Chiffonesque

Meltdowns. I have been thinking about them. Last few weeks, or maybe months, have been tense. It has now come to a point where very little tension comes from outside. Most of it germinates somewhere internal - maybe base of the spine or in the wrist or behind the left eye. Somewhere like that. Then it doesn't get an outlet and it starts hardening on the nerves. Perhaps unresolved feelings work the same way as plaque on arteries. They block flow. They tighten and constrict and then, one day, they kill. But sometimes, something inside shifts. It could be brought on by a verse one has read or a sketch one has done. Something like that. It's like these shrapnels and pointy bits of angry, unhappy thoughts get wiped down with warm, salty water. They soften. In time, they melt and come out as tears. That's why I feel meltdowns are good. They are important. They are a more organic form of release of all the filth that collects in the brain and makes it a gutter. After one has h

A yellow bird On an orange sill Unruly sky And a pond that's still In the slow sweet waltz Of night and dawn It wet its wings It pecked its corn Then it flew away In speed and grace A single feather Left its trace It flew across Long and high Across an unruly pond And a still blue sky To meet the one It loved so greatly still An orange bird On a yellow sill.

Today, as I'd finished my walk, one of the cops I'd complained against told me to stop and then started asking why I had made a complaint against him. It was already 8:30 and there were fewer people walking there. Then he started beckoning people and asking them if they thought what I'd done was right. That is when I lost it. I told him what he was doing was very wrong, stopping women late at in the evening and interrogating them unnecessarily. And where was the lady constable? He said that there were no women constable in the chowki. One gentleman was helpful enough to step in and tell the cop that he couldn't just interrogate women like that. Then the cop told me to come down to the police station and I said no. I told him that I had written an email about what I wanted and he could do what he wanted as well. I came home livid. Then I called up the PSI who I'd spoken with earlier. He apologized on the other inspector's behalf. If there ever was a time to k

I was thinking about this today - that if one could love like she has never been hurt, it can effectively counter one who hurts like she has never been loved.

Earlier, I had posted about having written an email to the DCP of Vashi regarding an incident in the park. (The link to the DCP's email is there in one of my earlier posts I think.) A couple of days ago, I got an email from a lady asking me to speak to a PSI (Police Sub-Inspector) and gave me his name, a landline number, and a mobile number. I called up the sub-inspector and spoke to him. He also wanted me to come down to the police station. I was really down yesterday so I said I didn't feel like. He then suggested I come over the next day after 9:30 a.m. I said okay. That night I spoke with my parents and my father again told me that I shouldn't go unescorted. He said he would come with me but I didn't want to trouble him any more. The next day, the sub-inspector called again and I asked him if it was absolutely necessary to come down to the station. I told him my father wanted to come with me but he keeps late hours so it's difficult. Could we just speak over

They'll be around The way sand in an hourglass goes nowhere I'll find them  anyway Strewn like wilted leaves, heaped here or littered there This weird fantasy of having them strung Along a piece of velvet ribbon The fantasy of having some memories gleam And keep some others hidden This fantasy will shatter, I bet, When the notion of time fades When the heart resurrects for remembrance And then, for remembrance, it degrades.

I feel very low today. It's odd because I had a lovely time today. I don't really have any friends in Vashi. So, if the urge strikes me to get a cup of coffee or if I feel this restlessness of just hanging out somewhere close by, I do it by myself. Meeting other friends usually involves making plans a day in advance and traveling all across the city. But sometimes, there are these moods that start scrunching in the mind - like empty toffee-wrappers. Maybe they hid a sweet treat at one time. Now, it's gone. Today I met a friend who had worked with me ages ago.  A couple of days earlier, we got in touch and she told me that she lives in Vashi. Not just Vashi but fairly close to my house. So, I visited. Her home is in a very charming, leafy lane. It's inside a gated community that has rows of smallish buildings. They are the kinds you find in Saket and Lajpat Nagar - two or three-storeyed buildings. From the terrace of her building, we had a clear view of the shimmering

Fortune-telling: Was born. Will die.

I went for a run this evening but didn't see the cops while I was there. I wonder if they came later. During the day I had called up 100 and told them I wanted to report a cop taking bribe. They asked me the area where I had seen this and my name. Then they told me to talk to an official at this number: 27561099. I thought I would wait until I met those cops again this evening, see if they were up to their nonsense and then report. Since I didn't see them today, I haven't called up this number yet. In time, I will. While I was running, I took some pictures my new camera phone. It's not a high-end phone or anything. I don't even know how to use the zoom function here. But I have never had a camera phone before. I quite like it. In fact, I prefer taking pictures with it instead of talking to people. There are these pretty yellow and white blooms deep inside the marsh. When the sun goes down, these blooms just leap out with their soft, velvet-like luminescence. I

Regarding last night's incident, I haven't been able to the police station yet. My father advised me to go with him later as he said I shouldn't go without a witness. Mum has to go to Bandra for some work. Anyway, I got these details from the Internet: http://mahapolice.gov.in/mahapolice/jsp/temp/navimumpolice.jsp Have e-mailed the respective authorities. Let's see now. I think I will write to a newspaper now. Somehow I don't feel right about getting the media involved. I think they have a tendency to make everything into a circus. But if in the long run, it helps someone, so be it. Also, Navi Mumbai does not apparently fall under the jurisdiction of Greater Mumbai. Therefore I could not find any relevant information here: http://www.mumbaipolice.org/ I do believe there should be some integrated website having information for both divisions. When one is in trouble, one is really not in a position to go running around understanding nuances of police jurisdict

I go for a run at a promenade opposite Fortis hospital in Vashi, sector 10. Actually I am not sure if it is sector 10 or sector 10-A. The promenade is quite pretty and circles a little marsh. There aren't to many streetlamps there. Some nights, I have seen beautiful fireflies and all. Some other nights, I have seen a few unpleasant things. There are these little  sheds constructed intermittently. People usually sit, dogs usually urinate and some people do yoga or stretches here. In the late evenings, sometimes couples go and sit there. Sometimes, they get cosy. Last week or so that I have gone running, I have noticed that two cops on a motorcycle come and generally round up couples. This happens between 7 and 7:30 every evening. I used to think it was some annoying kind of moral policing. Then today, I am not sure, but I think I asked a cop ask the couple for money. While the girl had turned away and had curled herself up in abject shame, the boy was trying to negotiate the money

I wonder if it has been the insulation that freelance brings on but my hanging out periods have changed drastically. I used to spend spades of time at coffee shops, clubs or restaurants. I used to go around driving here and there and meet at least two or three friends a day at separate times. I'd love to know what they were up to, talk about what I was up to, talk about what the world was up to - and then, my day filled with glittering chatter would come to a close. On my way home late at night, there would be texts on where we would meet up next and what we'd do. All this was not even a long time back. Barely 3-4 months ago, that was my story. I don't know what has happened since then but I just love being by myself now. Or actually, that's not strictly right. I have always loved my own company but I have enjoyed other people's company as well. Now, I find it a tad tiresome. All my friends are my age or a couple of years older, maybe, but they all seem so differe

Sometimes losing happens... As buttery light melts over ponds, Over debauched shorelines, over virginal fronds Sometimes losing happens... As handshakes freeze in peace As freedom forges ahead, yet wholesome trust depletes Sometimes losing happens... When a finish line cuts through a grip When the body teeters forward, when the mind does a flip Sometimes losing happens... In the shadows of sanctimonious sinning, In the dimension of retreat and some really doubtful winning.