Chiffonesque

1) When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought? With that face and that body, how are you not a model? (he he! Woke up really early…at a time when the mind plays tricks.) 2) How much cash do you have in your wallet right now? 1500 rupees. Got to buy some essentials and need some cash for a luncheon tomorrow. 3) What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR? Bore, Core, Fore, Four, Gore, oar, pore, pour, soar, sore, lore, floor, so on and so forth. 4) Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone? Who knows?! I hate talking to people on the cell phone. I dislike cell-phones. I dislike people. And I thoroughly dislike the idea of using a cell-phone to communicate with people. Annoying! 5) What is your favourite ring tone on your phone? I have the standard Reliance ring tone. 6)What are you wearing right now? A purple-peasant top in a really light cheese-cotton fabric and a very bright yellow and orange cotton skirt. I like colourful clo

I like something high over something big I prefer to leap and catch than to kneel and dig I like an open palm, not a tight embrace I’d choose twisted ropes over Venetian lace You like snowy tips over frothy waves You like the nod of kings, not the clasp of knaves You need refined drinks, over humble foods You like a steady mind over kaleidoscopic moods This was okay until sometime back Your red was red, but to me t’was black The trouble began when you just couldn’t see That my night, although dark, was light to me

One of the lesser known, but more important, uses of food is providing humans with analogies to describe experiences. While poetry, art, religion, or philosophy does provide a comprehensive enough platter to pick nuggets of explanations from, sometimes an edible alternative works better. Sometimes, the most twisted situations or the deepest emotions can be likened to the tingling of the palate. Barely a month ago, work kept in office until very late. I’d reach home around 2 a.m., knowing that I’d have only four hours on my bed before I began the next day. I’d have a small meal reading a story from ‘The Unaccustomed Earth’ before falling asleep. Those were physically trying times. But there was something about those stories that soothed me, comforted me. They were quiet and engaging. While reading them, I’d lose sense of the time or space I was in. I’d defer any urgency of living for later. I’d be lost in the nourishing wholesomeness of the moment. Reading Jhumpa Lahiri’s latest work w

I am old enough to have a mind of my own. I don’t need to get influenced by other people’s biases or inherit prejudices. But over the last two months, I can’t help being influenced by what my cousin told me…about ‘no. 8’ people - people whose birth dates add up to no. 8. Not their whole birthdates, just the first number. He told me that no. 8 personalities lead difficult lives – mostly of their own doing. They are wilful, stubborn, controversial, rebellious, and tend to have relationships fraught with angst. They are the ones born with varying sizes of albatrosses that they spend their lives trying to release. (He’s an 8 himself.) To prove his point, he started pointing out people who were born on the 8th of a month, or the 17th, etc. If I’d talk about a particular person who was being tough to handle, he’d ask me when the person was born. If I told him exasperatedly about someone who was obviously making the wrong choices, he’d ask me their birth date. Invariably, these people would b

I just thought of something…if I provided a service wherein people could get a synopsis of a particular book they wanted to read (a low-down on the story, how well it was received, stuff like that…), and if I let people short, quick glimpses of what the book looked and felt like…I’d call that service: Peek-a-book .

I love Hyderabad. I wonder if it was the weather (which was beautiful), or the happy, happy company (J and Cy), or the fact that I was taking a well-deserved break (never mind what anyone else thinks) – but I love Hyderabad. I can’t get over how sweet and friendly the people are! And so very helpful! I reached Hyderabad at night and my phone was out of charge. I went to one of the attendants there to ask if there was a pay-phone somewhere and he gave me his mobile phone to make a call. When I reached Hi-Tech city, I generally asked a lady for directions. In response, she got me an auto and asked me if I’d reach okay. She offered to come with me by rick and have her son pick her up from my destination later. I mean, who does that? I love that city! Very rarely have I come away from a city being so touched. Before all the glorious software that came and lit up the place, there were all these open hearts and sunny smiles. And after so long, I’ve seen a rice-eating populace being so brisk

My share of twilights My share of rain My share of a lost season To take for granted again My piece of a mountain My strip of a beach My clutch of icy stars All within reach My stretch of a nomadic sky My cupped palm of streams My tapestry of urgent hopes And unclenched, innocent dreams My shards of sunbeams And my forests of nights My fervent leaps Into unembellished heights With this montage of wanton scraps I build my world anew It may be a little rip from the Universe But I share it all with you

Could anyone please recommend any spooky reads? Not gory spooky, but spine-chilling spooky. Along the lines of Rebecca, perhaps. Jaygee recommended 'The Shining' by Stephen King, but I haven't been able to find it in the Crosswords at Mulund or Vashi. Also, while we're at it, any spooky movies you can think of? Nothing with blood, or heads spinning around or monsters covered in glop. But something simple and surreal. Thank you! P.S. - I HATED 'The Ring - parts 1,2,3,...infinity' and although I thought 'Evil Dead Part 1' was good, I thought that at a time when I didn't know any better. My all time favorite horror film? Omen - Part 1.

I’ve been really unwell since the last two days. Feeling feverish, getting cramps, and retching uneasily around midnight. Somewhere deep inside my stomach, I feel a painful unease. Trying to sleep at night has become a tough project now. So, I try to dream of soothing things – like jasmine petals in a tub of cool water in which I soak my feet. Or standing in front of an ice-slab that’s placed before a cooler on a hot, humid day. Last night, though, I dreamt of something very beautiful and profound. I was lying on bed wearing my polka-dot cotton shorts and a military-print vest. It’s around two in the afternoon, and there’s a child on the bed. I think the kid is around three or four years old, and is painting something or arranging blocks. I imagine it’s a girl because I sense it’s my baby. Thus far, I have only thought of being a mother to a daughter. I’m looking at her very lovingly, playing with her little toes and watching her flinch and wiggle her feet away. I can’t see the face of

I’ve just finished reading ‘The Lightning Thief’ by Rick Riordian. It’s the first of ‘Percy Jackson and the Olympians’ series. And in a long while, it’s the most exhilarating read I’ve had. It’s fantasy fiction – about a young boy, around twelve or thirteen years old, who’s sent to a special school in New York. The school’s meant for kids suffering from dyslexia and attention-deficit disorders. But there’s more to Percy than meets the eye. He is not simply the product of a dysfunctional home with a loving mother and an alcoholic step-father. He is, in truth, the… (Spoilers hereafter) son of Poseidon, the Greek sea-god. Owing to this lineage, many things befall this ‘half-blood’ – causing him to move beyond mortal parameters to other dimensions. In such alterative realities, he encounters other gods such as Ares, Medusa, Hermes, Hades, Zeus, Tartarus, etc. There’s also a brief encounter with the big daddy of them all, Kronos. And then there’s his quest – to reclaim Zeus’ thunderbolt fro

Today she wore a light blue sweater. Moons ago, she’d refer to the color as ‘baby blue’. Today she’d call it ‘sky’. ‘Baby’ was a better description of the blue, though. It was nascent, pure, untainted. It was without ambition to become ‘royal’ or rambunctiousness to become ‘cobalt’. It was happy being what it was. It didn’t aspire to a lineage like ‘indigo’ or dilute its essence like ‘cyan’. That shade was, truly, a baby. Light, innocent, pleasant. It was hot and stuffy in office. She’d walked in late and everyone looked up at her for a second. Today, late coming was anticipated because it was Friday. The last day of the working week saw people either coming late or leaving early. Typical. But everything seemed palpably horrid. She seemed palpably horrid. It seemed as if her entire body was chortling out huge clouds of black smoke. She couldn’t stand looking at her colleagues today. All of them all happy with weekend plans. Talking loudly into phones making dinner reservations or logg

After lunch, three of us were in a little strip of green outside our office. It’s ambitiously called a ‘garden’. If they plant one more tree with more than five branches, we’ll refer to it as ‘the forest’. It was a really pleasant afternoon. A strong breeze, bright but tender sunshine, some pink and yellow flowers in full bloom, clean, cobbled paths. It was a good setting for a luncheon walk. Whilst walking, though, my friends screamed and hopped aside. I looked around in alarm – thinking that maybe a cat had begun to sing. I don’t like cats. Not even if they can sing. Cats are annoying. I don’t like cats. I can’t understand why other people do. Now, I don’t much care for dogs either, but dogs are better. If they are around, you know they’re around. Cats, on the other hand, don’t let up. They make you believe that they’re not around, and then when you least expect it, when you’re settling down with a nice, spicy vegetable roll on a park bench, they start meowing. That startles you and

I’m feeling really jumpy today. I have so many things to write about, but all these ideas and words seem to have spilled all over my brain like jelly beans. Bright, jelly beans – all purple, yellow, bubble-gum pinks, tangerine orange, Kermit green, neon blue – spongy little gel-spurts of color inside my head. It’s impossible to get hold of these beans, much less string them to make some sort of a sentence. I think I’ll simply make a list of books that I have but haven’t read yet: 1. Inventing Memory by Erica Jong (I’ve read ‘Fear of Flying’. It’s excellent.) 2. Circle of Reason by Amitav Ghosh (I still think his best work is ‘Shadow Lines’.) 3. Enchantress of Florence by Salman Rushdie 4. Midnights Children by Salman Rushdie (I honestly have not read this one yet because I want to be worthy of reading it. It’s a strange feeling, inadequately expressed, but that’s the only reason I reverently touch the spine of this book every night before putting it back on the shelf.) 5. How to Make