Chiffonesque

Last night, I was talking to a friend about Heathcliff. He is one of my all-time favourite characters. Mainly because his heart was like a woman’s. Like a mother of a new-born. He opened his heart and let his affection pour out like a savage sea. His heart was jagged and gritty and echoed with the hollow winds of unrequited love. He did not shield his heart from irrefutable pain or rejection. He, in fact, seemed to be spurred on by both. He did not put up a barbed little fence around his pride. Did not decide that he would love only until this point and no more. He ripped his heart just so that it remained open for Catherine. He hunted, he haunted. And in some bizarre way, in a way that can only spell self-destruction, he managed to shield his heart from only two things that could have saved him – control and restraint. I have unlikely heroes.

Rose the color of midnight Falling from a silver sky Lightly dusted with early snow And wrapped with wind awry Blue rose dipped in thunder And gilded with purple blood Awakened from timeless slumber Arisen from a sphinx-like bud Its shapes and forms are fluid Its essence changes every hour With every passing moment, One beholds a phoenix or a flower But their shadows are strangely solid and held captive in the light yet remain the almost-seen and seldom known subtext of the night - was planning to recite it at the Open Mic at Prithvi. Couldn't make it in time. The bookshop has a sale, though, and it was charming to read Hindi classifications of books too: 'Naatak', 'Kavita', and 'Anya'.

Not because it’s about Mumbai. Or about it’s famed or maligned spirit. Not because it showed the mirror that made your head hang in shame. Or about the hope it stirred when it whispered, “You’re still beautiful.” Not because of its children you want to hug and feed after scrubbing their faces. Or its relationships that arose from a humble fact that you have no-one but each other. Not because of the incredible way it captures speed – of a thought becoming evil and evil becoming a conscience. Or its definition of this land as a maximum city in ways, both depraved and glorious. Not because of its music that haunts and unravels failures through random roads. Or its anthemic finale that makes you want to raise a fist high in victory. I have rooted for Danny Boyle and this film for a reason other than these…for, to use a Star Trek line, going where no man has gone before. For not being antiseptic when filming Mumbai. For not resorting to cordoned-off studios and ‘arranging’ for crowds. For n

In one of our Poltitical Science classes, we studied several theories on the origin and necessity of law. I think it was Thomas Aquinas who opined that this world did not really need laws or rules...that the conscience unaided would arrive at a set of guidelines for right and wrong. In the papers today, there was an article of a man who had bled to death near Gamdevi temple at Bhulabhai Desai road. A car had hit him and sped off and none of the other cars stopped to take him to the hospital. The man died. The bystanders had noted down the car number and also tried to flag down a car, but to no avail. They helped the police nab the driver, who was a 19 year old boy. I wonder if there was any way in which all the other cars, the ones that did not stop, can be impounded. I wonder if drivers of those vehicles can also be held to be culpable in this death. I don't see why not. I take down the number of the car that hit me. This guy caused the accident. Unarguably guilty. While I am on t

A line from the song ‘Yeh Dilli hai…’ from Delhi 6. The line goes: ‘ Yeh shehar nahin, mehfil hai. ’ The way every little nook in Delhi glows like a jewel in the evening, the way domes and gardens light up like candles in front of a huge mirror, the way every season suffuses the city with easy, fragrant languor, the way you see a myriad interpretations of a poem each time you look up at the sky…this line sums up those traces of Delhi really well. One of my cook’s latest inventions – adding strong, black coffee to a caramel custard mix before setting it. Tastes heavenly! The Costa Coffee in Inorbit Mall in Vashi. I love that place…it’s cute, cosy, and a very friendly place to hang-out. Oh, and there’s the ‘White chocolate and lemon muffin’. That is the only dessert I have had in all the Costas I have been to – in Noida, Delhi, and now Bombay. Usually, in coffee places, anything that isn’t made out of chocolate tastes like it’s been prepared out of wet cardboard. But this muffin – it’s s

Today, when her eyes were closed They absorbed these things unseen They swept the void and scanned the dark And carefully wiped them clean With closed eyes she saw the ways Thrills were embossed in the dark She saw pulchritude and plenty In abysses cold and stark When her eyes closed, she saw How the heart swells with feelings To dizzying heights and plunging depths Through all its capricious dealings When an innocent heart was broken And its pieces fell to the ground Her eyes took them in willingly Each little bit lying around How much her eyes saw and captured How many things great and small How much they held in captive splendour Though the dead see nothing at all

Perhaps this is an age of over-reflection. Reflection that morphs from introspection to lethargy to sloth to fearful paralysis in a while. A comfortable slide down. Maybe, this is why non-thinkers seem to be taking over the world. Read this quote somewhere today. Made sense: ‘ Get action. Do things; be sane; don’t fritter away your time…take a place wherever you are and be somebody; get action. ’ By Theodore Roosevelt

I am listening to this song, “ Itna na mujhse tu pyaar badhaa, ki main ek baadal awaara. kaise kisi ka sahaara banoon, ke main beghar bechaara; armaan tha gulshan par barsoon, kisi shokh ke daaman par barsoon, afsos ki jalli mitti se mujhe takdeer ne meri de maara … ” If this isn’t the sweetest way to say ‘ I’m commitment phobic’ , what is? :-)

At the signal, I could see a really adorable Sardar child in the bus. He was looking at my car. So, I turned down my window and thrust my hand out to wave. In doing so, I accidentally hit the cyclist coming from behind the car. (It’s amazing how quickly those blokes can zigzag in the midst of crazy traffic. Of course, today I faced the kind of traffic one would wish for by rubbing a vintage lamp. It was that smooth. So I can’t quite understand why that cyclist had to change lanes, slithering from here to there, like a tapeworm.) He stumbled a bit and snapped, “Itne zor se indicator kyun deta hai?” Indicator? If that’s how one indicates, one wonders just what exactly one is indicating. In keeping with the spirit of the thing, though, I replied, “Zor se diya, tab bhi aapko nahin dikha!” He grumbled something and went on his way. The child who was watching all this, smiled. He was so cute! But this time, instead of waving or anything, I started the wipers and then squished a little water

My friend is looking to rent a flat in or around Juhu. And every passing day, she’s realizing what a big hoax the ‘market is down’ message is. I know that feeling. I mean, if the markets are down, and I still can’t afford anything, just how low in the barrel must I be? I suppose one should be grateful that one can at least afford a barrel to be at the bottom of. In any case, for the longest time my friend wasn’t finding something she liked, and this was really getting her down. Yesterday, she looked happy, though. I asked her if she’d found a good place yet. She said no, but her brokers were getting increasingly resourceful and innovative. One had taken her to see a place near Prithvi theatre. It was a small flat and a little out of her budget, but given the location, she was interested. Until, she saw a big hole in the wall. “Yeh deewar mein hole hai”, she pointed out to her broker. “ Haan madam ,” he nodded understandingly. “ Aap AC fit karenge, to hole bandh ho jaayega .” “Aur aga

A colleague sent this joke as a forward. It's a blonde joke, but could've been really any ole vegetraian. (Meat eaters are not so ditzy, I think). *********************************** A blonde, wanting to earn some money, decided to hire herself out as a handyman-type and started canvassing a wealthy neighborhood. She went to the front door of the first house and asked the owner if he had any jobs for her to do. "Well, you can paint my porch. How much will you charge?" The blonde said, "How about 50 dollars?" The man agreed and told her that the paint and ladders that she might need were in the garage. The man's wife, inside the house, heard the conversation and said to her husband, "Does she realize that the porch goes all the way around the house?" The man replied, "She should. She was standing on the porch." A short time later, the blonde came to the door to collect her money."You're finished already?" he asked. "

Here’s how I managed to go to the Kala Ghoda festival today. This morning, I went for a walk, returned to a huge breakfast, finished the last few chapters of ‘Beloved Witch’, and went back to sleep. It was a heavy, thick sort of sleep – the kind that just swallows in the hours in large gulps. When you awaken, the sun has set and you are disoriented with a fuzzy taste in the mouth. But thankfully, I woke up around noon due to a grumbling tummy. I didn’t feel like preparing anything fancy, so I just had some cookies and milk. All the while, though, I was wondering whether I should go to town or not. After all, it was close to 2:30 now, and I didn’t want to spend a late Sunday evening. Next week will be rough at work and I want to be properly rested for that. But every time I make plans to go to town, there’s this thrill that just puts everything in motion. It got me to promptly message a friend that I’d be reaching V.T. around 5. In a matter of minutes, she replied that she’d meet me the

J tagged me on Facebook. I think I need to list down stuff about myself that not many people know. (Although considering I share the celebrity status of a sea-urchin, I think most things about me will not be known in any case.) I also have to tag some others, but I won’t do that. Anyone who wants to do the tag, is very welcome to do it. 1. I love to see/ be around tall people. I really, really wish I were taller. 2. I am currently contemplating whether I believe in God or not. I would like to learn more about atheism. 3. I get positively rabid if I don’t get enough space – physically and emotionally. 4. I see merit in violence – I think it is an effective way to teach certain lessons to certain kinds of people. 5. Often times, I wonder whether I am capable of excellence – in anything. 6. I love listening to other people’s travel stories. 7. As a child and a teenager, I believed I was incapable of love. (One of my school teachers had told me this.) Then one time in college – in F.Y.J.C.

It was my parents’ anniversary the day before. We had gone out to Pot Pourri in Vashi for dinner. It was really nice! I like Pot Pourri, but I was sceptical about how it would be in Vashi. Well, as it turns out, the service there definitely beats the kind you get in Bandra. People are so warm! They wait patiently until you have made up your mind. And they also make intelligent recommendations saying things like, “If you like cheese and capsicum, you should try this.” (It’s a different sort of treatment from, say, pointing a pencil at a dish and looking bored until the imbecile decides to order it or not.) Amongst us, we had some Mandarin mojitos, guava frappes, a lasagne, thai curry and rice, and a chicken stroganoff. I really like their mocktails – especially their mojitos. I am generally partial to drinks that have chunks of citrus or other fruits in them – like sangria and the like. In fact, at the Library bar, I’d once had a drink with cubes of sweet lime and pineapples treated wit

If anyone from Delhi will be visiting Mumbai soon, and will be staying over the weekend - could you please get me a copy of the 'First City' magazine? Will pay for it, of course. Thank you! And for the people of Delhi, do read it if you haven't. It's a really well-written, intelligent magazine. When they interview writers or artists, they actually ask about their craft and metier and stuff like that. Not simply, what's their favorite food, colour, or holiday spot. So, yes, it is published work that is not tinted with the contemporary virtue of dumbing things down...but you will love it despite that.

I am really looking forward to going home and sleeping today. It promises to be a long, long day and I have to drive back home. Home is so far, far away. The other day, I had to go and check out a flat near Andheri station. A girl there wanted a room-mate, but for some weird reason I don’t want to shift just yet. I’ve started running in the mornings now, at least three-four times a week, and I don’t want to break the routine just yet. Maybe in another couple of months. For now, I will have to handle the commute from New Bombay. It’s not really difficult, if one has a good head of sleep. I don’t get why people at work can’t understand the seriousness of a sleeping disorder. How can you expect people to turn up to work early day after day, even if they stay late the night before? And if you stay late and come in late, you have to fill up a blooming form. Which is irritating. I hate forms. I mean, if no forms have to be signed for me to stay back, then why should forms be signed to waive

In simpler times, it was simply 'saffron, white, and green with a chakra in between.' In simpler times, this phrase was sung by children. ************** There’s a big poster in Marol - near the fire-station, I think. It has a picture of a group of saffron-clad people walking purposefully. The slogan on the poster reads something along the lines of: “ Ab aa gaye sant, karne jihad ka anth .” The lettering is in saffron, except for jihad , which is in green. So, that’s saffron and green. Two colours of the Indian flag now associated with fundamentalism. Maybe, it’s time white denoted atheism.