I vaguely remember seeing it somewhere on somebody else's blog. Came across it today while bloghopping, and decided to add it on to my blog.
Let me clear any misconceptions you might have regarding the display: of course i'm showing off the 'expanse' of my reading material right now. And of course i've put it there for just that purpose. Shucks, what else do you expect from a person suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder?
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
How an accident brings random bits about the world together.
I was dropped off at office earlier than usual today. Shivering because of the cold water i had to subject my body to thanks to the absence of electricity, i trudged to the second floor, switched on my PC and stepped out to the corridor to eat some sun. Thirty seconds later, my cell phone rang. Driver.
He handed the phone over to Dad, who announced that Red had just been in a bad accident half a kilometer away and that i should come immediately. Also asked me to bring A along, who'd been with us through the whole process of choosing and buying Red.
Panicking, i started on foot to the place, calling A who wasn't in office still. Worried that Dad and driver might be seriously injured, i called them again and Dad explained: they were next to a bus at the Joseph's college signal, when an auto came zipping from behind and slammed into the vehicles. The auto brakes had failed.
I reached the place to find Dad splitting blood vessel after blood vessel, and took over. It was a relief that he and the driver were unharmed. Red had suffered a pretty serious dent on the left door, paint scraped off, fuel tank jammed - the works. The traffic police was there, with a crowd comprising passersby and autowallahs. When the autowallahs ganged up and went "Oh, nothing's happened, it's just a dent", i lost my cool and started arguing my head off with all of them. Self-assured pr**ks. There was a moment of reprieve in the middle of the chaos when a smiling old man handed me pamphlets saying, "Jesus saves". I smiled. Jesus sure did.
After an hour of debate and calls to A, we headed to the Ashok Nagar police station. Just as we reached Joseph's Commerce College, the autowallahs stopped for a cup of chai. The cheek! I mean, here we were trying to get this sorted out and these guys had the audacity to drink chai at a kaaka angadi! A finally arrived, took a look at the car and said it would cost at least 7k. Damn.
There was a man travelling with us in the car who i had noticed in the crowd earlier. Dad asked him what he did (yeah, we didn't even bother about him being a stranger before we took him with us!), and he said, "Have you heard of KFD? I'm one of them. I saw you guys, thought there was some trouble, discovered you were one of our 'qa-um', and decided to stick with you for support." Wow.
Things catapulted from then on and we got out of the whole thing after three hours. It was my first visit to a police station. My first accident, but not really mine because i wasn't in the car when it happened. And my first public fight. Hmm.
And in the middle of all this, A took me aside and showed me the side of the auto that smashed into Red. The damage was massive, to say the least. I looked back at Red, glinting in the sunlight, unfazed by the accident. He wasn't in such bad shape. He was strong, which is why there was nothing more than a dent to show for the mishap. Stable, sturdy, reliable. Mine for posterity. And what an amazing feeling that is.
He handed the phone over to Dad, who announced that Red had just been in a bad accident half a kilometer away and that i should come immediately. Also asked me to bring A along, who'd been with us through the whole process of choosing and buying Red.
Panicking, i started on foot to the place, calling A who wasn't in office still. Worried that Dad and driver might be seriously injured, i called them again and Dad explained: they were next to a bus at the Joseph's college signal, when an auto came zipping from behind and slammed into the vehicles. The auto brakes had failed.
I reached the place to find Dad splitting blood vessel after blood vessel, and took over. It was a relief that he and the driver were unharmed. Red had suffered a pretty serious dent on the left door, paint scraped off, fuel tank jammed - the works. The traffic police was there, with a crowd comprising passersby and autowallahs. When the autowallahs ganged up and went "Oh, nothing's happened, it's just a dent", i lost my cool and started arguing my head off with all of them. Self-assured pr**ks. There was a moment of reprieve in the middle of the chaos when a smiling old man handed me pamphlets saying, "Jesus saves". I smiled. Jesus sure did.
After an hour of debate and calls to A, we headed to the Ashok Nagar police station. Just as we reached Joseph's Commerce College, the autowallahs stopped for a cup of chai. The cheek! I mean, here we were trying to get this sorted out and these guys had the audacity to drink chai at a kaaka angadi! A finally arrived, took a look at the car and said it would cost at least 7k. Damn.
There was a man travelling with us in the car who i had noticed in the crowd earlier. Dad asked him what he did (yeah, we didn't even bother about him being a stranger before we took him with us!), and he said, "Have you heard of KFD? I'm one of them. I saw you guys, thought there was some trouble, discovered you were one of our 'qa-um', and decided to stick with you for support." Wow.
Things catapulted from then on and we got out of the whole thing after three hours. It was my first visit to a police station. My first accident, but not really mine because i wasn't in the car when it happened. And my first public fight. Hmm.
And in the middle of all this, A took me aside and showed me the side of the auto that smashed into Red. The damage was massive, to say the least. I looked back at Red, glinting in the sunlight, unfazed by the accident. He wasn't in such bad shape. He was strong, which is why there was nothing more than a dent to show for the mishap. Stable, sturdy, reliable. Mine for posterity. And what an amazing feeling that is.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Aging 'gracefully'.
This morning, like all other mornings, i followed my routine - get out of bed, head straight to the bathroom, get out and brush my teeth, bathe etc. I missed one important part of the ritual though - washing my feet. So i decided to wash my feet at the sink after brushing my teeth. It's a trick i learnt during my growing years from a fairly religious but lazy uncle who before praying, would finish all his ablutions at the wash basin - including washing his feet, which he would raise up into the bowl of the basin.
I guess it wasn't a big deal for him, considering he's over six feet tall. It wasn't a big deal for me either: even when i was four feet two inches, i would manage to raise my feet one at a time to the high basin and wash them. At least, it wasn't a big deal till this morning.
Still supremely confident about my ability to do what i used to do with such ease all those years ago, i hummed to myself and raised my right foot to the basin - it's at least three feet high - like it was the most natural thing in the world. I'm thinking to myself, "Mmm not bad, despite all those lapsed years and my mammoth size, i can still do this" when i felt my thigh muscles knot up. And stay that way.
Oh oh. It hurt, but there was no way i could pull my leg back down because i was almost close to the basin bowl. So, ever so gingerly, i let my foot land in the basin ("TIMBER!") and let the water flow from the tap. Then came the killer part - bringing my foot back down.
Forget it. I'm not describing it - even thinking of it is traumatising and doesn't do an iota of good for my ego. All i will say is, for the first time in my life, the realisation - of what it must be like to move steadily towards a creaking old age - hit me.
I guess it wasn't a big deal for him, considering he's over six feet tall. It wasn't a big deal for me either: even when i was four feet two inches, i would manage to raise my feet one at a time to the high basin and wash them. At least, it wasn't a big deal till this morning.
Still supremely confident about my ability to do what i used to do with such ease all those years ago, i hummed to myself and raised my right foot to the basin - it's at least three feet high - like it was the most natural thing in the world. I'm thinking to myself, "Mmm not bad, despite all those lapsed years and my mammoth size, i can still do this" when i felt my thigh muscles knot up. And stay that way.
Oh oh. It hurt, but there was no way i could pull my leg back down because i was almost close to the basin bowl. So, ever so gingerly, i let my foot land in the basin ("TIMBER!") and let the water flow from the tap. Then came the killer part - bringing my foot back down.
Forget it. I'm not describing it - even thinking of it is traumatising and doesn't do an iota of good for my ego. All i will say is, for the first time in my life, the realisation - of what it must be like to move steadily towards a creaking old age - hit me.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Atonement.
My weekend was pretty balanced - i ventured out of home just as much as i stayed in. Friday night's adventures were followed by a lazy Saturday lounging at G's place watching 'Atonement'.
I was gifted this book of Ian McEwan's by G and S on my birthday, along with Orhan Pamuk's 'My Name is Red'. While i'm not the types to skip pages (except in, perhaps, an M&B), 'My Name is Red' made me do that; and Atonement, even more so. It just went on and on endlessly, so i skipped entire chapters - like one on Robbie's time in the war. But what i loved about the book was the story - an 11-year old Briony, her world of order and certainty disrupted by incidents between her sister and the gardender that catapult her growth, leaving the debris of love in its wake. Yes, it is incredible how Ian McEwan leads us with his words into her mind, helps us comprehend the awkwardness of growing up that lead her to her actions.
With me, he achieved something else too - he made me realise that had i been in her place, i would have done the same. I would have, in my quest to retain my order, childish impudence and innocence, done what she did. Would i be capable of destroying the just-blooming love shared between two people? Perhaps; i don't know for sure. What i am certain of is that i am quite capable of it. Would i seek atonement for my actions? Yes i would, because i couldn't bear to live with the guilt for the rest of my life. Unlike Briony though, i wouldn't seek it through words - something she describes as an act of kindness. I know what she's talking about, and i understand it but find myself unable to endorse it. I wouldn't take the easy way out and document the truth a little before my death for the world to know, because it still doesn't make a difference to the two people who really matter - in this case, Briony's sister and her lover. I would make amends much earlier in my life, gather up enough courage, get it over and done with.
You see, i believe that to experience the liberty that comes with guiltlessness, one has to give full voice to the guilt. And not with paper and pen.
I was gifted this book of Ian McEwan's by G and S on my birthday, along with Orhan Pamuk's 'My Name is Red'. While i'm not the types to skip pages (except in, perhaps, an M&B), 'My Name is Red' made me do that; and Atonement, even more so. It just went on and on endlessly, so i skipped entire chapters - like one on Robbie's time in the war. But what i loved about the book was the story - an 11-year old Briony, her world of order and certainty disrupted by incidents between her sister and the gardender that catapult her growth, leaving the debris of love in its wake. Yes, it is incredible how Ian McEwan leads us with his words into her mind, helps us comprehend the awkwardness of growing up that lead her to her actions.
With me, he achieved something else too - he made me realise that had i been in her place, i would have done the same. I would have, in my quest to retain my order, childish impudence and innocence, done what she did. Would i be capable of destroying the just-blooming love shared between two people? Perhaps; i don't know for sure. What i am certain of is that i am quite capable of it. Would i seek atonement for my actions? Yes i would, because i couldn't bear to live with the guilt for the rest of my life. Unlike Briony though, i wouldn't seek it through words - something she describes as an act of kindness. I know what she's talking about, and i understand it but find myself unable to endorse it. I wouldn't take the easy way out and document the truth a little before my death for the world to know, because it still doesn't make a difference to the two people who really matter - in this case, Briony's sister and her lover. I would make amends much earlier in my life, gather up enough courage, get it over and done with.
You see, i believe that to experience the liberty that comes with guiltlessness, one has to give full voice to the guilt. And not with paper and pen.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
OH, my God!
A mosquito buzzed around this morning, completely out of control, unable to figure out where it was headed. Wham! It hit my dressing table mirror. I smiled. It most definitely bit me last night and ingested some of the liquor running through my bloodstream. It's been pretty much steadily flowing in my system of late.
My first taste of all things alcoholic was three years ago - the initial days of... courtship? Anyway, that was when. I hit 90 ml the first time, and that more or less set the trend (read average capacity) for the future years. What started off as curiosity has now become something to do over bonding sessions with girlfriends and mixed groups; sometimes even to intentionally be senseless and unaware of my surroundings. This said, I haven't had reason to call Alcoholics Anonymous to date, but i've definitely had more than one lapse of psychological facilities after which, seeing a shrink is the only thing i can think of doing.
From the time i've come back from my last visit to Mumbai, not only have instances involving putting been frequent, but also vigorous. Thapak thapak thapak, there vanish three Bloody Marys or four Screwdrivers or two Tequila shots. It's sort of scaring me, this routine, but i'm letting it be because it will pass. At least, i'm hoping it will. But i must say, some great memories are associated with it. And a few not-so-good ones, but these are outnumbered by the good times i've had: My send-off party from ex-agency, Baileys at Hyderabad, R's house for K's send-off, my 25th budday, Toto's, P's wedding, driving around a sleeping city with Blueberry and Jamaican Passion in hand, the innumerable office parties, my first weekend with G when we conned K and A into joining us at Tavern in the middle of their Nike Av shoot. The list is sort of endless. More recently, i've had the new experience of sharing a few with my bosses. Iv'e already been out twice with them.
Tomorrow too, i will be out. A get-together at G's place. I have a feeling we're going to be high-flying women tomorrow, laughing, crying, getting wasted and bitten by the innumerable moquitoes at her place. And it is i who will have the last laugh, because those banal creatures will die the minute they nibble on me. They'll die because of Acquired Alcoholic Immuno Deficiency Syndrome. Hyuck hyuck.
My first taste of all things alcoholic was three years ago - the initial days of... courtship? Anyway, that was when. I hit 90 ml the first time, and that more or less set the trend (read average capacity) for the future years. What started off as curiosity has now become something to do over bonding sessions with girlfriends and mixed groups; sometimes even to intentionally be senseless and unaware of my surroundings. This said, I haven't had reason to call Alcoholics Anonymous to date, but i've definitely had more than one lapse of psychological facilities after which, seeing a shrink is the only thing i can think of doing.
From the time i've come back from my last visit to Mumbai, not only have instances involving putting been frequent, but also vigorous. Thapak thapak thapak, there vanish three Bloody Marys or four Screwdrivers or two Tequila shots. It's sort of scaring me, this routine, but i'm letting it be because it will pass. At least, i'm hoping it will. But i must say, some great memories are associated with it. And a few not-so-good ones, but these are outnumbered by the good times i've had: My send-off party from ex-agency, Baileys at Hyderabad, R's house for K's send-off, my 25th budday, Toto's, P's wedding, driving around a sleeping city with Blueberry and Jamaican Passion in hand, the innumerable office parties, my first weekend with G when we conned K and A into joining us at Tavern in the middle of their Nike Av shoot. The list is sort of endless. More recently, i've had the new experience of sharing a few with my bosses. Iv'e already been out twice with them.
Tomorrow too, i will be out. A get-together at G's place. I have a feeling we're going to be high-flying women tomorrow, laughing, crying, getting wasted and bitten by the innumerable moquitoes at her place. And it is i who will have the last laugh, because those banal creatures will die the minute they nibble on me. They'll die because of Acquired Alcoholic Immuno Deficiency Syndrome. Hyuck hyuck.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Surviving the sea.
And so we float girl, you and I. Anchorless without our loves, anchored by our duty to do what is right. And so we float on a series of planks, waiting to be rescued by the lives we abandoned. The lives we got into with open eyes, and get back to with eyes shut tight in denial.
Our intelligence collides at some point. You are who he was, I know what he might be like. We don’t cry on each other’s shoulder, we laugh. Hysteria has set in, a mix of helplessness at the situation, and wry acceptance of the pointlessness of tears. And so, together, we laugh. We laugh hard and long, seeing the invisible L shining on our foreheads. And so we float. Float to nowhere.
Our intelligence collides at some point. You are who he was, I know what he might be like. We don’t cry on each other’s shoulder, we laugh. Hysteria has set in, a mix of helplessness at the situation, and wry acceptance of the pointlessness of tears. And so, together, we laugh. We laugh hard and long, seeing the invisible L shining on our foreheads. And so we float. Float to nowhere.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Back to square one. Dammit.
If you fall weak, you fall on your face, eat dirt and realise what you thought was not true. You make the decisions thinking you're the stronger-willed one, only to find out that when it comes to sticking to it, you're weak. Bloody weak. And you get kicked in the face because hey, the decision's made and people will stick to it, even if you don't want them to. The decision's made. By their dignity, their self-respect. After all, if you could make that decision, you did it because you wanted to uproot them from your life. And when you uproot someone, how comfortable would they be about being re-planted? Not comfortable at all. Not unless they were a c**** like me.
Bahuth ho gaya, maaki.
Enough. Ugh. I look at all the sop i've typed in the last two days in moments of weakness, and i cringe. Not so much because it lays my life's situation bare, but because it feels... icky. Yeah. I've been ranting and raving and weeping and wallowing like Tulsi's family after her second (or is it third) reincarnation. Enough, bhen ke ******. If i continue this way, i'll be Flubber without the happiness factor. Actually, i'll be like the Amoeba Boys from PowerPuff.
I feel a lot better today. The weekend seems like a slice of my life from a world tucked away quietly in a predominantly-active part of my mind. It's a Pandora's Box that i will open sometime, but not in the near future. So i miss it. So what? Bloody hell, there isn't much i can do about it except wish someone dead, which won't do much good anyway because then i would die of guilt. Wallowing yes, and that can become a very comfortable state of being too, but what the heck, i want to have fun! I want to live life and take this as the 'Those were the best days of my life' and then continue flirting and shopping and bonding and dancing. Dancing, yeah! I can't begin to tell you about the relief i felt when i got a call from K about classes starting yesterday. I had something to do! And what better than dance! My mind would stay occupied now! (Every Monday and Wednesday evening at least.)
Then there's work. Of course there's work. It's stressing me out, there are some choices i need to make on that front too, but they can wait. Meanwhile, i'm cracking up, laughing, having a good time, not thinking about what has happened. P was right, pain gets easier to handle if you don't think too much about it. (That's one of the things i learnt from you P. Huggg.) Maybe the fact that this is not something i'll get over - this is something that will stay eternally fresh in my mind like fragrant bread straight out of the oven - has also made it easier for me to not stop and mope about.
Thanks B, for pointing out on chat fifteen minutes ago that i was going fully melodramatic. WTF, these things happen. I loved this thing happening to me. Maybe this same thing will happen to me again (hopefully with the same person). And that's what i look forward to. Life is good. Yay!
I feel a lot better today. The weekend seems like a slice of my life from a world tucked away quietly in a predominantly-active part of my mind. It's a Pandora's Box that i will open sometime, but not in the near future. So i miss it. So what? Bloody hell, there isn't much i can do about it except wish someone dead, which won't do much good anyway because then i would die of guilt. Wallowing yes, and that can become a very comfortable state of being too, but what the heck, i want to have fun! I want to live life and take this as the 'Those were the best days of my life' and then continue flirting and shopping and bonding and dancing. Dancing, yeah! I can't begin to tell you about the relief i felt when i got a call from K about classes starting yesterday. I had something to do! And what better than dance! My mind would stay occupied now! (Every Monday and Wednesday evening at least.)
Then there's work. Of course there's work. It's stressing me out, there are some choices i need to make on that front too, but they can wait. Meanwhile, i'm cracking up, laughing, having a good time, not thinking about what has happened. P was right, pain gets easier to handle if you don't think too much about it. (That's one of the things i learnt from you P. Huggg.) Maybe the fact that this is not something i'll get over - this is something that will stay eternally fresh in my mind like fragrant bread straight out of the oven - has also made it easier for me to not stop and mope about.
Thanks B, for pointing out on chat fifteen minutes ago that i was going fully melodramatic. WTF, these things happen. I loved this thing happening to me. Maybe this same thing will happen to me again (hopefully with the same person). And that's what i look forward to. Life is good. Yay!
Dear God,
Thank you. For giving me three memorable, adventurous and wild years. For not forsaking me during all the kaandis i had been upto in those years. For always being there. Thank you for him. For all the growing up and glimpses of womanhood i experienced with him. For seeing me through my obsessions and my heartbreak. For watching over me as i weep, because you know it's the first little step to getting better. For memories. Wonderful, wonderful memories. For giving me the strength to heal, and making it easier by bringing several distractions my way. For keying my dance instructor to start off dance classes again. For giving me friends who let me be, and parents who do much more than that. Thank you for giving me truckloads of empathy for everybody else, and merciless criticism for myself. For letting me be a gypsy and then, letting me find my way back home.
Dear God, thank you for everything.
Dear God, thank you for everything.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Soup.
How? How can i be fascinated by a person one minute and completely bored out of my wits with him the next?
How can i find the anonymity of the Web more interesting than the concreteness of meeting one face-to-face?
How can i be completely excited about having my first date - a blind one, that too - in 25 years, and then be so guilty and turned-off after it?
How can i claim that i'm over BE, when i only fall in love all over again with him when i meet him?
How can i crib that i want to find lasting love, a man for whom i'm the one rather than the second-best, and a marriage that will be fun, stimulating, invigorating and good for me, and still freak the hell out when men start taking interest in me, and curse them saying i love staying single?
How can i be so clear about what i want and still so confused about how i should find it?
Damn. I'm totally messed up in my head.
How can i find the anonymity of the Web more interesting than the concreteness of meeting one face-to-face?
How can i be completely excited about having my first date - a blind one, that too - in 25 years, and then be so guilty and turned-off after it?
How can i claim that i'm over BE, when i only fall in love all over again with him when i meet him?
How can i crib that i want to find lasting love, a man for whom i'm the one rather than the second-best, and a marriage that will be fun, stimulating, invigorating and good for me, and still freak the hell out when men start taking interest in me, and curse them saying i love staying single?
How can i be so clear about what i want and still so confused about how i should find it?
Damn. I'm totally messed up in my head.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Creating the perfect 'best friends forever' evening...
You need:
- To visit your best friend in Mumbai
- To shuffle priorities between best friend and a set of very close friends such that neither get pissed
- Best friend's husband to be out for an office party
- Excitement on downing a few with best friend for the first time
- A place like Toto's, for two reasons: it's jam-packed, it has men who are chivalrous (but not necessarily nice) and offer their bar stools to you
- 4 pints of beer, one Margarita, three Bloody Mary's, two Tequila shots, one Chilly Chicken, Tandoori Sausages and all the time in the world
- A cute bartender, whom you can compliment saying, "Aap bahuth chute hain" and get away with it
- Blast-from-the-past music
For the garnish:
- A dab of Kaajal
- A smear of glittery lipstick
- Foo-foos
Preparation time:
Approximately half an hour
Method:
Method? What method? There's no method to madness, is there? Mix the garnish and ingredients together. And voila! You have two very high and happy women letching at good-looking boys, giving each other high-fives, discussing mensexbreak-upscrushes, head-banging, writing stuff on coasters and preserving it for posterity. Hail hail!!
P.S: We still managed to find our way home in an auto at 1:30 in the morning.
- To visit your best friend in Mumbai
- To shuffle priorities between best friend and a set of very close friends such that neither get pissed
- Best friend's husband to be out for an office party
- Excitement on downing a few with best friend for the first time
- A place like Toto's, for two reasons: it's jam-packed, it has men who are chivalrous (but not necessarily nice) and offer their bar stools to you
- 4 pints of beer, one Margarita, three Bloody Mary's, two Tequila shots, one Chilly Chicken, Tandoori Sausages and all the time in the world
- A cute bartender, whom you can compliment saying, "Aap bahuth chute hain" and get away with it
- Blast-from-the-past music
For the garnish:
- A dab of Kaajal
- A smear of glittery lipstick
- Foo-foos
Preparation time:
Approximately half an hour
Method:
Method? What method? There's no method to madness, is there? Mix the garnish and ingredients together. And voila! You have two very high and happy women letching at good-looking boys, giving each other high-fives, discussing mensexbreak-upscrushes, head-banging, writing stuff on coasters and preserving it for posterity. Hail hail!!
P.S: We still managed to find our way home in an auto at 1:30 in the morning.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
My favouritest roads...
100 Feet Road.
When there isn't mad traffic from flyover to finish, i'd love to stroll down it. The trees lining the footpath, the brand retail stores all lighted up and displaying signs of 'Sale', their amazing window displays and innovative entranceways...Sigh. It's so colourful, alive, vibrant. I love it.
The road opposite the entrance to DD Broadcast Center.
Superb for early morning and long, lonely walks. Tree-lined, little houses with slanting tile-roofs, no traffic. Reminiscent of ye olde Bangalore. A slice of heaven.
So far, these are it. There are some others that i can't think of right now. But when i do, i'm definitely going to mention them here.
When there isn't mad traffic from flyover to finish, i'd love to stroll down it. The trees lining the footpath, the brand retail stores all lighted up and displaying signs of 'Sale', their amazing window displays and innovative entranceways...Sigh. It's so colourful, alive, vibrant. I love it.
The road opposite the entrance to DD Broadcast Center.
Superb for early morning and long, lonely walks. Tree-lined, little houses with slanting tile-roofs, no traffic. Reminiscent of ye olde Bangalore. A slice of heaven.
So far, these are it. There are some others that i can't think of right now. But when i do, i'm definitely going to mention them here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
