Monday, October 31, 2011

Life's Small Joys...

...are of eating ice cream and/or cake directly from the tub/box!


I think it's super joyous because eating directly from the pack, than from a measly serving, makes the entire experience one of absolute abandon and sheer abundance. It's also got a teeny-tiny bit to do with the satisfaction of not listening to ma over her displeasure of us eating directly from the pack. 


*sigh*

Bad Boys

There's something about the quintessential bad boy that catches my fancy. I think it's about the complete disrespect for anything that is the set norm, the elan and suavity with which they live their world, their glamour, their mysteriousness, their ways of the world, the confidence they have in themselves and in breaking rules, etc, etc, that sets them apart from what one would call a 'regular man', which makes them so attractive. And a regular dose of them helps the rebel in me feel expressed, which is perhaps why the bad boy image is one that I find quite appealing as and when I fancy. :P


And the one who tops my desi on-screen bad boy list is none other than Don. I loved SRK in the movie, I loved the movie, I loved Farhan Akhtar's take on it and the whole nine yards. I think that's one movie I've watched the most at Inox. I've been wanting to write about my fetish for bad boys for a while now. I think it was thanks to Don on TV last night and him being all over my YouTube page as I opened it this morning, that actually got me down to writing this post. Yes, on a Monday morning. I think I have a penchant for making things much more interesting, especially on a Monday morning :P


So here's how it all started.


(Pardon the video quality, this was one that allowed sharing.)





And I cannot wait for this one.





Have yourself a stellar Monday!

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Lists

I think I've figured out what makes my life feel fulfilling and complete.
  • Teaching
  • Traveling
  • Writing
  • Photography
  • Cooking
  • Planning
  • Being the hostess
The thought of them makes me feel warm, excited, energized and charged. And yesterday made this realization stare me square in the face. That is the exact order in which these things matter. They're the toppest of the top-most on my list and yesterday, for the 1st time in my life, I realized I might be walking on the wrong path. 

Official mid-life dilemma #1. Wow, that was quick!

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Perspectives

As the days to turning a year older near, I go through this phase...this phase of looking inwards and trying to put two and two together. It's a function of me that runs on autopilot and calls for no voluntary effort whatsoever. As the days go past and the clock's ticking gets louder, a part of me starts compiling everything that's ensued over the past year in an attempt to put these pieces of my experiences together into a chapter of sorts. 

It would be cliched if I said the usual about how things have changed and how I've come a long way and blah blah. And I'm not here to do that either. I wasn't even going to fall into the rut of writing this post out until yesterday. I chanced upon this show about the human body on BBC Entertainment yesterday afternoon and was taken in almost immediately, what with my abundant curiosity and awe for the creation that is the human body after all. And it's while I was engrossed in this documentary that I found my inspiration to write this post.

The show, to briefly contextualize what I'm referring to, panned the life-span and the various changes we go through on a daily, monthly and yearly basis - from conception till death. And as the show ensued, I started drawing parallels from the show's script to my own life so far. And here is what I drew; pardon me for getting overly philosophical and existential on this one. 

We always need to have a plan and not having a plan also indicates having a plan. A plan to go forward, stand still, take a few steps back, sit, stand, walk, run, leap, crouch, hide and so on. We all have a path we choose to walk on - sometimes we know where we're headed and sometimes we go blindfolded, treading with the support of our instincts. We have dreams, visions, goals, desires and checklists we like to tick off as we attain each of the above. We meet people we never thought we'd meet, we leave people we never thought we could live without, we take alternate routes, we keep moving. It's rare for someone to not have a game plan at all, if not impossible. 

And as we walk on by, we make changes we sometimes vow never to make thanks to situations or circumstances we're faced with. Sometimes life doesn't turn out just the way we thought it would. But we keep moving. We stay afloat even when the odds of us drowning are stacked against us.

Through it all, we reach. We reach that long-awaited island we were swimming towards or that shoreline whose waves we wanted to dunk ourselves into. We reach nonetheless. And we stop, look around and survey the lengths we went to get to our destination. And it overwhelms us - either because we came a bloody long way or because we barely covered any distance or because of how much we gained/lost along the way. 

This is what happens to me every year. Every single year. I review. I reminisce. I replay. I relive. I revel. And it overwhelms me. It overwhelms me because I outgrow my cocoon, start afresh, keep what matters, throw out any excess and unwanted baggage, work on the mechanics that take me forward and keep moving...every single year. Like I said, we keep moving no matter what, no matter where. It's just a matter of time before we figure things out because

"from your first breath to your last, you become larger than the sum of your parts." 

And with that line, the documentary ends. And my thoughts begin. 

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Blah

It's a blah kinda Diwali. I'm not as pumped or excited about it this year and all I feel is this need to curl up under my quilt and snooze. The house has been decorated, the sweets bought, the diyas arranged for evening, the usual quota of sparklers, flowerpots and chakras purchased and so on. Everything's set, ready and done. 


I have a sneaky suspicion that this mood swing's got to do with the impending birthday. Couple that with a hormonal override as well. Yes, it's that time of the year where I start feeling blah and weird thanks to the birthday. Don't get me wrong, I love my birthday, but these few days before the big day are ones I wish I could skip. They're just not my type. I don't enjoy wallowing in countdowns, thoughts of getting older (which incidentally last till just a day before my birthday thankfully!) and the like. And because I look forward to this day, the thought of it vanishing away just doesn't sit well with me. 


It's a day I want to spend with my family and friends; a day I want to spend as perfectly as I can. I want concretized plans that roll out smoothly, I want people to be there, I want every one to have fun and make the most of this day. And this is the one (and perhaps only) day where I'm ok with being in the spotlight. So yes, it matters how my birthday rolls out. And this year, because it's a hallmark one, I have certain hopes and expectations of things going a certain way. However, with expectations come only unhappiness, which again leads back to why I'm feeling the way I am. 


Also I crave good, fun, happy, birthday surprises but am not destined to any! I think people who are super organized and alert are the ones who are never ever destined to get good, fun, happy, birthday surprises. You know those surprises where every one just lands up at home or you have relatives fly down and show up or ones where you get kidnapped by friends to someplace you've always wanted to go to or make a video with messages from everyone... sigh. These are some that I've done which is why I'm caught in this entire expectation loop. 


At the end of the day I just rap myself hard for wanting too much. I think I'm someone who's quite hard to please because I have standards. I don't intend to sound condescending at all. It's an observation I've made about myself which is well, something I've to deal with thanks to the way I am. I either change or live with it - neither of which are pleasant. 


I think I need to just let go. This blahness is not appetizing. 


Oh, and have yourself a super happy Diwali! :)

Monday, October 24, 2011

Kitchen Adventure # 56749216!

My cook-off stints are instinctual. I don't have measuring bowls. I don't use recipe books. I go by the feel of what I see and smell in front of me. And that is exactly what you see as well.

Therefore I give you no clear-cut recipe. I give you images. And slight guidelines. And leave the rest to your judgement :)

CHOCOLATE MOUSSE

 

I began by melting chocolate using the double-boil method. And this is how it will start looking in not too much time. I could be more fancy and finicky by cutting the chocolate into smaller chunks, but it melts either way so I always prefer being 'Nigella-like' and throwing the entire chunk in anyway. Saves me time to do other stuff.


And once it melts, just get your whisk in and give it a nice, brisk stir. It'll turn into this lusciously shiny paste.


In the meantime, grab approximately half a cup of cream and whisk it till soft peaks appear. I believe the quality of the cream plays an essential role here. I hunted 3 days straight for Amul cream but had to settle with Milky Mist. I whipped it and it turned to butter. So yes, a surprise learning and turnout there which I'll put to use another time. I'd thankfully bought an adequate amount and quickly whipped up another batch.


Add a cup of non-whipped cream and a bit of castor sugar (as per your preference) to the chocolate. I took the chocolate off the heat to add cream to prevent the latter from splitting. However, that saw the chocolate solidifying almost immediately. So I put it back on and amalgamated the 3 together till it turned into a loverly, thick, dark, shiny river of chocolate. Once you're done mixing the cream and sugar with the chocolate, fold the mix into the cream you whipped a while back. 


Pour the river into whatever you wish to serve it in and stash the goodness away into the recesses of your fridge (and not freezer) for an hour or so.


Take out, smell, photograph, share and dig right in.




And if you want to be more fun, dunk your finger right into that cold gooey heaven and let it take over your senses :) You could garnish it with more whipped cream but I prefer it this way at the moment.

And that's how I chose to make my otherwise drab Monday so much more fun! :D

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Fancy designations

What use is an M.D, PhD., Scientist, JRF fellow, PsyD., etc, etc, etc if you:

a) have forgotten where you came from
b) have your head so high up in the clouds that you can't see the world you live in
c) don't care whose face you throw shit on
d) forget about the basics that got you to where you are today
e) don't practice what you preach
f) if you ultimately let something as stupid as your bloated ego flush your credibility and humility down the drain
g) don't like where you're at
h) got those titles because it just looks good

The point I'm trying to make here is something that's been needling my brain for a while now. It's pushed me to such a place where I've questioned the foundations that I presently stand on. It's something that pushed me off the edge and made me lose faith. And lose faith I did. Massively. 

I come from an academic background. Learning makes sense to me. It comes effortlessly. It makes me feel complete. It makes me feel like I've never felt before, to put it very simply. However, it is this same field that made me feel like a pariah in an instant. And I've been feeling this way ever since.

And pariah I felt because I chose to walk away. And it isn't even about rebelling. It's about being true to who I think I am and not getting sucked into the filthy vortex that the world of academicians presently is. I despise the vast lack of honesty, transparency, humility, not to forget the abundance of hypocrisy that floats all around. 

I cannot understand, forget deal with, people who build their pedestals on the fear they've generated in others; either by walking all over them or using them till they surrender. That's what that designation stands for today - fear and power, not learning and imparting knowledge. I cannot stomach these huge fat degree holders who think they're the be all and end all of man's potential. 

And it saddens me to think that I know barely a few who stand on their laurels for who they are and what they do amongst these million other degree holders. I can think of only a few who practice what they preach, who apply their learnings to their life as well and who know where they came from. 


A real teacher gets respect not for how well she/he can blackmail a class. A revered PhD. holder is looked up to not for the Dr. before his/her name but for their ability to help a student create their learning space and mould them as and when required! A true counselor is revered not for how many clients they see but for how well they can apply and understand what the hell they ask their clients to do, to their own life. A lover of psychology is not one who brags about their book knowledge but lives by the insight they get from actually interacting with people the way they are supposed to! 

For the rest, well, they're just a bunch of rats running a race that probably has little or no meaning to them; or so it comes across to be. Because there's no point in climbing something that's just another ladder when it should in-fact be that one-in-a-million ladder that you should actually be aiming for - irrespective of where you're heading. 

And I'm going to keep bringing these issues up because it matters to me. Because I believe in where I came from. Because what I do matters a great deal to me. Because I have dreams. Because I'm tired of this redundant system. Because going along with shit is not my style. And because I'm opinionated and will opine. As much as I possibly can. 

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Thoughts of a self-confessed planner

There has to be a plan. Always. - check.
The plan always needs planning - check.
It needs foresight - check.
It needs keen, keen attention - check.
It needs alertness - check.
It needs to have a direction. Or the potential of a sense of direction showing up - check.
It needs feasibility - check.
It needs motivation - check.
It needs participants - check.
Those participants need to exude commitment - check
There needs to be a strategy - check.
There certainly needs to be an order - check.
There needs to be a method, a system - check.
There needs to be control - check.
There needs to be confidence - check.
There needs to be leadership - check.
There needs to be initiative - check.
There needs to be an engine that pulls everyone along - check.
There needs to be magnetism to keep everyone together - check.
There needs to be togetherness - check.
There needs to be firmness - check.
There needs to energy - check.
There needs to be a drive - check.
There needs to be realism - check.
It needs to appeal - check.
There needs to be an advantage, if not more - check.
There needs to be the will to take it forward - check.
There needs to be what I call 'planner's hygiene' - being able to be assertive and take charge - check.


And yes, there needs to be a checklist, always. Mentally at least. - check.


A planner wants nothing more than to have everything go as per plan and ensure everyone's having the time of their life. It's as simple as that. And it's as easy as that. Except when people involved in your plan don't get some or all of the above.


Also, you need to be a kick-ass planner and great company for people to take your plans seriously. 


:)

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Loop state of mind

Here's a track I chanced upon at dawn today. I don't know if its the track in its entirety or its lyrics or its beats or Nadia Ali's voice that had me latched on to it the entire day today. I think it's an amalgamation of everything and more thanks to my week that's laden and overflowing with the news of deaths in quick succession and work that makes me want to tear my hair out.  All I want is my weekend. But even the weekend, which is extremely short lived, isn't appealing enough. 


I want to liven the mood up, go on a long drive, let go, cut myself some slack, dance a night away to this song in slo-mo and just live minus any strings attached; just once, if not whenever I wish to. I want out.


There's just something about her voice that sucks me into the depths of this track and lets me float along on what seems like a giant comfy water-bed with nothing but peace around me... That's what I like best about select trance music - it sweeps you into this huge wave and lets you free fall. I'm a free fall phase person. I'm a trance girl. I need my trips.
And no, I'm not high on anything else.


For those of you who don't enjoy trance, don't bother. For those of you who're willing to give it a try, tag along and let it take you wherever it has to. And for those of you who dig it like I do, then dive right in. And close your eyes :)


Monday, October 17, 2011

Death has this inexplicable quality about it. It's that one part of life that people say completes living and life itself, ironically. It's something we have to come to terms with and swallow down. Some of us even brace it to make the thought of leaving for good, easier. Some of us push it deep deep down and carry on with whatever we're busy with, hoping to battle this concept later. 


Death is a strange, funny thing. Funny in a weird, distorted way. Funny in a twisted way. A funny that one perhaps doesn't want to indulge in. Ever. Unless it slams itself right into your face i.e.


And as we grow and live life, we face it in one way or the other. Through sometimes impersonal and sometimes very deeply personal ways. From a distance and from such a close proximity where you find it hard to even breathe. At every age, at every stage, at every level. It's something that's all-pervasive, all-encompassing and all-consuming. It's ubiquitous, whether we like it or not, whether we accept it or not, whether we believe in it or not. 


Death, I think, is the one thing we do not have a choice about in life. And maybe that's what is so unnerving about it - because we can't control it, we can't push it away, we can't not deal with it. 


Which is why it literally feels like someone's punched all the life and air out of you when you hear of someone's death - known or unknown, close or far. And no amount of acceptance can ever change that one moment when the phone rings or when those words of someone's passing are spoken. That mute moment when all you want is to just breathe, suck the life back into yourself and understand what the hell just happened. 


RIP Raja Uncle.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Sap trip

It was this post I'd written not so long back that had a lingering effect on me thanks to the fact that I'm simply, what one would call, a sucker for sap; especially the SRK kinds...and like I said earlier, I'm not closeted enough to either deny or feel embarrassed by it. 


What actually got me down to writing this post was perhaps the memory of the epic era everyone present in the 90s (and later) would have witnessed - the DDLJ era. I don't think words can aptly describe what an effect this movie has had on so so many. The songs, the dialogues, the evergreen actor duo and of course the massive story - all put together - made this movie more than just legendary. 


I, for one, could go on about what this movie meant to me. 
This is the first and last movie I remember watching at a movie theater with my then entire family - that's 19 of us - together. 
I teared up for almost every scene even though I was barely at the age to empathize and actually get what those emotional scenes meant and felt like. 
It's that movie which made me want to see SRK and Kajol together for the rest of my life, whether or not they were married to their respective others. 
That was when the idea of SRK and Kajol stuck around which later led me to despise Rani Mukherjee as KKHH released. I still find them to be one of Bollywood's golden pair on-screen, with my dislike for Rani Mukherjee still remaining quite so intact. Therefore her death in KKHH and SRK picking Kajol in K3G (which was so inevitable) made the world's difference to me. It's silly I realize, but when did reasoning ever stand a chance in front of emotions?
It's a movie that had me (and the rest of the world who watched it, I bet) at the edge of my seat, biting my nails vigorously, hoping against hope that Amrish Puri would let Kajol go. And let go he did. And cry, I definitely did.
It's a movie that completed almost every sunday afternoon thanks to the matinee spot it dominated for so many years. It still does sometimes and you don't really need to guess who it makes so happy.
It's that movie whose dialogues are quoted very widely even today, the most famous one being the unforgettable "bade bade deshon mein aise choti choti batein hoti rehti hain."
It's one I can watch any number of times and one I'd call a classic because it still has the ability to evoke the same emotions it did when I watched it the for the first time - the tears, the fright, the tension, the angst, the love, the goosebumps, the dreaminess, the whole 9 yards that comes with emoting while watching it.
And because I'm a sucker for sap, it made me dream about love stories. While the context and circumstances of such dreams have changed, the underlying hope and wish for a love story as, if not more, exciting and adventurous still remains. 
All in all, it's one movie I'm super proud to know which belongs to Bollywood and one that Bollywood conversely, is proud to have as part of its repertoire. 


I love how contextual it was; how it portrayed relationships; how it wasn't a cake walk for anyone; how it spoke to the young and hopeful; how it portrayed society; how it blended so well into something a family would understand, empathize with and accommodate; and how it communicated itself so immaculately to everyone who watched it. 


And as for me, it still speaks volumes of what love stories can be made up of. I love how fiction talks and allows me to draw parallels with reality. I'm still made up of the 60:40 pessimist:realist combination, however, both parts of me have their space to arrive at their own consensuses making it peaceful. As long as I have the you happy, me happy, everybody happy feeling going on, it's all cool. And that's something DDLJ allows me to wallow in because like I said, it has everything and accommodates every one who watches it. 


And if you disagree, then you've got the chance to walk on and let dreamers live and make their dreams come true. :)


I cannot sign off without letting you revel in a piece of the era that was and always will be.




Friday, October 14, 2011

My current state of mind

I need a man that thinks it's right when it's all wrong tonight, as Lady Gaga so aptly puts it.


Nothing more, nothing less ;)


I'm on the edge of glory this Friday afternoon and all I can think of is bungee jumping right into the madness.


The weekend has a knack of making the world spiral out of control in a very happy, gaga way.

Friday




Cheers to a good life! =)

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Thursday playing...

My 6am song today to complete the overcast wonder that surrounds me in my glass spaceship is here. And it makes me want to wrap my fingers around my steaming cuppa hot chocolate, wishing I were on the balcony taking it all in...and perhaps glide and hover by windows of people lost in the steady glow of their computer screens. It's that kinda song. Give it a listen.





And as the morning progresses, the thought of the almost here weekend makes me flow on to this track's goodness...keeping my mind upbeat as I sink into work with a mental jig or two.




And this one a friend shared makes me wanna just take off on a long drive in this weather. Damn this is not a day to work on. 





But while you're at it, enjoy and have yourself a super smooth Thursday =)

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

More than just a need


I love going to new places. I love going back to places I've already visited. I love the concept of newness, of discovery, of learning and most of all, I love getting to know the feel of the place I visit. People think I travel a lot and perhaps I do, according to their almost nonexistent travel escapes. However, for a heart and soul that craves travel, I think I've barely seen all that's around for me to see.

I went to Wayanad (again!!) the past weekend. And as I wound my way past serpentine foresty roads through the Western Ghats, I wondered about the answer to a question that people ask quite often - are you a beach or a mountain person. And I'm still wondering. I haven't found the answer and maybe that's answer enough.

I love the mountains and everything they bring with them considering I make a visit to them at least twice a year. I love the ranges, the forests, the mist, the clouds so low you could walk through them, the freshness that their sweeping rain brings with them, their environment, their enigma, their absolute abundance...I love it all. I love their seasons. I love the season of fireflies where all you can see around you in the darkness are a million fireflies in unison. I love the season of butterflies that I hope to see very soon. I love fresh mountain brooks and waterfalls. I love what I see when I look up at the sky - stardust. And I am not kidding you. I love the feeling of standing at a peak and looking at the sheer vastness around. Like I just said, I love it all.

And when it comes to the sea, I'm at a loss for words. Maybe that's why people actually become so philosophical when they're by the sea. I think it's got more to do with the sea than the beer. The sea, the overwhelming sea... its expanse, its power, its glory, its strength, its peace, its vastness, its beauty. I do remember mentioning how scared I am of water but the sea's where I could just be at. Ironic. I love watching the waves and cannot help marvel at the game the moon and earth play and if they ever get tired and think of taking a break. I love how welcoming the sea can look, how blatant and outright it is in its demeanor. I love how it allows me to be. I love how it speaks to me and how it's meant to just let go at... I love it.

Whenever I get asked this question, I'm always reminded of how I never really have an answer. How I always get lost in my silence trying to weigh the two out and never really succeeding. I realize I give travel and places I travel to so much meaning. Where I go means something to me. And what I do makes sense to me. And it speaks to me. It's like poetry to me. I'll never have enough words and my poems will always remain incomplete because I cannot have enough. Enough seems like such a redundant word; absolutely meaningless.


The Western Ghats as seen from Wayanad


The view on my trek through the mountains in Wayanad.


Quintessentially Goa.

How do you expect me to decide and have an answer? I think I have more than just a need to travel. I think it's got to do simply do with the fact that I love traveling.

All photographs are © Babushka Chauhan.

- 13/08/11

...


With what remains of the last settling in to do at home, I chanced upon 2 very tiny cartons that were lying untouched in the boot of our car. They were mine, I knew, for they had my name written on them. The letters and the purple ink that made up my name were those of a previous move, not of this recent one. Which means to say that the boxes had just remained as they were the last time I packed them in October 2007. Light and not so difficult to carry up a few flights of stairs, I left them in the 'to be sorted' section last evening, waiting for a more opportune moment to explore their contents inside.

Inside them I found my old text books from my undergrad, 4 notebooks - one filled with history notes from PUC, 2 filled with lyrics of songs we used to sing in school and the other a part of the many notebooks from my notebook collection, a zip-lock bag filled with pictures and trivia of Sachin Tendulkar I'd collected over the years, a play script, and my internship reports. Something that would otherwise take me not more than 5 minutes to clear/segregate and organize had me engrossed and occupied for the next one hour and counting. Of course the physical labour aspect of sorting the contents has been done with. It's the afterthoughts that remained while I cleaned up, showered and landed here.

I am a collector. And I'm a collector of things that make sense and give meaning to me. As I looked through my notes I realized how much had changed over the years. I came across a textbook that felt like Latin to me - something on marketing and communication and market segregation and so on. I came across psychology projects I'd taken the trouble to perfect. And health psychology notes, test papers, my MCC graduation oath, a cheesy ad I'd made it class for a popcorn company and lots of doodles. I was taken back to my English Lit. classes as I skimmed through my textbooks recollecting moments of such awe and inspiration while we read and reveled in the masters of English Lit. - Donne, Keats, Shelley, Burns, Wordsworth - lost in our own worlds. Those classes were periods of such joy, learning, expression and curiosity. I miss good reading. I miss poetry. I miss making meaning of things. I really do. And right at the bottom of the pile were my notebooks and one in particular stood out - the one which was a part of my notebook collection. Filled in its brown pages were sparse but meaningful pieces of my writing. Writing that was normal yet so filled with expression, emotion and depth. Writing that spoke about every day things but didn't feel like a rant. And that's when it hit me how time has changed. Or rather, how I have changed over time.

I love writing. It comes naturally. It makes sense to me and gives me a sense of such identity and release. It makes me feel known and understood. It gives me meaning to my self. It makes me feel heard to my own self. I used to blog even then but I realize that I never wrote for others. Today I do. And that's not the kind of writing I look forward to. While I like penning down events and goings on about my life, I realize I could do with more and better. And I certainly hope I get into that zone again - where I can write for my self, my satisfaction and my happiness. Blogging used to be a forum where I could showcase and share my writing and thoughts with other writers, not keep them posted about the nitty gritties of my life. I really want to be in that mode again. I need a shift in perspective very soon or I know for a fact that I'll lose my self in life's inanities and mundane-ness. And maybe that's my answer to the writer's block I'm in the midst of currently - because I'm not inspired enough and because maybe, just maybe, I've lost meaning of important things.

And it's making me think and ponder. Strange how 2 very tiny boxes made me linger over something I thought I'd sealed in their contents long ago to stash away untouched.

- 15/08/11

Random words during class


No meter. No structure. Just words. That mean/meant something.
Written in class during some lecture.
=============================================


Catharsis of sorts.
I need this as
frayed emotions lay tearing
more.


A grain of trust lost,
unseen, unfelt, dead; non-existence
pushes every strand in the storm of
rewind and fast forward.


Snapped and tangled.


Desire to capture thoughts
shredded out into recollection's nest
attached to wrong? Or right?
Questionable.


A clouded mesh dusty;
experience embedded burying footprints.


And I?
No pain. No hate. No feeling. No space.


The lone tear rippled, surfaced,
soothed and cooled the comatose heave.


Night's muslin absorbs
a colourful black nothingness
of every cell's being, memory, life
of my world's hazy stillness.


And I wonder if this
catharsis of sorts
helps.


Someone said today that happiness is the best revenge.


- Babushka
03/03/07

More than just shooting stars


Magic isn't a far fetched concept. It's not outlandish or hard to find. It's not invisible or impossible. It's very real, possible and quite ubiquitous. According to me at least.
It's not about finding things that could be potentially magical or about getting lost in the throes of wishful thinking. It's about making the most of possibilities around you and watching in patient (and sometimes not so patient) wonder, waiting...waiting for that burst, that explosion that takes your breath away.

On a night like this with a myriad number of thoughts running through my mind, I'm taken back to one of the most magical times I've ever had. It was years back in school when quite a few of us snuggled into our sleeping bags on a friend's terrace to fall asleep watching a meteor shower - or to more romantically put it - to lie down under a sky filled with shooting stars, to get lost in it and to fall asleep watching it. The phenomenon is something that blew me away and still does. I perhaps attribute much more meaning to it today than I did back then, which would've been just another curious and exciting science exploration we did. Imagine! What I would give to have that moment now!

But that's just one slice of magic I've witnessed to talk about here. At this point in time, it's not even about exotic scenarios or circumstances. It's about finding that spark, that click, that moment which makes you take a step both back and forward and say woah! The one that brings in the tingles, the glitter, the sparks and the splendour of it all.

Perhaps a walk under a lazy drizzle, or holding someone's hand or having my neck be the next spot my joojies discover to nibble or snuggle next to or getting an equation wrong only to realize how right it feels ultimately. I could go on because I believe in magic, in sparks, in moments and in memories. I live for them. I strive to make them happen. I'm the romantic I've always denied I am.

I think I'm just in love with life at this moment. A romantic infatuation magical kind of love. Of possibilities and optimism and learning. Of being and living and thriving. It's all about the magic and more. More than shooting stars.

- 04/09/11

In what I hope is the final shift...

I'm re-posting some posts from WP to this blog to shut shop over there completely.

Reminiscent Release - 02/10/11


It’s funny how time flies and how it weathers at the same time. It was just the other day that a friend and me were sitting over tea and reminiscing about things that have happened so far. And man do I feel old! It was during this conversation that I knew I had a blog post sorted out, finally!

We’re at a place today where we’re constantly running short of time. For something we've had such a dearth of, is quite rapidly turning into something we struggle to hold on to today. We’re constantly hoping we had 28 hours in a day, or 40 if you were SRK. We’re doing everything we can to maximize time well spent and make efforts to reduce on things that are not time efficient. We’re scurrying, scrambling, running and panting to keep pace. And while it suits most of us fine, because we are, after all, evolving, it does not take away the fact that we've seen days which weren’t filled with such frenzy all the time. I’m sure we’ve all lived through days where we sent letters wondering where in transit they were, made tedious trunk calls and spoke at audaciously high volumes through scratchy static, taken journeys that didn't amount to single digit hours, been on waiting lists and queues; to summarize, we've been through days of waiting because there was no other way. And we live to tell the tale and sound old and reminiscent.

One such time I remember quite fondly is train journeys we used to undertake every year. I love traveling and am a train girl having blogged about them many a time and more as well. So yes, I've spent my childhood summers traveling in trains, taking long journeys courtesy to our settling down South with my entire family living up North. So there have been memories of taking the train from Bangalore to Kolkata (Howrah), Patna, New Delhi and Allahabad. It must be known that train journeys from here to the aforementioned destinations, even today, span over a good 24 hours, which means to say that 2 nights have to be spent in transit. And these 2 nights suddenly transform into something that is collectively and quintessentially known as the train journey experience.

It is during these journeys, as the train meanders past India’s countryside that something magical happens. The train becomes your home and your co-passengers become your friends and neighbours. You make friends, visit other coupes, berths and compartments, take walks and have conversations, shop at the pantry car or from vendors together, share stories, discuss politics, comment on the government, talk about daily life at home and how strenuous maids can be, play games with these newly made friends, crack jokes and live those 2 days together. Sometimes, just sometimes, love stories start right there as well. It’s interesting how these turn of events take place. At first everyone’s fighting for the best and most safe luggage space with bachelors helping thankful families out. Then every one says their byes as the train whistle blows and makes its exit from the platform. The AC starts working in full form and the compartment rocks from side to side in slow comfort – and that’s when you know your journey has begun. You stash your stock of snacks, food, water, toys and magazines on the top berth along with the bedding. Every one eats in their own clique, tube lights slowly give way to blue night lights and every one calls it a night. The show of warmth and co-passenger-ness slowly starts taking over as though some transit fairy came and sprinkled his magic dust whilst every one was in deep slumber.

So the next morning begins with the grand and loud entry of tea and coffee vendors with breakfast orders being taken whilst newspaper hawkers hover around. People slowly start asking if the other wants tea, how the headlines for the day look and how there’s something about train tea. For those who do not know of or have not had the fortune of traveling by train up north, I make it my duty to say how wonderful train tea can be, especially when it’s served in small earthen pots we call kullads (but that’s only once we've left the South). The compartment is still filled with the warm glow of a freshly risen sun and the bachelors are still asleep. People slowly start waking up and have more (and copious) amounts of tea/coffee and as breakfast arrives, a bag of chips/bhujia does a round and the ice is officially broken. Dads slowly start revealing their food stash while mums organize plates of food that do the rounds. Yes, it takes just a few hours of slumber, tea, newspapers and breakfast to break the ice in such confines.

As the journey progresses, numbers and sometimes addresses are shared. There’s always place for everyone as mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, grandparents, children and the whole jing-bang bond. I remember spending hours playing cards (including cricket and WWF trump cards), snakes and ladders, ludo, magnet games, chess and Hot Wheels games with my brother because I wasn't the socializing with random people so fast kinds. Train journeys were (and still are) synonymous with lying in bed reading Tinkle, Archies, Nancy Drew and Agatha Christie later on to spending hours looking out of the window with my bunch of cassettes and Walkman. And of course, every one loves food. So with train journeys come hawkers that deliver a taste from different states and places. The menu transits with geography and taste buds remain well entertained all through.

Sometimes rumours that fast turn into fact about the journey’s delay make way and everyone gets into a rant/discussion about how the railways really need to buck up. Causal factors of the journey’s delay are churned and pondered over. Mums fuss, dads gather around and discuss logistics while kids carry on with their life after the momentary curiosity dies down.

And eventually, the train slows down revealing a multitude of railway lines that gather signifying the arrival of what is perhaps your destination. It chugs by city slums, shanties and railway crossings as people wait impatiently. There’s a sudden flurry of activity as everything needs to get packed again – music, books, toys, glasses and so on. Bags are zipped, locked, safety chains are unlocked and bags are slowly carried towards the door. There’s a pile up of people in the aisle, the AC turns off and we see land again. The train pulls into its destined junction, bags are counted, coolies hop on, passengers look for relatives, co-passengers say their byes, friends promise to keep in touch, secret crushes are given that last glance, berths are quickly re-checked and the train comes to a halt. We alight. We find relatives. We share hugs. We say our final co-passenger byes. Sometimes introductions take place. We breathe a sigh of relief. We feel the heat of Kolkata, New Delhi, Allahabad or Patna as glasses fog up and our faces burn. We smell of the train and we exude the train experience as we drive home still lost in the lull of the train’s slow rocking.

In the midst of conversations, laughter and fussing over getting out of the station in one piece with relatives, bags and the heat, I always always always reminisce of the train journey that just passed me by – of times where every one had no other choice but to kill time aimlessly, where workaholics itched from work withdrawals, where families lived in the confines of a coupe, where hundreds ate from one single compartment – the pantry car, where times with random strangers were spent in ease and comfort. Those were the days when we didn't reek of hurriedness or urgency…days that just vanished because today, you and I can buy a day’s worth of hours with a few thousands. And I say that with a tinge of regret and a sense of loss because those were days that are meant to be experienced but aren't given a second glance because we simply do not have the time today.

Every day I'm shuff-shuffle-in'

Because music dictates how I approach my day, this is how it sounds so far - 

Lady Gaga showed up on VH1 at 5am as I munched on my breakfast in my steadfast awake-slumber zone to wake me up. 


And then I did eventually wake up thanks to


and


It's a sign =)

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Desi girl

I'm not ashamed to admit that the most cheesiest of songs can make me happy. While I do certainly enjoy my share of meaningful music that makes me feel inspired and connected, there's also a side of me that thrives on silly, nonsensical music. I'm not embarrassed to say that I'm someone who'll pore over a teary drama - read: DDLJ, KKHH, K3G, etc - while the disgusted and exasperated looks of my mother, brother and friends are often given the cold shoulder. I care two hoots. I like my moments of absolute no-sense and that makes absolute sense to me.


So while I'm at it, I might as well confess that I spend many a walk through the corridors at work dancing as discreetly as possible to songs like Chammak Challo, Criminal, Bodyguard, Ready, Dabangg, and so on. Sometimes, if the 90s bug kicks in, I become inseparable from the likes of Tu Cheez Badi Hai Mast Mast, Ye Kaali Kaali Aankhen and the quintessential Tip Tip Barsa Pani. I fear having a cctv snap shot of those "discreet" moments being pasted on my desk very soon but I'll make the most of my opportunities while I can. In the meanwhile, I'd suggest chammak challo-ing it up to drive the mundanity out of the week for the time being or shaking your booty to the massively booty-laden track called Criminal and kicking the best of your desi bit right in! 


Tuesday Shuffle


A track that eased me into work this tuesday morning (or dawn) while almost every one else I know was fast asleep or just about waking up. Give it a listen :)


And this one is my sunshine track which will hopefully see me through today.

Babska

is back home :D