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