I trace the edge of the door with my jittery finger. I'm wondering whether to push it slightly and enter or whether to draw back and close it softly. What right do I have to know what goes behind closed doors? Am I a voyeur? No, I'm just neurotic. So I stand at the door - quietly with my head bowed down.

If there's a thought fox, couldn't there be a thought room?

your eyes open as softly as buds open into flowers at dawn...it is dawn...consciousness comes tapping your senses...the warm shoulder that your chin rests upon...the hands that tuck the stray strands of your hair behind your ear...the fingers which trace your lips and pry your chin down a little...the lips that envelope and caress yours...

your eyes open as softly as buds open into flowers at dawn...it is dawn...it is also a dream...dreams end, desires don't...

the longest streets, desire that never ends - thom gunn

too many colours
vivid
vibrant
and all in vain

too many colours
i sprayed
to disguise
the dark blotches of pain

too many colours
i stepped back
i stared and realized
i like it plain

I may not be the centre of The Universe:P:) but I do feel like I'm shining in our own glittering galaxy. Thank you, dear all.

Why me? I'm not saying that because something has gone wrong yet again. I'm not saying that because I'm feeling stuck in a rut. I'm not saying that because I feel like I'm being picked on. I'm saying it because I feel chosen, chosen..not like hand picked apples but like I've been marked to smile all the while. Why me? Again, a silent cheer for him, for translating my sore throat to a soaring high and for finding the way to the post office. For me. And one for my Mum. For the two people, who care the most to see me smile.

Karunanidhi made some hugely offhand comments on Ram sparking off violence against Tamilians in Bangalore. Two people died in the bus that was set ablaze. The papers said one of them was tipsy and our CM said "we're looking into it."

Nobody even mentioned a monetary compensation.

India just won the T20 world cup. After all the pomp and show and talking about how the young India is making waves, news flashes across the screen say-

" The state government awards a sum of 5 lakh each to Venkatesh Prasad and Robin Uthappa."

Just where is the sense??!!

Lo and behold! The kirrket mania takes off yet again. This is one post I can’t help writing owing to my sincere contempt ( what did you think?!) for the game.Far more popular for the most profoundly ridiculous “issues” related to it than for the game itself, cricket takes the cake for being at the apex of a long long list of things Indians lay way too much emphasis on. I’m sure cricket’s one factor that’s hindering India from getting to that elusive double digit growth rate and even if it isn’t, I’d like to believe this all the same because I’ve heard people tell my dad “aap office ja rahe ho?! Aaj to India vs Pakistan hai na!” Not that my dad cares any less for cricket than this person.

Test cricket reminds me of people on their deathbeds. And worse!
Because death will come but a test match holycrap it never ends! And one day which basically means a waste of one whole day which could’ve been a fun Sunday otherwise. You’d think that was enough but no, the Universe really has no sympathy for me, because now we have a new aberration, lo and behold, T20. From whatever little I have had to see of that game per force, I’d say we were better off playing gilli danda. A big cheer for the bunch of cricketing clowns hitting left right and centre with their bats like there’s no tomorrow. They come, they run, they throw, they hit, they roll, they catch, they sledge but for a shorter period of time.

It could be a mating ritual for all you know.

Surprisingly, even mating takes a backseat with cricket on because our quintessential cricket crazy man can’t make love with one eye ogling at his TV and another at his biwi. And even if he could,I pray with all my might that the woman has enough gumption to hit the remote wham! on his head. This would hopefully bring him back to the mother earth and yeah, the cricket field because if he doesn’t sit around and pout heated instructions, what will happen to Team India’s match?!

I dragged my numb being into the shower hoping to feel, to feel something, to feel anything at all. Turning the water on I waited for it to wash away my tears. The water weaved its way through my hair; it felt nice. Just nice. Not comforting. I wondered where I’d find the comfort I sought, the caress I craved to feel, the state of being which would make me want to rise from bed every morning. I wondered. As I dived into thoughts of despair, he took a naughty peek. I was yet to learn that familiarity doesn’t necessarily breed contempt, I liked people from a distance, that’s all I had to offer. So, I shoved him out. Well, I tried to. But he felt nice, he felt close, he felt like nothing I’d felt before. Why? Because he’s like nobody I’ve known. He was willing to take me for me – bitter, bare and broken as I was then. Oh how good that made me feel! But I was in denial. I showered in cold water, spent colder nights till I was numbed out by life.

Then he took a second peek. And came closer. I felt the caress and I knew nothing else mattered. I welcomed him. The water flowing inbetween us didn’t seem cold any longer; it injected life into me. As the bubbles of soap melted away into water so did the million invisible walls in my mind. I hadn’t just welcomed him into my arms, I’d welcomed life itself.

Now, I see beauty in things I’ve seen for years and I see beauty in people I’ve known for long. Beauty which earlier went unnoticed because I was too busy seeing the ugly. Now, I have hearty meals ( well, more than hearty perhaps), I wake up with a shining smile, I laugh an almost insane amount and most importantly, I feel, I feel alive. Paradoxically, he ushered life into my life. A silent cheer for someone who makes the my most mundane days beautiful, for someone who makes my biggest burdens seem like a bag of trash, for someone who drives me mad with his verbal antics, for someone who always keeps me guessing, for someone who’s been reading stuff up for a presentation that I have next week and on and on. Nothing should feel this good.

And, a big thank you to everyone who’s genuinely happy for me. Thank you for completing my happy picture.

As beautiful days whiz by, as marked weeks melt away into the past time hits you wham in the face you console your self saying look baby you're living a happy dream. It's the best life could give you. But the worst part about living your big happy dream is that you're living a dream.

Eighteen, but with the attention span of an eight year old I sauntered into the auditorium wishing almost whole heartedly to be somewhere else. Just the thought of being restricted to one square feet of space for two hours irked me. Just when the two hours went by, I don't know. I've precious little experience of what plays are like but this one play changed it all. Unsuni, so apt and more importantly, so moving. Tracing issues like leprosy, communal violence, the cause of street children and the most hitting one - that of the manual scavengers, the play just left me feeling like one more of those hedonistic messed up idiots who feel their own problems are the biggest and those who've been taught to and who continue to insulate themselves from people whose sole problem is living itself. The play talked about this woman who spent fourteen years carrying upto 10 kgs of shit on her head having picked it up with her own bare hands. Can we even imagine how repulsive that would be? We can't. We're nicely cushioned and tucked away into our own little worlds, living our life with this feigned sense of well- being about the world, soothing our conscience saying "ah it's okay, someone else will pay that kid some money" when a kid taps our car windows at the crossing. We're ignorant, we're indifferent and we're callous. And that one bit of reluctant realization makes you and me just as good as the pile of shit that woman cleared away day after day. Maybe this sounds harsh right now, maybe I won't feel like this by dinner tonight but maybe the realization will get me somewhere.

i'm severing ties
enough veneers
enough covert whispers
enough feigned feelings
i'm severing ties
for good

hmmm...
she wonders and listens
to a song...a hap hap happy song
which only she can hear
it echoes in her laughter
it shows in the things she says
but it's her own rhapsody
and his
months of painstaking writing
out of concern- plain yet strong
out of needs to give and gain
left her with just a sheet of notes
just a sheet of notes
till he set it to tune
now it's a song
a rhapsody
a lullaby
tunes may peak, tunes may plummet
her song may die down
but linger it will
till her hearing will no longer be hers
hmmm...
she wonders and listens
and smiles though her tears

Sitting across the table at yet another one of the pretentious ccds I see someone just as pretentious, someone I know no longer. I did, once. I don't see guts, I see a downright bare desire to dominate all and seek attention. I don't see saucy humour, I see a deviant who is reveling in things which shouldn't be laughed at. I don't see a smile, all I see is a perpetual sneer. I don't see someone who says refreshingly 'hatke' things but someone who makes absurd statements and backs off realizing there's no justification whatsoever. He tells me ragging is fun...oh yeah?! Maybe we should ask someone who got pushed off the fourth floor of IIT- K years back...come to think of it, I bloody well remember the same person whining like a scalded cat about ragging not too long back. He throws around money like he's got millions to spare in an effort to prove god knows what. It's ridiculous. It's endless. The person I knew is gone. In his place I see one more mindless idiot stuck in the world of MCPs who choose to believe that checking out babes on the roads is their due, who choose to refer to their mothers as "just" houswives and who can stand anything but the bare, direct and hard hitting truth from a woman because their ego is just as stable as a wad of cotton candy.

Late nights
Lame smiles
Overworked dopamine circuits
And berserk butterflies...

Some roads have ended. Some storms have died out. Some faces have faded. Now you're wondering which way to choose from the millions of crossroads in your mind. And you won't ever find a way out of them because this is the middle of nowhere. You're standing alone in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a feeble and precariously perched shelter on top of your head. You're standing alone in the middle of nowhere with the rain beating down on your face. But you like the rain, you like the shelter, you like nowhere and you like ambiguity. There's a beauty to it and you take that beauty and accept it because ambiguity is life itself.

A couple of days back we bought my nani a cellphone. She held it in her hand and said "what use is this? I can't call your grandpa with this." She said it with a smile but you couldn't help but see the loss ; my grandpa died eleven days back and they'd been married for almost sixty years. And here I find it hard to stand anyone beyond maybe sixty days. This isn't about mourning his death...he spent seven days in the hospital with one leg in traction, any number of tubes attached to him and his hands tied down. He suffered for a while and went in peace and I'm happy for him that way. But it's what he left behind. It's the death of their togetherness that I'm mourning.