This year

has not been good.

There were times I was unsure of whether it was just bent on being average, and that fell short of my expectations of it being great, and therefore felt like it was bad.

But no, it's just been bad.

I acknowledge that, but I don't feel heartbroken by it. Yes, it was bad, and now it's over and another year is coming up, and there is hope.

Very happy positive hope.

I spent 6 hours in a shopping mall

It only struck me when I found myself wondering why my feet were protesting so much.  Here's the thought process:

Me: Ow, my feet hurt.

(I don't know why I put in a 'Me'.  My thought process only involves me)

That's not true.

Oh, right.

Me: Ow, my feet hurt.
Me: I wonder why.
Me: Good though, maybe I've exercised unconsciously and lost some weight.
...
Me: Where but, what did I do.
Me: Shit, what time is it!?
Me: OH MY GOD I'VE BEEN HERE 6 HOURS!

You're a moron.

Ey.

I felt terrible when it struck me.  Just repeatedly the thought of 'oh my god, you spent a whole bloody day in a mall, just walking around, eating junk, buying nonsense, and and what. how. how 6 hours. how did this happen. that hot chocolate was good though. no, focus. HOW.'

Don't get me wrong. I enjoyed myself, I had a good day. I spent time with a friend, I felt like some stores hadn't yet launched a 'let's make our clothes smaller and make her feel fat' conspiracy. I bought a case, with a bow, for my writing and art pens.

I ate mushrooms filled with cheese and fried with crumbs.
I drank some really refreshing Lemon Ice Tea.  I mean, not often that I walk away thinking 'refreshing' 'equivalent of a Lyril ad'.
I had some amazing hot chocolate, you know the ones with a block of chocolate stuck on a stick which melts gloriously into your hot mug of milk.  HAZELNUT chocolate no less.

Good days are found in the most unexpected places.  Actually, maybe it is not so unexpected, maybe this explains the crowds flocking towards PHOENIX MARKET CITY every weekend, taking selfies against escalators and toilets.

But

Yes ok I took a selfie.

whats up whats up whats up

We really kill that term na, 'whats up'.  I realise, more often than not, the words just slip out of my mouth and all I want to do is some matrixy move to get them back in and swallow.

Why, because I really do not want to know what is up with some people. I need to force myself to say HELLO instead of 'what's up', it is Not a substitute.

Hello doesn't lead to, "don't ask yaar, I have 99 problems and a bitch is one". What's up does. 

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I have an airconditioner behind my chair at work and I'm forced to sit under its freeze ray directed spitefully at me the entire day because my whole floor depends on this one shit machine with no way of controlling temperature. I HATE YOU AIRCONDITIONER AND STUPID OFFICE.

Ok, if it troubles you so much why don't you just move?

The office or the airconditioner? The former is undiscussable. The latter, well I have a window seat brah. The view isnt much but it is a view and it lets me know what time of the day it is and allows me a space to stare out of while I day dream.  In my Bombay office there was no such window and I'm sure the guy next to me assumed I found him super attractive (given all my day dreaming).

Ok boring next.

---

I sometimes wonder how people fall asleep so trustingly. You switch off while asleep, don't you ever question if you'll wake up again?

Jute

I have an idea, well it's a joke really.

Let me run you through it.

Scene 1:
Lady walks by in a saree.
Other lady comments "oh lovely saree, what is it".
Lady in saree says "Jute".
A crow attacks her.

Scene 2:
A child walks by with a tiffin box and water bottle in a bag.
A lady, presumably his teacher, comments "my Ramu, that's a smart bag, what is it".
Child says "Jute Miss"
A crow attacks him.



We end with,
Jute Bole Kauwa Kaate

*Applause*

Not everyone you meet
has the potential to make, or break you
But there are those who do.

How much are you willing to open your eyes and curtail your brain.

Who'dhavethunk growing up would feel sluggish, would feel anything.

At the end of some days I feel like, man, today was one of those days from which there is no going back. I have crossed a bloody threshold and there is no growing young to make up for this.  Like the day I cleaned my house, through and through. It was done, there was no going back to the me before the clean up.

But there has been only two or three such instances when it feels quick and painless. Otherwise, it feels more like slowly pulling off a broken nail. Can't let it hang there, have to voluntarily and slowly tear it off.

Sometimes I think this bothers me so much that I rush headfirst into something I've labelled and stored in my mindhouse (not a mind palace mind you) as "Grown Up Stuff (Misc.)".  Just to beat the slugginess. Tear the nail off.

Then suddenly I'm in the middle of a conversation about what return gifts should be given to which aunt for my house warming, and I just want to run to my parents, ask them to handle it and sit in front of the TV while they do. 


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It's 2014 guys.  I haven't blogged in a while.  This year I'm super optimistic about, but most of this year has been me being sick, very sick, sick again and mildly blue.  I'm still super optimistic.  Happy optimistic 2014 to you (and me).


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I spent a lot of money on acquiring some Harry Potter Lego Sets. I've got mixed feelings about it.  Largely positive though.


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I have a craving for gold bangles.  Does that happen? Have you seen the price of gold? Sigh.

Im so tired of this job, so bored, I just want out, I feel its killing me not so softly.

Quit then no

Eh no, Im just being a spoilt lazy brat.

It's ok to put your foot down sometimes

Yes, but I just want to put my feet up.

It crept up on her quietly this time, with no warning. 

She was reading a book on her flight home. It was a good book. Mort by Terry Pratchett. She'd read it before, laughed out loud. But this time she found herself taking it very seriously.

She shut it halfway just as the flight was about to land. She looked up and swallowed hard. Quite suddenly she was aware of the countless strangers around her. Living breathing sweating people. Each looking different from the other, each with an entire history an entire life she knew nothing of and will never know anything of.

So? So what so what so what. She shook herself. The lady next to her grunted her disapproval and went back to drooling on the window. Argh, so what, why did it feel so weird. She turned to her right, and an old muslim gentleman on the other side turned left and stared straight at her.

She was the first to look away. She was surprised to see how much that had shaken her. Was he still looking? What if she hadnt looked away, would he have said something? Would what he said have changed her life?

She forced herself to look at him again, he was reading a newspaper. No. He isn't some messenger. No, reality as she knew isn't slipping away into crazy. Everyone's just normal doing normal things. Turbulence.

Is it going down? Will this plane crash? Are these thoughts you have when you know somehow that you're going to die? She grips her seat handles hard. She notices that the man to her right counting something with his fingers. What? What is it. What is it. 

It's nothing. She is pleading with her brain to stop with the drama. The flight lands just fine. She can't get her heart to stop pounding. 

She looks down at her hands, turns them over. Stares at her palms. She doesn't know why that action always grounds her, stops her from screaming.

She calms down, looks up. 

She screams.

I have a way, for us all to be happy

for us all to feel fine, to be satisfied

 

It involves us following a rule,

a principle, that might help us get by

 

say it with me.

I am a rock, you are an island.

 

I am a rock, I have no feelings

you are an island, you need no friends.

I am a rock, I have no opinion

you are an island, you need no help

 

I cant bring myself to follow this rule though,

I believe more in

 

I am some fruit squash, you are a slurpie.

its amazing how sad we feel when someone dies, but couldnt care less when theyre alive.

Gur Naal Ishq Mita

I wonder what that song means.  The whole thing is absolute gibberish to me, but how Ive enjoyed it over the years.

When I was young(er), I think 12? who knows, I used to imagine the whole song was sung in a made up language and it inspired me to make plenty of my own. Usually the tunes were borrowed from Rahman or BSB (yo), but eventually (sung repeatedly with fair precision over a few days) they evolved into my own sound.

wah.

If someone came and said, hey man for one song we will allow your donkeybraysingvoice to be replaced and become perfect, what song do you choose?

I'd choose 'Aaj Jaane ki zid na karo'.

But first, I'd be all - how can you make that happen for me man?
They'd be all - its called a wish, we'd grant you the wish and it'd just be.
Ok, but are there conditions, like I would need to be on a stage and singing to a hundred people?
No...no nothing like that. Geez, accept a wish granting gracefully would you.

Hmm

Then I thought, I wonder if that was a wise choice. Being a Tam, I've always wanted to shove something in the face of those chicks who'd come over and plop themselves down in front of our nicely decorated Golu and start singing their hearts out while the entire family muttered in approval and slapped their thighs in tune (not lewd come on).

But, now I could sing beautifully as well - except everyone would be all, what is this sadhindisong cheh, come on sing about Ganapathy. I'd be all - oh, sorry I need to pee - and hide in the loo till they left.

Sad.

my love for you
fills songs with meaning
that make them unbearable to listen to,
and make it difficult to breathe.

damn you man.

Dog days

It worries me, that I may not be enjoying life as much as I should be.

I can hear my past self in future saying to my future self, "eh man, those were good years, why you didnt enjoy" and I'd be all "what, I cant hear you over this crying baby" and she'd be all "facepalm*".

 

Directions

you could sing with a crackly voice, it would suit you
who wouldn't it suit. It would suit everyone.
croon, you could croon
and go into a high whine at some point
you could let rough breathing in between notes be heard
you could let a smile be heard
a half smile, a crooked terrible smile
you could grip that microphone like its making music, not you
like youre squeezing sound out
throw your shoulders back now,
look straight at me

that was good

cultivate some patience
there is more to life
than racing between speed bumps

 

Madurai

I was in Madurai a week back, man violent (sounding) folk man.

We were quietly standing around waiting for VIP ENTRANCE into temple main area when this fellow comes and he's all (in tamil, but translated for your benefit):

Fellow: EY LET ME IN

Temple Guy: NO, GO STAND IN LINE

Fellow: WHY SHOULD I STAND IN LINE YOU GO STAND IN LINE, LET ME IN

Temple Guy: NO, I AM TEMPLE GUY, YOU GO STAND IN LINE TO ENTER.

Fellow: Looks at us YOU ARE LETTING OUTSIDE PEOPLE IN AND NOT MADURAI LOCAL PEOPLE (Curse word)

Temple Guy: THEY BOUGHT TICKETS

Fellow: DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM

Temple Guy: GO STAND IN LINE

Fellow: YOU ARE MESSING WITH THE WRONG MAN (Curse word x 2)

Temple Guy: EY MAN

Fellow: DONT MAKE ME GO MENTAL ON YOU.  ILL BE BACK WITH MY MEN.


geez.

Kambackt Eeshq

Can you call "reading Elle Decor and feeling jealous" a pastime? Well, its mine. I do it slowly and with concentration.

I wonder though, am I going all EVIL EYE on these people featured in ED? I look at their houses and walls and thingumajigs and go, wtf ya so unfair. Then I look at these sexy designers with awesome jobs and go, wtf ya so unfair. Jealous jealous jealous.

I dont mean to cast evil eye and all but man, I mean, you did something to deserve that amazeballs house and that sexy job. Right?

If you didnt, I shall press the EVIL EYE RELEASE button.

feh. pointless


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Went somewhere for dinner yesterday and food was so fancy but so bad. Every item had some nonsense thrown in for good measure which was a bad measure because it crappified a good product.

Stupid.


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Im such a lazy mf. If I want my life to change, I just expect people around me to change their lives so I can get what I want. Yes, Im talking fully abstract and you wont know what this is about EVER. but well.  I just wish i was a doer - I wish I changed my own life by my own actions. I will try and do that now.

Flopshow.


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I saw a sign board which said DO NOT GIVE ARMS TO BEGGARS.
Haha.

Ok, truthfully, there is no such signboard.  Well, except in my head. Its red letters on a yellow background.

All CAPS.

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My dashed lines arent uniform - I wonder if that bugs anyone. DASH YOUR LINES PROPERLY MAN they think and I'm all F YOU and theyre all DONT YOU WANT ME TO READ YOUR BLOG and i'm all please stop yelling at me

--   ---- -

ha.

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I wish I was golden, just pure and nice and proper. Thoo, don't be dirty. I wish I was good. How is it that I know what Good would be and then I just continue my own dirty way.

you have permission to seize
to overhaul
to erase and rewind
my permission is no good, but
if it were
you have it.

All I do is wait

It sure feels that way. 

I sit here, and I wait for the next thing.  I am constantly in a state of waiting.

Waiting for the day to end, waiting for the week to end, waiting for the next big thing. Waiting to grow up.

It felt ok to feel that way when I was a kid. All kids somewhere just wait to grow up, to be big and do adult things, like drive a car or sleep late. (what bugger all mundane nonsense to grow up for, what a bad deal)

Hardly ever feels like I want to hit the pause button and take in the scene.
 

there was a fish who loved flowers
they took him to a pyschiatrist and broke him.