Temporary Love.

I'm just back home from a ride around the locality i live in. I dropped Dad off at Mekhri Circle so he could accompany aunt and cousins to the airport and then went in search of boxing gloves, driving people crazy on the road with my cruising speed. While fantasising about Papa John's Parmesan Garlic Breadsticks (they are out of this world!), i took the turn into a very quiet, residential lane. And behold, a sight that mesmerised me instantly and captured my heart.

This:

I can't begin to describe how absolutely beautiful the tree is when actually seen. It's one of those moments in life that one is thankful for having happened. I could have sat on my bike and stared at it for hours, memorising the shades of every dangling petal about to fall to the ground or the swaying branches heavy with pale-yellow blooms, but i would have appeared to be a highly suspicious character spying on the houses. It wasn't just a sight to soothe the eyes, but also the soul. A lot like love.

Say you'll be mine, you divinely gorgeous tree, you. Please?

"'twas beauty who killed the beast."

In the middle of listening to music, i got my ear plug out and shook my outer ear up because it felt like there was something in it. When i took my hand away, this green icky thing jumped out of nowhere. I don't want to think about where it might have been. But i do give the creature this: it was a very beautiful green spider - the picture does no justice to it - very dainty looking and all feminine-like.

I let it creep and crawl for a bit (read for as long as i could take a picture), and then i squished it with a paper napkin.

Brrrrr. I hate spiders. Ugh. They're the only thing that scare me.

Ending it.

This morning, i rode like my life depended on it. Or the end of my life. And i wasn't afraid. I was extremely distracted. My mind wasn't with me. I wanted to hit a moving vehicle today. Hit a bus maybe, and fall and die, because i felt trapped. I felt like i was being taken for a ride. I have no idea how i made it to work.

I want to break free. I want to laugh again and be happy. I want to stop feeling this pathetic all the time, this listless and this unaware of things. I want it to stop hurting. I really, really, really want it to stop hurting.

Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

OHMIGOD! This song is so unbelievably cheap that i love it! I loooooooooove it! I can totally do tapang-type dancing on this! Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Reminiscent of the good old music of "Hawa hawa, aye hawa, khushboo lutadey..."

And another Sunday goes by.

I thought i'd hold off posting till tomorrow, but i have time on my hands and thoughts in my head, so what the heck.

I missed kickboxing all of this week. I spent some time with Sister K at her new place, and i slept like a baby which made me think that maybe it's time i bought a new bed. I went out drinking a little bit. Missed a lot of parties because i wasn't in the mood to socialise.

I splurged on Blood Red and Minty Blue jeans. They're both awesome colours and i love them. Then i splurged on a pair of Ceam peep toe stilletoes.

I met school friends after over eight years. It was good fun. We teased each other, got updates, ate a lot of food and took lots of pictures. I realised how different we are as people, but we still share a bond that doesn't make it awkward and hesitant and politely correct for us to be around each other.

I'm taking pillions on my bike these days. So far, Achilles, Sister K, Geek Boy, F, my cousin M and a colleague from work have travelled with me. Last night was the first time i took dad on the bike. And i took him for lunch again with mom and aunt and cousins.

A waiter experienced a sudden case of butter fingers at the restaurant we were lunching at and spilled scalding hot Sulemani Chai down my back. It's burning a little bit but i'll know the extent of damage after a night of sleep.

I watched half of 'P.S: I Love You', and although i felt like crying my guts out, i didn't. I did curse my ill-timing, wondered if i would ever be happy, be the same person i was long ago or even a year and a half ago. I wish things were different. I wish for it so badly, so desperately.

I am kind of waiting for the week to start because there's a lot happening at work and it'll keep me occupied. Life is good, it's great. Except for this one aspect. If that falls into place, life will be perfect and i will need nothing more.

To wish and dream and hope. That's what life is about, isn't it?

Monday night blues.

Work got done by 5 last evening, and i was just not in the mood to get right back into reality. So i went out. And i got drunk - starting with a Breezer, moving on to 8 whiskeys and finally ending with a Breezer at three in the morning on the roadside in a car.

It reminded me of the good times with The Boy. Of driving around because neither of us wanted to go back home or be away from each other, circling close to the house, talking, listening to music. Only difference, this time it was with Geek Boy and it had nothing to do with love and attraction and any of those things commonly associated with two people out together.

We wound up at the watering hole around 12-ish, drove around for a bit, parked somewhere on the side of Outer Ring Road and talked. And talked and talked and talked. Mostly about life and love. About being better people for the people we love. Of making the right choices, taking chances, risking a heartbreak in the hope that things won't really come to that. Then we drove around a little more and picked up a pint and a Breezer, and drove towards home. And then we parked on the roadside again. And played random old songs. Some on loop. Some halfway. Iris by Goo Goo Dolls. And we finished our respective bottles. I told him about how i was a bundle of topsy-turvy, helter-skelter emotions and that i didn't wish for anybody to go through the shit i'm going through, and he held my hand and kissed it and said that i shouldn't worry about him or be afraid for him.

And then, because i was rapidly losing control over my bladder, we went to an all-night coffee shop in a five-star hotel to use their restroom. Then we drove towards my place and played Gotye. And we screamed our lungs out at 3:30 in the morning, shouting the lyrics, putting every ounce of our emotion into it, every bit of angst, every bit of anger and frustration and love and pain and heartache. And we sang. We screamed and we sang.

The singing aloud? It was cathartic. Healing.

It was exactly what i needed last night.

Hello Monday morning! Come n' get some lovin!

I've spent the last three days out of town - a break i desperately needed. (I realised just how badly i wanted one, when i hit the geographical boundaries of Bangalore and all the shit in my head was waiting there to welcome me.) I went back to Coorg after over three years.

My travel companions were totally new - i'd never travelled with any of them before. We had wild animals and insects for company, bird songs for music, a bit of alcohol, good food and lived in absolute isolation from mankind for three whole days. The jeep rides to and from the place we stayed at rattled our bones so much that i can still feel the vibrations of it. We did a bit of exploring on our own, walking along a secluded stream and taking amazing pictures in the beautiful sunlight, climbing our way to a coffee estate that was covered in snow-shaded coffee flowers in full bloom and falling into a soul trance listening to the prayers at the Golden Temple, Kushalnagar.

It was a very serene holiday. And i'm back now, ready to face things. For a while, at least.

My mood after the trip: A pocketful of sunshine.

Some kicka** news.

So, another week has flitted past, leaving me with a couple of things to feel proud about: i have managed to do a lot, a LOT of work. I met two stud muffins friends from Hyderabad who run their own agency and believe that meetings are best conducted over a bottle (or ten) of beer. I watched Paan Singh Tomar (nice movie) and feasted on Pan Asian cuisine at Republic of Noodles (try their All Spice flavoured Chocolate Mousse). Managed to catch up with people i hadn't met in a while, spent time with Grandmom and cousins, and and and...

I've started Kickboxing! Tough as hell but so, so, so awesome! The perfect channel for all that aggression in me and a great adrenaline rush that drives all depressing thoughts out of the window. (Despite falling on my tush a couple of times and toppling over like a ton of bricks while doing handstands.)

Now i'm ready for whatever's in store. One tackle, arm lock and break, one chop and i'm sorted with life. Heeeheeheeheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Just discovered: Parov Stelar.

Every morning, a song makes itself heard in my head. I don't know where it comes from and when, but it does. And it's stuck there almost all day. I sing it when i ride to work, sing it while at work, mutter the lyrics under my breath and blah blah - you get the drift.

This morning, Strange Love crept up on me and slayed my mind. I had to HAD TO come to work and listen to it on Youtube. One thing led to another and i ended up hearing The Mojo Radio Gang by Parov Stelar. (Very thrilled with myself, i walked up to Geek Boy and told him i had just discovered Parov Stelar and he gave me this look of "Oh, you're finally catching up." Whatever. Hmph.)

It's classic sounds with a twist, kinda like a Moby and Jazz mish-mash. Kinda, sorta. Whatever it is, i love it!

Read about Parov Stelar here and hear the songs here.

What will you do?

Will you let go? Will you watch me cry as i accept someone else as the man i want to spend my life with? Clap and cheer and be happy for me? Will you sacrifice me, us, at the altar? Will you save yourself? Take the easy way out?

Will we be strangers? Will we be friends? Lovers? Together? Or just somebody we used to know?

The week gone by.

I know i started the year with a bang (figuratively speaking) - and i still hold dear the belief that this year is going to be goood - but somewhere along the line, i stopped keeping a tab of the things i did every week.

In an attempt to resurrect it, here goes:
On Monday, i went to work and then went for an impromptu 60-minute Thai foot reflexology massage with Sister K.
On Tuesday, i cracked a campaign.
On Wednesday, i wished the impatient G for her wedding anniversary and called her a bigger brat now that she was expecting a baby.
On Thursday, i did nothing out of the ordinary. Oh wait. I did do something out of the ordinary. Something very stimulating, interesting and extraordinarily exciting (for me) and of which i shall talk about soon enough in the near future.
On Friday, i went for Kahaani - the perfect kind of mystery thriller because it keeps you wondering what the hell the mystery is and how the heck does it all come together till the last minute - and had a salad for dinner. Yay me!
On Saturday, i vegetated.
On Sunday, it struck me at 9:30 p.m that the David Guetta show was due to happen. Or had already happened by then, as i now know. And i worked a little bit to ease out the work pressure from my current week, which if i may say so, did not help at all.

Human salad.

“People aren't either wicked or noble. They're like chef's salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict.”
- Lemony Snicket, A Series of Unfortunate Events Book Eleven - The Grim Grotto

I saw the beauty of the moon with new eyes last night. (No, i didn't get a pair of glasses.)

'Twas a night for experimentation: how many different ways could i shoot the full moon in?

I heart my telephoto. It's opened up a world of opportunities for me.

Another new blog.

Call it going on a rampage or whatever, but i just felt like i had to start another blog, and i did.

It's on WordPress and it's going to be all about travel.

There's only one post so far, but i will be adding more soon - accounts of my past travel.

Read it here.

My little monkey.

Well, he's not really mine, but he plays on the tree outside my room, which makes the tree sort of mine and therefore him too... Never mind.

He's fearless, can jump deftly from one branch to the other and is an absolute pleasure to watch and shoot. I love his antics of hanging upside down, sideways, any which way you can think of.

Sometimes, he's joined by two other little monkeys. Whom i will also claim as mine.

Camera: Nikon D3000. Lens: 70mm-300mm telephoto.

My next telephoto experiment: shooting the moon.

A thought.

Instagram's turned everyone into a photographer.

Bah.

Me.

"Not many people cared much about knowing her. Most people preferred to keep their distance. I don't know what her having made herself into what she was had done for her.She could've been ordinary if she wished."

- Harold Brodkey, Innocence

Odds and ends.

I collect random things through random phases of my life.

When i was a kid, i collected beads and screws and pictures of landscapes and flowers.

When i grew slightly older, i collected leaves and flowers and squished them between pages of books and diaries. Once they were dry, i'd use them to make something or i'd just look at them and feel happy.

In my teens, i started collecting things of sentimental value - a stray sheaf of pages from my third standard notebook; page-long stories i'd written about a little girl or a crow or a lion or a baby or an ant - insects seemed to have been my favourite; pictures from my parents' wedding; stones and shells from various places i had been to; a plastic rose that someone close gave me; a Cadbury's wrapper; twigs; a string of thread; love letters; even wallets that i have previously owned are all kept away like precious pieces of memory. Now, this collection has also grown to include drawings and letters and messages from young cousins.

These days, i collect post cards. Every time i hear of a friend travelling to some exotic destination, ask them to bring me back postcards. I collect Roald Dahl books. Asterix comics. Lemony Snicket stories.

I'm not sure if my changing collections speak volumes about who i am, but i'm sure of one pattern - that sooner or later, my interest in things shifts. Nothing stays. And surprisingly, now that i think about it, i'll be collecting something else when i die.

I'll be collecting dust ten feet underground.

I've been invited...

...to guest blog on Vie Hebdomadaires. No, i don't know what the name means, i will google it soon enough. All i know is that it's a novel concept where one blogger posts for a full week, and the baton is passed on to a fellow blogger after that.

I started posting yesterday, and i must say that as always, i rambled on.

Check out Vie etc here.

UPDATE: My guest blogging week has come to an end.

If you'd like to read what i wrote:

The Case of the Hapless Husband etc.

The Shadow

A short story from me to you

Have you ever bunked work?

Meet my early morning visitor

"Hello? Who's calling please?..."

See you later, Alligator.

Mixed up.

Last week, i took stock of the sarees i own. There are a lot. And at least 6% of them are brand new and never worn. No, i'm not giving them away. When i saw them, i realised that i needed occasions to wear these sarees to, and if there were none then i would create them just so i could wear the sarees and strut about. Opportunity came knocking last evening in the guise of our ex-landlord's youngest daughter's engagement.

So there i was, all blinged up, sitting and waiting for the engagement to begin, amidst rows of elderly women in Burqas and with the intent of figuring out if i was single or too old. In the middle of all this, i also tripped on a wire, had to keep adjusting my aanchal to prevent the men from getting more than an ample view of my bosom, and raise the pleats of my saree a little so i could walk easily. If there's anything that can teach you to multitask, it's a saree, i tell you.

As i sat staring ahead at the decorated red and gold chair awaiting the warmth of the bride-to-be's a**, feelings that lay dormant decided to surge forward and i realised again how much i love weddings. How much i love the lights, the glitter, the stress, the excitement and the anticipation and giggles and rituals and flowers and smiles. It all seems like magic. I love being a part of the celebrations, and more as a participant - running around, taking care of guests, doing small chores and the like - than a spectator. (I've always wished that i could see my own wedding without being the bride, but that's an impossible feat.) Sometimes, i've even tried to imagine myself in the bride-to-be's shoes and feel what she must be feeling. I can guarantee you that the gamut of emotions leaves me breathless; such a big risk, such a big chance, all on blind faith but with the hope that it will all work out in the end.

Yesterday, waiting for the engagement to happen, watching the lights flicker off the sequins on the pendal, i started dreaming again. Dreaming of what i would wear for my wedding (Khada Dupatta), whom i would designate to take care of guests (Gujju, R, G, my cousins), keep my father in check (Sister K and PK), shuttle people and run around (Geek Boy and N) and to keep me calm (everybody else!), what food i would like to have (traditional Hyderabadi fare complete with Sheermal and Chicken curry swimming in deliciously flavoured oil, Haleem, Qubani ka meetha, and other vegetarian stuff), what time of day i would like to get married at (night, definitely), and how large it should be (closed group of people); what expression i would be wearing, how my eyes would shimmer with tears because i would see the guy i wanted to get married to standing on the sidelines as a spectator and not the groom, how i would try to be strong and stop my heart from pounding, how i would swallow the grief like a bitter pill...

Next thing i knew, i was sitting in front of a plate piled high with Biryani. I served myself some (okay, a lot) and ate hungrily, all thoughts and dreams beaten to a swift retreat by the grains of sumptuous, aromatic Basmati.

Good thing food came to the rescue!

The poetic genius of e.e.cummings.

I love the man. My first real taste of him was way back in my second year degree, when this extremely well-articulated and sharp literature professor took us through the discourse on 'Anyone lived in a pretty how town'. As was her habit, she didn't stop there, but went on to introduce us to more wonders of his poetry.

I find him interesting and love his poems because they're so...against everything a poem was dictated to be. He always signed his name in lower case. His utter disregard for commas and everything that goes with them, seen in poems that are unconventional with twists and turns of vocabulary, is absolutely worship-worthy, and he's explored every possible facet of the linguistic system. It's like i can imagine him flicking away the rulebook of poetry with a careless finger almost as if it were a speck of dirt on his shirt, and sitting down to pen a work of art that was always triggered by the question "so how am i going to mindf*** the literary world today?" His use of parenthesis, the syntax, the flow of the words, the layout - what absolute pleasure each one of his poems is to read!

Look at this one, for example:

l(a

le

af

fa

ll

s)

one

l

iness

The beauty of it lies in the way he's broken up the words - to imitate the falling of a leaf.

I've got him on my Flipkart wishlist. Now all i need to do is get his books in my hands. Soon, e.e. Soon.

This and that.

I've got the sewing machine and the fabrics, and i finally got the threads. All i needed then was a little project to find my sewing mojo again. And that happened too!

This here's the Sewing 101 hard disk pouch i made last evening. Done without measuring tape and still a snug-as-a-bug fit. There's a half-an-inch thick layer of sponge sandwiched between the inside and outside fabric, and the pouch opening comes with a drawstring function.

I originally wanted to try out one of the fancy shmancy stitches as a pattern between the lines, but after two failed attempts, i gave up - the fabric was going through unnecessary wear and tear. Also, originally, i wanted to use some cotton fabric with maps printed on it that i've had lying around for years, but when i saw them i stuck to the original plan of turning them into cushion covers.

Okay, that's enough of originality then.

And then, on Tuesday, because i was generally bugged with life, i painted a little clay vase. It originally (last time i say it, promise) started out in a Mithai Pink colour - a shade of Pink i have been obsessed with for a while - with hand-painted fine zig-zag lines in bright yellow. I had finished the base colour and six of the zig-zag lines when i got lazy and tried to convert the design into something that eventually ruined the entire vase. So i went dip dip dip and mixed and blended and added a bit of a metal finish and voila! Whattey, if i may say so myself!

Yeah, so that's what i've been up to. Between all-night putting and talking sessions, mad hectic work and pointless meanderings of the mind.

Ride on, my Chariot of Fire.

Darling, darling Black. What would my life be without you?

A letter to Saint Valentine.

Dear All-heart Man,

Your simple act of permitting men to lasso women and rope them in for life has evolved into such a high-pressure day in the 21st century that you'd be amused to see it. Even before the sun was up and about, the florists were polishing their teeth and wringing their talents dry from 4:30 in the morning to entice people with their flower arrangements and fresh-as-dew roses. Heck, some of the florists were even open all night! I know because i was up all night as well, drinking it out with a couple of friends from 6:30 last evening.

The things people do in the name of love - suicide, dinners, a couple of days out of town, hell i think today there are going to be at least three flash mobs happening in the city. (Flash Mobs are not evil, Saint Valentine, they're not the same people who torched you. It's the term used to put up a public display of planned random dancing.) Wives will put pressure on husbands to take them out, girlfriends will fleece boyfriends dry, the married and old ones will not fight for a day... yes, that feeling of love makes people do weird things. I think Cupid's got a big-ass manufacturing unit for his arrows now, that's how much he's in demand.

You made it so that for this one day, being single is akin to committing a heinous crime. You bestowed the power of the social order on the hooked ones for this one day every year, making them look down on the singles like they were the outcasts, the scum of the earth. Today, mushy feeling defeats intelligence and all other emotions; but only today, thank heaven.

I'm telling you, Saint V, if there was a system of paying royalty way back in your day and age, you'd be rich enough to own more than three quarters of the world today. You'd be the Hugh Heffner of Emotional Love. The Bill Gates of Windows to the Heart. You'd also be the sole cause for a serious outbreak of lovemaking anywhere and everywhere.

But then, at least there'd be more love in the world. Shared, felt and happy.

Lovingly,
The Optimist in the Guise of a Pessimist

The beginnings of summer.

My only other favourite time of the year other than monsoons is when winter's slowly but surely giving way to sultry summers. The weather is breezily warm, there's a sleepy freshness in the air and the light is just beautiful. The evenings are made for parents and grandparents to sit out in verandahs and balconies, catching up on life, everyday mundaneness and gossip with neighbours; for the young ones to feel the stirrings of crushes and steal glances at eligible, teenage love; for the kids to get out on the streets and play till late in the night when the power goes off.

It brings back smiling memories, the days when i was 14 and power cuts were as much a part of our lives as mugging for exams. I used to stand at the wrought-iron, shoulder-level gate for hours and look up at the sky, wonder about everything and nothing. I remember my landlord's kids - all of them, except for the younger one, much much older than i was - and i playing Lock and Key or Chain Cut on the road. The landlord's oldest son and me sitting on the steps of the terrace, hidden from the world under the shade of the towering, swaying coconut tree, with him hugging my shoulders from behind as i cried while he said sorry over and over, telling me that he was sorry he was dating somebody else but that he really liked me and didn't know what to do. My being just 14 and him being 20. I remember it like it was just yesterday,

I remember the summer of my tenth standard in Hyderabad. Living in the Janaki Nagar house, sharing a mutual fascination with the boy across the road as the tunes of Ali Haider's Chand sa mukhda and the Amitabh/Daler Mehendi hit Nananana re mingled with the heat waves and wafted into my bedroom. The lights going on and off in our respective rooms as if in a private Morse Code. Waking up to a breakfast of thick , ice-cold Mango milkshake or Sheermal Nahari. Reading Asterix, my first late night movie - Jurassic Park - with mom, uncle, grandma and uncle's friend. Making friends with the kids next door and indulging in endless hours of play mostly involving water as a respite from the heat.

My first party when i was 19, with the creative director of the agency i was interning at, and whom i had asked out for coffee. His favourite song then - Chod na re from Kaante and how we listened to it in his Gypsy. Getting dropped off at PK's place after the party, a tentative hug and a peck on the cheek, holding hands on the road as we walked to her place from where the Gypsy was parked.

Stolen evenings from work at The Nameless One's place, where we spent nights that ended too soon, sharing secrets and kisses. A late ride to the outskirts of the city on a whim, looking for accomodation for a night (at which we didn't succeed).

Endless drives with The Boy, sneaking into a hidden side road and cuddling up under a sky shimmering with stars from between the coconut trees. Getting caught and being called 'the wife who was leaving the city' to explain why we were doing what we were doing. My heart skipping more than a beat when that happened.

Yep, this time is my favouritest because of the memories it brings. The breeze escorts the shiny bubbles storing the follies of my youth from faraway lands and leaves them at the doorstep of my mind. As the season comes around again, maybe i'll hope, long and wish for new rememberances to be formed. And i'll be young again. Young, and in love.

Get rescued by Bach.

Stressed? Nervous angry irritated? Depressed? Anxious exhausted repulsed? Just drink up some flower.

Sounds weird, isn't it? Mine was an accidental acquaintance with the world of Original Bach Flower Remedies a handful of months ago, when i saw a colleague squeezing a few drops from a midget bottle into her mouth. I asked her what it was and she told me. Bach remedies are extracts of various flowers whose properties include calming your nerves, righting your disposition, cheering you up - the problems are endless.

The disbelief must have shown on my face: how can a mere flower extract correct what doctors can only do with pills? But, apparently, there's a science to it and it works. Doctor Edward Bach (you were thinking the composer, weren't you?) mastered it and left the legacy behind at Mount Vernon. My colleague has several bottles that she takes based on the emotion she needs help with. Totally natural, no side effects, absolutely safe. Since she's been taking them for a while, and has sort of converted my manager to try them too, i guess i got my head around the idea and believed her.

I found it extremely fascinating, though. So once i finished talking to her, i went to the Web site and checked out the flower remedies myself. Then i saw the list of remedies that the extracts work on: the inability to say no, mental torture behind a cheerful face, drifting, resignation, apathy... my wonder has only increased since.

The products are not available in India, so you'll have to order online or get somebody to bring it for you when they come back from phoren.

And here i was, thinking: how could the evening get any better?

It just got worse. Freakishly so.

After a great meal at the new Elements in Frazer Town and buying each other birthday presents, N and i headed back to her place so that i could pick up my bike and ride home. The time was 11 p.m. Not usually the time i ride back home, but somehow, the gorgeous weather soothed my usually wary nerves and led me to ride into the balmy winds.

I overtook a few people on the road (for obvious reasons; they were going too slow) but there was this one chap on a bike that i must have passed by when i was nearing home - about half a kilometre away, is my estimate.

Imagine a rectangle - my house is at the top left hand corner of the rectangle. The right side of the rectangle leads to my house as well, but i usually take the left side of the rectangle to reach my house when i'm coming from the main road, which is almost always. When i took the left turn, the guy honked twice. I didn't think much of it and looked at him curiously to wonder why he was honking. I stopped in front of my gate, got off the bike to open the gates and park inside. Somehow, instinctively, i sent up a prayer to God saying God please, please don't let him turn the right corner and see where i live.

God must have been on a break then, because the biker took the turn and was on the same road as me. He approached my house, slowing down in front of it and observing my movements. I felt the beginnings of anxiety. He went away, and i parked my bike inside. As i was removing the bags and other paraphernalia from my bike, he circled the house a second time, slowing down in front of my gate again and observing me. By now, i was quite afraid. Then, he did it a third time. That was it; i was petrified. I locked the gate as soon as i could and with my three bags and a doggy bag from dinner, i scooted up the stairs to the safety of my home.

Just outside the door, i realised that i had left the bike keys on the bike.

I stood for a full minute outside the door, really, really scared to go back downstairs just in case the biker decided to come again. So i rung the bell, waited for my dad to come, asked him to stay put there, dumped all my luggage, ran down the stairs, grabbed the keys from the bike and ran back up. My heart still hasn't stopped racing from fear.

These things usually don't happen. I never ride as late as 11 in the night, and even if i do, it's never alone - A is almost always following me on his Bullet when i insist on riding back home. Today, though, things were different. With hardly three kilometres between N's and my place, it took me less than 10 minutes to cover the distance on fairly traffic-free roads. And yet, yet this shit happened.

Ugh. These things shake up my equilibrium, destroy my feeling that all is okay with the world. It's a reality bite that i can do without because now, it's going to take a good number of days for this fear to go away.

The visits this year.

It's hardly three months into this year, and i've already made several trips to visit doctors and get check-ups done. I'm tired of them. I don't want to go no more.

My last visit was to the Gynaec yesterday. I checked my weight. I'm 80 kilos.

WTF???? What gives? When the hell did i hit 80?? It's the most i have weighed in my entire life and it feels horrible! I want to crawl under a rock and stay there for eternity, but i'm worried that the rock will be too small for me size. Freaking frack. I'm this close to depression. Like i don't have the whole SM thing worrying the shit out of me, my health also has to go completely out of control. But i also realise that there's no point feeling miserable and not doing anything about it. I've got to begin some serious exercising and diet control.

Auuuuuugh! I hate it i hate it i hate it i hate hate hate hate hate it! I hate myself for letting go like this. It's not done. It's just NOT DONE.

I don't want to look the way i look, feel the way i look, or visit the doctors any more. I'm through with this nonsense.

So much to tell!

I've been ridiculously busy - a good thing - since i came back from Goa, and it was just this morning that i thought to myself: it seems like forever since i posted on the blog! And soooooo much has happened since i got back! I already posted about the telephoto lens but i haven't told you that:

- I have started gymming again. Fingers crossed.
- I have a Snapfish account now, and i'm already beginning to fall in love. All thanks to HDFC, by the way, who sent me a special offer as my birthday gift. I already got 20 free prints of pictures i want to frame and put up on my wall around my writing (now typing) table - something that i've been wanting to do forever now - and now i can get many more through the birthday gift!
- I went out putting with Gujju and A last night after sooooo long. A and i started early and Gujju joined us four hours later but oh boy, what fun it was! The putting continued at A's place (where i had a glass full of Hazelnut Bailey's), and while Gujju passed out on the sette, A and i feasted on Biryani and watched Factory Girl. Distrubing movie, didn't finish the entire thing.
- Somewhere in the middle of all that putting, i also took an overseas work call for half an hour. That's a first for me.
- Work is crazy hectic, but it's keeping me on my feet so that's a good thing - there's no space in my head for unnecessary shite.
- I'm having some very interesting conversations with N these days.

I feel like i'm missing out something else... oh wait... i'm getting engaged.



Haha, gotcha! A harmless prank in ode of the looming Valentine's Day.

Say hello to my telephoto!

I called my credit card guys a couple of weeks back in a fit of rage, because the statement claimed that i still had a balance of 7620 to pay, despite my having cleared all payments. It turned out that the balance was minus 7620, which meant that i could spend that much money without being charged a cent. So i immediately went to Flipkart and looked for Nikkor lenses that would fit in that budget to gift to myself . I shortlisted two, but the one that i really wanted - the 70mm-300 mm telephoto - was out of stock. So i put it on my wishlist and asked them to notify me.

Two days before i left for Goa, i got an email saying the lens was available. Within seconds, i was logged into Flipkart and had made the purchase! I had just bought myself a telephoto! Yaaaaaaaaaay!

Unfortunately, it didn't arrive in time to carry it to Goa. The first thing i did when i got back, though, was to check out the lens and take a few pictures to see how it would do.

It. works. beautifully.



It's not motorised, but that's alright because i've been shooting on manual for quite a while now. The lens is a little heavy and it doesn't have a vibration minimising feature, so my hand tends to shake a little bit and the pictures show it. But between rigorous practice at holding my hand still and the Gorillapod, i should be able to manage just fine.

A sewing machine, a telephoto lens and an awesome holiday in Goa. This year is turning out to be goooooood! (Crossing fingers, touching wood, warding off the evil eye and all that.)

Oh my God, that was freaking awesome!

After four days in the sun and on the sandy beaches of Palolem, i'm back in B'lore.

It was like a holiday fling - totally fun, entertaining, no strings attached, fun while it lasted with absolutely no regrets or desire to extend it any further than the duration it was for. It was short, sweet and very, very memorable.

We spoke about everything and nothing, did most things and nothing, laughed a lot, ate a lot of good Goan food, beach bummed, soaked up the sun and the sea, i tripped on port wine and photography (I have news about this too!). I'm glowing, superbly peaceful and have experienced my full dose of chilling out, Beach Style. This is most definitely one of my top two trips to Goa.

*Sigh* I need more holidays like this one.

UPDATE: I transferred pictures from my camera; here's a quick peek at the trip. Clockwise from left: Chattai Palolem, the beach resort we stayed at; a view of the sea from the shack 'Titanic'; under the stars for dinner at Papillon; a riverlet of sorts at the edge of Palolem beach.

Call it Gypsy.

Have you read Gypsy stories? The society strays, the people without morals, the travelling group of men and women and children who lead colourful lives, who belong nowhere and are accountable to none? Their caravans of vice and temptations?

And have you heard of the gypsies who fall in love with the wrong person and regret to live it?

I am that person. I fell in love with the wrong guy. I belong to nobody. I have passion, but no freedom to show it; i have love, but no rights to display it. Always the rights these days, always the rights. No right to laugh, touch, smile, spend time with, move around with, hold, love. No rights. A momentary lapse in remembering that i have no rights, and i am cruel and heartless. It stays with me, this statement this taunt: no rights. I breathe no rights, i live no rights. There are only wrongs.

When i need to escape, i take off on my bike. It's my one point of solace. When i'm driven to anger, i ride carelessly. When i cry, i ride slowly. When i don't want to think, i take busy roads to keep my focus on navigating the bumps and traffic. I leave everything behind when i'm on it.

Today, as i sat outside the doctor's cabin, the enormity of it hit me. This is who i've become, but is this who i wanted to be?, i asked myself. And then it took great effort to stop the tears.

I fell in love with the wrong guy. I am a gypsy. But i've already got me a name, so i'll just bestow that name on Bike. It is, after all, an extension of me. There you go Bike, you got yourself a new name. Just, don't go wanting to become somebody else.

A birthday and a reveal.

Happy birthday to me! I'm a year closer to the Big Three 'O', and also closer to discarding the garb of my younger days and donning a more 'mature' outlook.

For starters, i spent my birthday with the perfect person for the occasion: me. I kept a medical appointment that i had been putting off for months out of sheer laziness (See? I'm old. Who starts off their birthday with a visit to the doctor?), went for a scrumptous breakfast for one to The Egg Factory, followed by a 90-minute Thai massage at a Spa tucked away discreetly (sheer bliss; although i assume the manager wanted to throw me out because i asked him an inappropriate question*), a quick dessert at Fat Buddha followed by tacos at Taco Bell, Mantri Mall.

Peaceful, quiet day. I spent time thinking about life, about where i am at this point, if i wish to continue with the status quo, blah blah blah. The mirror didn't show any signs of my having grown older, but i think a tiny switch flipped itself on in my brain. Let's see how long it stays that way.

As for presents, hmm... I got just one so far, but boyoboyoboy what a gift!

(This is when i reveal the contents of 'Handle with care' box from this post.)

Drum rolls and...TA DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!



I knowwwwww! Isn't it beautiful? I can see myself transforming into that belissima from the Usha ad who creates wonders with her stitching. My Wonder Stitch comes with a foot pedal, a fundu automatic needle threading function, one-switch reverse stitching mechanism, button hole making, smocking and other such marvellousness. The temporary glitch is that i don't know where to keep it. It will mean rearranging my room, especially the computer table-turned bookshelf. I'm wondering now if i should do a wall-mounted book shelf to free up ground space or resurrect the design i had in mind to save on floor space. But if i do that, i'll need to send my bed to the recycling centre and get myself a futon or the low bed (mmmmm!) that i saw at the spa yesterday. Augh, decisions decisions!

But, the happiness remains untainted! Finally, my wish to turn into a part-time hobby seamstress comes to fruition! Yayeeeeee! Happy birthday to meeeeee!

*The question: I shamelessly used the 'It's my birthday' line at Thai Sabai and Fat Buddha to get served. After breakfast, i headed straight to Sabai and asked for a session. The only available appointment was at 2 so i decided to wait it out because i wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere - the idea was to spend a leisurely day doing what i felt like. So i parked myself on one of the comfortable chairs, put my feet up on the soft, feel-good fabric of the foot stool and was lulled into sweet oblivion by the soothing ambience and mellow background music. The people coming to keep their appointments caught my attention: easily 40+ men with slight paunches and what i assume to be a mid-life crisis. Of course, my thoughts went all over the place and i wondered if i had come to a place extremely unsuited for a woman. So when the manager came, i asked him, "Is this a spa for just men or something? Because i've only seen men coming in since i was here", and well, i was there for a good two hours. He said that no, everybody came here and there was a couple in the first room getting a spa session done. I said okay but i still had my doubts. Fifteen minutes before the session, though, he brought me a declaration to sign. I wish i had time to take a picture of it, but one of the points in the declaration clearly stated that people could not ask for sex as a part of or at the end of the massage. This was only a therapeutic Sabai without happy endings (it wasn't in those words) and the masseuse were certified by the Government and accredited organisations.

Phew.

But the manager kept his eye on me and went outside to exclaim to the receptionist in Kannada, "She's asking if only men come here!"

Would i recommend the place? Yes. Slightly expensive, but i wouldn't mind doing a session there at least once every two months.

Ooooh, and what might this be??!

Sticky thoughts.

I didn't realise that i was going to celebrate my last 20s birthday this year till my friend told me. And now i can't seem to stop thinking about it. Dammit.

For some reason, any time anybody mentions a kiss, i only remember the one Jude Law and Juliette Binoche share in Breaking and Entering. It gets me every time.

It bothers me endlessly that i don't have carte blanche. So much for free will and the Constitution.

"I'm sexy and i know it..." is playing on loop in my head. It is accompanied by an image of the LMFAO man jiggling in his tightie non-whities. *Help*

If Oscar Wilde was an advertising professional, he would've won an internal award for almost every line he wrote.

I'm possibly a Pasta convert for life.

Barbosa's only the second dog in my life that i have loved with all my heart, and it scares me.

The week that was.

An interesting week's gone by, packed with things i did. Some impromptu and some planned.

1. I learned to eat with chop sticks!
2. Did an impromptu movie with the Boy i Liked Long Ago. It was a 5:30 p.m show, so there was only a sprinkling of couples around us, up to no good. While they made out in their respective seats, we guffawed and giggled like two teenagers catching people with their pants down.
3. Met up with friends over leisurely teas and dinners.
4. Played a charged game of Taboo.
5. Discovered that i can shop for 7600 bucks on my credit card and not get charged for it! (I'm saving this money for a rainy day. Or when i'm in desperate need of retail therapy which, the way i see it, will arrive soon.)
6. Went over to A's place for movie night on his OMGHuge Samsung 3D TV. What an experience!
7. Cooked for a dozen members of the family all day yesterday - Cheese Omelette, toast, chicken sausages and caramelized onions for breakfast, followed by Pasta in Red Sauce, chicken strips and Tomato Rice for lunch. I was exhausted. In a nice way.
8. Another week without exercise. Ugh feeling.
9. I also smiled a lot this week. That's good news.

I wonder what it must be like to be the wife of a successful person.

Revenge is sweet.

What do you do when your boyfriend cheats on you and breaks your heart?

Spend sleepless nights reliving the heartache?

Give in to the tears?

Go out on a trip with your girlfriends?

Binge drink or binge eat?

Go on a rebound?

Jazmine Sullivan has a better idea. A very satisfying one, and unconventional too.

*Urp*

I got back from lunch an hour ago and i'm still reeling from all the food i consumed.

I over-ordered. And then i over-ate. Now i'm over.

Went to Phobidden Fruit - a Vietnamese restaurant - and gobbled up Iceberg Wraps (juicy chicken mince with bean sprouts served in Iceberg lettuce cups; totally yummy!), Red River Riot (Squid), Fish Curry with a (more than) healthy serving of Rice. Oh, and ice cold, potent Java coffee.

Somebody arrange for a stretcher. And please don't forget to tie me down to it - the caffeine should be kicking in sometime soon.

Somebody please tell me why i keep doing this to myself.

It's a Cuckoo Day.

I woke up with a screw missing from the thing that holds the contents of my head in place. Every time i tossed and turned in the night, the contents inside my skull must have swung from side to side, like in a bad bus ride, and toppled upside down and frontside back. That's possibly why i woke up feeling listless and whacko. (I typed lubrigous and lubigrous until i found on Google search that the word i was looking for was lugubrious. Yeah. It's that kind of day.)

I've been giving grief to my Achilles' Heel (poor thing!) and having crazed-out conversations with the Cow Mother (God save her!) all day.

And now i'm blogging and surfing the Web and there are so many things i want to do and so many places i want to see! I'm not sure if i'll be able to travel to even half the places i want to go to!

I was with P last evening and we chatted for a while about this and that. She's quit her job and unwinding and unlearning, trying to figure out the one thing she wants to do.

Suddenly, she asked me what i wanted to do this year.

"Umm, i don't make new year resolutions. They don't work for me."

"No, i mean what do you want this year to be like?"

"Oh. Umm, i want this new year to be full of travel, new experiences and happiness." (Not necessarily in that order.) And then i launched into this (mostly) monologue about how my purpose in life was to have many stories to tell so that when i grow old and i have younglings sitting around me, i can tell them the things i did. That's provided i have children, and they have children...

Let's not go there.

So anyway, the Cuckoo Day. I have so many things to do and i'm just unable to focus and concentrate and get them done.

And i'm feeling very teary. I'm very, very, very close to tears and i have no idea why. Man, the things one sleepless night can do. Or PMS. Hmm... maybe it is PMS...

Anyway. The point is, i just want this day to be over. And i want to sleep. Without tossing or turning or feeling restless.

Maybe i'd better find that screw.

What i've done in the first week of January.

- Travelled. Spent the first of the month in the city of Nizams.
- Fell prey to weather change and was sick for a couple of days.
- Freelanced. Hopefully that part of life will take off well this year.
- Exploring photography a little more. There's so much to learn!
- Built up enough determination to do certain things.
- Had misunderstandings with close, soulmatest friends. Setting things right is such hard work.
- Trying to find my footing in love and life.
- Spent time with family.

Connecting with my Agricultural side.

I'm essentially a fields kind of girl. And the holiday in Aurangabad was even more fun because i got to run amock in endless rows of fields.

From a Musambi orchard to turmeric, cotton and various pulses' plantations to 20 acres of farmland owned by an MP, tucked away behind the resort where we stayed, i realised just how much of an earthling i am. It's absolutely fascinating to watch months of hard work and labour transform into these amazing fruits and vegetables and grains ripe with the goodness of the earth and sun! Ever since the visit to the fields behind the resort, i've been thinking that if i ever take a break from life, i'd want to do some hard labour working in a field. Perhaps i'll even return to the same place.

But that's for when something of the sort actually happens. Meanwhile, i've got pictures to share!

In order of appearance: Cotton (on the way to Ellora Caves), Turmeric (on the way to Lonar Lake), Sugarcane (from the fields behind the resort), Ginger (on the way back from Ajanta Caves), Onion (from the fields behind the resort), Toor Dal (on the way to Ellora Caves), Chillies (from the fields behind the resort), Musambi and Almond (on the way back from Lonar Lake).