Just for Hope!

I was tagged by ’Hope’ to write 6 weird facts about me. I’ve already written 6 weird things about me once ..but I am trying again… hope this isn’t repetitive.
I’m supposed to write 6 weird things about myself AGAIN. Trust me – its tough. Though – I only blabber about – “me myself and I” on this blogsite – this “tagging” seems like a big ask! These days, I’m at my wit’s end so forgive me if I’m not able to do full justice with this tagging. You wrote an awesome post but I – of course can’t match you All the readers are warned!  Reading this list can be injurious to your sensibility! So here goes – my list of evils and sins -

 1) I have a dark side that very few people get to know I only feel like myself when it begins to get dark. I’m basically insomniac!

2) I’m obsessed with my Doggie – ‘Zara’. When she greets me with her tail thumping, her claws slithering across the floor in her excitement as she dashes out to me – I feel I’m the happiest person in this world. I know – all dogs do that she is really special. She licks my face when I am low, tickles me with her head when I laugh, nudges my feet with her claws – when she wants to play. I’m blessed to have her in my life – she is inseparable from my very existence.

 3) Booze is my weakness. I’m one of those who – welcome the good news in the firmament of gin, drink away their sorrows in whiskey pegs, gulp rum in ghum when they are lonely, clink mugs of beer when they are celebrating with friends, hold goblets of champagne when they are acting classy or gobble from the bottle when they are rowdy and sip cocktails when they want to be sober. Romantic dinner without red wine .. is a big no no.

 4) You can get me but you can’t keep me. If you manage to keep me you can’t get rid of me

5) If there is anything I detest, it is weak-minded sentimentalities – all those melancholy people, who out of an excess sympathy for themselves, miss the thrill of their own essence and drift through life without identity, feeling sorry for themselves. Disappointed in themselves they build whole cities, whole creations, empires and principalities, of tear-wet disappointments. It is doubly painful to admit – I’m one of them – myself.

6) My ultimate dream is to play guitar someday. I have tried a few times but gave up. My soft fingers bled profusely coz of the cuts from the strings. The first song I wanna play is – Cloud number nine by Bryan Adams. “so baby tonight let’s leave the world behind and spend some time up on cloud number nine .. we can watch the world go by – up on cloud number nine” Gosh I’m a hardcore romantic and this song gets me into one of those moods when I swing in ecstasy.

 Wow! I’m done! Yipppiee. I think I can rest peacefully now!

Sinner… I am!

I wanna sin .. now don’t get surprised by this sudden confession and frown .. why do I need to declare I need sin in my life .. haven’t we all sinned some or the other time .. ?and most of the time when a woman says she has sinned it boils down to sexual confessions prurient thoughts.. moral pain .. I have erred too .. so many times ..with my judgments with relationships with friends with foes .. and yes I have sinned .. but it wasn’t intentional .. wasn’t premeditated and I ended up feeling more like a culprit who was pushed to wrong doing .. feeble broken shattered ..  “Sometimes the truth has a way of coming out in the most embarrassing and unexpected ways.” Now I wanna do something to get some fake sense of power .. I can sin too with a BANG! .. now here you go .. I can break hearts.. I can make others cry …I’m always close enough to get wounded but I never do enough to wound ..I don’t believe in the theory of karma .. its for philosophical biggies who probably don’t have the guts to sin .. haha

What’s sin then ? We have different yardsticks for women n men when we talk of sin .. Eons back when I was stuck by the Cupid for the first time (just a couple of years back ) I committed a series of sins .. loving .. caring sharing .. bonding .. pitying.. compassion you name it and I exhausted it .My experiments with Cupid produced a bunch of sins ..phew !When I glance through those pages .. I stutter .. stumble and fumble over every page .. every line makes me sick .. I’m not a feminist .. NO.. I haven’t turned into a misandrist either ..I do hate men but with all my grudges and nudges I can declare its tough to live without one .. when you had been in a relationship its tougher and if you hadn’t been into one .. you need to discover .. but men and women ..are we different ..? I won’t say my life is ruined .. but it has definitely changed .. since then .. I’m still in touch with him without touch .. all in my mind .. I’m not the same .. groping in my solitude craving to sin .. yet again .. Aristotle says – what might be right in one situation might be wrong in another. .. so may be he was right and I’m wrong .. hmmmm

But who knew it all then .. each sin was gratifying ..bewitching .. alluring .. its beautiful falling in love .. the ones who look at us superficially can’t imagine how earnest, how petulant how accommodating, how wilful is our quest for something beyond ourselves ..that we imagine with our separate spirits but are compelled to embody together… Love torments you.. yet contents you ..its very fragile .. it comes with a stream of emotions overpowers you majestically and with the blink of your eye.. its gone .. and when its gone . you are addicted . though you proclaim you have lost faith in love .. lost faith in living .. you search again .. for momentary pleasures .. for some tender touch ..for more n more SINS!!!..

It was probably just a glitch then.. but the only sin I commit over and over again is .. I Love ….
More on my experiments with sin .. later …

A Phony Adaptation

A phony adaptation that has been made only to mock India for the viewing pleasure of the First World!! That’s “Slumdog Millionaire” for you… five minutes into this celebrated patchwork of illogical cliches and you are struck by the jarring dialogues. The cumbersome delivery in a language which doesn’t come naturally to most of the actors ruins the possibility of a connection… Had this film been made by an Indian director, it would’ve been trashed as a rotting old hat, which literally stands out only because the man making it happens to be from the West.

The real slumdog in the movie is not the protagonist but India as a whole… and like shameless fools we are gloating over its success without realising that it makes a caricature out of India. The soundtrack and the performance of the child actors are the only bits in the film which live upto the hype.The real slumdogs who’ve hit the jackpot are the makers of this film who are now raking in millions while those who’ve crtiqued the film and showered tributes and awards need to ask themselves why, scores of years after our independence, they still feel the need to suck up to the goras. It’s definitely a well cinematographed film….. but the film has no soul. It’s just a modern version of the West’s view of India where slums, slumdogs and Bollywoodian cliches have replaced the elephants and snake charmers. It’s a well made caricature of a country and a caricature can never be a Mona Lisa, for a masterpiece cant be one dimensional justaposition of sadistic extremes… and that’s my grouse with the celebrations…

And I say all this not because I don’t know what is India. I know its poverty and the real statistics around it a little better than most others! But the fact that the film’s entire narration seems like the germination of terribly sadistic and the complex mind with the sole aim of satisfying the western idea of India, which is done through a combination of illogical happenings in order to show everything in a disgustingly negative vein. Not that it doesn’t exist but it surely doesn’t exist in this fictitious manner. Slumdog Millionaire is just every scrap of dirt picked up from every corner and piled up together to try and hit back at the growing might of India. And the awards almost seem like a sadistic effort to show the world – look we knew that this was India, and these are the slumdogs we are outsourcing our jobs to. It stinks of racial arrogance and it’s such a shame now on second thought to see the Indian faces – including that of undoubted master, AR Rahman – celebrating its success.

There is nothing positive about the film and it seems that a deranged sadist has painted his insecure negative self in each and every character of the movie. It illogically shows every negative thing about India happening in the protagonist’s life… slums, open air lavatories, riots, underworld, prostitution, brothels, child labour, begging, blinding and maiming of kids to make them into ‘better beggars’, petty peddlers, traffic jams, irresponsible call centre executives… everything apart from western pedophiles roaming around in Indian streets!! It’s a crying shame that our media hasn’t seen through this ruse and touting it’s nominations to claim that India is shining at the Oscars, while in fact it is lauding a film that mocks and ridicules the idea of  ‘India’, pigeonholing its identity into the straitjacket of depraved poverty for a global audience.

All in all, the film is nothing but an endorsement of an imperial mindset of the West and its blinkered vision of India. Don’t even waste your time watching this film in the theatres. It sucks and there is nothing great in it as a film too. Bollywood has made far better mainstream films!!

Some Scattered Thoughts….

I read a 55-word story on a friend’s blog today and thought of writing my own story in that many words!

Thoughts, sometimes they are wide and practical, sometimes potholed and well used, sometimes deep and silent, sometimes mysterious. At times, indigo and burnt sienna, periodically an apocalyptic vision with mixtures of dark and gray. They change color as they rise and fall, they are never all one thing. Consequently, she decided to be completely herself.

It was on off-handed try. I promise to get better

Claustrophobic

Maybe I don’t belong
but I don’t care anymore.
I may fail…but I wont change…

May be inside I know…
I m Indifferent to your sacred shades…
But I don’t need your honor…I have mine…

Maybe I too pretend.
But I am not as good as you,
at least I make sure,
I make sure you know…

what I feel…coz what I feel is what i say…
maybe inside I suffocate,
suffocate as hell..
But you don’t care…I know that as well.

Why is it that sometimes the closest of the people around you find it so difficult to comprehend something that even a distant onlooker may notice with the slightest of difficulties. Do they tend to overlook or is it just too trivial to react. Why is it that you have to say things despite them being the hardest to say.

Why are people so adamant on CHANGING you…?
Or then…is it just me..!!?

Wintry Illusions

I’m through with the mending ..  All the good parts have vanished, leaving simple three letter emotions – sad, mad, bad ..and a lot of empty space.

Anyhow .. I love this weather.. every winter begins with a pleasant resonance that feels like the beginning of love. Though right now, there is nothing in my life that would kindle the most inflammable imagination… a voice inside, slyly argues and through skillful sophistication, it undermines my own convictions. It asks .. will you ever get tired of hoarding bruises like souvenirs? I shake my head like an old woman to the beat of remembered phrases. The voice fades away in the deepening glimmer of soul, where the human breath is snatched away and there are only bubbles.. prismatic and pure.
You are left to lose your way alone.. There are these long still spans – nothing happens.. each day is accurately like the other – humdrum, uneventful and then abruptly there is a wham, you seem to be participating in mighty deeds, working on a lustrous future .. and then again life subsides into the backwaters till the next hurricane jolts you. For better or for worse, my life is set in this mould, which it would retain until death. I’m not awaiting an imminent extinction or another hurricane but I’m prepared for anything.. or so I claim. I want to believe that I’m like a child exploring this mysterious castle, and I’m caught here, in this maze.. temporarily, like we take refuge under the shade of a bus-stop due to an abrupt twilight storm or it’s a sudden looming structure at the end of a winding road, that a mistaken turn had led me to follow. The storm will subside, a thin ray of moon will appear over the treetop and silently a dream will unfold …
The whole sweetness of a chilly morning under a warm quilt, the innocence and mystery of the world waking alongside me, makes me wonder how simple life could be, and how easy it once was, to step into happiness, like walking into your own rightful house. Unconscious of the fact that soon you had to discover that more and more of you were diminishing under this placid surface of an imagined warm life. In the crystal truth of the day world, the night was done. The world you were dozing on came back with a whoosh and a bang, but it was not the same world you’d dozed away from, nor was it the one you intended to wake up to or even imagined to be there. Nobody with a dream should sleep cozily in winters. No matter how dead and buried the dream is thought to be, in winters it rises and walks again.
The sun finally sets behind the tall buildings and the horizon which burned, few minutes ago like the coals of a dying fire around which you could tell a very good story .. now its silence. The silence becomes oppressive, and it begins to take on a sinister air. Everything becomes gloomy and melancholy after sunset and I think of the cycle of disappointment, excitement, resentment and desire through which I’d not been forced for some time. I don’t know what this moment stands for .. ‘coz my eyes are blurred with what I’d been accused of previously and my hearing too has gone with the sight .. but I know I’m clinging on to the world, though barely. This pain isn’t for somebody or something. The pain is mine. It is mine alone. Everything within me that once seethed with passion has a wintry numbness. The world keeps spinning and I’m spinning along with it. It doesn’t still anymore to the stillness inside that murmurs to me, I know my love and I belong to my love, down through foreverness and into eternity… and when I get back I just want to be a part of it all .. everything ordinary. All words from the past faded to murmurs, losing outline; as I keep stumbling down, losing even echoes.. I’m alone where I had not meant to be, but I am strangely detached and still elated…………

Weirdness Prevails!

6 weird facts about me. I’m not sure if the following points qualify as “weird” but anyways .. I’m trying.
So these are six suxy or sexy facts about me .. the choice is yours ..

1) I have absolutely no plans for the future. It has nothing to do with any pessimism or the lack of that steady ‘someone’ in my life. I’m neither a pessimist nor an optimist or maybe I’m both .. depends .. . I wanna live for today. My ‘today’ is anything but “sweet” but whatever it is – sweet or bitter I opt to relish it – as it is.

Coming back to the future. Do we all really know – what we want? I certainly do not! I can’t pinpoint – I want this particular man or this specific job or a palatial bungalow on seashore. The day I know what I want and fortunately or unfortunately have it too – that’s going to be one of the worst days in my life. Weird? I don’t know – according to me ..there is much more fun in “looking” instead of “finding”! The glamour of a voyage and unknown is irresistible. If I eventually have “it” I might not value it. So I would rather spend this lifetime ‘looking’ for something ‘lookable’! I’m as confused as you are – I hope you know what I mean .. phew ..

2) I don’t forget anything easily. I still hate that ugly guy who pinched my back in the kindergarten or that fatso girl in school who claimed her eyes were bigger than mine. I still brood over my first doll… I remember my first date, my first kiss and thousand such frivolous things. I’ve dated innumerable men and have done craziest things but I never took them seriously. The day I found him … ..mmm I better not tread that path or it would take forever.

3) I’m basically a loner .. have very few friends and none of my close friends know my dark secrets! (I have many!) No wonder – I shifted to blogs – though I can’t write everything here. Invariably, I thought, I could express myself better in writing. Perhaps I was wrong .. and I discerned it only when I started writing on a public domain. Some people exactly know.. what you think you meant ..there are others who depict your writings in completely different manner .. and they could be right too.  Its often amusing – the way all of us react to written words. I would really have loved to be promiscuous if I met some “real charmers” frequently. Did I divulge one of my dark secrets? Ahem ..I have this weird fascination for fair,green eyed men and only they can turn me on ..

4) Talking of weirdness – I’m very passionate about certain things. For example – my major weakness Salman Khan! He surely is going through his bad phase and almost all his movies are bombing  at the box-office. As a diehard fan, I made it a point to watch most of his movies in the theatre. The only contribution I could make – was one ticket .. so it was symbolic! Recently, I dragged my mum-dad along, to watch “Yuvvraaj” in PVR at Saket. Interestingly, there were only 8 other viewers besides me and my folks in the entire theatre (yes I counted).  In the very first week of its release the turnout was so poor that even a whisper echoed. My mum kept cursing me throughout the show and dad made fun of me for wasting time and money but I was unfazed. Once, Salman did a commercial of Thumps Up. “Taste the Thunder” I don’t like aerated drinks – I prefer lemon soda but I used to order Thumps Up wherever they served one! The day they replaced Salman with Akshay Kumar in that advertisement .. I stopped having Thumps Up and haven’t touched it again till date!

I can share many such stories .. lol but I stop … gosh venting helps..!

5) I wake up at least 5 times during the night to check for the presence of spirits in the room sleeping beside me!I am scared of darkness…. 

6) Anything about me is incomplete if I don’t mention my drinking and smoking(rare) adventures.. In college, when I started drinking we didn’t have enough money so we had ..all cheap brands like Fuel and White Mischief. For instant kicks we used to have neat vodka – “On The Rocks”.  Yucks! That was one weird thing - I can feel the burn even now. Besides I smoked 502 pataaka bidis. God knows how. Even the thoughts make me puke now.

Cigarette in her hand…..

“Cigarette in her hand .. she feels like a man .. “

One of my friends commented on me once. This line is misconceived from the famous anti-smoking advertisement, which isn’t on air these days. A man is seen viciously puffing away from glory and the music goes on, in the background – “cigarette in my hand, I felt like a man” and in next few shots he coughs, droops and finally metamorphoses into a skeleton. My friend obviously twisted the meaning to tease me.(Duh!!)

I have read some popular literature, and sometimes (rarely!) came across a woman character that smoked. She yearned to demonstrate – she is unconventional n independent, which made the traditional society uncomfortable. It reflected the mindset of the general public in India, which still has that uneasy feeling for an urban woman who smokes or drinks. Some think they are ‘easy women’ or they can’t be ‘homely’, ‘docile’ must be ‘brats’- anything but normal! 

I’m not a person who wishes to wile away the endless boredom of my life in a bar just smoking and drinking. Hindi movies taught me to drink away my heartbreak- I tried pulling on the foul taste, a tonic for the bitterness in my heart – blowing smoke against my pulsing anger, headache and desolation. I drank vodka with hope, feeling it would burn down like an elixir. But liquor just made me even more tired. The memories kept rising.. I felt a mixture of anger and longing in my throat and sleep eluded me.

Now I try staying away from loud bars and discs – where they play music with a loudness that hovers on the edge of real pain. I like lounges, dim lights, surrealistic decors where I can relish my drinks, enjoying the resonance of it and waiting for that light heady feeling to embrace me. When the spirit courses through my blood stream, the soft lilting music dulls my senses, I forget my self, sinking into the comforts of a plush leather designer sofa. Or probably I won’t mind sitting in a dingy bar with no music, imbibing alcohol smoke and everything else on offer.. enjoying the pleasure of the cheap drink, curling in my throat and wondering – why things taste better when you pay more!

A hardcore romantic that I am – when I picture rejoining, I can see myself sitting across him in a lovely peaceful place, sparsely furnished, with dark shadows & with a view of the sea. A tabletop inlaid with curling patterns of ivory and silver, blossoms of fresh flower, scented candles, full with the aroma of amorous moonlight and rain. Our wine poured in crystal glasses. We – raising the glasses, sipping our red wine silently with the thin taste of foreign bitterness amidst swirl of smoke. Me squinting through a silvery wine haze,  exchanging occasional glances with him, without touching, feeling the safety of togetherness!

Ok ok . enough .I had my first drink when I was 19. I only wanted to taste things that are forbidden, and smoking and drinking were just a couple of those ‘forbidden stuff’ in my home. If I get curious about something – telling me ‘no’ just makes me believe that there is something I should know about. Another thing – some of  my friends smoked. I used to take a drag or few thinking I’m never going to get addicted, but it continued .. (quiet usual). Despite my temptation to have a taste of almost everything- I never touched the ‘drugs variety’. Once I had a crush on a guy – who was wackiest of all I had known! He used to smoke grass and weed like chimney. I just had a few drags once and my head kept spinning whole day.

Outside the regular group, other than the pubs, I usually don’t smoke. Mine was a group of 4 girls and 4 guys and we did some mad stuff. Our favorite entertainment was – stepping out of the classroom, getting loaded in respective cars, out on long drives, exploring weirdest of all places, making drinks on the way and enjoying like crazy! Once we planned to venture a pub famous for its fussiest crowd and comparatively cheaper drinks, dressed in traditional Indian way- salwaar kameez, bangles, etc. That was a memorable experience – when we entered the jammed pub – dressed as typical ‘behenjis’. Everyone was looking at us with the ex-pression – “what are they doing here”. After a couple of drinks we rocked the place. I even kissed “Neha” – not a peck on the lips… but actual smooch! Hell…. yea… It was a shocker to me as well….

I miss those days so much..and without them I’m almost friendless- I have kinda mellowed down now. Its been ages – I haven’t been to a pub – and had a smoke. I hope to be free someday – free of everything -all my vices .. including men!! heh!!

The Sea of Milk

Past the Milky Way. Past the stars and moons, the suns and shadows. Past the universe. Past it all. Past the light and into the darkness. Past the created and into the creation, into the deep space of creators, of gods and immortals. Into the creative cosmos. Into the within. Into it. There lies a place with a white planet, a bright dot in the static blackness, a solitary island in the expanse of imaginative nothingness.

This lone planet lies still in its isolation, staring at the darkness with two penetrating eyes that protrude from its spherical whiteness…

Insanity Flows In…….

I open my eyes and then close ‘em again… and then I hope and then I open ‘em again.. nah..no change..

Its said that when you are confused and and unable to make a decision close your eyes, loose yourself and let your sub-conscious decide. Now here is my question..what if my sub-conscious is in complete adherence with myself and stands with a smirk on its face and a confused emotion poking at me…of sorts?

 

When you are going nowhere…you are going nowhere! Let alone my subconscious even my super-conscious is equally amused at my present state of hysteria. I know I am asking too many questions but then I have never been a great preacher, just a curious soul. Do you know whats my favorite posture? Arms wide open..looking up in the sky feeling the wind across my face..mind sans of thoughts, hearing, feeling, taking deep breaths, a wry smile on the face, taking hit after hit….BLANK….absorbing what the world has to offer.

 

Its said that your best comes when you are at your worst, pushed against the wall. I don’t think its my worst yet…So bite me Oh…almighty….’coz I want to be at my best.

there goes the sanity, there goes regret…
this ain’t the end…’coz I ain’t smiling yet.