had waned to a mizzle. but real perils awaited us. we traipsed up and down camac street, jumping over obnoxious puddles...we were both beginning to feel like pendulums, oscillating to the obscure rhythm of Plain Bad Luck. i guess we walked for miles and miles, from stretch to stretch with no taxi in sight. oh and the buses were literally over-flowinf with floods of people crammed in. and i was silly enough to have taken the trouble of leaving my umbrella back home. so we were drenched, dreadfully tired, (we'd had an excruciating exam that morning), and dis-tastefully dis-illusioned. the occasional taxi bluntly refused to accept us as passengers, preferring to take older people, mostly men. i was so hoping we'd run into a friend, a saviour. finally we decided upon using the metro, and then taking an auto to gariahat and finally walked down the last stretch together. gosh!!

hmm

why don't some people call when i want them to?!

"sweet summer sweat?"

How is this summer sweet? t'is most vile!

mmmm hmmm. cravings. pointlesspost. don'tbother.

i want to eat an enormous slice of a very chocolatey cake, replete with pecan icing. i want ice-cream soda with cherries and strawberries, if such sodas exist. well, i want one even if they don't. and i want to have lotsa whipped cream with blue-berries. i could eat an orchard of rosy, sun-kissed apples. i want a sizzler steak. and an oreo-infested, marshmallow invaded ice-cream sundae. i want cold prawn cocktail in a VERY tall glass...wail i want them all now...boo hoo.

Leia's thoughts on Rover

today is probably the last time I'll see you in i don't know how long. years? maybe decades? sigh. i can't believe that we're having to part on this rather incomplete note. you'll never know how i felt during those several intense days, which now seem so distant. but that was when i associated you with my imaginary construction of you. when i found out what you were really like I didn't like you in the same way anymore. maybe i still liked you, but differently, somehow. we never really talked that much, barring the odd occasion or two. and now we hardly even acknowledge each other's presence. that's alright, really. perhaps someday i will get to meet that person whom i imagined you were.

oouchh!!

well, so i'm going through this immensely painful dental treatment!! gosh, why on earth was i endowed with unecessary wisdom? wisdom inevitably equals pain. nothing more. at least when it comes to teeth.

it is so inpossibly, so unbearably hot. i want to fly off to london. why london? i think it's four years of english. and i desperately wish to visit the Lake District, in an attempt to justify my incessant readings of Wordsworth over the past few days.
erm.
i'm a leetel bit tired of UNI...sometimes i wonder if my Department is more "conformist" than it would like to admit...there's this mainstream crowd, of which i'm hardly a part. but then again, who all comprise this crowd, which seems to keep changing, people slipping in and out. or maybe i don't make enough of an effort. i really don't want to be labelled cliquish though. i like making lotsa friends, despite being closer to a few. and there are many with whom i wish i shared a friendship.

and for the last time, why do people still go on about WHY i'm still single? to set the record straight, i'm still rather, well, old-fashioned and anachronistic. i just can't believe in experimental dating. well, yeah, any form of dating is always a sorta experiment, but i jusr don't think i've met Mr. Right-o yet. or maybe i don't know if i have. whatever. but rest assured, hopefully i won't celebrate eternal single-hood. hmm. i just need to meet someone who is worth sharing the perils of a relationship with. lol.

i seriously need to start thinking of what i want to do with/in life. academic? I.R.? author(i want!) sponsored globe -trekker{yes}...not sure...help!

draft

i wait for the sunset, search for the horizon,
Looking for unanswered questions.
why can't i find them when i need to?
around me the roses stir,
aroused by an amorous breeze.
around me the lone fly buzzes,
for once it doesn't irk me.
i'm too ready with answers.
but i can't find those questions,
which had piled up, in
dis-organised stacks.
perhaps,
I'd left them alone too long.
or maybe they were impatient,
and
unwilling to wait a while,
like most people i see around me.
or maybe i'm just lazy.
yes.
that's more like it.
i'm untouched by the beauty of the evening.
dusk descends too soon, obscuring my vision.
ending my search,
while Morpheus casts
an early spell over my eyes.

..!

and also these awesome short stories by agatha christie!!
oohhh, and lotsa beatrix potter!!!

rambling

i read a few books recently:
the kite runner---hosseini
be nice-donald
herland-gilman
the red badge of courage-crane
and two stories by mary liz braddon

grumble grumble:_)

i wish i didn't have to encounter superficial people more often than not. but such is my luck. :-(
i wish certain people wouldn't keep asking me if i was "really" single...geez!
i wish i could write more often. and write readable stuff.
i wish i didn't have to encounter people who like being weird, just for the sake of grabbing attention and making some sorta statement.
i wish some people would actually respect differences and not use them to put others down.

none of the above is to be taken seriously!

khelna--dotara..!

i love anjan dutta's "shunte ki chao..." it's a song i could listen to a million times over! the lyrics and the tune(leonard cohen's "sisters of mercy,"} seems to stir some remote nostalgia lurking in an undetected corner of my soul(?)...

i love joan baez and leonard cohen! :-D...
and the beatles!
and the doors(this isn't an after-thought;)

....

i stare blankly at the moon,
which holds no meaning for me now.
not that it ever did,
coming to think of it.
i imagined, or rather hoped that
a poet in me would emerge, if i
could read strange things into it.
it could help embellish my poems,
like a pretty chain around one's neck.
a dangling ornament.
But it was too haughty, too evasive
and my metaphors too weak
and hackneyed.
other poets have tampered with you enough.
and used you as a handy tool,
for supplying ready-made romance.
maybe it's your soft-pearl glow
against night's impenetrable sky,
that touched many a sensitive soul,
whose quills, pens, key-boards,
reverberate with your name.
I'll turn to the stars instead,
and let you be for a while,
until i'm tempted
to use your alluring charm
one more time.
just this once.

hey there

gosh!! i can't believe i've not written in so long...inertia had cast an unwilling spell on my fingers and mind...i've thought about my blog every day but neglected it all the same...i feel somewhat like an irresponsible parent..lol
in the meanwhile i discovered leonard cohen, who is so absolutely, so indescribably fabulous. WINTER LADY remains my favourite song.
and i've learned that working in groups can be a real challenge, but is also fulfilling.
i quite liked slumdog millionaire...the editing was awesome and though the story was exaggerated, a bit sensational and rather over the top, i found it entertaining...sometimes poignant, sometimes funny, usually both. it was a compelling watch, or so i felt. i didn't think danny boyle was "selling" poverty to the west...it is an inescapable, entirely undeniable truth, which a scattering of designer stores and over-priced cafes can't cover up...india can shine thru' each of its citizens, and learning doesn't stay restricted to the confines of a class-room.
and we've finished three productions of our departmental production...in the course of which i've re-discovered my love for theatre and have fallen in love with "six characters..." this was really one of my most memorable experiences in JUDE so far..maybe i can continue acting!!
oh, and i have a new purple and pink quilt:-)

this was written in a such a rush

Tuesday, October 02, 2007
the colour exercise...chocolate
It had been raining ever since she could remember. Leslie leaned over the sill of the curtainless window and watched the dismal drops drench the narrow alley she would eternally reign over. The ground was covered with the tantalisingly brown, gooey allure of mud--it looked so tempting, just like the molten chocolate which would be sold in that shop with those alarmingly large windows. She remembered the stinging coldness of the glass as she would press her snub little nose against the pane, staring inside with an eager earnestness which made her eyes and mouth water. How very cruel of them to pour a divine delight like that into such narrow, harsh glasses---did not the chocolate feel as numb as her nose felt? How she longed to warm it, to let it trickle through her lips, to tingle her tongue. Once she was caught licking the painfully clean glass windows, and the shop-owner made sure he put an end to her daily, (rather hourly) pilgrimages. Well, she said to herself-she wouldn't have to witness the restriction of her beloved chocolate anymore. Here her own alley was inundated with a munificent deluge of the stuff...oh, she pined to go out and taste it! But would it suit the dignity of a stately queen of the alley to do so? Not in HER dreams.
Posted by dryad at 9:32 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, September 26, 2007

meaningless ranting

i just don't know, and i won't even bother to try. don't ask me why...my mind is a riot of confused colours at the moment...each trying to edge the other out. i really DON'T know what it is that's bothering me.

""""""""

And then he said...
"Let's follow the map of stars and go,
To that lone place only you and I know."

And so we ran...
To watch the soul-thrilling meeting of Sea and Sun,
Merging their bodies till they were one.

and soon we sat,
Beneath the un-intrusive Moon
On the soft, yielding sand---
While all the while did he croon
Magical Melodies as he clasped my hand.

And soon we lay
Our eyes searching the sky for a poem.
While the snow-capped waves bathed our feet,
Gently washing away our heat........

I knew this wouldn't, it couldn't last...
But little did I know that
The spell would break so fast...

And then he went on saying...
"Help me choose a gift for my girl-friend."

well,

i've realised that most of the poems on my blog are results of idle typing exercises...and i should seriously post the stuff i invest so much more of my energy into. anyway, i had a youthforDI meeting today and i thoroughly enjoyed myself...we're making plans for visiting a senior citizens' home soooon. and we might put up a goofy dance show...
i had a macaroon tart after ages today, and gosh it felt good.
i want to resume learning bharatnatiyam again...lesseee

this is something i wrote at 15!

in retrospect, i shall call it "An exercise in exaggertion."

My love is like a shooting star,
Sent down by the pale moon:
Gleaming like a heap of fine gold,
Upom a silver spoon!

I shall never stop loving "thee"
Let the moon in Seas' drown:
My heart's bonded to yours for-ever,
If the world goes up-side down.

If silver souls meet together,
To form a Golden Heart,
ours will merge with one another,
Till from this world we part.

In Eternity, my fondest love,
Search not for my soul:
For i'll be within YOU, my love,
We'l exist as one whole.

tee-hee...:::::-----------PPPPPP

" "

the evening slithered into the fountain,
Like a surreptitious serpent.
why didn't you cry out then?
it is too late to exorcise your waters,
they are coloured by streaks of twilight,
which make you so opaque.
so unreadable. so confused.
you weren't like this before.
but it isn't as late as you think.

uh-oh!!

i think i might be beginning to lose some of that idiosyncratic Idealism and my "childhood's faith."
"I've tried the world, it wears no more, the colouring of Romance it wore."
And like a certain Miss Shirley, i'm immediately comforted by the romance in the IDEA of a world devoid of romance.
yes, i'm incurable and you shan't disillusion me.

some of my favourite poems...

LA FILGLIA CHE PIANGE
ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE
KUBLA KHAN
THE EMPEROR OF ICE-CREAM
THE GARDEN---POUND
TO HIS COY MISTRESS
SHAKESPEARE'S 73RD
ULYSSES
PRUFROCK
MY LAST DUCHESS
MEETING AT NIGHT
" HOW DO I LOVE THEE?"...E.B.B.
SO WE'LL GO NO MORE -A-ROVING
OZYMANDIAS
THE OLD VICARAGE....
AND MANY, MANY, MANY MORE

crazystuff

The shop was old, its wares unsold,
The old man bent over the counter.
A fly buzzed in, and perched on a tin
Which would trap the milk-powder for-ever,
Till it was powder no more,
but lumps of time-hardened strangeness.

i'm confused, but mostly happy.

i wonder and ponder if...

...an Idealist never be a Pragmatist? Will Helen Schlegel always remain in opposition to the likes of Mr. Wilcox?

erm, excuse the bad poetry, but i'm tired and confused, yet determined to let out my muddled thoughts.

The sky is blushing, the birds are rushing,
Night's curtain will soon unravel,
the sun to another land will travel:
the purple cloud shrugs and sighs,
And hurriedly says a few good-byes,
as it won't be there when the sun returns,
so it cries and cries and cries...
though it has no eyes...

The sky is blushing, the birds are rushing,
Night's curtain will soon unravel,
the sun to another land will travel:
The purple cloud shrugs and sighs,
And hurriedly says a few good-byes
it won't be there when the sun returns...
so it cries and cries and cries,
though it has no eyes....
and before its time it dies.

A murmur of bees breaks my thoughts,
Their incessant buzzing murders my ideals,
The butterfly flaps its wings on my eye-lids, and
brushes away the drops.

Tonight i'll let you go, though YOU know,
we never belonged to one another,
My imagined memories of our togetherness
scatter across the leaf strewn walk
of life.

I can only hope that one leaf
won't Fall...like most of the others will.

untitled

i'm so exhausted and exhilerated all at once!! i've read far too much biography for one day...and waves of some indescribable emotion are breaking upon me, as my eyes wander over the pages chronicling keats's life...i think it's sadness...a painful, harrowing sadness...had he any way of knowing that a girl in india, would experience such a rich multitude of emotions, on reading about his life, almost two centuries later? of course he hadn't...but the thought of it feels so strange...will any of our lives induce such feelings in the minds of unknown others? who is to tell.

i LOVE keats with a passion of sorts!I am both allured and repelled by biographies though!! they really inspire me with a vague sense of poignant empathy. okies, i'm basically writing rubbish to wiggle away from studying, so n'more for now!! i have a test tomorrow...and reams of notes to wade thru,. :----------------------( my looong face.

LOL

i wonder if "you know who" reads this blog...and i'm NOT speaking of Voldemort.

*sniffle*

i have a horrid cold!!!
i realised that i still love jim morrison's genius:

"no eternal reward shall forgive us now, for wasting the dawn."
"i love the friends i have gathered together on this thin raft...we have constructed pyramids in honour of our escaping."
"unhappy girl, left all alone, playing solitare, playing warden to your soul, you are caught, in a prison, of your own devise."
"don;t you love her ways...don't you love her as she's walking out the door...like she did one thousand times before." ...sigh...
i loved the dark knight...wanna watch it again...felt real bad about heath l....i really like jake gyllenhaal as well!!! loved brokeback mountain...though i did watch a censored version...loved the last scene...

i talked to school chum of mine today, and was so relieved to realise that we're STILL kindred spirits, to use an anne-ish metaphor. it was great catching up with her, and we had so much to talk about though we live in different continents!! the atlantic ocean hasn't come between us.
so i just realised that we live in a world of crass and blatant materialism...i mean, i did know it all along, but it really sstruck me when i read this bill-board hoarding which said something like...aajkal lok sabe pehle kapre dekhte"...and then you hear all that nonsense about "inner beauty" at those pageants!! indeed!!
television is such an irritant...apart from history channel and discovery travel and living..

whta i meant to say is, life doesn''t offer you the luxury to ponder over the past...

:---------P

I couldn't stop my thoughts from wandering through memory avenue...life tries to teach you many things...it's taught me not to indulge in nostalgic reminisces too often...it's a tough lesson, though. those moments i might have cherished the most, may have faded into insignificance for those who i spent them with. things which are apparantly insignificant fascinate me...but at times, the very people who i've built my memories with forget about the trysts of the past...like my friend ? who i used to be very close to...and spent lots of fun times with...but over the past 2 years we lost touch, and the even pleasant memories hurt more than please...we still talk occasionally, but its not the same...maybe that's one of the lessons an International School teaches you...people come and go...breaking the complacence of eternal friendship...but having said that, i'm lucky to have a multitude of friends scattered across the globe!
i suddenly remembered my first ever 0--Level exam...a Math. paper...the collective jitters, the nervous excitement, Mrs. Chatterjee's re-assuring face...and that was just the first of many, many more exams i've had to write since.
certain people have such weird conceptions of what a student of an International school SHOULD be like...and these are the very people who rally against stereotypes.

shuld it have been " why HAVE the monsoons been stripped of romance?

why has the monsoon been stripped of romance?

i'll tell you......i had to wade through a vile brew of water today...with heaps of garbage floating around...eww, i don't wish to elaborate!! they should do something about the deplorable condition of the roads...the state of this city's streets...the lack of civic sense is unbelievable...i feel like emptying gallons of phenyl around the place. I find it very difficult to weave romantic metaphors around rain anymore. but the claps of thunder were sky shattering today!
i have a presentation due tomorrow!!!!!!!! on pirandello!!!!!!! eeeeeeps!!

busy beeeeeeeee meeeeeeeeee

yes, i know...i've been away from my blog for ever so long...and i suffer secret pangs of guilt more often than one would think...but i've really had no time to write...weel, now that i've apologisd to myself, i can proceed. i've been caught up in a whirlpool of activity....what with copious amounts of italian verbs floating around in my mind, salsa lessons with a generous dollop of the sprains which accompany them, play readings and all my classes at university, i've been so swamped....i can't even think straight, i'm so tired...but i've caught a few films, which i'll def. talk about soon! i wonder how those bees manage? but oh well, it's the honey which matters in the end!

i'm back!

i' back from a week's worth o' vacation...last week found me drenched in the sea-bathed air of Puri...admittedly it's not one of my favourite places...because i spend most of my time readig whenever I visit----which is not what one does on an exciting vacation...at least, not until bed-time. but i had a seriously great time this year. this could be partly attributed to the scorching, sweltering and uncomfortably un-numbing weather of cal....the sandy beach was an alluring golden, grainy yet smooth, warm and welcoming, yielding beneath my feet. the snow-capped waves breaking upon the shore, as they have been for time immemorial, as they will be through the many hours to come. i was overwhelmed by the thought of the sea being so old, and yet so new, as though it kept re-inventing itself through its constant motion. so vast, yet usually so much in command of itself.
hmmmm.......
i watched this particular movie a few days ago...i was told that it was one of it's kind...i was exceedingly diappointed...not only did I find the movie incredibly pretentious while seeming to not be so, i found it lacked the depth which it aspired towards. it tried to achieve the subtle intensity of a classiclike Roman Holiday, but failed where it tried the most. the characterisation was superficial, the "best original screenplay" unimpressive, without a trace of originality...and i also found it rather sexist. the failure to understand another's culture was portrayed in as appaling a way as celluloidly possible.

my menagerie

this has been my week of weeks...admittedly, adopting animals on my blog gives me less than a vicarious thrill, but thrills all the same! i've had so much going on in my life, but i wonder how much of it i can post...and all of a sudden, there's a whole host of books i wish to read, at once!
catching up with old friends is always interesting...and re-discovering friendships even more so!

adopt your own virtual pet!

random snippets of my desultory days.

the other day i was having pizza with Isheeta., who named it a post-colonial pizza. some alliteration, hunh?
have been accompanying my mum to the bazaar...and the weather, well, let's just say it hasn't been gorgeous.
been reading many books...i think i should get back to revising my italian.
i want to visit mexico. we have great people to stay with. but the airfares are too steep.
everything has become ridiculously expensive, owing to the much talked about phenomenon of inflation---i've been rather appalled, to say the least.
i have a busy weekend ahead.
i haven't written a poem in days.
i think last semester's academic work has really had quite a profound influence over moi...lines by emily dickinson, mary coleridge and even aime cesaire keep drifitn about in my mind! no one's complaining though.
i shall resume swimming in a day or two.
i want to read the murder of roger ackroyd. oh, and i FINALLY read the murder on the orient express, and i've figured out why it is such a big deal.
what else? lots more, actually, but am feeling really indolent.

innocuous questions, with no real answers.

what is beauty? can we ever break free of its pre-defined, restricting defintions?
can beauty and brains be reconciled?...believe or not, most people think they are mutually exclusive. this is a tried and tested qs.

is there really only ONE person who is meant to be your soul-mate? what if you don't find him/her in time, which, according to thomas hardy, happens more often than not.
why are there so many break-ups, i ask, aware of sounding naive.

if every thing is dependent on money, why can't MINTS work over-time, along with the people who slog it out in the rat -race.

i have lots more to write, but am running short of time, so more later.

i'm going through a strongly feminist phase. or am i? maybe i'm just refusing to take for granted those very things which a patriarchal society has so effortlessly ingrained within it. i have also begun to feel very strongly for the post-colonial cause. lol . ;-P

the past month...chronicles of the april that was...

i shall begin with an honest declaration! owing to my myriad exams, i have had very little time to spare for blogging. i had to crouch over sheafs of sheets and reams of notes all of last month, trying to figure out a semester's worth of work. i've finally been released from the fetters of examinations, and am freeeeee to ponder! i'm upset! i was meant to visit a very favourite uncle of mine this year. in new jersey. but i've been careless, and not having booked tickets on time, to my horror, airline prices have sky -rocketed over the last three months, leaving me unable to visit this year. wail. oh well. but i'm still hoping for some sort of get-away, i'm feeling rather stultified in this city...and the hideous weather is doing nothing to help. but one consolation is that....it is that time of the year, when my dear ol' school pals are down on vacation....and i spend lotsa time with 'em///not every one's here this time round, though...some of them have just begun to get jobs...wow...big shots and all...lol....but i'm having fun with those of us who are here....we watched il postino today...great, great film...though it was prix's second viewing, and she got bored towards the end....and accused me of being the same...while i was engrossed...and ysrday we wnt to that dreaded place again...F----M, but we didn't geta place to sit....nothing unusual...
besides which life has been rather complicated ...as i'm beginning to realise that human beings are averse to the idea of leading simple, happy lives and love complications. erm.
ad then there's been swimming.
i bought a philip pullman - authored book yesterday.

and reading aurora leigh.
at one gathering.............


an uncle: "jadavpur-e meyera cigarette khaye...chhee, chhee, ki baaje"
ami: "chhelera khaye, shetao toh jaachhe tayi baapar"

did i mention being teased out o' my wits?

what have i been busy doing?

writing short stories and pondering for hours for suitable titles
helping out with the organic utsav
attending family re-unions
eating lunch at seminars
reading, reading, reading(the latest being "many stones"...am currently reading "odd women."
meeting new people
finding new friends
using the metro on my own
talking to old friends
acquiring loadsa new words...{the newest being "lyadh"---a favourite among one and all as of now
discussing films
thinking about I.R.
thinking about my term paper
playing with kids

i wish life was less complicated. human beings are very complex. trying to clear something just muddles it up all the more. oh gosh! am exhausted. busy week, and restless sunday. hmm.

dog-talk

i can't see my dog anywhere on the campus of late. the one with the pink nose who used to shake off his slumber whenever i was anywhere near, honest!
i was so shaken to see this other black and white dog, a regular on our side of the campus, suffering from a horrible skin infection of sorts...i am afraid i don't know too much about the veterinary sciences, but something ought to be done. yesterday it was trying to lie down on its side, but flies kept buzzing around the site of infection and the poor thing was almost out of its mind in agony!
i remember when i was 7 years old i had a best friend in my neighbour's dog, sherpa...i loved how he used to almost eagerly await our evening saunters on the mayfair road terrace, how he used to jump all over me and how intelligent he was. incidentally, he was a spitz.

long time no post

i'm back to being an unproductive blogger. but i really haven't CHOSEN to be lazy of late. i've just been crazy busy...with tests, course work, thinking about not thniking about term papers, and of course the organic utsav. i'm so glad i've begun to involve myself with all sorts of social and environmental work. i'd always , always wanted to but had never quite figured out where and with who to begin. lately some seniors of my departent have been really wonderful and welcoming and so now i'm wrapped up pretty much most of the time. and then of course there are my italian classes. we were asked to finish 22 exercises over the week and just as i wrote out the last answer of the last exercise, with a smile of smug satisfaction on my face, i was told by a friend that we had to do 25 and not 22. sigh. i haven't yet gotten around to finishing them yet. yesterday i watched chak de india again! kabir khan is one terribly interesting and abominably attractive character. this is the first, first movie i actually loved srk in. he wasn't srk playing kabir, he was really kabir khan, incidently played by srk. why am i rambling such rubbish?
the other day i wormed out of attending a lecture in the A.V. room and have been feeling rather ashamed ever since. consience, conscience, conscience. when i grow up a leeetle bit more i'll keep a pup.

Movie Reviews. Or an attempt at them. in fact, nothing of the sort.

Shakespeare in Love----most people have been refusing to believe that i watched the movie for the first time ever this february. i am so taken with it. i think my many courses on the elizabethan stage and theatre really helped me creep into the skin of the film. and whenever i read will's plays now, the image of jo fiennes has to keep floating arond in my mind. the screenplay was so brilliant! one of my favourite plays by the bard is romeo and juliet, i can actually {seriously} rattle it off by heart! heheheh, boy, that sounds modest. gwenyth paltrow was seriously good as viola. the entire construction of this imagined love story was fabulous. sigh. who cares about historical accuracy? the same applies to jodhaa akbar. why are people pulling it apart because it isn't 100 per cent historically accurate. the art of the story teller lies in his own re-creation of certain historical moments.

the grass is so green now. as green as the fat little catterpillar I pain-stakingly lured on to a leaf in school when i was 6. this was in 18 Lee Road. sigh. and what of the time we buried a butterfly which had died owing to its wing being caught on a shard of glass
/ it was so soft, fragile. so delicate. that was over 14 years ago. it has probably been rolled over and over in earth's many diurnal courses since. like worsworth's lucy, only i didn't know of lucy, or wordsworth then. the following day a band of us marched over to the burial spot and dug the place up to see if the butterfly had gone to heaven. we had no doubt that it would. but then i suddenly saw its white-streaked wings greet my unbelieving eyes. that was my first ever encounter with disillusionment.

i was such a shy, shy girl in my first years of school. gosh. i'd be homesick all the time, longing for my mum's soft hands to cling on to. once i started weeping so much, my teachers got annoyed enoygh to call home. and then there was my nose fascination. i was sooo very obsessed with noses. it's still there, i suppose. the first thing i notice in a person is the nose. distinct noses really attract moi.

this is such a weird post. so desultory and aimless. kothay theke kothay chole jachhe. the surprising thing is i'm not embarassed by the embarrasing moments of my childhood. i quite miss them. those were the days. lol.

i feel so funny today. my mind is in quite a turbulent state. things are not hunky dory. old "friendships" are crumbling...i'm awakening to the horrid realisation that most of these relationships were not real at all. i never conform to peer pressure, i have always enjoyed being myself, being lost in my thoughts and ideals, but i suddenly feel alienated. i have so many people i love around me. i am getting to know so many more people. but certain things are bothering me. i hope i can face up to them. hmmm. initially i placed academics at the centre of my universe. now i find myself incessantly pondering over things i never assigned much importance to. oh well.

lil' tubs

adopt your own virtual pet!

j.a.---jodhaa akbar!
s---sawaariya

the evening is quivering with potential..this line gets stuck in my head whenever i'm confined indoors on particularly pink evenings with violet skies and perfumed breezes. when the songs of the cuckoo are rivalled by the croaks of crows. hmm. not that i can't go out for a bit. but i'm enamoured by a certain someone. a certain brilliant actor. i don't knoow what others thought, but i LURVED j.a. it was a haunting film. i think every emotion was played out so very well...finely tuned acting...it was more than "acting"...it transcended the confines of the word...just like the Sufi musicians. a.r.b. was brilliant too. i actually found her terrific in h.d.d.c.s. most people i notice are averse to the opulent grandeur of sb's films, but i am quite fascinated by them. whereas most people didn't have too many good things too say about 's,' i found it magical. poetic, yet sordid, real yet fabricated, a perfect allegory on the film world itself, where one has to fight it out, not depend on one's predeccors and carry one's own recommendation and no one else's. even if the already established actor sweeps the girl away in the end, the struggling actor keeps boxing his way into the realm of cinema. one of my favourite scenes of h.d.d.c.s. was when s.k.'s character kept refusing the food a.r. was offering him by pushing the spoon away and the way in which she kept raising the spoon with unflickering patience. now how did i get from J.A. to S.B.'s films? hmmm.

sleeepy is what i am.

some "walk the line" fans will recognise the title a quote from the film. that's not very important though. it was a rather inconspicuous line. i am so tired. i finally, finally managed to deposit my fees after an agonising wait of three LONG hours. if i don't stay on at JUDE for my masters this was probably the last time i put myself through this ordeal...but it's not only me...we all suffer collectively. but we do learn a thing or two in the art of patience. and feel a wave of satisfaction break over us at the end of it all. oh well. i missed two classes owing to all this aajke. i was a bit coss. but not very. i hope i stay on here, at JU, but i'm not entirely sure. i have a passionate love for the literary realm, but i was an ardent lover of biochemistry as well. lessseeee. i don't think i'll go back to the sciences though. i HATED it when people used to assume that just because i was equally interested in the sciences, and pleased the world with my grades, that i'd never step into the field of arts. i despise this derogatory attitude toward the arts which is ever so prevalent. people just betray thier ignorance by speaking such rubbish. sooo many people were soooo shocked when i didn't pursue the sciences. but then again i wasn't overly fond of physics. i liked reading the theory of physics but i HATED writing exams, and never got over a B in my o, A/S and A2 levels. chemistry was GREAT. i miss miss miss it. and i lURVE bio. what was i talking of? well, after my B.A. i might study International Relations. i'm not sure though. things are looking very vague. Very.
i was missing school today. it's been over 3 years since i joined uni and all, but oh well.
i want to watch jodhaa akbar. i am quite fascinated by h. roshan. he's so wonderful. hehe.
i want to watch AMADEUS. i'll try and buy a copy.

there is music in the air tonight,
the candles flicker in their shadowy light
the lone owl, with a piercing howl,
has spread its wings and taken flight.

there is music in the air tonight,
the wind whispers with all its might
the moon glows, as if it knows
the dark world infested with its pale light.

thoughts.

i was thinking of making a list of places i'd like to visit or re-visit. i didn't know where to start. France used always to top my list. Paris. not for the sole purpose of visiting jim morrison's grave, though some of my friends insisted that was why. i love the very idea of the quaint little road-side cafes with tiny tables and scraping chairs. the tiny Parisian book stores i've heard so much of. there's no missing the splendour of the eiffel tower. and the seine. and ofcourse the memories of Napleon strewn all over the place. and oscar wilde's grave. to say nothing of the cheese and the clothes, though i'll probably have to restrict myself to shop window gazing.
what of italy? i watched this episode of INNtimate escapes and am so enamoured by this place called Asolo. a leetle place which was once inhabited by the Brownings. it is an epitome of the idyllic. so verdant, vibrant, greeeeen, and a train ride away from Venice! and i've wanted to go to Florence ever since i've read and LOVED a room with a view.
well, now i feel like keeping the list for a bit of a hold and speaking of other things. my Italian classes are scheduled to start tomorrow. lessee how those will go. i want to visit my school...i saw it from afar today and i can't believe i haven't been able to visit the place even once. i REALLY miss 18 Lee road though. it's so ironic most people from CIS want to meet up at the forum because it unintentionally provides a weak, weak link. that dear old bungalow. with memories stowed away in every unimaginable corner. the fish tank. the math shed. the field being out of bounds ever so often. the art room. the ice-cream dada. the jhaal muri dada. the porch. the dreaded assemblies. the red-roofed hut in the nursery garden. sigh. all this has been levelled to a mammoth parking lot. wow. people have given me very mixed reviews about the new school. i stubbornly refuse to love it. but it seems convenient, and big and spacious. erm.

twen-teen.

i'm twenteen years old. yes, you read right. i don't suppose it's possible to stop feeling like a teenager just because you turn twenty. growing out of adolescence is a more gradual process, ain't it? it's hard to lure oneself away from the enticing allure the teen years can offer. high school and university are the most fascinating years ever...there's SO much to learn...academically indeed. and otherwise. every one seems to be enlightened about the ways of the world as a collective whole.
i've been attnding many interesting classes of late. i LOVE my Tempest classes. i don't know why i feel rather nervous before posing questions, though my professor is the most brilliantl and most encouraging ever!!!! i think the tempest offers one of the most ambiguous conclusions EVER! prospero's art doesn't prove to be entirely efficacious as it cannot penetrate the sinister realm inhabited by antonio and sebastian. also, if they've tried their hand at ousting the monarch twice {both times unsuccesfully, as Prospero does eventually return and alonso is not murdered} there is little guarantee that they won't try it once again. miranda welcomes the court party exceedingly warmly and thinks very well of them...misguided judgement...one hopes she is not as deceived about apotheosising[??] Ferdinand.
okies, enough of this literary talk for the time being.
the weather's nice today. i tried sushi at south city for the first time today! i can't believe i didn't try any in thailand. oh well. we were supposed to have another school friends meet up today. the last day at haldiram's was awesome. i felt like "debu" again...but today's meet didn't happen.

fairy tale no more? (cinderella na!]

That very first time Ella had visited Quay Beach a strange notion had hoisted itself on to the sails of her mind, which seemed to be fluttering to the newly blowing breeze of love. It was the first time they’d taken a trip as a family which had been glued together by a terrible mistake---her dad, step-mom and Anna and Drizzy. Ella had realized soon enough that this marriage, made upon her aunt’s insistence that Ella ought to grow up with a mother around her, was making her father miserable. Macy was so self-centred, to say nothing of her obsession with extravagance. Dizzy was not too bad to be with when she was alone, but was at her vicious best when she was around the tyrannical Anna, which was most always. Her stepsisters and Macy manage to drain her dad’s indefatigably jovial spirit and drilled a big, ugly hole in his pocket.

But she’d met John, the Hotelier’s son, a millionaire by birth, who took a fancy to the wide-eyed, shy Ella from almost the minute he set his eyes upon her. She recalled with nostalgic relish their midnight rambles on the moon-bathed sands, listening to her dad’s funny anecdotes, when John would laugh in his sudden, frank way, catch Ella’s eye and fall quiet almost at once. Anna and Drizzy had hardly taken notice of the scrawny boy with a mop of unkempt hair, who seemed to be willing to walk on his head to please Ella, and liberally bestowed looks of cold disdain upon rich Mr. Harrison’s stupid young son.

That long ago night when Ella came down with a fever, her dad had rushed out for a doctor, while Macy and her daughters attended the annual beach party hosted by the Harrisons’. John Harrison had sat down by her side and read her a story about a nightingale and a rose. Maybe it was the gesture, or the story, more likely both, which had made her sniffle and cry, her tears rapidly rolling down her hot, flushed cheeks, while she kept willing her nose to not water. A disconcerted John tried to make her laugh by twisting his face into the most bizarre contortions, but Ella began fearing an epileptic attack on his behalf and howled even louder,

Ella smiled a sad little smile. Those long—forgotten days which had opened up unknown thoughts and puzzling feelings had long been buried in the past. Her dad used to often tell her that her life would turn out to be a fairy-tale, and Ella’s romantic mind had believed him…foolishly, she now thought. She could never forgive her dad for walking out on her three years ago, but she still reads the letter he’d written her, assuring her of a rosy life ahead and asking her to forgive him, telling her that it was impossible to live on with Macy who refused to grant him a divorce until he agreed to leave Ella out of his will, and that he’d be back as soon as he could find a legal way out of this problem. Ella often wondered why he didn’t return; didn’t he love her as much as she’d thought? This had been the year after the summer at Quay-Beach, but Macy insisted on returning there to keep her summer tryst with the rich and fancy, evidently unaffected by her husband’s sudden desertion. Mr. Waters hadn’t taken a penny away with him, and this often worried Ella. How and where was he living? she often asked herself, with no inkling of an answer. The thought of Quay-Beach, had, however, delighted Ella, though she feigned indifference. Both she and John had decided not to write to one another so that they’d have a store of things to talk about when they next met, which Ella had known would be soon, knowing Macy. It surprised her that Macy turned out to be more predictable than her dad.

At first her family had talked of leaving her behind, making Ella’s heart take several frightened leaps, but Macy was struck with the vague fear that her dad might return and abrew trouble in their absence. “Looks like you’ll have to tag along, after all,’ she’d drawled, dripping contempt. John would be there, Ella had gladly thought, her Prince Charming, who’d stirred that abstruse emotion in her heart, the thought of whom was all it took to make Ella believe her life wasn’t as bad as it had begun to seem. Then the bomb had dropped. Anna managed to fail her annual exams, Drizzy secured an F in math, and Ella accrued a decent number of decent grades. Macy saw a lot of the colour red, was hopping mad and promptly cancelled Ella’s secretly sought trip as a sign of reproach to her daughters. Ella was more than a bit surprised at her step-mom’s taking academics
so seriously, and felt slightly re-assured that she didn’t know Macy so well after all.

It’s been four years since she’d first met John at 15, and now she’s sure he has long forgotten that distant, perhaps inconsequential summer.

The door-bell rings. A letter arrives. Trembling fingers tear open the envelope with an impatience that would rival a five year old’s on Christmas Eve. Ella can’t believe her eyes, and neither can Anna and Macy... She’s gotten through to the law college she’d set her eyes on ever since her dad had taken flight. Macy looks rather scared; she lives in perpetual fear that Ella’s dad will come back and turn her out, {having found a legal way out of the problem} and to have a full-fledged lawyer on the other side of the family was more than an unpleasant thought. “Don’t work yourself too hard.” She says weakly. “I’ll have to, I’m on scholarship!” Ella smiles. She gets along fine with Drizzy now, who gives her a big, rather clumsy bear hug. Life’s not so bad after all, Ella thinks. After all, wasn’t there romance in the idea of a long lost child-hood love? Maybe she’d earn enough go back to Quay-Beach herself one day, maybe John would have changed beyond recognition, maybe he wouldn’t recognize her and maybe she wouldn’t really mind anymore.

life as it seems.

relationships. that's the most confusing word in my dictionary as of now. i don't know what to think of them. i'm thinking of the romantic kind. i've never really been involved in one. i'm a hopeless idealist and an incurable romantic. my first crush happens to be Napoloeon...hehe...the picture of him as a young artillery officer mingled with his strategic military exploits really enchanted moi. hehe. well, as of now i'm a bit confused. i've had enough of falling in love with fictional, historical and celluloid characters...{well, not quite, i was raving about jake gyllenhaal and george gordon{ L.B.} all day today}...i don't know. maybe i'm very fastidious. that's what others think. i don't really think so. erm...i don't let it on when i like someone, who might even like me back. i guess i can come across as pretty unreadable. but oh well, that's just me i suppose. do i regret the way i am ? maybe. sometimes. it's not like i havn't had my share of healthy real life crushes! i don't like to get over people too easily. it doesn't harm me, in fact i quite like lingering over my feelings. okies, now i'm rambling.

blogging at last.

i'm beginning to think that i'm the most miserably lazy person in this whole round world...erm, i've been meaning to post on this ever-untouched blog of mine since the beginning of the year. perhaps i should give up on resolutions all together. to be honest, i know very little about blogging. what does one write? how much does one let go of oneself? where does one start? s and lashing currents before

i'll start with something really random. this is a poem i wrote abot three years ago. i wonder what people think of it. here goes, i guess:

WINTER SUNSHINE


Warmth within you which feeds my soul,
Engulfing the cold waves which did flow
In harsh torrents and lashing currents
before your light did glow.

slanting rays like strings of a harp,
enclose me in your music soft:
so i may croon your eternal tune,
when you are hidden by star-time's loft."

i'll write the next two verses later.

thre is music in the air tonight

This poem is extremely urbane - far removed from days of the yore