Chiffonesque

I love this verse from a song in 'Metro'. I imagine it being sung by this jaded poet who goes to live in a shack by the sea. In the morning, he sees the sky and gulls on the sand and thinks that this - this pristine, untouched innocence - is what life and poetry is all about. He spends the day replete with love and as the sun sets, he gets up to walk back to his hut. He will endure the night to wake up to his new lease of life tomorrow. But as he walks away from the lapping sea, he sees a sky that's getting bluish-black, like the inside of a raisin. And right up there, he spots a thin whisper of a crescent. And next to that hangs a bright, luminous star. His heart, that a few hours ago had found its eternal love, skips a beat. And this is when he sings to the moon, the star, and the sky forgetting the gulls, the sand, and the sea: Dil khudgarz hai Phisla hai yeh Phir haath se Kal uska raha Ab hai tera Is raat se

I love making New Year plans! J and I are planning to go to the hills for New Year and maybe trek to Triund as well. I have wanted to go to Triund for a while now, and hopefully this year it will happen. So, right now here’s how things stand – J and Cy will come from Hyd, I’ll take a train from Mumbai, and both of us will meet in Delhi. Both my roomies would have moved to Delhi by then, and I’ll meet them there as well. Hopefully both will join us on our trip too. It will be so much fun…I can’t wait! Oh, the best part is that I will probably have to hang around in Delhi for a few hours by myself until J reaches. So I was figuring out what to do. I will probably get down at Nizamuddin and hang out at Connaught Place. Now although I’ve been told that Nizammudin is close to CP, I’m not sure how close I’ll be to the Paalika Bazaar side of CP. I’ll probably roam around over there for a couple of hours and watch those guys park cars in that big parking space in the centre. I used to love wat...

Every morning, I drive to work around 9:15 a.m. Every morning, I pledge to keep my cool and not honk or curse at autorickshaws flouting lane discipline. Every morning, I break my promise and vociferously hate Bombay roads. The other day, I had high fever and didn’t go to work. Later, around afternoon, a couple of friends had to leave for the airport. But they weren’t getting autos or taxis because Raj Thackeray had been arrested. The city was tense and people were scared. My friends, both of who are from Delhi, contemplated cancelling tickets. Since I was home, though, I insisted on dropping them to the airport. You see, we don’t have a TV in the house and I don’t read newspapers all that much. So, without these agencies that are designed to paralyze you with fear, one generally believes that things out there are not quite so bad. We left home after a late, lazy lunch of parathas, daal, and tea. We spoke of this and that, trying hard not to let the discomfort show. What if we got ston...

Open windows, marble stairs Sunshine, rain, and wicker chairs Moonlight dancing on silver spoons Orange, yellow, and lavender rooms Lush green plants outside the gates honeysuckle painted on china plates bowls of custard and summer fruits And racks of slippers and high-heeled boots Magenta cushions on the floor A tinkerbell knocker on the door A quilt with pictures of time gone by A cobbled balcony to gaze at the sky Roses growing in knitted bags Mirrors framed with colorful rags Organic soaps and scented candles Gingham aprons and shiny handles Doors that open up to a shaded glade Pickles and jams all home made A rocking chair in postbox red A big wood oven to bake unleavened bread Merlot bottles with moneyplants Candy, mints and tibetan chants Find their place in a treasure chest That's where they fit in best Rainbow beads and earrings too hang across a silver net They catch the winks of a playful sky right when the sun's about to set Later when night falls With dulcet tones ...

This was a headline in some newspaper: Mumbai writer wins the Booker Whatever happened to ‘Indian’?

We had to meet the secretary of our society today – to be told that the ‘committee’ has decided to disallow singles from continuing in the society. “ Only families allowed ”, the man said. “ How do you define a family? ”, I asked. “ Husband/ wife – obviously ”, he told me. “ No, it’s not obvious .”, I replied. “ Are 3 single sisters a family? ”, I asked again. “ Yes…I mean…no…I mean, there will be an interview…no singles allowed. You have to move out within a month.” Well, when it comes to pressurizing people to get married, we don’t need families anymore. There are society committees to do the job.

I hate this day. I hate it. This morning this dunce of a watchman came and started clanging the gate. I had to move my car because the house opposite to ours is having some kind of a puja. I told him I’d be taking the car out in the next half-hour as I would be leaving for office. He came 15 minutes later and started clanging the gates again. Irritating dunce buffoon constipated donkey with a twisted tail. I yelled at him and told him that he was irritating me. And then he makes these funny eyes and says, “ Nahin madam, hum to naukar aadmi hai .” Sappy, on top of that. I told him that he was not naukar aadmi , but he was an irritating aadmi . To which he insisted that no, he was not irritating, but he was a naukar . No-one’s a naukar . They are all irritating and they clang at my gate. Then I get inside my car and there’s really little fuel. I somehow got it to office. Now I don’t know how I will go back. The only problem with petrol is that it costs money. Why should it cost money? An...

Over the weekend I met up with a friend with who I go back a long way. In fact, when I returned from Delhi, she was the only one who came to meet me at Vashi. My other friends would be willing to meet me half-way to some place to talk or whatever, but she made the two-hour trip to visit me at home. Living in this city for this long, I understand that convenience generally tempers enthusiasm. So it was definitely moving that she, who probably doesn’t even consider going to a place that can’t be reached by auto, would hop into a bus and cross the great divide (also known as the Vashi toll bridge). I remember we had a simple lunch and she just asked me stuff straight-out, without any preamble. In fact, before she had reached my place, I was wondering how awkward it would be to answer her questions (and Lord knows, she has plenty of those…). I felt myself getting agitated just thinking about how I’d have to fence off unnecessary (to my mind) comments. But she stepped in, looked at me, and...

Last night at the party they asked me how I’d die with a moan, they asked me, or perhaps with a sigh? Would there be a tear or two rolling down the eyes Would my heart be choking With regret over lies Would there be sorrow over all those things unsaid Or would it be trifle surprising to finally find oneself dead? Could I finally explain to the stubborn naïve, heart that it’s a set-up for teary noons this promise - ‘until death do us part’? I didn’t realize there was so much stuff to sift through and to know before finally winding up business and getting all set to go But I think I’d simply take the hands of life and look her in the eye and with my mind and heart in attendance simply say ‘thank you and goodbye’ P.S. - These slippers are Anumita's slippers; this sand is Phuket sand.

Iscribblehere ( www.iscribblehere.blogspot.com ) tagged me. Here goes: Q: If your lover betrayed you, what will your reaction be? Leave Q: If you could have a dream come true, what would it be? Live (for a while) in a penthouse in New York (some absurd floor- perhaps 183rd), do some fabric painting and make great breakfasts every single day. The rest of the day, I’d spend around the lanes of New York and eating street food and possibly collecting brochures and catalogues outside the art galleries. Oh…that and a superbe! (I mean superbe !) body – the one that can kick metal doors open with one kick, change truck tyres, bend into pretzels, run for hours without panting, get rested with 2 hours of sleep…that sorta body. Q. Whose butt would you like to kick? Sigh! Mine and mine alone. A greater fool was not born. (And if there were indeed a greater fool, I wouldn’t know..because fools don’t know anything, really.) Q. What would do with a billion dollars? Travel alone Start filing Public In...