I love you.

I used the gorillapod for the first time today, and the joy. Oh, the joy.

Now that i've inaugurated it, using it from here on should be easy. Hello park visits and brunches and BIAL and sunsets and insects and timepass and what-not!

You're like a weed...

The kind that needs to be ripped out of its roots, pulled apart and thrown far, far away so the plants can have a chance to be nourished and to grow.

You're like a Pomeranian. Constantly going on and on for no reason, whining and pesky and thoroughly irritating and so desperate for attention. Considered therapy much?

You're like a horsefly. Enough said.

You're like a shrink wrap. You cling on to everything just because you can. Ugh.

You're Wiley E. Coyote. No, strike that. You're worse than the most scheming, conniving, sweet-talking, shrewd villain in history, and Wiley is nothing compared to that.

I hate you. Like i haven't hated anybody in years.

*****!

Return of the schoolgirl crush?

I don't know how it happened, but another male from my past has resurfaced.

The story dates was way back to the fourth standard, about the same time that The Boy was crushing on me. G, the resurfaced male, and I were an "item" of sorts. We both knew we liked each other, we both hung out together a lot and were also the best of buddies. His best friend T, and my best friend then, who also happened to be The Boy's older sister, were also an item of sorts. So basically, it was four of us all the time.

Once fourth standard was done, the boys had to leave school. I did see G a couple of times after that, but i guess the bond was never quite the same.

Three days ago, he found me on Facebook and sent a friend request. He hasn't changed much, and i'm really, really happy for him that he got what he wanted out of life. Horse riding was his passion from ever since i can remember, and he is a jockey now. His best friend T, however, is quite a different story.

The last i knew of him, he was a scrawny, fair, rugged boy of 10. When he sent me a friend request a day after G did, my first reaction on seeing his picture was to laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh. He had grown muscles and had a superbly toned body, and was doing modelling and was also (drum rolls) an actor in the Kannada film industry.

Of course, when he mailed me saying how awesome it was that i had been found on FB, i told him that i wanted to laugh when i saw his picture! Yeah, i know, i can't hold these kind of things back.

Anyway, let's see where all this goes. It's a nice feeling to reconnect with people from my early developmental years; i'm just hoping it doesn't bode ill for any personal development that's left to do.

So, the photography assignment? I'm ditching it.

Yeah, i'm going to start afresh for the blog. Don't want to carry over stuff from the one that's happening already, partly because i'm lazy and partly because i want to get more experimentative with my shots.

I'm thinking of starting sometime next week, because i have a lot of time on my hands. And that's because i cancelled a big trip: B'lore-Delhi-Manali-Spiti-Delhi-B'lore. Heart is breaking, but it was a choice between need and want, and i chose to go with need.

The Bus Ride - a tragicomedy.

I just got back home from the airport after seeing a couple of friends off. And i want to scream because i'm so frustrated.

I took the BIAL bus. Waited, first of all, for half an hour inside the roomy eight-wheeler for the driver to decide that he had enough passengers. And then, had a cute boy get into the bus. And choose to sit opposite me.

We checked each other out covertly. I bought a ticket up to CBI Road, and i have no idea where he was headed.

Another middle-aged business traveller got into the bus and sat next to me. My mind half-switches off, while the other half of it focused on checking out cute boy in the reflection of the bus window. Yummy hands, nice bone structure and the smile. Oh, the smile.

The bus started, the radio played. Weird songs came on air and i hummed the ones i knew, out of habit. Then some crap play comes on and i'm dying because i didn't know what to do with myself. He was checking me out in the reflection from time to time, trying to catch my eye, and i was doing the same. At one point, our eyes meet momentarily and there was...something. His leg was inches away from mine and i could feel the 'i-think-i'm-interested-in-you' kinda heat between us. I knew he was dying to talk, but he said nothing.

Finally, the business traveller got off the bus. I knew my stop was nearing. I contemplated getting off at Majestic Bus Stand, and then discarded the idea because it was just silly. (I've figured out now that such silliness, if it doesn't harm anybody, must immediately be put into action.) I continued looking out of the window, and he continued keeping quiet.

Then, finally, he opened his mouth:
"Majestic last stop hai kya?", and i say, "Haan, shayad." And then he says, "Krishnagiri ke liye wahan se buses mil jayengi?", and i say, "Pata nahi." In my head, i'm thinking, really, is that the best you can do?

Seconds later, the driver yelled, "CBI Road!"

F*** my life.

I got up. I bumped his leg, and mumbled a sorry. I walked to the front of the bus, asked the conductor if he would stop a little further away, trying to buy time. The conductor replied, "No no, get down here, it's easier for you."

And i got down.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! DammitdammitdammitdammitdammitDAMMIT!

Now, i can't get the incident out of my head. I can't, because this spark was the very rare kind, as rare as a real message about a lottery win. I'm wishing he had opened his mouth earlier, or that i'd stayed for a couple of stops more.

It's true you know, that modern-day saying: Jab naseeb ho gandu, to kya karega pandu?

It's also true, what A says: there's just something about me and this universal phenomenon called "Timing". It's always wrong for me.

The 30-day photography assignment.

So, i found the 30-day photography challenge on Pinterest, and thought it was a great idea. Before i knew it, dear A had repinned it, put a plan together for its execution, gathered a bunch of friends and made it a full-blown fun exercise to follow.


Yesterday was Day 1, and the challenge was to take a self portrait.

Predictably, i didn't remember about it till the stroke of midnight. So, i whipped out my camera and quickly shot a few.


First, i thought i'd post this:





But then, since everybody was going to put up nice pictures, i decided to go mad. So i put up this:

It's a psycho start, but i can't wait to see what comes up over the next month. I'll be posting pictures here parallelly. Things are going to get madder, trust me.

Passing the time with dragonflies and butterflies and fishies.

I made these over the last couple of days. Yeah, i know i know, i got talent. :)

Knowing.

I know how to make anger go away.

How to live with hatred till it vaporises.

I know how to be strong.

I know how to make people happy. How to make them laugh.

I know to deal with pain. Boredom. Uselessness.

I know to be wise and unconditional and righteous and evil.

I know how to drive restlessness away.

I just don't know what to do with Sadness. She gets me every time.

Just when you're done making bucketloads of lemonade, life sends a gift basket full of lemons. And the tag reads "With love".

It's true. Everything seemed to be going just fine (by cosmic standards) when suddenly, like pieces of Dominoes, things started to fall apart.

First, it was the Doomsday Decision followed by lots and lots and lots of tears. I really didn't think i had it in me to cry like i did. And, surprisingly, i don't think i'm done crying. Then it was hours of confoundedness and terrible confusion and heartache (in the middle of which i get a missed call from what seemed to be an Australian number), followed by a brave move.

I have the permission, the blessings of my parents, the freedom to live on my own, play house and go berserk setting the place up. The dream of a lifetime. But at what price? It meant breaking away from the familiar, leaving behind a life i'd known for 28 years and had built with love, pain and numerous indulgences. It meant venturing into the unknown. Well, almost, not entirely. It meant that i would have to be stronger, calmer, more focused, more level-headed, more indifferent, hatred-free and consciously happy. I must be raving mad to contemplate the move.

But then, you have to understand that i'm a sucker for new experiences. I NEED to try everything once. Okay, almost everything. And i've wished to stay on my own for the longest time. So when i think of moving, i'm only full of anticipation and absolute excitement. No dread. No fear. No second thoughts.

Just as i zero in on what it is i want to do, the basket of lemons arrives.

Two nights ago, while i was staying at a friend's place, my mother had an attack of the sweaties. Profuse perspiration, weakness, numb hands and disorientation. Dad, who needs taking care of, was taking care of her instead. 3 in the morning, he was using a hair dryer to warm her hands. Her sugar had dropped rock bottom. And i only got to know this the next evening. Afraid, and as a consequence, angry, i confronted my dad and asked him why he didn't call. How can we call you at 3 in the morning?, he asked. So what? He just shook his head in a "no" and walked away. I was the same city, just 45 minutes away. And they still hadn't called.

It's scary, really. And it's making me think harder about whether i want to go. Whether i HAVE to go. It's not going to be as easy as just packing my bags and heading out. It's not going to be a week-long holiday.

Harakiri, in the name of poetic license.

Beautiful butterfly against blue, blue sky, hums soulfully,
flapping hurriedly, towards the sunflower fields on the... *SPLAT*
* * *

Marginalized, merchandised, innocent no more
Hello, Winnie the Pooh
* * *

Adam and Eve tore off their leaves and started making out a wee
Along came a Snake, and then there was an orgy
* * *

"Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?"
"NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS! I WANT A DIVORCE!"
* * *

Newton sat under a tree, thinking all about gravity
When an apple fell, blew him a death knell,
And instead of one law, there were three
* * *

Sun Tzu wrote The Art of War,
But in his lifetime its fame didn't reach far
It was only after the poor sod was dead
That the book became big with management schools, instead

* * *

And then some more, courtesy A:

Mary had a little lamb,
Which she had for lunch

* * *

"Baa Baa Black Sheep,
Have you any wool?"
"No!"

* * *

Little Miss Muffet,
Sat on a tuffet
Eating her curds and whey
Along came a spider:
"That's my place Bitch! Get up!"

* * *

Well, something good seems to have come of you.

After several years of poetic dormancy, i have been inspired to write an epic. All thanks to you. Ironically, the alternative word for an epic is Lay. Funny funny.

I'm coming to get you, Hope. You'd better run, because when i find you, i'm going to choke your dainty, wide-eyed, innocent, goody-two-shoes throat with my bare, rage-ragged and deeply suffering hands. I'll send you back to your blessed box, where you belong.

Where is Pandora these days, anyway? I can think of specimens of mankind who can do with a little mischief right now, and she'd come in extremely handy.

YOU CAN WIN! (Aka "A quick and handy guide to dealing with the Ex-es in your life.")

#1 RESIST the urge to call them. Or message. No matter how close you were, are, or may be.

#2 STICK to safe topics when you meet. "Do i look fat?" is not one of them. Just keep it light and easy. "Remember the last time we made love and you farted?" does not fall in the category. The keyword here is safe.

#3 AVOID bringing up the past. For example, see example in point #2.

#4 STAY away. No physical proximity. At least not within running-and-jumping-into-arms-or-bed length.

#5 DELETE all trace of his existence from your life, unless you can keep it all locked away in a safe place (NASA's time capsule isn't a bad option) till the day you might want to be friends again. Or in the same room without being uncomfortable or uneasy. Once you are either, follow point #2.

Now dealing with yourself when you have to deal with your ex-es? That calls for a different post altogether.

*Sigh*

NEW AGE.
She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon.

You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her, but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood.

She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.

- Neil Gaiman, Strange Little Girls

And the reports say it's weather worth dying for.

It's been pouring cats and dogs in Bangalore for the last couple of days. The torrents started sometime last week, at a time when we had just gotten out of work and the smokers were happily smoking in the designated smoking area.

The sheets of rain were like a water symphony, with wave after wave rythmically brushing past the high-rises. I did take videos of the whole thing, but due to compatibility issues (stupid Windows), i cannot upload or play them.

So i'll jut have to show you pictures instead.

It just got worse...

...near zero visibility

...the lake opposite the office swelled and heaved, but fortunately didn't claim any lives.

If this is the aftermath of super bright, sweltering days, then i have only one thing to say when i look at the sky: Bring it on!

My life was nothing but Curd Rice, Tender Coconut Water and Pill popping, until this morning.

8:30 a.m: One eye shivers open while the other remains obstinately shut. Will power solely responsible for pulling me out of bed.
9:15 a.m: Squeaky clean and ready to walk to the post office diagonally opposite home. Good news awaits there.
9:20 a.m: Tempted to play Medusa and turn the post office official into stone, but that would only mean delay in receiving...
9:20:49 a.m: ...my PASSPORT! I have a passport! A Republic of India Passport! Yippeeeee! Shiny, Blue-black, enclosing 36 pages of unstamped travelobauchery (that's short for travel debauchery) and a beyond-pathetic picture of me. I. Have. A. Passport. After seven years of dilly-dallying, pshawing, who-needs-a-passport-ing, and aggressive peer pressure, i finally have it.

9:35 a.m: Stil can't wipe the grin on my face. It's like the travel bug in me found freedom.
9:45 a.m: *Ring* "Hello Madam, I'm calling from Flipkart. I am downstairs with your shipment." Oh, my heart momentarily stops beating and then picks up double-time.
9:50 a.m: With shaking-in-anticipation hands, i unravel...

...the book that i have spent a good four years hunting for. I first laid eyes on it at Reliance Time Out and didn't pick it up because i didn't have the money. The second time, i had the money but the copy that Blossom Book House had was not pristine. (Yes, i'm very particular about my books being in mint-condition when i buy them.)

Imagine my joy when i discovered that not only was this copy in superb condition, but it was also...in hardbound cover!

Oh, if only i could faint like a damsel wrought with extreme emotion, i would!

A million thanks to Flipkart and the Indian Government for brightening up my day and making me forget my sickness.

5:46 p.m: I can't stop grinning.

Sometimes, feeling restless is a good thing.

Because when you just can't take it any more, you are forced to do something about it. Like get off your ass, rediscover the joy of things you had forgotten you loved to do. Like cook. Or take pictures. Both of which i did last evening.

The weather was just way too lovely to stay indoors. So after having laptopped for an hour, i headed out in search of flowers that i could shoot. My agenda was to ride around R.T.Nagar, looking for the one place where i was bound to find my lovelies: parks. We have plenty in our area, but i knew there were two close at hand, sorry, wheel. The first was disappointing: there was just greenery. I hit paydirt at the second one though, close to my old, old, old home. Plenty of people around, but surprisingly it neither bothered me nor made me conscious. Once i started, the world just faded into spots of colours waiting to be photographed.

I wound up in about 30-45 minutes. Then i stopped on the roadside, capturing branches pregnant with blooming Gulmohars against a greying sky. It was awesome. The wind in my hair, the smell of rain in the breeze, swaying reds and greens, a wide road lined with Gulmohar trees... it was the perfect dusk. And just as i was winding up, the sky went out of control and unleashed a flurry of raindrops. I zipped back home, half blind in the rain and wet to the tee.

And then, because i was on a soul high, i cooked. Palak Paneer. I almost called the ambulance for fear that Dad would lick his fingers till there was only bone left.

And then, like a good girl, i slept early. Nice, deep, undisturbed sleep.

I woke up hungover from last evening's goodness. Now, i can't wait to get that restless again.

You'll find pictures from my park parade on my other blog, http://www.madaboutflowers.blogspot.com/

Ten days in Hyderabad...

A good part of my days was spent here, playing scrabble, accompanying smoker friends, holding miscellaneous conversations, reminiscing and escaping from reality. I love the way A's done it up. There's a sense of peace and happiness about it.

The rest of my time was divided between:

Staying in at the Sunny Side Up office through the day (pictures of the office coming sometime in the future; that place is way too funkily cosy) spending time amidst a riot of colours, predominantly Frangipani-white and Grass-green...

...and going out on drives and to faraway places in the night, catching a glimpse of photographic delectability like this one:

Of all the memories in my head, more than a good half of them are owned by this city. No surprise that i feel so much for it.

Ugh.

Miss Independent

Miss Self-sufficient

Miss Keep-your-distance

Miss Unafraid

Miss Outta-my-way

Miss Don't-let-a-man-interfere, no

Miss On-her-own

Miss Almost-grown

Miss Never-let-a-man-help-her-off-her-throne

So, by keeping her heart protected

She'd never ever feel rejected

Little Miss Apprehensive

I said ooh, she fell in love

What is this feeling taking over?

Thinking no one could open the door

Surprise! It's time to feel what's real

What happened to Miss Independent?

No longer need to be defensive

Goodbye, old you, when love is true

Miss Guarded-heart

Miss Play-it-smart

Miss If-you-wanna-use-that-line-you-better-not-start, no

But she miscalculated

She didn't want to end up jaded

And this miss decided not to miss out on true love

So, by changing her misconceptions

She went in a new direction

And found inside she felt a connection...

- Kelly Clarkson, Miss Independent

So...

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."

Neil Gaiman, a man after my own heart. That's exactly how i felt when the Boy happened to me. It still hurts sometimes.

Speaking of pain, my bestest soulmatest friend lost his father 13 days ago. I ran as fast as i could, stayed as long as i could. What i couldn't do is make it better for him. I wish people were bestowed with that power, though; the power to make things better for those who are dear to them.

I also couldn't stop thinking about why it was that i never interacted with his father too much. With anybody in his family, for that matter. I mean, i've met parents of all my friends and get along with them pretty fine, pull their leg and kid around and visit them and pamper them sometimes, but i can never say that about his parents. Somehow, i think that if i did have the opportunity to get to know his dad, i would've constantly been reminded of mine, and his going away would have been more painful and scary.

Anyway, it's over now. And all i can hope is for his father to be in a nicer place and at more peace, and for him to have the courage to let go and not hold it all back.

Fingers crossed.

Despair is watching your loved ones grow old.

My dad is all of 73 years. And he's beginning to grow painfully aware of it. I can see it in his eyes, the stoop of his shoulders. His knees are giving out, and despite the doctor's orders that he should walk and climb stairs as much as possible or the fact that he follows those orders to the tee, he still can't do it without wincing. For a handful of months now, he's been gradually losing his hearing. Now, he strains his left ear to hear.

He's been retired for years now, but has found a new job - accompanying the driver to drop my mom to school. And i think he looks forward to it every morning and afternoon, even though he mumbles under his breath everytime he has to shake off sleep to do it. It gives him something to do. Last Saturday, i accompanied him to pick her up. Dad always locks up after everyone and comes downstairs, taking each step slowly while we're already downstairs, Red's engines revving. He locked up this time as well as i went downstairs and sat in the car, and we were on our way by 12 p.m. We first went to the mechanic's for a quick check-up of Red, headed for her school and killed time while she finished locking up the school and kicking everybody out, and then went to Grandma's.

I was shocked to see my grandmother; her cheeks had hollowed out, her face and body were beginning to be mere skin and bones. I felt something squeezing my heart and making it beat anxiously. What could i do to stop the process? What could i bring back, how could i make it better, what could i do other than visit her more often? We spent some time there, went shopping and returned home at around 6:30 in the evening.

Dad was slow in getting out of the car, Mom was busy directing the driver to not break any of the stuff that we had shopped for, so i ran up the stairs to the first floor with the keys in my hand to unlock the grill that guards the doorway to the house. Usually, when we go out, we keep the door unlocked but latched, and just lock the grill because that's heavy-duty enough to give miscreants a very hard time at breaking and entering. This time was no different.

When i reached the top of the stairs, though, i stopped abruptly. The grill was wide open. The lock hadn't been put.

I couldn't breathe for a full ten seconds, and prayed with every ounce of devotion i could muster that the inside door be locked. This was because sometime earlier, somebody had unlatched the inside door from outside the locked grill and mom got all freaky and insisted that the inside door be locked as well, if we were missing for long periods of time.

So i moved towards the inner door, unlatched it, and pushed. The door swung open inwards.

It would be safe to say that i was momentarily lifeless as i went into system arrest and the colour drained out of my face. The house had been left unlocked. For six and a half hours. Enough time to rob us clean without any trouble on a sleepy Saturday afternoon.

I ran in, quickly scanning every room, looking under beds and diwans, behind doors and in the balcony, on the terrace stairs and in the kitchen passage to make sure there was nobody hiding. And then i checked everything else. My laptop was untouched. The TV was still there. Mom's jewellery was intact, and so was mine. Nothing was stolen. Phew.

When dad came upstairs, i asked him about the unlocked doors. A look of total bewilderment - how is it possible, i had locked it... didn't i lock it? - replaced by irritation momentarily, and then sadness. Anger at himself.

He was crestfallen. He came in, still wondering how he could have been so stupid. He beat his forehead, and he was close to tears. He just sat there on the diwan, and concentrated on blinking away the tears shimmering in his eyes, not letting us see that he was really worried about his memory going. Slowly, quietly leaving him. Deserting him, leaving behind only forgetfulness. Emptiness.

I couldn't take it. I can't take it. I can't. First my grandmother, now my dad. I'd rather die before all of them than see them go through this transition.

I hate you, Cycle of Life. I loathe you.