A Nice Day

‎2 chick flicks, coffee, 3 chapters of 'Never Let Me Go' & sm amazin weather. A day off well spent. Delhi sky looked beautiful today, a kind of biblical look to it in the evening. This seems to have happened after ages! I saw helicopters (extremly fast flying big flies)-- I dont knw wt r they called still; that reminded me of running after them as a little girl in a park near my house. A happy memory that still hasnt faded away. And I hope it never does.
Memories are beautiful things if you dont have to deal with the past. This definitely falls under teh beautiful category.

Hi...

Heya...

Like the first inspiration to start a blog in 2007, even this one is kinda inspired from The Island Girl, who has come back to the blogosphere and has pressed the refresh button for me too. I welcome her back in her new avtaar. But I will stick to my old fashioned, old blog, with the hope that I will post more regularly from now on. So all those of you who had stopped loitering around in my world of meandering recollections, are welcome back. The only incentive will be some interesting writing and interesting stories to look forward to. Well as I have said before, words are all I have. So a warm welcome to all of you again! Happy Reading.

For you, a thousand times over

The vague dimensions of life can be overpowering. Hassan's love and loyalty to Amir is certainly a reflection of how innocent and beautiful a relationship can be, without asking for anything in return.
But sometimes i feel this vaccum. A space, when removed would only leave a gaping hole difficult for any one else to fill in. But the satisfaction of 'for you, a thousand times' over is beautiful too. A feeling that defies all odds. A smile that seems to stretch to both my ears and in turn reach my eyes. I hate my blank-eyed stary look.
For you, a thousand times over..

..................................................
The title of the post has been taken from Khaled Hosseini's book The Kiterunner. I read this book almost 2 years ago. This quote from the book is one of the best I have ever read.

Little Robin

Little Robin was busy. The innocent concentration, with which she was busy, seemed somewhat nice. She was busy watching the ants cross the road.

As the ants reached a tree, they started climbing the it. Robin’s attention went to the java plums (jaamuns). She started to watch java plums roll down from the tree onto the sidewalk. Waited for the next one and let the other one roll down and then next one and then next… Then suddenly she started looking at the way a leaf casts its shadow on the tree trunk.

While all the kids played around Robin quietly watched, not giving any attention to the interruptions which mostly were in the form of some extra-squeaky children playing in the nearby park.

Suddenly her mother came calling and was mad at her for not coming back home on time “Robin you got down from your school bus at 2. What have you been doing?”
Robin looked at her mother with her small black eyes. “Why is everything so specific? So different?”

And her mother said “Because God has made it that way,”

But what did not strike me at that time was that I would behave the same way in case of people. It did not strike me that we can never replace anyone because everyone is made up of such specific details. There are little details. So specific. Even indescribable. They are minuter than a person’s smile or eyes.

Robin still hasn’t grown up in that sense. May be she should not. Or should it be otherwise?

The Unicorn

I try to assemble the sound of a gurgling brook and the blueness of the skies, and still yearn for a unicorn. Something that is cool, white and serenely exquisite. Something that glistens and glitters in the forests like an alien.

Eventually I dance naked in the rain with my hands aloft, like a whirling dervish, feel the fat drops sting my skin and horrify the ones in Guccis and Pradas with this blatant and unashamed nudity. I let them put on their Raybans and allow them to try and block me, as they raise their Burberry umbrellas against the purging downpour- drenching my soul, nourishing my mind, cleansing my spirit and leaving it enshrined.

And in this marauding ecstasy I see the unicorn. I see it, till it dies in front of my eyes and the world becomes real and elusive. Its now that I long to jump into my attic of thoughts. I wait for the night so that I can discover castles right under the beds of fantasy, yet again.

The Mêlée

The longer I strive to take care of myself these days, the more I realise the significance of attitude or approach in life. Somehow, as I have begun to realise, that it is important than reality. The extraordinary thing is we have an alternative everyday regarding the attitude we will clinch for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. The only thing we can do is play on the one little filament that we have, and that is our attitude.
Watching someone leave from my life, (well you never entered it, I just made you a part of my world without realising anything), it does not make me cynical or harsh about certain emotions that I think will take a lot of time to get back to me again. Its just that unearthing them all over again is not the task that is on my priority list now.
Also firsts are always special in life. Apart from that the mollycoddled child that I have been, I am not used to any sort of soreness mentally.
I dislike certain things now. A little too much. I dislike myself for sitting at the same coffee shop and staring at the empty couch in front of me. I dislike my travel because the mind is in a wanderer’s stage then. I dislike being alone.
But there are solutions for everything. I am reading more then ever. I am watching more movies then ever. Listening to music more then ever. Writing more then ever. Shopping more then ever. Watching ‘Friends’ and the daily news a little too much, so that I am busy. Busy with life and its chores. One good thing is that all of it is also giving me the opportunity to become more passionate about certain other things. My family, friends and of course my reading sessions. I am just loving them.
I am converted over the fact that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. So back on the real track might take some time but I am just close.
Also I don’t want to push anything aside. Playing squash is indeed a tough task. I want to move on with some really special and wonderful emotions buried somewhere that deserve nothing more then a lot of deference and respect. I was honest and so were you. Therefore I want to ask for nothing. I just want to look at the stars again, smell the rain again, feel the wind, play with children and fight for my dreams. The fight has already begun and this time with my own self…..

…………………………………………………….
The title of the post means a fight or battle

The Long Drawn Out Wait......

O Lord!
In your world, In my world, In our world
Why are hatred and war in attendance?
Your heart is so expansive
Yet why are ours so constricted?

At every step, why is there a boundary?
All this earth that is yours
Sun is what it revolves around
Why is it so shady still?
On this world’s veil,
why do I see blood’s colour everyday?

Echoing are the shouts of many
That pour like hot iron in the ears
Who wants to listen to the talks of love and tolerance?
Shattering are all the dreams
Who is going to gather all these scattered pieces?
Heart's doors are locked
Why are these locks so rusty?

My answer?
I am still waiting……

...................................................
A dedication to Mumbai. The mayhem in Mumbai has rocked the entire world.