There are certain times in life when the most important things never seem to go right! JUST NEVER. And it sets off a domino effect and tumbles down every other thing that is going right. So you end up with a parcel of bad moods.
That is kind of my state now. Everything that is of tertiary, quarternary and quinary priority(I just learnt these now!) in life is happening smoothly and effortlessly. And the top priorities are... sigh... screwed up!
Not funny!
I know it is important to have ups and downs to enjoy life and all that jazz. But what happens when you fall into these phases of blah-ness? Where there are repeatedly only questions after questions? And if I decide to ignore these like my friends always advice me to and "Chill and don't think so much", these questions pile up more, take up gargantuan forms and numerous complications.
No wonder people go into depression, run away and wander as mad people and do all sorts of crazy things! There is absolutely no peace in this world. I am frustrated with the Indian Railways, with timings of every damn thing in my life, with bloody goddamn distances between places that keeps playing cruel tricks with me in a million ways and just plain everything.
And unless and until I get a damn ticket, get a few questions answered, I swear to be in this bitchy crabby mood and spoil the mood of all around me!
So friendly warning: stay away so I can grunt!
June 22, 2011
She wants a ticket to ride!
It is so infuriating that one cannot get a ticket when one wants from the Indian Railway. Before you can reach the reservation office, a queue that could stretch from one end of the country to another, is already inside in various levels of sleep and wakefulness. I suspect some spent the previous nights on the station steps just to get a ticket!
And if you sit and decide to book online, well, the available tickets keep reducing like a bad gambler's money!
I wonder if I should go sleep on the steps tonight...
And if you sit and decide to book online, well, the available tickets keep reducing like a bad gambler's money!
I wonder if I should go sleep on the steps tonight...
June 21, 2011
Fistful of dreams
Every passing day is like a lyric in a song. One line at a time. The song, on the whole makes sense. To this lyric, I add a footnote, everyday.
Just that, this footnote happens to be a song.
Long ago, a stroke of luck dropped a lovely silver ipod shuffle on my lap. In my usual silly romantic fashion I named it 'Maud'- after my favourite author, as well as a secret acronym which for obvious reasons, I'm keeping a secret!
Travelling and music are as cliched as food and wine. And yet, resorting to that cliche every morning when I travel to work, is one of the most delightful experiences of the day.
A fellow music lover told me recently, that listening to music apparently dulls your mind and makes your productivity less. But the next instant both of us decided, "What the heck! Who cares?"
My ipod shuffle is like my own bottle of felix felicitis. A fistful of it is all I need to delight in!
I wish I could engrave on it the quote "Not all those who wander are lost: J.R.R.Tolkien". Not that I am an LOTR fan; I have never been able to push beyond pg 120 in the book. But music pins light wings to your back and takes you far far away. I barely realize where I am, unless the familiar visual of the office lane drags me back to reality.
It used to be similar during undergrad college bus rides. One and a half hours of a floaty sensation. Every other day, a new set of songs or an old favourite rehashed, according to my mood.
Anbe Sugama for wistfulness
Sunscreen for philosophy
A select songs of The Beatles for normal everydays.
Paolo Conte's Sparring Partner for vague moods.
Agni Nakshatram songs for dreams.
Julie Delpy on loop for a strange romance.
Anil Srinivasan and Sikkil Gurucharan's Saadho for rains...
Ah... rains... Music on my ipod. Balcony. Feet on the sill. And somewhere in between, for just a while in that stupor, I feel like I've figured out the meaning of life.
Every once in a while, when human company is too tame or too lame, I snuggle with the wires and my ipod and cozy up in a world of my own. And little dreamlands are born in the head.
Red blue green marbles in the sun. glinting and gleaming to the beat.
Startlingly blue sea spreading like cheese on toast
anklets... with their water-soft tinkle
sheep jumping over meadows in careless abandon
and people serenading on sleepless nights
An ipod shuffle-a midget sized gadget that stores in my moods; talks to me in tones I want it to and sings me my soothing melody!
A world fitted in my palm. And I can put in thoughts into it- thoughts in songs. And what a world it becomes!
Dell Inspiron page
Just that, this footnote happens to be a song.
Long ago, a stroke of luck dropped a lovely silver ipod shuffle on my lap. In my usual silly romantic fashion I named it 'Maud'- after my favourite author, as well as a secret acronym which for obvious reasons, I'm keeping a secret!
Travelling and music are as cliched as food and wine. And yet, resorting to that cliche every morning when I travel to work, is one of the most delightful experiences of the day.
A fellow music lover told me recently, that listening to music apparently dulls your mind and makes your productivity less. But the next instant both of us decided, "What the heck! Who cares?"
My ipod shuffle is like my own bottle of felix felicitis. A fistful of it is all I need to delight in!
I wish I could engrave on it the quote "Not all those who wander are lost: J.R.R.Tolkien". Not that I am an LOTR fan; I have never been able to push beyond pg 120 in the book. But music pins light wings to your back and takes you far far away. I barely realize where I am, unless the familiar visual of the office lane drags me back to reality.
It used to be similar during undergrad college bus rides. One and a half hours of a floaty sensation. Every other day, a new set of songs or an old favourite rehashed, according to my mood.
Anbe Sugama for wistfulness
Sunscreen for philosophy
A select songs of The Beatles for normal everydays.
Paolo Conte's Sparring Partner for vague moods.
Agni Nakshatram songs for dreams.
Julie Delpy on loop for a strange romance.
Anil Srinivasan and Sikkil Gurucharan's Saadho for rains...
Ah... rains... Music on my ipod. Balcony. Feet on the sill. And somewhere in between, for just a while in that stupor, I feel like I've figured out the meaning of life.
Every once in a while, when human company is too tame or too lame, I snuggle with the wires and my ipod and cozy up in a world of my own. And little dreamlands are born in the head.
Red blue green marbles in the sun. glinting and gleaming to the beat.
Startlingly blue sea spreading like cheese on toast
anklets... with their water-soft tinkle
sheep jumping over meadows in careless abandon
and people serenading on sleepless nights
An ipod shuffle-a midget sized gadget that stores in my moods; talks to me in tones I want it to and sings me my soothing melody!
A world fitted in my palm. And I can put in thoughts into it- thoughts in songs. And what a world it becomes!
Dell Inspiron page
June 15, 2011
Short Story 26
In the flattened top, she saw the bald bony forehead.
That little suzhi (loop) was the socket for the eye. The empty complimentary space invisibly completing itself to form the other eye place.
The curved bottom looked like the toothless lower jaw of a grinning face. She finished the upper jawline with her mind's ink.
The Tamil letter ஒ ("oh") always had reminded her of a skeleton head.
That little suzhi (loop) was the socket for the eye. The empty complimentary space invisibly completing itself to form the other eye place.
The curved bottom looked like the toothless lower jaw of a grinning face. She finished the upper jawline with her mind's ink.
The Tamil letter ஒ ("oh") always had reminded her of a skeleton head.
June 12, 2011
Short Story 25
The auto slowly crawls by the bus stop.
Enticing.
Slowly a metronome of its engines adds a beat.
My legs twitch.
The taillights wink at me. A ravishing red lights up the stagnant streak of water, still fresh from the evening's downpour. The beats turn into a hum. The tyres screech an operatic melody. The front tyre does a little jig inviting me for a dance.
My legs unconsciously begin to tap to its advances. The antennae of its radio nods and clicks its fingers, luring me.
I pause.
Resist one last time.
And then... succumb!
I jump into its plush arms. It takes me on a dizzying ride!
Enticing.
Slowly a metronome of its engines adds a beat.
My legs twitch.
The taillights wink at me. A ravishing red lights up the stagnant streak of water, still fresh from the evening's downpour. The beats turn into a hum. The tyres screech an operatic melody. The front tyre does a little jig inviting me for a dance.
My legs unconsciously begin to tap to its advances. The antennae of its radio nods and clicks its fingers, luring me.
I pause.
Resist one last time.
And then... succumb!
I jump into its plush arms. It takes me on a dizzying ride!
June 10, 2011
Soon
dedicated to my blue-eyed baby!
*****
Little crumpled post-its hidden under sleeves
make-shift melodies paused and played
drifting like flute tones in the wind
a rare earth bound twiglet rooting itself
eyes, nay, searchlights reading chapters in the clouds
wrapping texts of thought beneath the skin-folds.
Bide your time, soon the storm shall come
no, maybe this time a gentle summer rain
*****
*****
Little crumpled post-its hidden under sleeves
make-shift melodies paused and played
drifting like flute tones in the wind
a rare earth bound twiglet rooting itself
eyes, nay, searchlights reading chapters in the clouds
wrapping texts of thought beneath the skin-folds.
Bide your time, soon the storm shall come
no, maybe this time a gentle summer rain
*****
June 09, 2011
Short Story 24
“…Time goes by, people lie everything goes too fast.
Time went by, and then we died, and everything went too fast.”
Julie Delpy buzzed on in the background. She closed her music player and walked out to the balcony.
The clouds were painted gray. The kind of gray that hid rains in them for a long while, stalling so much, enough to make you decide not to take the umbrella, decide not to carry a Ziploc for your mobile or wear those all weather sandals.
The clouds seemed wistful. Like her.
She rewound those memories and played them again in her head. She wondered over how beautiful it was that dried flowers could be preserved. Just like her memories- fragile, but intact; almost crumbling but never quite; pale and mildly fragrant; and most of all intoxicating.
Intoxicating. When that word opened eyes in her head, the rain poured. At once in torrents. And in the patter she once again heard the song,
“You said our love was stronger than an ocean apart
Time goes by and people lie, and everything goes too fast.”
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