Chiffonesque

I had gone for the Strand Book Sale at Nariman Point last Sunday. Very few things can get me dressed and out of the house by 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning. A trip to town is one of them. I had with me a stack of railway coupons. It’s one of those things – only when you have them will you realize how much easier it makes your life. I love huddling around the validating machine, listening to the punch it makes on the coupons. And the blue vein-like stamp that gets printed on the small strip of paper. While I was having my coupons thumped happily, a long line snaked behind me at the ticket counters. I felt good. The city was just getting ready, and I was already off. I had an errand to run at Peddar Road, which is always fun. Walked around for a bit, grabbed a bite at Subway (only women employees there – heartening), and walked around some more. Then I headed to Nariman Point. I caught a bus to Mantralaya. The conductor was nice enough to make an unscheduled stop closest to Bajaj Bhavan, , w

There used to be a time when life in Mumbai was so good and easy that it spoiled me to live anywhere else in the world. Now, life in Mumbai is so tough that it prepares me to live anywhere else in the world. The city worked for me then. It works for me now.

Can I just say that the most stunning aspect of life...oh wait, I must capitalize that...'L.I.F.E.' is that it knows how to do a stunning volte -face. Yesterday, the morning started off slow and low. But by evening, it had picked up so spectacularly that I was sending out bursts of love and luck everywhere. I'd lost two or three phones in the last week. All numbers gone. A friend who I was meeting up pretty regularly in the past somehow had gotten lost in the void. But yesterday, he called. It was the most exhilarating rush ever! Seeing an unknown number blink on the mobile screen and attend to the call and suddenly, everything that one has ever lost carelessly comes tumbling back. Unbelievable! We met up later and I don't think I've used the phrase 'I'm so so happy to see you now' with more conviction in the last two years! I think he was happy too, although he could've done without the tight squeeze that hurt his busted back some more. But we ate

Sometimes a day begins and you know exactly how it's going to go. Downhill. Not even a spinning, great, downward rush - because that way, it's all over quickly. No. This is a slow, trundling descent. I am feeling really fed up today. Really fed up. I do not like people. In fact, today I sorely want to snap every one's head off and spit it out into a giant crater in the ground. But that would fill up the crater and there wouldn't be any place left for me there. Where I will be landing any time soon. I had a sort of a nice time this Valentine's Day. Went to a lounge/ club/ resto-bar whatever place to Kiwa or Kiva at Vashi. Also got told a few things about the men of the species and how the men of the species generally tend to look at someone like me. Do I agree? I don't think so. But then, really what do I know. I know little about men and I care even less of what they think. I am sure the feeling is mutual, and hence there is peace. Today, I got an email from som

Inside a toy store: Little girl, dressed in a white, denim over-alls, and a sparkly pink and blue hairband: "Papa, I had seen the doll-house here. Really. Mummy promise." Papa: "But it's not here, baby. We'll see another shop." Little girl, most distressed: "But Papa, Mummy did not find it in the other shop also. Where is the doll-house? Why we can't find it?" Papa, patting his daughter on the head: "Oh, I know why! I think it's gone for redevelopment." ********** The surprising part? The child nodded as if she actually understood .

I left Bandra this Friday. When I pulled the door shut, I realized that I hadn't taken down the Christmas and New Year decorations. Made a mental note to take them off soon. After all, I only have a few weeks here. Now that I'm in Vashi, I'm looking out the window and I see kandeels in white, shiny cellophane fluttering in the wind. My parents haven't taken down their decorations either. I'll leave to go out in a couple of hours. There's no agenda, really. I'll just be off to buy something for a friend, and maybe meet her at the airport later. See her off. Then possibly head to town. It feels like a sad day. Or maybe not really sad. Just a day, tired with so many details that are never going to get sorted out. I'll go to InOrbit now. Then the airport, perhaps. Maybe, on the way I'll try to spot decorations that haven't been taken down. I think I need to look at having some goals for the week. I already have some, but I seem to be accomplishing th

"Trust in Him when Thy have dark doubts; Trust in Him when Thy faith is small; Trust in Him when simply to trust in Him... Is the hardest thing of all." Three-four years ago, I'd lived in Pune. In Koregaon Park. I used to walk home from office and stop at German Bakery to have tea and cake. I used to run at Osho garden. I used to hang out at Blue Diamond sometimes. And walk through lush, dark lanes at midnight. I never liked Pune much then. I was too shortsighted to realize that I was, in fact, having the time of my life those days. The other day, when Mumbai got a little tufty and cloudy, I remembered all the good, beautiful, rainy days in Pune. I made some fantastic friends and saw some gorgeous sights there. Pune converted me into an unabashed poet. I left the city without a proper goodbye. I was planning to go there for my birthday this year and stay a couple of days near the Osho ashram. And then this horrible thing happened today. This thing that makes me want to ha

I never liked roses much.Until that day. When I was decorating a celestial bed. And spreading all those petals away. Peeling off petals from a bloom; now that’s a gentle and delicate affair. Their softness on your fingertips linger. The more they’re gone, the more they’re there. Much like some people one shares a lot with. Deep scarlet memories and deep scented times. Then they leave or get distant. Decaying from brilliant spotlight. To a fading hint of a jaded shine. One’s left with only a bald stem, sure. One that’s also a bit hurtful to hold. But you look at the quilt and you see what it’s bedecked with. And you’re thankful for what you had in the fold. This time, it won’t be for a starry night. Or a dazzling day beyond. It’ll be for the dawn with the shying light. I’ll be grateful for the thorns. Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone.

This is what I believe to be true Some day, it all melts into blue Cyan, first, and then deeper it slides Snuggling finally under the carpet Where indigo resides Jotted this during a meeting. Want to think of some kind of illustration for this verse now.

It's around ten thirty. I'm getting back from a nice evening at Kala Ghoda. Didn't do much there. Just caught a Spanish film at Cama Hall, roamed around a little bit along the pretty stalls, and headed to Bade Miya. Bade Miya now has a stall that sells 'pure veg' food. From what I tasted, the vegetable sheekh kabab is quite tasty. They're a little stingier with the chutney and onions than the meat counterparts, but still. I appreciate its presence. I'm thankful. I'm the only one at this stall. We take our kabab rolls back to our trains. My friend and I generally chit-chat about the city and the 'scrapers and the awesome new building at Peddar Road - the one that has a beautiful jacuzzi lined with silver and gold tiles, etc. We get silent for a bit. I buy a shiny, bronze rubber-band to tie my hair with. She pulls it out and picks out a sober green one. I don't like sober. I get off at Bandra and feel a little excited about Friday. I want to spend

It's Saturday afternoon and I'm back after a stint at Inorbit with my mother. It was my parent's anniversary on the 4th of February. I'd thought of taking my folks out to dinner and that happy film, 'Rann'. They appreciated the thought and promptly made other plans. Oh well. Of what use is the child who you can't take for granted. In any case, my father is generally easy to buy for when he isn't around. Got him a shirt. It's full-sleeved, with beige and grey stripes, and in my favorite material - linen. (Favorite material on men, actually.) My mum, on the other hand, is a different story. She loves buying stuff for the house. And then she'd like to buy a house for the stuff. The best gift for her would ideally be a bungalow somewhere or a nice penthouse. But because she has the kind of daughter she has, she's learnt to make do with lesser things. But I still don't understand the raptures over a stupid centre-table. When we already have o

Yesterday, I was out for a walk to Carter Road around 6:15 in the morning. It was still dark and a half-chewed moon shone alone in the sky. I walked up the Zig-zag road, glancing up at the moon. Through leaves, it looked latticed and funny. Like a half-eaten pearl in a lace pouch. By the time I’d reached Carter Road, the sun was just rising. The black-blue color had started getting diluted with the morning light. The world was getting brighter. The promenade was scarcely peppered with people. The serious joggers had moved on ahead, and the people doing tai-chi made their fluid movements slowly. The fishermen were setting up their boats. Some of them were reeling in fish already. Vegetable vendors were polishing up their bright yellow and red bell-peppers and thick tomatoes. It had all the markings of an ordinary day. And then it got scary. An old man, carrying a bag of scraps or food, crossed over the balustrade to go to the rocks. The sea had not yet receded by then. But as the man wa

I just attended a friend's wedding in Jamshedpur… and what can I say? If you took happiness and contentment in equal measure and whisked it up with glorious weather and blended in golden ribbons of serendipity…that would have been my trip. There were happy ceremonies inside the home. Laughter and sunlight trickling in through lacy curtains. There were also huge lunches with the family and photographs shot for a lark during siesta time. And a beautiful Bengali wedding held in the garden at night. And lots of cups of steaming hot soups and excellent chocolate pies and creamed vegetables and mishti-doi and gulab-jamuns , and apple strudels with sweetened dollops of cream. Then sneaking away to decorate the celestial bed with a young bridesmaid who had exceedingly deft fingers and very bright ideas. (She stunned me with her ability to spontaneously make wax beads to spread as dew-drops on flowers.) Of course, some ideas I was absolutely against – like putting papads under the sheets.