Chiffonesque

Yesterday I had a bad fall, a sore back, and a reason to stay at home. The cousin I stay with, B, had gone off to work after washing the dishes. My other cousin, W, called up to say that he’d be coming over for dinner that night. W is, in many ways, so similar and dissimilar to me that if I have anything to talk about, I really can’t think of anyone else to share it with first. We never agree, he always argues, I always stonewall – but that routine means more to me than a lot of meaningful discussions I’ve had with others. We were talking about our respective work, how drab jobs really erode one, and how I must absolutely stay away from Lokhandwala. Apparently, it’s full of wolves. I’m the recipient of such focused advice because I have recently made a few friends from that area, and one of them has invited me to a pool party this weekend. “You don’t know how they are!”, he warns me. “They’re like you, I think.” “Exactly!”, he says without thinking. We laugh and I head to the kitchen

One evening, I was at a coffee shop reading a book. Some guy getting coffee at the counter came up to me and asked me if I'd read another book by the same author. I said I hadn't. He smiled and said, "Well, I hope you like this book. If we run into each other, let me know how it goes." I said I would. He smiled, I waved, he was gone. I shared this with a male friend in the spirit of appreciating easy camaraderie between strangers. My friend said that the man spoke to me because he wanted to sleep with me. The stranger didn't care squat about the author, he didn't care if we were like-minded, he didn't want to add value to my reading list, etc. "He spoke to you because you were wearing that ”, he pronounced. (‘ That ’, by the way, was a hot ensemble of a ratty blue ganji and worn-out khaki shorts.) “Really? He suggested a book because I’m wearing that?”, I asked with A-class sarcasm dripping from my voice. “No! He suggested a book because he wants to

I reached home late last night, not looking forward to eating the dinner I’d prepared in the morning. But I guess I’d cooked under a favourable planetary alignment. The vegetable-daal was quite tasty. Fortified with good humor, I asked my cousin if he wanted to catch a late night movie some where. Pat came the reply, “ I’m not watching ‘Luck’ .” I sputtered something in alarm. Kids these days have no sense of what’s good and what’s not. I insisted that ‘ Luck’ would be a great movie, considering its stellar cast. “ Like who? ”, he asked solemnly. “Sanjay Dutt, that’s who!” For the next five minutes, there was laughter. I’ll just put it down to ignorance of youth, to novice dismissal of unparalleled expertise, to not knowing great talent when it’s staring down your gullet, etc. etc. In any case, I threw a little tantrum when he suggested we watch ‘ Transformers’ . So, as a compromise we decided on ‘ Night at the Museum-2’ . Now, I don’t get newspapers at my place, so I was generally w

…that in yoga, the asanas that aid better sex are very similar to those that help easier childbirth. Something very sweet and nurturing about this.

An hour ago, I started feeling uneasy. Very uneasy. Something's going to go wrong. I've had this feeling in the past and I've not been wrong about it. So, whoever I know (in fact, even those I don't) - please be careful - especially of cars and addicts. This seems strange - I can't explain it to myself, much less to anyone else. But everytime I have this feeling...someone I know or know of dies. Be careful; be very, very careful. This time, the feeling feels stronger. So, who knows - it could be me. Of course, I can't really say I 'know' myself and all, given that was to be the purpose of this life. But i don't think I could negotiate a longer life on account of being clueless. :-) If I don't post tomorrow, you know what happened. But everyone, on a serious note - look out.

Every single day this season - every single hour and evening, every single dawn, dusk, and noon has been so precious. It's had the most perfect winds and the most glorious skies. The incredible walks at midnight to Carter Road alone, only to find oneself in the midst of happy campers, the stunning train rides to town, the impromptu cab ride over the Bandra-worli sea-link at eleven at night with a cab that felt safe and warm, days filled with honest transactions with people who could so easily cheat you, daily goings on with such independence...this city is so much more than just perfect.It's on its way to becoming so all-encompassing and brilliant that my mind truly boggles. Aeons ago, the Force made the world...when It wanted a challenge, It made the sea. And to tell a saga of It's victories - It made Mumbai.

Sometimes, in Mumbai, people giving directions is similar to people offering water to a drowning man. Sweet gesture and just as useful. I’m outside Churchgate station. A woman walks past me. She looks like she’s not from here…for one thing, she’s wearing pretty shoes in the rain, in the train. And the poor thing is carrying a delicate, paisley-printed umbrella which will get bent out of shape the next time it pours. She looks about, worried and confused. I think of asking her whether she’s lost. Before I can do that, though, she hails a man and asks him whether he knows a particular building. The man, who until now, was languidly chewing paan suddenly springs to life, as if he knows the answer to a million dollar question. He excitedly turns back and points to a cluster of yellow, brown, pallid heights of concrete. “You see that building there, madam…take a right from there!”, he exclaims happily. The woman, obviously, doesn’t see ‘ that ’ building! She sees a million, small, tall, low

I want to watch a movie. My cousin is staying with me now and I thought we’d go for a film this evening. Now, the thing is, I want to watch a regular movie…you know, the ones with a story, actors, actresses, a s-t-o-r-y. It needn’t be an ambitious story. It needn’t be about the world being taken over by monsters or mutants being tampered with or evil being sucked into the stratosphere. Boy meeting girl, girl misunderstanding boy, both getting together at the end – that’s good enough. I’ve had it with the Wolverines, Transformers, and Terminator Salvations of the world. (What a name – terminator SALVATIONS!) I suffered through Wolverine. And in office, I suffer through all these conversations about other films where people go… " Did you see how…!”, “I know…it just flew out of…!”, “And the way his car just turned, man!"... and “ I KNOW!!” Well, I don’t know . In Wolverine, it’s not enough that the fellow is a mutant. He has to have metal injected in him. And then he has to be n

It’s grey and misty And windy and loud It’s the tempestuous embrace of an exuberant cloud It’s a canvas of sturdy, wet trees and lanes It’s a showcase of at least ten types of rains They slant and they slash and frizz around in swirls Some even patter and form laces in a crystallized world I’m drenched and I’m happy And I’m ready for more I’m on my way to the beach To hear the sea roar This is more than a season, It’s much larger than weather It’s the liberation of a force That’s broken through its tether It’s a heart that is wild And a heart that is free It’s a heart that has yielded And captivated me

If anyone knows of institutions, individuals, organizations in Mumbai that help with gambling addiction, please let me know. It's urgent.

You know how, sometimes you see people in miserable situations – good people, smart people, people who should know better – and wonder why they don’t just get out of the pain they’re in? I seldom think of them because it’s unfair and judgmental but more importantly, because…well, it’s more fun to think of myself. But I think of them in times like this – when I have a toothache. A raging, hard, sore toothache. I know I should go to a dentist. But I can’t. I just can’t. If it were a simple matter of overcoming fear, I suppose I would have tackled it. Sometimes, fear does galvanize one into action. But this is ridiculous. I feel a sloth, a paralysis that just seems insurmountable. Toothaches should have support groups. I should be able to find someone who I can go to a dentist with. I just can’t bear to go to one by myself. Maybe if someone would accompany me whilst I was kicking and screaming, it would be so much better. Otherwise I have to take a rickshaw by myself, and if I kick and sc

A crazy outpouring of joy that just bursts upon everything – leaving it crazed and beautiful…the people, the stones, the plastic chappals floating away in water, a sea getting hammered with rhinestones, flustered crows seeking shelter in strong, green trees, wet, free-flying laundry, the blissful laughter of the hills, the spectacular and the ordinary way a child jumps into puddles and laughs... This is what some call rain. This is what some call love. You feel it, and you are changed forever.

You know, if there is a God, he didn’t quite think things through. I mean, why give bad teeth to people and make them suffer unnecessary pain? And to top it all, endow them with a crippling phobia of dentists? Why? What lesson can possibly be learnt through wanting to blow your brains out? I have really bad teeth. Yes, I neglect them, but I don’t think I have done anything that merits this kind of anguish. The number of root canals I’ve had is unbelievable! I’m sure my mouth has tiny bacteria sitting in gondolas, singing while moving from the passageway of one tooth to another. With the current pain that befalls me, almost blinding in scope and capacity, I think the bacterial infection is not so much touristy in nature, but migratory. They don’t want to visit and head back to where they came from. They are here to stay. I need relief fast. I’ll go to the dentist when I can muster up enough courage, but for now, I want some quick remedy that will just please please stop this pain! Actu

When I lived in Powai, I used to talk about my childhood and college days a lot. My room-mate and I would talk about our earlier years whilst travelling to work or returning from the grocery store. Those were times when I’d flip through a mental black-book of sorts. There were strange teachers, weird neighbors, nasty boys on the streets, haughty girls in school, random strangers in buses, glib pick-pockets at Dadar station, friends I shared tiffin with, the cunning boatman in Kashmir, the braggart outside Mehboob studio, the date who’d got me sand from Sri Lanka. It amazes me now, how much I remembered about these people from such a long time ago. My room-mate once told me that I’d met very interesting people in life. I should probably catalog details about them. They were clearly more than shadows in my mind. They had become stories I remembered and retold time and again. “Write about them”, she told me. “One chapter on each person.” I thought it was a superb idea. I told her I’d do i

I reached home last night with only a hundred rupee note in my purse. The rick guy didn’t have change, the shops around didn’t have change, anyone I asked on the road didn’t have change. A lady was waiting for a rick. She asked me how much I owed the guy, took out money from her purse, paid the rick guy, smiled, and went off. Is there any wonder why every pore my being is always, always blessing this city?