Its funny how at times you can sit across the table from you and watch in absolute stillness as life unfolds. Those moments of absolute incoherence or rationality…I detest with absoluteness. It makes me wonder at me, my madness, my reasons for survival….
I have wondered umpteen times if this was really the way things had to shape up…if I had given in to those demented pangs would the world have been a better place minus one mental wreck?
But then again the drama that unfolds in my wake has been nonetheless interesting….and now as I once again decide to sit and watch this little plump soul type into the night as if her life depended upon it, I can but smile…
The journey has been frightening, amusing, debilitating and what not…but now I realize I wouldn’t trade places for anything in the world…
Hail my madness…hail my life….
Hail me!
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Elizabeth Barrett Browning- Sonnet XLIII
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath;
Smiles, tears, of all my life!
- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Absurdity that's life
This life so worn out,
a mirage
not of consequence
to end up as ashes.
Why an over concerted effort?
These unwanted concerns
of human existence
a trivial pastime
to merely satiate a stranger's curiosity.
Why take on the excess burden?
One that could be avoided.
Yet these nonsensical forays
that rule our senses
add meaning to the very absurdity
called life...
So I wrote way back in 2001....
Why rehash now? It just seemed so apt at the moment...
Friday, May 25, 2007
From my yellowed Delhi walls…
There are many reasons I took to writing. The first trigger was when my grandfather tore apart a poem I wrote when I was hardly 11, rewrote it and told me this was how it was done. Second was reading the God Of Small Things. Third was the fluidity with which I could write and amaze my teachers during my English exams and topping my school in my ISC English paper. The list is endless.
But apart from those many personal reasons, there is one human being who inspired me to write. My erstwhile roommate during my Delhi years. She used to keep a diary and I used to sneak a peek while she was in the shower. There was this one piece that she wrote on a piece of paper and put it up on our hostel room wall. When I left after my stipulated two years, the only thing I asked of her was this frayed yellow piece on our wall. She guffawed then told me sometime after our grandchildren were born we would laugh over this stupidity. I have it till date. Today I thought of writing it down and preserving it for life. She is asleep in the US and has told me now that one of those mentioned is dead and gone she doesn’t mind me putting it on my blog. So here read on….
“The day is painfully slow and I am at a loss for words to describe the tumult inside me. I am confused, angry, hurt, defeated and a lot of other crap. One of them can be eliminated if I get into a solid argument with this bitch who is technically family.
She, for one has taken after certain members of the family (my paternal grandparents…hence their obsession with her I assume) so perfectly, it’s eerie. She screwed one man after having two of his children and is now trying desperately hard to play havoc with the brains of another. The family has time and again banished her for being the root cause of shame, but she relentlessly tries hard to get her foot in. Surprisingly, rather sadly, she has been successful in finding some members who sympathize with her cause and make it even more difficult to cut her off like a gangrene-infected finger.
The men in her life adore her no end, but then the infamous bitches and witches from every era have had their share of male supporters and lovers, so this is no case in isolation.
Coming to the point, I don’t understand the primary motive behind her existence. She wants fame, (she is more infamous than the woman who was deported for being entangled in a sex scandal), she wants adoration (she has enough men according to me and everyone part of even my extended family, eating out of her fingers and her toes!!!!) and she wants money (for which she screwed one husband, killed a father, shamed a mother and her sisters and another man). So what is it that can satiate her? She is by every standard possible, an actress par excellence…in fact if only someone could get the Deepa Mehtas of the world to ping her she would run with her bosom thrust out…. and frankly many a time I have wondered if someone should not simply set up an acting school and ask her to turn dean!
The lady evokes such violence, hatred, anger, disgust in me it isn’t funny. I have time and again wanted to tell her off in a public forum but many a time family has tied me down. In fact I think for now she is content with milking my dad, who according to her is the biggest supporter and sentimental fool she has been able to bag. The woman will run to him if her ass doesn’t open wide enough to let her feces pass! That’s how wonderfully dependent she is on him. My father…. the poor, innocent, foolish milch cow and uncle par excellence!
I have been resisting the temptation to call her and give vent to a lot of emotions I have been storing safely in some tucked away corner to shower upon her when the moment arrives. I have often wondered if my love for a few has superseded my judgment so that I have strayed from justice at so many emotionally swayed moments? The answer is a big terrifying yes. I have put aside feelings of immense strength to prevent my loved ones from being in the line of fire. Have I then actually saved them from the clutches of harm, or have I pushed them further down the tube? I am at a loss.
In this case, I am more than convinced justice has to happen, and it has to be ME who makes the move. I don’t expect my blind dad to do shit about anything except get after my mother for not liking the poor orphan. He wouldn’t listen. So then who will tell the whore what her faults are and where she should stop. I have to intervene before it becomes irreversible. I have to do something now. Right NOW!
Its ludicrous that I vent my venom is such uninhibited fashion at this moment…. when in all the 27 years I spent at home I never dared to utter a word…. now sitting in a distant city…. all by myself…trying to string words together…. I seem to have found many past instances that I want to articulate and eliminate from my system…each time I switch on the yellow light, I see these frayed pieces of paper adorning my wall with pieces of my history laughing back at me…if only I had set aside my silence and spoken forth…. would we have been a happier family on some counts? I wonder…and will continue to do so for the remainder of my living years….
Dated July 23, 1998
SR”
But apart from those many personal reasons, there is one human being who inspired me to write. My erstwhile roommate during my Delhi years. She used to keep a diary and I used to sneak a peek while she was in the shower. There was this one piece that she wrote on a piece of paper and put it up on our hostel room wall. When I left after my stipulated two years, the only thing I asked of her was this frayed yellow piece on our wall. She guffawed then told me sometime after our grandchildren were born we would laugh over this stupidity. I have it till date. Today I thought of writing it down and preserving it for life. She is asleep in the US and has told me now that one of those mentioned is dead and gone she doesn’t mind me putting it on my blog. So here read on….
“The day is painfully slow and I am at a loss for words to describe the tumult inside me. I am confused, angry, hurt, defeated and a lot of other crap. One of them can be eliminated if I get into a solid argument with this bitch who is technically family.
She, for one has taken after certain members of the family (my paternal grandparents…hence their obsession with her I assume) so perfectly, it’s eerie. She screwed one man after having two of his children and is now trying desperately hard to play havoc with the brains of another. The family has time and again banished her for being the root cause of shame, but she relentlessly tries hard to get her foot in. Surprisingly, rather sadly, she has been successful in finding some members who sympathize with her cause and make it even more difficult to cut her off like a gangrene-infected finger.
The men in her life adore her no end, but then the infamous bitches and witches from every era have had their share of male supporters and lovers, so this is no case in isolation.
Coming to the point, I don’t understand the primary motive behind her existence. She wants fame, (she is more infamous than the woman who was deported for being entangled in a sex scandal), she wants adoration (she has enough men according to me and everyone part of even my extended family, eating out of her fingers and her toes!!!!) and she wants money (for which she screwed one husband, killed a father, shamed a mother and her sisters and another man). So what is it that can satiate her? She is by every standard possible, an actress par excellence…in fact if only someone could get the Deepa Mehtas of the world to ping her she would run with her bosom thrust out…. and frankly many a time I have wondered if someone should not simply set up an acting school and ask her to turn dean!
The lady evokes such violence, hatred, anger, disgust in me it isn’t funny. I have time and again wanted to tell her off in a public forum but many a time family has tied me down. In fact I think for now she is content with milking my dad, who according to her is the biggest supporter and sentimental fool she has been able to bag. The woman will run to him if her ass doesn’t open wide enough to let her feces pass! That’s how wonderfully dependent she is on him. My father…. the poor, innocent, foolish milch cow and uncle par excellence!
I have been resisting the temptation to call her and give vent to a lot of emotions I have been storing safely in some tucked away corner to shower upon her when the moment arrives. I have often wondered if my love for a few has superseded my judgment so that I have strayed from justice at so many emotionally swayed moments? The answer is a big terrifying yes. I have put aside feelings of immense strength to prevent my loved ones from being in the line of fire. Have I then actually saved them from the clutches of harm, or have I pushed them further down the tube? I am at a loss.
In this case, I am more than convinced justice has to happen, and it has to be ME who makes the move. I don’t expect my blind dad to do shit about anything except get after my mother for not liking the poor orphan. He wouldn’t listen. So then who will tell the whore what her faults are and where she should stop. I have to intervene before it becomes irreversible. I have to do something now. Right NOW!
Its ludicrous that I vent my venom is such uninhibited fashion at this moment…. when in all the 27 years I spent at home I never dared to utter a word…. now sitting in a distant city…. all by myself…trying to string words together…. I seem to have found many past instances that I want to articulate and eliminate from my system…each time I switch on the yellow light, I see these frayed pieces of paper adorning my wall with pieces of my history laughing back at me…if only I had set aside my silence and spoken forth…. would we have been a happier family on some counts? I wonder…and will continue to do so for the remainder of my living years….
Dated July 23, 1998
SR”
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Forceful Intentions
“The want of logic annoys. Too much logic bores. Life eludes logic, and everything that logic alone constructs remains artificial and forced.” Andre Gide
She tried yet again…I don’t know if she understands that certain things are given in certain lifetimes for reasons best known to those involved. And to try and change that makes no sense whatsoever…under any pretext or good intention….
It only leaves everyone a tad more tired and angrier than they were before it all began.
And to what end….
People make decisions after enough rambling and thought…and to try and infuse a certain rationality into someone else’s way of functioning or living simply because you are part of their lives does not make sense. We are all individuals here, who like to lead our own lives in a manner fathomed by us alone. And to try and bend that to suit another’s sense of fairness and rationality is absolutely absurd and uncalled for and not appreciated in any fashion.
All I am is angry and upset.
I wish she would understand.
She tried yet again…I don’t know if she understands that certain things are given in certain lifetimes for reasons best known to those involved. And to try and change that makes no sense whatsoever…under any pretext or good intention….
It only leaves everyone a tad more tired and angrier than they were before it all began.
And to what end….
People make decisions after enough rambling and thought…and to try and infuse a certain rationality into someone else’s way of functioning or living simply because you are part of their lives does not make sense. We are all individuals here, who like to lead our own lives in a manner fathomed by us alone. And to try and bend that to suit another’s sense of fairness and rationality is absolutely absurd and uncalled for and not appreciated in any fashion.
All I am is angry and upset.
I wish she would understand.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Heated thoughts....
The office is reeking of sweaty scents…. they are cutting costs and saving on electricity by not using the AC in SUMMER! The night and its people are blissfully unaware of these drudgeries that we overcome as we churn out intelligent sounding copies about all that’s even remotely news-ish (if there is such a term…. newsworthy and all that’s making news has been done to death anyhow!) to fill up all the glaring white holes on the paper!
Everyone seems so absorbed in their little worlds amplified those glowing computer screens…everyone believes he is making a contribution to the world in general by merely adding a syllable here or there, correcting the punctuation in a sentence, making a paragraph read better.
Does the world really care? When they are being bombarded with non-stop news as it is called by a medley of channels, which all sound the same and in essence look the same?
Does actually clutching on to a piece of black and white make one feel much more important and credible than those who have had their say 24 hours earlier? Do we delude ourselves that we “add value” a day later by looking into the intricacies of the whole episode and saying it as it is in a more leisurely and long drawn fashion?
Why am I ridiculing the profession that is putting bread on my table, letting me indulge in crazy shopping sprees, make innumerous phone calls to my mother, and message my hubby all through the day?
I should be grateful. I guess it’s the heat that is making me fuzzy up there…
Hmm maybe I need some hot coffee to add to the confusion!
Everyone seems so absorbed in their little worlds amplified those glowing computer screens…everyone believes he is making a contribution to the world in general by merely adding a syllable here or there, correcting the punctuation in a sentence, making a paragraph read better.
Does the world really care? When they are being bombarded with non-stop news as it is called by a medley of channels, which all sound the same and in essence look the same?
Does actually clutching on to a piece of black and white make one feel much more important and credible than those who have had their say 24 hours earlier? Do we delude ourselves that we “add value” a day later by looking into the intricacies of the whole episode and saying it as it is in a more leisurely and long drawn fashion?
Why am I ridiculing the profession that is putting bread on my table, letting me indulge in crazy shopping sprees, make innumerous phone calls to my mother, and message my hubby all through the day?
I should be grateful. I guess it’s the heat that is making me fuzzy up there…
Hmm maybe I need some hot coffee to add to the confusion!
Al Pacino's Inch By Inch speech from Any Given Sunday
"......You know when you get old in life
things get taken from you.
That's, that's part of life.
But,
you only learn that when you start losing stuff.
You find out that life is just a game of inches.
So is football......"
Cliched did you say? Did I hear lack of things to write...?
Many a time this has been sent to me in the form of a forward. (yet again today and hence this post....)
I saw this on a cold winter night in Delhi at the Russian Cultural Centre while I was still studying in JNU.
And the memories I have of this movie are many….
1. Me and my then boyfriend were great fans of Oliver Stone. So we pulled a friend along in the hope of igniting in him some love for good cinema. He watched while munching on something right next to my ear and at the end of it all...he looked at us and all he had to say was..."What was that movie all about? I didn't understand a word of it!"
2. We wanted to get back to our respective hostels. We were on a deserted street looking for an auto and none seemed interested in us and the dark was making me jittery...and to add to my woes the fog was closing in.
3. There was this bunch of girls who had been sitting across us watching the movie. There was one PYT amongst them and for some reason our "friend" decided that the first auto should be relinquished in their favour since they were "girls and pretty too!"
We finally boarded one close to 90 minutes after we had trooped out of the viewing hall.....
I detest one of those two men at this stage in my life....the other sends me perfunctory hello notes in between....
Anyhow if you want to read it all over again.........
http://essaysfromexodus.scripting.com/stories/storyReader$1492
things get taken from you.
That's, that's part of life.
But,
you only learn that when you start losing stuff.
You find out that life is just a game of inches.
So is football......"
Cliched did you say? Did I hear lack of things to write...?
Many a time this has been sent to me in the form of a forward. (yet again today and hence this post....)
I saw this on a cold winter night in Delhi at the Russian Cultural Centre while I was still studying in JNU.
And the memories I have of this movie are many….
1. Me and my then boyfriend were great fans of Oliver Stone. So we pulled a friend along in the hope of igniting in him some love for good cinema. He watched while munching on something right next to my ear and at the end of it all...he looked at us and all he had to say was..."What was that movie all about? I didn't understand a word of it!"
2. We wanted to get back to our respective hostels. We were on a deserted street looking for an auto and none seemed interested in us and the dark was making me jittery...and to add to my woes the fog was closing in.
3. There was this bunch of girls who had been sitting across us watching the movie. There was one PYT amongst them and for some reason our "friend" decided that the first auto should be relinquished in their favour since they were "girls and pretty too!"
We finally boarded one close to 90 minutes after we had trooped out of the viewing hall.....
I detest one of those two men at this stage in my life....the other sends me perfunctory hello notes in between....
Anyhow if you want to read it all over again.........
http://essaysfromexodus.scripting.com/stories/storyReader$1492
Friday, May 11, 2007
Can I still string them together?
Short-lived bubbles skim the surface
Spluttering
Whistling
A passing kiss of the air
And Kaput….
I am gone….
Spluttering
Whistling
A passing kiss of the air
And Kaput….
I am gone….
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Cowardice he says...
I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer.
Virginia to her husband Leonard Woolf before killing herself…
When I mailed this across to my hubby, he said only cowards opt for death instead of standing up and facing the music…. and why choose the easier and stupider path when you have navigated most of the curves already and know what is in store?
Do I agree? There are a million moments when I want to but be a coward!
Virginia to her husband Leonard Woolf before killing herself…
When I mailed this across to my hubby, he said only cowards opt for death instead of standing up and facing the music…. and why choose the easier and stupider path when you have navigated most of the curves already and know what is in store?
Do I agree? There are a million moments when I want to but be a coward!
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