I saw it from afar... A faded image time had marred.
The silhouette of a girl piercing through otherwise vacant art.
Perhaps caught in a moment of abandon, dear to her heart.
Dressed in colours bright, with eyes black as tar.
Her mane fiercer than wind, rendered desires unmasked.
The face of an angel, lit by the glory of a hidden laugh.
Her journey unfolds, as she set out for the world at large.
Every scar unseen, she weaves in songs laid stark...
Of the melancholic beauty of life, that she lived on a lark.
Longing for a hand to hold, something new to start.
Wandering in hope, bursting with a hidden spark.
Dreaming like a child, ready to touch the stars.
She was the girl I saw in a photograph.
Look in the mirror, you can't tell us apart.
But she's a stranger... A ghost in the dark.
That girl was me, before she became my past.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
A Forlorn Hope...
He fights the darkness, as she rests in the grace of the night...
Nesting in the shadows of his warm embrace, her eternal beauty takes flight.
Hiding behind the bosom of her ever kind generosity,
he seeks shelter from that which brews steadily.
Thou craves her so, just as much as she needs thee...
But however may they try, faith hatches devious plans mischievously.
For in his freedom lies the capture of her soul.
When she weeps for him, his heart rages ever more.
When he loves, she sinks deeper in the fold.
Yet one bereft of the other, leaves the story untold.
She, the never-ending blue sky with her pristine virtue and pulchritude.
He, the glorious lightning bolt that jolts her peaceful abode.
Floating upon this surface for the birds, their saga soars.
Nesting in the shadows of his warm embrace, her eternal beauty takes flight.
Hiding behind the bosom of her ever kind generosity,
he seeks shelter from that which brews steadily.
Thou craves her so, just as much as she needs thee...
But however may they try, faith hatches devious plans mischievously.
For in his freedom lies the capture of her soul.
When she weeps for him, his heart rages ever more.
When he loves, she sinks deeper in the fold.
Yet one bereft of the other, leaves the story untold.
She, the never-ending blue sky with her pristine virtue and pulchritude.
He, the glorious lightning bolt that jolts her peaceful abode.
Floating upon this surface for the birds, their saga soars.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Veni. Vidi. Vici.
My life has taken a 360° turn in the last three months of this year. This time has taught me three important lessons. So here are my revelations, explained perfectly in the three words uttered by one of my favourite heroes from history: Julius Caesar.
Veni (I came)
I came to the conclusion that love is fleeting, success is momentary and friendships are fickle. Which means it is all transitory.
Contrary to these revelations appearing to be a major let down, I have never been happier. Cos now I realize that the one true thing I need to be happy is me, myself and I. It is when one tries to find their own worth in others or in outwardly actions that the dejection comes. The three things I hold dearest to my heart and the source of all my joy until now have been given and taken away from me throughout these months but I reckon it is all for the best. I (re)discovered and then subsequently lost a dear love. I earned a great job solely based on merit but then was made to question whether I deserved it. I found a new sole sister for life but had to break equally important old ties.
I now know that happiness lies within ones self and I am at peace with myself and content with what comes my way.
Vidi (I saw)
I saw what life is like from the other side of the spectrum. A place where there are no boundaries, no questions and no restrictions.
My daily existence is marred by a constant juggling act between reality and the surreal. Born into a household of tradition, orthodoxy and religion... I am an ultra-modern, free-spirited atheist. For the first time in my life, I was living on my own, in a new city, immersed in sin. From the hassles of having to make my own cup of coffee in the morning to worrying about the no-show of the maid. From the worrisome laundry bill to the irksome grocery shopping. From the less than enthusiastic morning trudge to get the newspaper to the uninhabited painting the town red at night. I did it all, and enjoyed every moment. Soaking in each memory to last me a lifetime.
The days made me understand how precious independence really is. I need to reclaim my own independence again, some day soon.
Vici (I conquered)
I conquered a fear that had plagued me for a long time. That of self-doubt. I learnt how to relinquish control, not try and hold onto everything too tight and just let myself be.
As a sworn control freak I tend to over-analyze, re-think and be unnecessarily critical about whatever I do in life cos I worry about what will happen if I do not do everything perfectly and how others will perceive me. That behaviour has in the past led me away from many a good moments and wrecked me with constant worrying. Now I have loosened the noose I had put on my life and done what I never would've done before. I go with my gut instinct and not what I consider to be the appropriate thing to do.
It has made me into a better individual who is willing to take more risks and not always do what's right.
As perhaps one of my most tumultuous, action-packed and emotionally draining years draws to a close... I am ready for the one ahead.
It's a fresh playing field. I am a changed person. I have a better attitude. I got a new job. I've found deliciously new mistakes to make. Bring it on 2009!
Veni (I came)
I came to the conclusion that love is fleeting, success is momentary and friendships are fickle. Which means it is all transitory.
Contrary to these revelations appearing to be a major let down, I have never been happier. Cos now I realize that the one true thing I need to be happy is me, myself and I. It is when one tries to find their own worth in others or in outwardly actions that the dejection comes. The three things I hold dearest to my heart and the source of all my joy until now have been given and taken away from me throughout these months but I reckon it is all for the best. I (re)discovered and then subsequently lost a dear love. I earned a great job solely based on merit but then was made to question whether I deserved it. I found a new sole sister for life but had to break equally important old ties.
I now know that happiness lies within ones self and I am at peace with myself and content with what comes my way.
Vidi (I saw)
I saw what life is like from the other side of the spectrum. A place where there are no boundaries, no questions and no restrictions.
My daily existence is marred by a constant juggling act between reality and the surreal. Born into a household of tradition, orthodoxy and religion... I am an ultra-modern, free-spirited atheist. For the first time in my life, I was living on my own, in a new city, immersed in sin. From the hassles of having to make my own cup of coffee in the morning to worrying about the no-show of the maid. From the worrisome laundry bill to the irksome grocery shopping. From the less than enthusiastic morning trudge to get the newspaper to the uninhabited painting the town red at night. I did it all, and enjoyed every moment. Soaking in each memory to last me a lifetime.
The days made me understand how precious independence really is. I need to reclaim my own independence again, some day soon.
Vici (I conquered)
I conquered a fear that had plagued me for a long time. That of self-doubt. I learnt how to relinquish control, not try and hold onto everything too tight and just let myself be.
As a sworn control freak I tend to over-analyze, re-think and be unnecessarily critical about whatever I do in life cos I worry about what will happen if I do not do everything perfectly and how others will perceive me. That behaviour has in the past led me away from many a good moments and wrecked me with constant worrying. Now I have loosened the noose I had put on my life and done what I never would've done before. I go with my gut instinct and not what I consider to be the appropriate thing to do.
It has made me into a better individual who is willing to take more risks and not always do what's right.
As perhaps one of my most tumultuous, action-packed and emotionally draining years draws to a close... I am ready for the one ahead.
It's a fresh playing field. I am a changed person. I have a better attitude. I got a new job. I've found deliciously new mistakes to make. Bring it on 2009!
Friday, November 28, 2008
The City of Screams...
There are some situations that shake the collective human spirit, ignite the mind and evoke inspired words... Then there are situations such as the one unfolding in the heart of my motherland, as I write, that just makes one feel trapped, helpless and broken.
Mumbai, India, 2:25 pm
41 hours and counting... The city of dreams is still under siege. Two edifices that have up until now defined the landscape of the commercial capital of India have over the course of 2 nights been converted into the base of a new kind of urban battleground. Of the kinds previously unseen and perhaps unimaginable.
The operation is well on its way to completion it seems. Both hotels are under the control of the security forces, finally. But as I sit with a constant, uninterrupted stream of images flashing across the TV screens, my mind is still coming to terms with the gravity and magnitude of the loss. One ex-colleague missing and unaccounted for. One friend shot dead point blank. Another struggling for dear life. Along with countless other acquaintances, friends of friends and even strangers.
Never before have I felt as human and mortal as I do now, praying for those I have never met and perhaps never will while cursing the wretched ones who caused this pain.
Most of the people I know have one collective reaction: Counter-attack!
I grieve for those who died and those who lost their loved ones just as much but I do believe that violence begets violence. It becomes a vicious circle and it never stops. And it shall begin now. The finger pointing, the accusations, the guns, the bombs and the plans. We bear witness to an age of suspended warfare. Now we will see how its victims will react.
I won't go into statistics. There are enough concerned citizens already doing that. I just hope for peace. And wish that the screams won't go unheard. God speed!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Bittersweet Bow
Quickie status check
I can't believe I did it but I finally, actually, really quit. It was long overdue and needed so badly cos I stopped growing in this job about six months back. From then on, it was just another day and another issue to get to press. The media freebies helped ease the pain of course :)
But frankly I can't live like this for long. The obvious reasons for sticking around this long were all monetary. Which reminds me... I don't think I've paid my wi-fi bill this month, so you never know when I'll be cut off.
Since I am still connected, might as well ramble a little...
Today was my last day and I'll just say it was melancholic, exciting and bittersweet all at the same time. Having worked at this place for almost two and a half years has made it my second home. The colleagues are almost like a surrogate family. And the pathetic excuse for a coffee probably runs through my veins along with blood. But today I had to say goodbye and I so suck at it. I have these long pauses and awkward half hugs for fear of coming across too strong. Terrible habit.
Oh golly, the net is still working!
Rather than save or be judicious (as if), I took all my meagre savings and invested them in buying a much needed new laptop. Yay for Mac! And for getting my hands on some budget air tickets so I can start my birthday month as an unemployed, aimless, carefree vagabond in Goa. Yes, that was my birthday resolution and I am actually doing it come tomorrow morning.
So while I am off being a beach bum, hoping not to freak out about the fact that I have nothing to do once I am back (cue the panic attack), you guys & gals have a good one. I gracefully bow out of the ranks of the useful, employed masses as my first vacation in one and a half years beckons.
And the connection seems to be losing strength, so cheers!
I can't believe I did it but I finally, actually, really quit. It was long overdue and needed so badly cos I stopped growing in this job about six months back. From then on, it was just another day and another issue to get to press. The media freebies helped ease the pain of course :)
But frankly I can't live like this for long. The obvious reasons for sticking around this long were all monetary. Which reminds me... I don't think I've paid my wi-fi bill this month, so you never know when I'll be cut off.
Since I am still connected, might as well ramble a little...
Today was my last day and I'll just say it was melancholic, exciting and bittersweet all at the same time. Having worked at this place for almost two and a half years has made it my second home. The colleagues are almost like a surrogate family. And the pathetic excuse for a coffee probably runs through my veins along with blood. But today I had to say goodbye and I so suck at it. I have these long pauses and awkward half hugs for fear of coming across too strong. Terrible habit.
Oh golly, the net is still working!
Rather than save or be judicious (as if), I took all my meagre savings and invested them in buying a much needed new laptop. Yay for Mac! And for getting my hands on some budget air tickets so I can start my birthday month as an unemployed, aimless, carefree vagabond in Goa. Yes, that was my birthday resolution and I am actually doing it come tomorrow morning.
So while I am off being a beach bum, hoping not to freak out about the fact that I have nothing to do once I am back (cue the panic attack), you guys & gals have a good one. I gracefully bow out of the ranks of the useful, employed masses as my first vacation in one and a half years beckons.
And the connection seems to be losing strength, so cheers!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
The Mistress Of Vices
I would love to start this post by a clichéd line such as, "When I was a little girl growing up in big, bad Delhi... My mother taught me not to be a sinner." Alas, all half-veiled attempts at masking the true nature of this post will take away from it, so that's a no go.
When I was a little girl growing up in big, bad Delhi... My mother taught me one fundamental truth—you either live in society and follow its rules or you live outside it. Hence began my life long love-hate relationship with 'society'.
I like(d) ruffling feathers, breaking the mould and giving the gaping mouths something to gossip about. And being a sworn atheist, I embraced my one true religion completely. If you still haven't guessed it, its vice or sin if you please.
My personal mantra: "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls have all the fun!"
Before you shake your head disapprovingly, there are rebels without a cause and then there are sworn rebels. I never found conforming any fun and when it feels so good to be bad, why bother!
Vice (v[imac]s), n. [F., from L. vitium.]
A practice or habit that is considered immoral, depraved, and/or degrading in the associated society. In more minor usage, vice can refer to a fault, a defect, an infirmity, or merely a bad habit.
So even though all the holier than thou individuals look down on me from their moral high horses... I know that the truth is that we are all sinners. One way or the other. If you got something you love, if there is anything you crave, have a strong need or desire for... It is probably forbidden.
And that keen observation brings me to the Seven Deadly Sins or Capital Vices/Sins. A casual dekko at this hilarious list of condemned deeds got me thinking and then writing and then idling... Leading to this post 2 months in the making (lazy bum!)
Appropriately enough. Let's start with Sloth. Now the fact that this post was stewing in my drafts folder for over 60 days is proof enough of my laziness. On most mornings, my constant struggle to get out of bed without the prospect of a quickie (I mean a caffeine shot!) is a ritual in itself. But Sunday perhaps is my ode to laziness. Kind souls (friends or mostly mom) provide me with food and the self-collected huge stack of books and movies entertain my bed sojourn all through the day. That is the perfect 'sloth'ful Sunday for me.
Wrath or anger is infact my primogeniture. I got it as an inheritance from my male ancestors and I am now the master of my very own anger estate. I run, govern and monopolize it. Which basically means no outside factor can get me worked up unless I allow myself to let it. Quite unlike my Libran birth, when my otherwise calm demeanor is shaken, this woman's wrath knows no bound. Though thankfully, manic Monday (which is a bitch at work) is the only day I let the week get to me. By the end of the day, dear pals have drowned me in enough lush therapy to make the rest of the weekdays 'spirited'.
Tuesday is my full on Envy day. Simple enough reason. I come from an orthodox Jaini family and even though I have already broken my vows by eating beef and drinking like a fish... Grandma's bullying still turns me into a devout follower on this day. No onions, no meat, no liquor. No fun! I envy every single person who can live a normal life :(
Greed rears its ugly head by the time midweek Wednesday rolls along. Media night, ladies night, happy hours... Whatever, wherever. If it promises to get me cheap booze, then I am up for it. Since Wed' is also my busiest day at work, post-office, usually after-midnight hours are spent pub-hopping in the quest to satiate the greedy barfly in me.
By the time my hung over, half-dead self gets up on Thursday, Pride rules my mood. Vanity is as vanity does and the late office check-in equates to very, very useless but very, very selfish time spent indulging in pedicures and massages. Or spent on shopping sprees, usually meaning admiring ones image in giant size shopping mall mirrors. Tsh, tsh!
The most injurious of all my vices is Gluttony. For those of you who don't know, I am a food writer. In case that isn't clear enough, I basically critique food on a weekly basis. Yes this is part of my job and I get paid for it. So the onslaught of the weekend is heralded by an unmonitored, unstoppable consumption of every, and all type/sort/variety of food known to man. Sometimes all three of my meals are review assignments. And if you've ever had the (mis)fortune of being fed like a cow meant for slaughter... You might just understand the amount of food that an eager restaurateur/manager piles on my table. Don't get me wrong, I love it. And so do the lucky friend/colleague who accompanies me. But let's just say, it is quite the unhealthy proposition and is followed by furious attacks at the treadmill.
Last but by no means least. My fave sin aka the most fun... Lust. If any of you deny being a victim of this one, you do not deserve to be here. Now to put it simply, my recent residentship of Freedomville (revert to last post) has led to an increased surge of hormones. And by virtue of being the only day of the week that does not preceede a working day, Saturday is my carnal karma day. Ever since my active membership of the lust club, my heart and head are ruled by only this sin and I can give up everything in the world but this. Trust me, I have tried.
So there you have it, seven sins for seven days. Hey, that has a nice ring to it. And as the Keeper of Temptations to the Mistress of Vices would say... Better late than never!
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned and I love it!"
When I was a little girl growing up in big, bad Delhi... My mother taught me one fundamental truth—you either live in society and follow its rules or you live outside it. Hence began my life long love-hate relationship with 'society'.
I like(d) ruffling feathers, breaking the mould and giving the gaping mouths something to gossip about. And being a sworn atheist, I embraced my one true religion completely. If you still haven't guessed it, its vice or sin if you please.
My personal mantra: "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls have all the fun!"
Before you shake your head disapprovingly, there are rebels without a cause and then there are sworn rebels. I never found conforming any fun and when it feels so good to be bad, why bother!
Vice (v[imac]s), n. [F., from L. vitium.]
A practice or habit that is considered immoral, depraved, and/or degrading in the associated society. In more minor usage, vice can refer to a fault, a defect, an infirmity, or merely a bad habit.
So even though all the holier than thou individuals look down on me from their moral high horses... I know that the truth is that we are all sinners. One way or the other. If you got something you love, if there is anything you crave, have a strong need or desire for... It is probably forbidden.
And that keen observation brings me to the Seven Deadly Sins or Capital Vices/Sins. A casual dekko at this hilarious list of condemned deeds got me thinking and then writing and then idling... Leading to this post 2 months in the making (lazy bum!)
Appropriately enough. Let's start with Sloth. Now the fact that this post was stewing in my drafts folder for over 60 days is proof enough of my laziness. On most mornings, my constant struggle to get out of bed without the prospect of a quickie (I mean a caffeine shot!) is a ritual in itself. But Sunday perhaps is my ode to laziness. Kind souls (friends or mostly mom) provide me with food and the self-collected huge stack of books and movies entertain my bed sojourn all through the day. That is the perfect 'sloth'ful Sunday for me.
Wrath or anger is infact my primogeniture. I got it as an inheritance from my male ancestors and I am now the master of my very own anger estate. I run, govern and monopolize it. Which basically means no outside factor can get me worked up unless I allow myself to let it. Quite unlike my Libran birth, when my otherwise calm demeanor is shaken, this woman's wrath knows no bound. Though thankfully, manic Monday (which is a bitch at work) is the only day I let the week get to me. By the end of the day, dear pals have drowned me in enough lush therapy to make the rest of the weekdays 'spirited'.
Tuesday is my full on Envy day. Simple enough reason. I come from an orthodox Jaini family and even though I have already broken my vows by eating beef and drinking like a fish... Grandma's bullying still turns me into a devout follower on this day. No onions, no meat, no liquor. No fun! I envy every single person who can live a normal life :(
Greed rears its ugly head by the time midweek Wednesday rolls along. Media night, ladies night, happy hours... Whatever, wherever. If it promises to get me cheap booze, then I am up for it. Since Wed' is also my busiest day at work, post-office, usually after-midnight hours are spent pub-hopping in the quest to satiate the greedy barfly in me.
By the time my hung over, half-dead self gets up on Thursday, Pride rules my mood. Vanity is as vanity does and the late office check-in equates to very, very useless but very, very selfish time spent indulging in pedicures and massages. Or spent on shopping sprees, usually meaning admiring ones image in giant size shopping mall mirrors. Tsh, tsh!
The most injurious of all my vices is Gluttony. For those of you who don't know, I am a food writer. In case that isn't clear enough, I basically critique food on a weekly basis. Yes this is part of my job and I get paid for it. So the onslaught of the weekend is heralded by an unmonitored, unstoppable consumption of every, and all type/sort/variety of food known to man. Sometimes all three of my meals are review assignments. And if you've ever had the (mis)fortune of being fed like a cow meant for slaughter... You might just understand the amount of food that an eager restaurateur/manager piles on my table. Don't get me wrong, I love it. And so do the lucky friend/colleague who accompanies me. But let's just say, it is quite the unhealthy proposition and is followed by furious attacks at the treadmill.
Last but by no means least. My fave sin aka the most fun... Lust. If any of you deny being a victim of this one, you do not deserve to be here. Now to put it simply, my recent residentship of Freedomville (revert to last post) has led to an increased surge of hormones. And by virtue of being the only day of the week that does not preceede a working day, Saturday is my carnal karma day. Ever since my active membership of the lust club, my heart and head are ruled by only this sin and I can give up everything in the world but this. Trust me, I have tried.
So there you have it, seven sins for seven days. Hey, that has a nice ring to it. And as the Keeper of Temptations to the Mistress of Vices would say... Better late than never!
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned and I love it!"
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Snippy, snippy... Bang, bang!
This is by far one of the most 'self' focussed months I've had in a long time and so I feel compelled to rant about it...
Besides the purgatory 'breaking of habit' spoken about in the last post, I had my A-ha moment (you know the ones where you find what you are meant to do in life), went through a mini makeover (as all inspirational chick flick plots involving personal growth must), spent zero money on shopping (that is THE big achievement!), gave my almost rusting brain a fair bit of writing exercise (outside the mandatory office work), meandered my way through one of Delhi's infamous underground market (the one where good gals supposedly do not go after sundown), met a LOT of old friends and usually did so over copious amounts of coffee and/or liquor (extremely fun either ways!)
Being single for the first time in almost 7 years is a refreshing change and really puts your life in perspective. Although a lot of people said I was turning into a cynic after reading my last post, I think of it as breaking the shackles of twosomes and being free. No more pre-ordained mid-week meals, Saturday night plans, Sunday movies and such.
Welcome Freedomville's newest resident: SIM
One's A-ha moment comes all of a sudden, out of the blue and when you least expect it. Just comes and hits you out of nowhere and BANG, you are never the same again. Like a relatively new but good director spoke to my colleague about how he was poised to become a zoologist until he saw a great film that changed his path. I found my calling over a completely random and unrelated conversation with a friend.
Life altering career switch is now in the pipeline
Then there was the SNIP and snap. You must've seen some film where the underdog heroin emerges from a cloud of perfume, hair products, mascara et all and has her day in the sun. I cut my hair (in accordance with dear pal Riyu's words, "Usually one gets radical haircuts when one is going through a transitionary phase.") took those summer dresses out of the closet and broke in the high heels. Feeling good, baby!
Oh and then there is the writing. If you have ever been involved in brainstorming sessions which see a small idea that matters to you take shape over numerous, sleepless nights and through innumerable discussions to become a full fledged project close to your heart... Then, you'd know what I am going through. The oppurtunity just fell in my lap and even though this work after work consumes my life at times, I am loving it!
If all goes well, you guys will hear about it soon. Fingers crossed.
And that brings me to the priceless Palika Bazaar foray. Even though that hilarious day deserves a post of its own... Renovatio and SIM's day out at one of the biggest illegal/black market adda's in town ensued a lot of memorable hilarity. Besides the fact that both movie lovers were making their debut scouting for rare to find films in the bewildering market, the pair collectively tower about a good 2 feet over most people's head which essentially means that the two mini giants standing in the middle of the bustling, underground (read low head clearance) market looking like lost puppies made for a one of a kind, perfect Kodak moment. Not to forget the rigorous 'screening' process that the guardian of our destination put us through before we were shown the light :P
P.S: those of you who read Reno's musings and complain about his decreased writing... I plead him daily to write about this adventure but with no avail.
Last but by no means least—there is no better way to spend gloomy, glorious, happy or otherwise mundane... heck, any type of day... than by catching up with old friends. School mates, college pals, old chums, long lost buddies, random acquaintances... its all bloody great! Mix in crazy amounts of caffeine or liquor with these endless conversations, gossiping sessions and philosophical discussions and you have a winner.
Added bonus: being introduced to a fab new single malt by a discerning connoisseur, regaining a lost love for JD on the rocks, having my first of many glasses of a beautiful South African wine and bringing one of my fave brews (the Hawaiian Kona) into the life of Reno who I also initiated into the coffee drinking process 2 years ago. Cheers to that!
fyi all the money saved from the non-shopping is now spent on these drinking bouts. Plus, it might be turning me into an alcoholic. Cheaper ideas anyone?
SIM is back, snipping-ly new and with a big bang. Over & out, for now.
Besides the purgatory 'breaking of habit' spoken about in the last post, I had my A-ha moment (you know the ones where you find what you are meant to do in life), went through a mini makeover (as all inspirational chick flick plots involving personal growth must), spent zero money on shopping (that is THE big achievement!), gave my almost rusting brain a fair bit of writing exercise (outside the mandatory office work), meandered my way through one of Delhi's infamous underground market (the one where good gals supposedly do not go after sundown), met a LOT of old friends and usually did so over copious amounts of coffee and/or liquor (extremely fun either ways!)
Being single for the first time in almost 7 years is a refreshing change and really puts your life in perspective. Although a lot of people said I was turning into a cynic after reading my last post, I think of it as breaking the shackles of twosomes and being free. No more pre-ordained mid-week meals, Saturday night plans, Sunday movies and such.
Welcome Freedomville's newest resident: SIM
One's A-ha moment comes all of a sudden, out of the blue and when you least expect it. Just comes and hits you out of nowhere and BANG, you are never the same again. Like a relatively new but good director spoke to my colleague about how he was poised to become a zoologist until he saw a great film that changed his path. I found my calling over a completely random and unrelated conversation with a friend.
Life altering career switch is now in the pipeline
Then there was the SNIP and snap. You must've seen some film where the underdog heroin emerges from a cloud of perfume, hair products, mascara et all and has her day in the sun. I cut my hair (in accordance with dear pal Riyu's words, "Usually one gets radical haircuts when one is going through a transitionary phase.") took those summer dresses out of the closet and broke in the high heels. Feeling good, baby!
Oh and then there is the writing. If you have ever been involved in brainstorming sessions which see a small idea that matters to you take shape over numerous, sleepless nights and through innumerable discussions to become a full fledged project close to your heart... Then, you'd know what I am going through. The oppurtunity just fell in my lap and even though this work after work consumes my life at times, I am loving it!
If all goes well, you guys will hear about it soon. Fingers crossed.
And that brings me to the priceless Palika Bazaar foray. Even though that hilarious day deserves a post of its own... Renovatio and SIM's day out at one of the biggest illegal/black market adda's in town ensued a lot of memorable hilarity. Besides the fact that both movie lovers were making their debut scouting for rare to find films in the bewildering market, the pair collectively tower about a good 2 feet over most people's head which essentially means that the two mini giants standing in the middle of the bustling, underground (read low head clearance) market looking like lost puppies made for a one of a kind, perfect Kodak moment. Not to forget the rigorous 'screening' process that the guardian of our destination put us through before we were shown the light :P
P.S: those of you who read Reno's musings and complain about his decreased writing... I plead him daily to write about this adventure but with no avail.
Last but by no means least—there is no better way to spend gloomy, glorious, happy or otherwise mundane... heck, any type of day... than by catching up with old friends. School mates, college pals, old chums, long lost buddies, random acquaintances... its all bloody great! Mix in crazy amounts of caffeine or liquor with these endless conversations, gossiping sessions and philosophical discussions and you have a winner.
Added bonus: being introduced to a fab new single malt by a discerning connoisseur, regaining a lost love for JD on the rocks, having my first of many glasses of a beautiful South African wine and bringing one of my fave brews (the Hawaiian Kona) into the life of Reno who I also initiated into the coffee drinking process 2 years ago. Cheers to that!
fyi all the money saved from the non-shopping is now spent on these drinking bouts. Plus, it might be turning me into an alcoholic. Cheaper ideas anyone?
SIM is back, snipping-ly new and with a big bang. Over & out, for now.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Habitual Creature...
I have said it before, I'll say it again... All human beings are habitual creatures and no matter how hard we try to get out of the vicious circle of making the same mistakes again & again, we always tend to give in to our weakness aka habits. And what is so god damned precious about our habits are that they are peculiarly ours. Otherwise good judgment fails us as far as these go.
Beloved friend picked up the ciggie along with me in college... A way to tide the time in between all those missed lectures. Three years since college, two job changes and numerous smoke breaks from work has led to her terrible compulsion. A habit that forces us to sit outside in this searing heat 'cos she cannot smoke inside. Talk about being out casted. I quit the cancer stick in the first few months, after realizing that smoke smelling hair and fingers are not very becoming.
Formerly fat cousin thought it would be a good idea to go on that crash diet. The jibes and jeers finally got to her. Umpteen diet plans, almost ritualistic gymming, non-existent social life and 5 dress sizes smaller... she still vehemently monitors every morsel of food on her plate. Closet anorexic, but an up and coming runway dream to the world. I started with her but gave up midway, knowing fully well that I best get comfy in my skin now, if it is to last me a lifetime.
One time school pal and old ex came from a repressed childhood. As an adult, he thought it was okay to translate his emotions into a physical form. Started out with light pokes and slaps. Soon enough they became full fledged assaults. He is now seeking counseling for his habit. Me being witness to his actions promised myself I would never ever resort to that, no matter what my past and how much the present angers me. I took up the Israeli martial art Krav Maga to channelize that rage.
The point of such detailed scrutiny into others lives is just to highlight how one's own habits die hard. No matter what other vices you are able to deal with, there is something in life that gets to you and never lets you go.
Assumed identity SIM started seriously dating at the age of 16. Successive failed relationships, numerous bitching and TLC sessions with girlfriends over junk food and LIIT's and lots of venting blog posts such as this one later... She is a serial dater. Her crime? Dating all the wrong kind of men. Or maybe she's the wrong girl for the right men... But even knowing fully well, the kind of damaging effects these men are having on her, she keeps giving a chance to love. Her habitual crime? Hopeless romantic, even in the face of great adversity, SIM will manage to carve out her own piece of loving memories. That is perhaps the reason why she refuses to be depressed and blue.
The recurring theme is that it starts early, you get hooked and never give up. The tricky bit about my hard to break habit is that no amount of medical intervention or psycho-analytical babble will help. I got to do it myself. Just realising that very scary bit shook me out of my stupor. And putting those thoughts into words has turned out to be a purgatory exercise, almost therapeutic.
My new mantra now — When love comes knocking at the door, sneak out the window! I shall break the habit or die trying. Fight it out, be a trooper. Or as my dear buddy Viv would say, be a super trooper! I do believe I get it this time, but when I actually break the habit, I'll let you know :P
Beloved friend picked up the ciggie along with me in college... A way to tide the time in between all those missed lectures. Three years since college, two job changes and numerous smoke breaks from work has led to her terrible compulsion. A habit that forces us to sit outside in this searing heat 'cos she cannot smoke inside. Talk about being out casted. I quit the cancer stick in the first few months, after realizing that smoke smelling hair and fingers are not very becoming.
Formerly fat cousin thought it would be a good idea to go on that crash diet. The jibes and jeers finally got to her. Umpteen diet plans, almost ritualistic gymming, non-existent social life and 5 dress sizes smaller... she still vehemently monitors every morsel of food on her plate. Closet anorexic, but an up and coming runway dream to the world. I started with her but gave up midway, knowing fully well that I best get comfy in my skin now, if it is to last me a lifetime.
One time school pal and old ex came from a repressed childhood. As an adult, he thought it was okay to translate his emotions into a physical form. Started out with light pokes and slaps. Soon enough they became full fledged assaults. He is now seeking counseling for his habit. Me being witness to his actions promised myself I would never ever resort to that, no matter what my past and how much the present angers me. I took up the Israeli martial art Krav Maga to channelize that rage.
The point of such detailed scrutiny into others lives is just to highlight how one's own habits die hard. No matter what other vices you are able to deal with, there is something in life that gets to you and never lets you go.
Assumed identity SIM started seriously dating at the age of 16. Successive failed relationships, numerous bitching and TLC sessions with girlfriends over junk food and LIIT's and lots of venting blog posts such as this one later... She is a serial dater. Her crime? Dating all the wrong kind of men. Or maybe she's the wrong girl for the right men... But even knowing fully well, the kind of damaging effects these men are having on her, she keeps giving a chance to love. Her habitual crime? Hopeless romantic, even in the face of great adversity, SIM will manage to carve out her own piece of loving memories. That is perhaps the reason why she refuses to be depressed and blue.
The recurring theme is that it starts early, you get hooked and never give up. The tricky bit about my hard to break habit is that no amount of medical intervention or psycho-analytical babble will help. I got to do it myself. Just realising that very scary bit shook me out of my stupor. And putting those thoughts into words has turned out to be a purgatory exercise, almost therapeutic.
My new mantra now — When love comes knocking at the door, sneak out the window! I shall break the habit or die trying. Fight it out, be a trooper. Or as my dear buddy Viv would say, be a super trooper! I do believe I get it this time, but when I actually break the habit, I'll let you know :P
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Healing Touch...
We all need some form of healing in our life. Whether it be sexual, mental, emotional, physical or even spiritual. You might not even know it but a casual moment of a stolen touch from somebody and the warmth it emanates deep within you is a type of healing that can cure the sourest of demeanors, the worse of moods and the severest of pains. A loving handshake, an admiring pat, a tight hug or a deep kiss will last you a lifetime and bring a smile to any face.
I have been on a journey of healing these past few months. And I found that ‘touch’ in the most unlikely places. People often surprise you with the love and kindness they carry within themselves and I derived my strength from some such individuals.
A stranger who has become my dearest companion in a matter of six months… A childhood friend who had a (mock) fight with me for the first time in 12 years just ‘cos I hadn’t called her in eons… An ex who let go of me so I could move on… The woman who gave birth to me, giving me a new lease of life with her wise words, and the former boss who’s inspired writings echoed my own deepest thoughts and hidden fears.
These are the people who have helped me heal.
The sexual healing from scars I had been carrying along for years came with that stranger… No it wasn’t a one-night stand. Its what the difference between making love and having sex is. The kinds that rekindle your lost innocence.
The emotional healing from an often ambivalent and nonchalant attitude towards those closest to me came with that friend… She taught me how to love people unconditionally.
The physical healing from an insatiable yearning that wrecked my being with guilt came with that ex… He held my hand while I inked my skin with a symbol that connected us both.
The spiritual healing from sworn atheism and a prolonged irreparable void came with that woman… She spoke to me like an adult and not like the child she had bred and gifted me with wisdom that only a mother can.
The mental healing from unvoiced anguish, anger and hatred came with that former boss… Her near daily blogs chronicled much of my own woes and worries.
Go on and break down that invisible wall that you’ve built around you. All is not wrong with the world. And for all the evil and bad surrounding us, there is always the little good in everyone.
I have been on a journey of healing these past few months. And I found that ‘touch’ in the most unlikely places. People often surprise you with the love and kindness they carry within themselves and I derived my strength from some such individuals.
A stranger who has become my dearest companion in a matter of six months… A childhood friend who had a (mock) fight with me for the first time in 12 years just ‘cos I hadn’t called her in eons… An ex who let go of me so I could move on… The woman who gave birth to me, giving me a new lease of life with her wise words, and the former boss who’s inspired writings echoed my own deepest thoughts and hidden fears.
These are the people who have helped me heal.
The sexual healing from scars I had been carrying along for years came with that stranger… No it wasn’t a one-night stand. Its what the difference between making love and having sex is. The kinds that rekindle your lost innocence.
The emotional healing from an often ambivalent and nonchalant attitude towards those closest to me came with that friend… She taught me how to love people unconditionally.
The physical healing from an insatiable yearning that wrecked my being with guilt came with that ex… He held my hand while I inked my skin with a symbol that connected us both.
The spiritual healing from sworn atheism and a prolonged irreparable void came with that woman… She spoke to me like an adult and not like the child she had bred and gifted me with wisdom that only a mother can.
The mental healing from unvoiced anguish, anger and hatred came with that former boss… Her near daily blogs chronicled much of my own woes and worries.
Go on and break down that invisible wall that you’ve built around you. All is not wrong with the world. And for all the evil and bad surrounding us, there is always the little good in everyone.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Caught In The Middle
Happy New Year :P
I know that I am a little late in the day to be wishing that but something or the other has been keeping me away from writing. I won't blame it on anything else but sheer laziness perhaps. Coz no amount of work kept me away from ranting here in the past. Maybe it is a burnout so to speak. From words, from the web, from emotions. Everything. A complete cut-off from all ties.
But it has been an eventful few months nonetheless. When one thinks about it, there is so much to write and then sometimes it seems there is nothing at all. The same way that when one looks back there is so much that seems to have been left behind. The people, the memories, the situations. And then you are reminded that there is more ahead. Lots yet to be seen, many more people to meet and miles to go before I sleep.
Sheesh... This is turning out to be a typical introspective New Year post. So I must end it here.
P.S: One of the things I did in between was to get my first tattoo. The symbol means much more to me than it gives away. Will talk of it at a later date. Cheers!
I know that I am a little late in the day to be wishing that but something or the other has been keeping me away from writing. I won't blame it on anything else but sheer laziness perhaps. Coz no amount of work kept me away from ranting here in the past. Maybe it is a burnout so to speak. From words, from the web, from emotions. Everything. A complete cut-off from all ties.
But it has been an eventful few months nonetheless. When one thinks about it, there is so much to write and then sometimes it seems there is nothing at all. The same way that when one looks back there is so much that seems to have been left behind. The people, the memories, the situations. And then you are reminded that there is more ahead. Lots yet to be seen, many more people to meet and miles to go before I sleep.
Sheesh... This is turning out to be a typical introspective New Year post. So I must end it here.
P.S: One of the things I did in between was to get my first tattoo. The symbol means much more to me than it gives away. Will talk of it at a later date. Cheers!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Wagging Tongues...Wagging Tails
Its just one of the hazards of the job.
When you work in an office as porous as a ragged, year old sponge... You know that even zealous attempts at keeping your true self concealed is a fruitless, futile exercise. Thus, the 'oh I read your blog about the job woes' and all such catty comments follow suit. Or a questioning gaze wondering what the hell my problem in life is coz me by virtue of being incharge of a beat coveted my most am subjected to remarks like, 'the princess doesn't think anything is good enough for her' and some such.
But as they say barking dogs can't bite. Or wait, was it the other way around. Anyways...
But I am not trying to say that everyone in this profession is a two faced moron. There are some wonderful people that you meet everyday and some that become friends for life. Many others make an unmistakable impression that stays with you for a lifetime. My team is made up of such people. All beautiful, all talented, all warm.
And of course there is my fave dual identity. Nice gal gone naughty, who is probably reading this right now and snickering away, getting her jollies.
One of those most treasured colleagues of mine is perhaps the best looking guy I've seen. Let's call him A. There might be those better looking than A but its his charm and his demeanour that make him far better than the rest. And he was involved in a car accident on route to an assignment day before. Now as he lies in a hospital with a broken jaw, swollen lips and seven plates in his face post extensive reconstructive surgery... You wonder once again why bad things happen to the best people.
Life is really unfair. And at times like these, you forget everything else and just pray. Even though I don't believe in god, I am praying hard to whatever higher being is out there. Stay strong A.
When you work in an office as porous as a ragged, year old sponge... You know that even zealous attempts at keeping your true self concealed is a fruitless, futile exercise. Thus, the 'oh I read your blog about the job woes' and all such catty comments follow suit. Or a questioning gaze wondering what the hell my problem in life is coz me by virtue of being incharge of a beat coveted my most am subjected to remarks like, 'the princess doesn't think anything is good enough for her' and some such.
But as they say barking dogs can't bite. Or wait, was it the other way around. Anyways...
But I am not trying to say that everyone in this profession is a two faced moron. There are some wonderful people that you meet everyday and some that become friends for life. Many others make an unmistakable impression that stays with you for a lifetime. My team is made up of such people. All beautiful, all talented, all warm.
And of course there is my fave dual identity. Nice gal gone naughty, who is probably reading this right now and snickering away, getting her jollies.
One of those most treasured colleagues of mine is perhaps the best looking guy I've seen. Let's call him A. There might be those better looking than A but its his charm and his demeanour that make him far better than the rest. And he was involved in a car accident on route to an assignment day before. Now as he lies in a hospital with a broken jaw, swollen lips and seven plates in his face post extensive reconstructive surgery... You wonder once again why bad things happen to the best people.
Life is really unfair. And at times like these, you forget everything else and just pray. Even though I don't believe in god, I am praying hard to whatever higher being is out there. Stay strong A.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Life In Between Living...
Following in the same mood as my last post...
Fading away in the background, merging with the crowd, lost in the sea of monotony, over the din of a computer left in standby mode too long and a clatter of cluck, cluck, clack... That is my workspace. My daily prison. I loved my job. Notice the past tense. Writing on food and music was like a dream come true. Nevermind the peanuts they paid me in the name of a 'salary'. The perks in the form of an endless stack of music cd's, food reviews, wine tasting invites and gigs to attend kept me hale, happy and hearty. Nonwithstanding the two sizes it added to my 5 foot 7 inches frame.
Now, not so much. It gets old real fast they say, I think that process has started for me already. I have reached a stage in my job where I can sleep walk my way through every issue. My 'work shelf-life' has expired it seems. Okay that is a blatantly dangerous admission but what the heck. The creativity, the zest, the enthusiasm all wiped away by the indifference of The Man! My newspaper that is. And now I have a vague, nagging feeling that all my eccentricities are being drained away which automatically leads to no cooky, wacky writing by SIM. I am fighting this, real hard.
In the meanwhile brief update: I've decided to get inked. Am currently veering between two of my most favoured symbols from Egyptian mythology, being the ancient history geek that I am. Any suggestions anyone?
Fading away in the background, merging with the crowd, lost in the sea of monotony, over the din of a computer left in standby mode too long and a clatter of cluck, cluck, clack... That is my workspace. My daily prison. I loved my job. Notice the past tense. Writing on food and music was like a dream come true. Nevermind the peanuts they paid me in the name of a 'salary'. The perks in the form of an endless stack of music cd's, food reviews, wine tasting invites and gigs to attend kept me hale, happy and hearty. Nonwithstanding the two sizes it added to my 5 foot 7 inches frame.
Now, not so much. It gets old real fast they say, I think that process has started for me already. I have reached a stage in my job where I can sleep walk my way through every issue. My 'work shelf-life' has expired it seems. Okay that is a blatantly dangerous admission but what the heck. The creativity, the zest, the enthusiasm all wiped away by the indifference of The Man! My newspaper that is. And now I have a vague, nagging feeling that all my eccentricities are being drained away which automatically leads to no cooky, wacky writing by SIM. I am fighting this, real hard.
In the meanwhile brief update: I've decided to get inked. Am currently veering between two of my most favoured symbols from Egyptian mythology, being the ancient history geek that I am. Any suggestions anyone?
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
M.I.A
Life is a crazy 'comedy of errors' at times. My assumed identity S.I.M has been M.I.A for the past month and a half and my mind has been wiped clean, hence the no writing bit.
When one goes through tragic/life-altering moments, your mind goes into shock and there are no thoughts, views or opinions... Just a strange inquisitiveness. Why me? You ask yourself. It's not self-pity, neither wallowing in misery... It's merely a lack of zest and want. Completely devoid of emotion, good or bad, I have been floating through life rather aimlessly.
Or so I thought. During this wandering, I have managed to sleep walk my way through a more than satisfactory raise, a very eventful birthday, a close pal's wedding planning and also found someone capable of bringing a smile to my face everyday. Yet there is a strange yearning. Of something lost, or of something never found. And I have realized that I am the sort of person who can give up things easily... There seems to be nothing that I need to stick with or cling to for comfort. The most recent case in point being alcohol. Now some, ok lots of people turn to these 'spirits' for some upliftment. I used to be one of those. There was no amount of sleep deprivation, bad hair days, relationship blues or work woes that a JD and coke or a Vodka OJ couldn't solve and then one fine day, a month ago, I decided to stop. Just like that.
Some might call it depression. I don't. It is what it is. A general lull in life and I know everyone goes through it. And this too shall past. S.I.M will be back again baby!
When one goes through tragic/life-altering moments, your mind goes into shock and there are no thoughts, views or opinions... Just a strange inquisitiveness. Why me? You ask yourself. It's not self-pity, neither wallowing in misery... It's merely a lack of zest and want. Completely devoid of emotion, good or bad, I have been floating through life rather aimlessly.
Or so I thought. During this wandering, I have managed to sleep walk my way through a more than satisfactory raise, a very eventful birthday, a close pal's wedding planning and also found someone capable of bringing a smile to my face everyday. Yet there is a strange yearning. Of something lost, or of something never found. And I have realized that I am the sort of person who can give up things easily... There seems to be nothing that I need to stick with or cling to for comfort. The most recent case in point being alcohol. Now some, ok lots of people turn to these 'spirits' for some upliftment. I used to be one of those. There was no amount of sleep deprivation, bad hair days, relationship blues or work woes that a JD and coke or a Vodka OJ couldn't solve and then one fine day, a month ago, I decided to stop. Just like that.
Some might call it depression. I don't. It is what it is. A general lull in life and I know everyone goes through it. And this too shall past. S.I.M will be back again baby!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Chocolate Coloured Dreams...
What is the first thing that comes to your mind when someone mentions a chocolate? Sweet, luscious, indulgent, glistening and sometimes melting little pieces of heaven!
And what type are you... Milky white, dark or bitter...Nutty or liquer filled, caramel centered or crunchy?
Either way, chances are that you are a true blue chocoholic, just like moi.
And the type that you are defines your personality. Or, so some say.
But whatever may be, chocolate coloured dreams would sound like a good thing right? Hmm, not really.
The dreams aren't black or white, nor grey but a deep, all encompassing chocolate brown. The kinds that lure you in with the promise of sweet returns and then end up engulfing you from all sides on a never ending trail into the land of no return. They aren't bad dreams...just the kinds you can't recall and yet can't recover from. Like you can remember the flavour of that last bite of chocolate but yet don't feel like you have tasted it till you can sink your teeth into a chunk again. A vicious vice that teases you with its memory and keeps inviting you back again.
I am bitter and liquer filled. Ahem, perhaps that defines me and my dreams as well. Or maybe I should just stop going to bed after polishing off that box of chocolates... And as Mr Gump's mamma always said, "life is like a box of chocolate, you never know what your gonna get!" Happy eating!
And what type are you... Milky white, dark or bitter...Nutty or liquer filled, caramel centered or crunchy?
Either way, chances are that you are a true blue chocoholic, just like moi.
And the type that you are defines your personality. Or, so some say.
But whatever may be, chocolate coloured dreams would sound like a good thing right? Hmm, not really.
The dreams aren't black or white, nor grey but a deep, all encompassing chocolate brown. The kinds that lure you in with the promise of sweet returns and then end up engulfing you from all sides on a never ending trail into the land of no return. They aren't bad dreams...just the kinds you can't recall and yet can't recover from. Like you can remember the flavour of that last bite of chocolate but yet don't feel like you have tasted it till you can sink your teeth into a chunk again. A vicious vice that teases you with its memory and keeps inviting you back again.
I am bitter and liquer filled. Ahem, perhaps that defines me and my dreams as well. Or maybe I should just stop going to bed after polishing off that box of chocolates... And as Mr Gump's mamma always said, "life is like a box of chocolate, you never know what your gonna get!" Happy eating!
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
The Wishing Bone...
One fine day... on a beautiful glorious sunshiney (yes, its not a word but i'll use it anyways) day... I got up really late with a massive hangover, having lost my wallet, banged my brand new car into an innocent tree the night before and missed an important story deadline by 3 hours right before an overdue promotion. Oh, yes! I can be that irresponsible.
I wake up, not in a crappy mood but in a cheerful one. A throbbing head but a beaming smile nonetheless. The coffee is perfectly black and bitter and the breakfast is wonderfully runny eggs and burned toast...the birds are chirping on an unusually shrill pitch and there are no missed calls from the boss fretting over my no-show at work (it sucks when they don't even bother to pick up the phone and tell you how incompetent you are isn't it?). I might be dreaming. But a firm pinch confirms that I am indeed wide awake. Am I delusional then? Deranged perhaps? None actually. I am simply content.
I think many of us, including yours truly, have forgotten how to feel completely content. When you can't find anything to complain about even though the otherwise obvious crib worthy instances are glaring straight at you... that's when you know what contentment feels like. It can simply be explained as a kind of 'looking at the world through rose-coloured glasses' phenomenon. And no it isn't directly related to being in love. It is about being in a good place in your life. Everything else could suck but you find the strength to smile through it all and emerge unscathed. All the better for it.
I am living through my very own personal hell at the moment. But I am still content being me. Just me. All wild guesses point towards the direction of some good luck courtesy 'the wishing bone'. Or so said my horoscope in the morning paper:
"You have been blessed with a wishing bone for a short period in your life. Make use of it"
Within the day, my wallet was returned to me with all its contents intact, the insurance agency verified and agreed to pay full damages on my car and upon reaching office I was informed that the boss had called in sick, which meant I got off the hook. I have also been gifted with an excellent appraisal and a hefty bonus.
I am not a believer in the higher arts or whatever other gifts the fortune tellers are born with but sometimes you got to turn believer.
My version of the story - It's a wishing bone, stuck in a fishing zone. Go, fish!
I wake up, not in a crappy mood but in a cheerful one. A throbbing head but a beaming smile nonetheless. The coffee is perfectly black and bitter and the breakfast is wonderfully runny eggs and burned toast...the birds are chirping on an unusually shrill pitch and there are no missed calls from the boss fretting over my no-show at work (it sucks when they don't even bother to pick up the phone and tell you how incompetent you are isn't it?). I might be dreaming. But a firm pinch confirms that I am indeed wide awake. Am I delusional then? Deranged perhaps? None actually. I am simply content.
I think many of us, including yours truly, have forgotten how to feel completely content. When you can't find anything to complain about even though the otherwise obvious crib worthy instances are glaring straight at you... that's when you know what contentment feels like. It can simply be explained as a kind of 'looking at the world through rose-coloured glasses' phenomenon. And no it isn't directly related to being in love. It is about being in a good place in your life. Everything else could suck but you find the strength to smile through it all and emerge unscathed. All the better for it.
I am living through my very own personal hell at the moment. But I am still content being me. Just me. All wild guesses point towards the direction of some good luck courtesy 'the wishing bone'. Or so said my horoscope in the morning paper:
"You have been blessed with a wishing bone for a short period in your life. Make use of it"
Within the day, my wallet was returned to me with all its contents intact, the insurance agency verified and agreed to pay full damages on my car and upon reaching office I was informed that the boss had called in sick, which meant I got off the hook. I have also been gifted with an excellent appraisal and a hefty bonus.
I am not a believer in the higher arts or whatever other gifts the fortune tellers are born with but sometimes you got to turn believer.
My version of the story - It's a wishing bone, stuck in a fishing zone. Go, fish!
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Firefly...
"Like a firefly that burns bright...he came suddenly, out of the dark sky. He hovered around for a little while, he lit up my days with laughter and smiles. Then he vanished just as suddenly, my dear firefly."
I hate insects and their likes...no matter what kind they are. Who doesn't? But what can one do when a charming firefly buzzes his way into your heart. The dark recesses of which you thought were impenetrable. But they creep up on you don't they...naughty little fellas. They seek a glimmer of light. He found it somehow and rescued me from the night. And then they disappear just as fast.
Before one can sit and ponder over why all good things must come to an end...one knows the truth will be a bitter pill to swallow. When you go looking for trouble, you will find it. But oh wretched heart, it just craves for what it shouldn't want. Fireflies are nothing but trouble.
Ah, my dear firefly.
I hate insects and their likes...no matter what kind they are. Who doesn't? But what can one do when a charming firefly buzzes his way into your heart. The dark recesses of which you thought were impenetrable. But they creep up on you don't they...naughty little fellas. They seek a glimmer of light. He found it somehow and rescued me from the night. And then they disappear just as fast.
Before one can sit and ponder over why all good things must come to an end...one knows the truth will be a bitter pill to swallow. When you go looking for trouble, you will find it. But oh wretched heart, it just craves for what it shouldn't want. Fireflies are nothing but trouble.
Ah, my dear firefly.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Americana...
Yes I am in Americana these days. What might that be, you ask? It is the constant state of being surrounded by all things American. Food, music, movies and now the language.
It is July after all. The glorious month when the oh so glorious country brings out the barbeque grills to tuck into all forms of meat, guzzles on enormous amounts of beer and basks in the afterglow of fireworks and the usual revelry. Its Independence Day!
While I am sitting across continents and oceans on the other side of town, this heightened mood of Americana is taking over my life. In the form of hot dog food reviews, music cd's of the typical US pop scene, movies celebrating the American life and now, an office advisary saying 'We are going American'!
Oh, pray, yes! This is what my esteemed colleagues and I read first thing Friday morning in office. My entire newspaper is going American, we are putting on our stars and stripes people.
What does this mean? This means understanding a whole new way to write, this means setting the word documents auto-correction to the American grammar, this means lots of 'zees' and oh my lord, unlearning a whole lifetime of English and then relearning it again.
The directives come the next day, tacked up right in front of my work portal. We are back in elemantary English 101 again. So we learn, we re-write, we re-edit and then the flag flows in the opposite direction again...as the month of Americana ends and we enter the Chinese month of August, we are back to old ways. The big bosses have changed their minds once again. I loved Americana but viva Britannica!
It is July after all. The glorious month when the oh so glorious country brings out the barbeque grills to tuck into all forms of meat, guzzles on enormous amounts of beer and basks in the afterglow of fireworks and the usual revelry. Its Independence Day!
While I am sitting across continents and oceans on the other side of town, this heightened mood of Americana is taking over my life. In the form of hot dog food reviews, music cd's of the typical US pop scene, movies celebrating the American life and now, an office advisary saying 'We are going American'!
Oh, pray, yes! This is what my esteemed colleagues and I read first thing Friday morning in office. My entire newspaper is going American, we are putting on our stars and stripes people.
What does this mean? This means understanding a whole new way to write, this means setting the word documents auto-correction to the American grammar, this means lots of 'zees' and oh my lord, unlearning a whole lifetime of English and then relearning it again.
The directives come the next day, tacked up right in front of my work portal. We are back in elemantary English 101 again. So we learn, we re-write, we re-edit and then the flag flows in the opposite direction again...as the month of Americana ends and we enter the Chinese month of August, we are back to old ways. The big bosses have changed their minds once again. I loved Americana but viva Britannica!
Monday, July 02, 2007
The Travelling Pants...
Women find shopping therapeutic. Women never have anything to wear. Women will shop for reasons other than the lack of a decent wardrobe. Women love to shop. Period.
All women know that and all men should understand that at the earliest.
So returning from a trip that maxed out my credit cards and landed me in a hell lot of trouble at Sydney's check-in counter...what with 15 kgs of extra baggage, you would think that I would've had my fill of retail therapy right? I thought so too. But, wrong!
Oh how I fought with the ground staff, pleaded and cajoled...all for a few extra pieces of clothing and accesories.
But then there I was, at home with a suitcase full of brand new goodies and what do I discover? I left my favourite pair of jeans in a hotel room in Gold Coast. The one that had been with me for 3 years...the one that accentuated what was good and hid what was not as good...the one that had travelled with me across the globe and lived to tell the tale...the one that was faded and scratched from said travelling but still holding on.
Now all fellow femmes would understand that is quite a tragic mishap. There is nothing quite as bad as losing your favourite denim. Its almost like you lose a friend. And now nothing is as good.
So what does one do? The best pal consoles me but with no avail. I need that denim again. I can't let go of it. Well she doesn't give up easily...and so, with her fully functional credit card and a determined stance, she drags me along to find a new fave denim. It won't happen I say. Never again.
After 3 hours of futile rummaging and window shopping...I have lost all hope. And then, quite suddenly I see it again. A pair quite similiar to mine and the best part, its spanking new. It fits, oh yes it fits perfectly. Goodbye old, hello new. Ah, all is good again.
P.S: This is me being completely vain as Im bored shitless, men will not understand this post but women will sympthasize with me :P
All women know that and all men should understand that at the earliest.
So returning from a trip that maxed out my credit cards and landed me in a hell lot of trouble at Sydney's check-in counter...what with 15 kgs of extra baggage, you would think that I would've had my fill of retail therapy right? I thought so too. But, wrong!
Oh how I fought with the ground staff, pleaded and cajoled...all for a few extra pieces of clothing and accesories.
But then there I was, at home with a suitcase full of brand new goodies and what do I discover? I left my favourite pair of jeans in a hotel room in Gold Coast. The one that had been with me for 3 years...the one that accentuated what was good and hid what was not as good...the one that had travelled with me across the globe and lived to tell the tale...the one that was faded and scratched from said travelling but still holding on.
Now all fellow femmes would understand that is quite a tragic mishap. There is nothing quite as bad as losing your favourite denim. Its almost like you lose a friend. And now nothing is as good.
So what does one do? The best pal consoles me but with no avail. I need that denim again. I can't let go of it. Well she doesn't give up easily...and so, with her fully functional credit card and a determined stance, she drags me along to find a new fave denim. It won't happen I say. Never again.
After 3 hours of futile rummaging and window shopping...I have lost all hope. And then, quite suddenly I see it again. A pair quite similiar to mine and the best part, its spanking new. It fits, oh yes it fits perfectly. Goodbye old, hello new. Ah, all is good again.
P.S: This is me being completely vain as Im bored shitless, men will not understand this post but women will sympthasize with me :P
Kiss The Cook
I think I've said this before but there is nothing sexier than a man who cooks. Now all you macho types out there who think it's a pansy activity, think again! Ask any girl and she'll agree with me. Infact I've been told of women who go out with a man just because he cooks...cooks well that is. It is almost sensual to watch, a man who knows how to put his hands to good use in the kitchen will in all probability be just as good in the other rooms of the house. Ahem, I wonder what you guys are thinking right now :P
Being a foodie by both passion and profession...a man who cooks works well for me. Especially since I'd rather eat than cook, not because I can't but simply because I am too lazy to cook. Plus, kiss the cook is something I've been meaning to do for a long time.
Let me put my feet up after work, hand me a glass of wine and I'll gladly dote on you while you manoeuvre your way through the culinary world. That is what my ideal evening should be. Now its a reality. And the man in question is cooking up a storm in my life, in every sense of the term. So if they say watch out for the calm before the storm...what do I watch out for when the storm is already gaining momentum?
Being a foodie by both passion and profession...a man who cooks works well for me. Especially since I'd rather eat than cook, not because I can't but simply because I am too lazy to cook. Plus, kiss the cook is something I've been meaning to do for a long time.
Let me put my feet up after work, hand me a glass of wine and I'll gladly dote on you while you manoeuvre your way through the culinary world. That is what my ideal evening should be. Now its a reality. And the man in question is cooking up a storm in my life, in every sense of the term. So if they say watch out for the calm before the storm...what do I watch out for when the storm is already gaining momentum?
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Of Rainbow Coloured Dreams...
When the lighs go on and the last ray of sunshine hits the ground...when the 9-5 grind ends and you drive down that busy lane...when the kids stop playing to go back home...when the variegated aroma of dinners being cooked fills the air...when prime time news feeds jostle for their share of mindspace...
I turn the other way and shut my eyes and paint a world of rainbow coloured dreams.
SIM is back home and soaking in the flavour of Delhi once again. There really is no place like home :)
I turn the other way and shut my eyes and paint a world of rainbow coloured dreams.
SIM is back home and soaking in the flavour of Delhi once again. There really is no place like home :)
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