My Auto Stories…

Another one of those days when the driver of the auto rickshaw I traveled in felt compelled to dole out some advice to me.

It’s been a consistent event in my life. Ever so often I end up taking a rick/auto, whose driver has something to tell me or teach me or even lecture me on. I have been scolded, taught, made to wonder, laugh, and fear and amused at many of those who took me on a ride.

Some have let me off, without taking a penny in return (has happened only in DELHI and they were extremely well meaning old men) while others have haggled and been cursed by me in turn.

I distinctly this one man who drove me from Connaught Place to Munirka and on learning that I was a student at JNU, he spoke with perfect clarity about the UN and told me to get a job with the UN and do India proud. He was the first auto driver to turn down his fare.

Others have spoken to me in well-structured English, despite being clad in monstrous smelly clothes.

Some have made me violent beyond comparison and I have walked away cursing them like no other and invoking the gods to cause a road accident.

I remember the night I was travelling with a group of friends by bus, and we had reached Hyderabad and were to board a connecting train. It was 4 am and just outside the railway station, autos were queued up all playing songs from Rajni starrer Baasha at full blast.

Another time, the driver proudly spoke to me about his sons, both of whom were pursuing professional degrees with full scholarships and were the top scorers in their respective colleges. For a man who had run away from a village with a dream of making it big, he was now living his dreams through them. Unable to mouth English, he was drawing up plans to send his eldest son to the US.

One good man actually saved me from some stupid bike-rider who was tailing me insistently. The rick guy not just lost the bike’s tail, but also escorted me to a cop, placed a complaint and dropped me off, for not a penny more than what we had agreed on, though we had traveled double the distance. He even offered to pick me up the next day!!!

My memories of winters spent in Delhi are incomplete without autos. Many a time I have taken refuge in autos when the cold was biting and I had left home with a flimsy shawl to fan my vanity. Those rides, clinging to myself, covered from head to toe in a shawl, staring out at the lights and waiting to reach the warmth of my rajai were wonderful.

I have often wondered what possessed those men driving me around to turn to me and speak like they had been dared to bare their souls. What made them feel this cranky girl, either lighting a cigarette or trying hard to keep her teeth from chattering could do with some sensible talk? Many have taught me things. Many inspired me to write stories. Many sparked off hatred. But they have all been filled with learnings of all sorts.

Most of the men who chatted on while I sat in the back watching miles and buildings pass by were honest souls. But they form the small minority of those I bumped into. And surprisingly as I look back and recount my experiences, I realise the honest ones were all in Delhi, while the crudest ones were in Chennai and the ones with the most horrid attitudes in Bangalore. Some of the most learned though I have come across only in Kerala.

I can’t wait for my next ride…

My Little Brother

Sibling relationships outlast marriages, survive the death of parents, and resurface after quarrels that would sink any friendship. They flourish in a thousand incarnations of closeness and distance, warmth, loyalty and distrust. To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time.

I don’t remember my first memory of Rahul. Though I do remember being responsible for him since the day he was born. People tell me, I was in love with my kid brother since the day he was born and was protective of him since then. I still am madly & fiercely protective about him.

My oldest memories of him are when he as a newborn would sleep with his butt high up in the air, when they shaved off his curly locks, when we used to play with little insects we had named lady birds.

Of playing in Chennai, amma taking both of us to Bambino Kindergarten, when he would wait patiently to know if his sister had beaten everyone in class in dictation, when both of us were photographed as the best dressed kids by some newspaper photographer. When he once during a game, threw his toy gun at me and I got hurt. The times when we overturned chairs to become horses and dragged them around the house, screeching to a halt only when our landlord from downstairs came running up hurling abuses. And how amma tied the chairs to the windowsill and how we despite that sat and pretended that we were trotting on our ponies.

I remember those days when Amma walked Rahul and me to the bus stop in Kollam. And then just when he realised the van was fast approaching, he would burst into tears and sob so hard, amma wouldn’t have the heart to let him go. Then with me pulling from inside and amma pushing from outside Rahul would hang onto the van. Finally amma would succeed in pushing him in, wherein she would catch an auto and follow us to school. Or else she would pull him out with helplessness as he smiled and hugged her as if it was only in her arms that he would feel safe ever.

Then there were the sessions where he would run out of Wendy Miss’ class. And I would follow him around and catch him and deposit him there and head to my own, a tad late. Or the times amma patiently sat outside his classroom so that each time he looked out he would see her and be comforted. Then those days when the principal finally not able to hit upon a solution, decided to coach him herself and he would pompously sit in one of her chairs and she took private lessons and I went down in every break to feed him and look on him. And how he named me “kutti amma” because I took care of him while amma was not around.

So many places and phases we share. So many memories.

Wondrous moments. Treasured for life. Mightily forgotten by my absent-minded younger brother.

For the first time in our lives, we are in separate continents. And I miss him sorely.

I sought my soul, but my soul I could not see. I sought my God, but my God eluded me. I sought my brother and I found all three.

Yearly Review.

Rain…. like zillions of people I love the smell of freshly wet soil. As if its been reborn and given another chance.

But that’s not why I am writing.

A year in Bangalore and I am still slightly clueless as to what prompted me to come to this crazed city.

Career is going on fine, if we were to ignore the idiotic politics that governs it. But then this place has survived 150 years and if it hadn’t been for these wheeler-dealers would it have lasted this long??? Guess underhand and behind the back dealings are the stepping-stones to success and longevity.

Friends…. not an absolute blank. Hardly half a dozen but who’s complaining? Then again, the frivolity of those Delhi days has passed me by. But I sorely miss those drinking sessions followed by dancing and then eating out in the middle of the night, hitching a ride back home…. Surprise element…am suddenly in touch with people from my earlier innocent days in Kerala. Nice to relive a childhood phase in bits.

Family…. well we seem to be seeing more of them given the proximity and it hasn’t been so bad. And I could play mommy to my brother all over again, after our childhood years. And him I will miss acutely when he moves to foreign shores.

Life…it has its moments…. of quiet love, of tumultuous fights, of sweet nothings, of long drives, of ice creams from a roadside van….

So all in all…. a 6/10.

Forever Young???

I yearn to be carefree again.
Those years of sheer abandon, when everything seemed conquerable and attractive.
Times when you could go on without food or sleep, the sheer thrill of the experience filling you up with the necessary stamina and energy.
Those moments when you seemed to have the blessings of the stars in everything you undertook.
Those fleeting glances, of furtive pleasure, and implied interest.
Those smiles beckoning strangers to share a thought and some words, maybe random moments and desires.
Those winks that were meant to wound and tease.
Those sniggers aimed at everyone who crossed you.
Those walks, staring at every fallen leaf, wondering about its life, wanting to stand and stare as humanity passed you by in a random shuffle to gain something more, make another buck, prove a point.
I long for those nights, when the sheer darkness made me want to walk in the middle of the road, or sit by its side, chatting away even as the first rays of light whitened the rock I sat upon.
I long for those winter mornings, when cuddling warmly in my blanket, and watching the chilly breeze outside my window, I lazed in bed, nodding off into sleep at every alternate moment.
I long for those walks in the rain, and the freezing chat beside the tea shop, clinging to your hot cup while the clothes and hair dripped and when a cold seems the smallest price to pay for a evening of fun.
Those afternoons when I walked back for lunch, and the whole world seemed to be fast asleep and the sun shone for me.
So many wonderful moments…
What I would give to have them back…
To live them once more,
In a more indulgent and memorable fashion!
I long to be young all over again.

BLOCK US OUT!!!

The conspiracy to shut us off from the world is gaining in strength as each day passes by. Its funny even as the world is trying hard to become part of the social networking bandwagon and global leaders are talking about breaking down boundaries to finally have a seamless global village, my company is now downing another nail on our lives. We who have been reduced to dependency on Indiatimes (HAR HAR) and Gmail for our communication needs are now being taken off the Google network also to ensure our productivity is enhanced.

Journalism I thought was all about keeping in touch and talking to multitudes of people continuously to get information. But looks like we are supposed to sit in our little corners or then spend money in inane coffee shops and on travel to get our information while TV channels score by merely thrusting a mike in the middle.

What really are these people trying to prove? The more they cut us off, the more time we will spend trying to physically catch up with people and the more our time in office is reduced and the less productive and efficient we are. How much of knowledge of astro physics was necessary to make out those connections?

The BOSS

It was with sheer pleasure that I exited from the theatre after watching Sivaji. I have always pictured watching a Rajni flick in Chennai amidst rows of fans who hooted, clapped and mouthed dialogues of the superstar. But am yet to sit through such an exhilarating experience. Anyhow some of the memorable lines from the flick demand that they be repeated and shared.

Here are some I could remember…


Sachin adicha sixer, indha Shivaji adicha stretcher
Naan nenacha athu nadantha mathiri, naan nadantha athu jeyicha mathiri
Naan 1 centimeter dhooratthukku nallavan, aanal 20 kilometer distancekku kettavan
Kanna andha sivajikku nadikka mattum thaan theriyum, indha sivajiku nadikkavum theriyum adikkavum theriyum
Kannaa, sirikkaama PM aga iruntharu antha Narasimha Rao, ( late PM of India ) aana sirichukitte pattaiyai kilappurathu intha Shivaji Rao
Naan nallavanukku sami, Nayavanjaganukku Tsunami
Kanna, vittukoduthavan ennaikum kettathillai, kettavan ennaikkum vittukoduthathillai
Solli adikiravan veeran, sollama adikiravan kozhai, naan sollavum maatten, adikkavum maaten… aana konnuduven
Nallavanukku naan DHARMAN Kettvanukku naan YEMA dharman da
Pongal choice Karumbu, intha Shivaji choice Kurumbu
sivaji nenacha sona mathiri, sonna mudincha mathiri
annikku solrathuthaan innikkum, innikku solrathuthaan ennaikkum
sollaama vantha TSUNAMI, solli vantha SHIVAJI
Singathe konja mudiyathu…Sivajiya minja mudiyathu…
paambe patha padaye nadungum, indha Sivajiya pathe pambe nadungum!
Six kke apuram 7nda, shivajikappuram yevenda?
"Panni ellam kootam kootamaaa thaaan varum…annaa SINGAM SINGLE aaathaaaan varum

DHOOM OR DOOM???

Two nights ago I managed to sit through Dhoom 2. And funnily enough have been feeling under the weather since last evening. Connected? Could be. But I have to say this…. WHY DID THE OH SO FOOLISH JUNTA REVEL WATCHING THIS FOOLISH AND OVERLY FLAWED FLICK????

I never thought I would sit down and list the flaws of a movie that stars Aishwarya Rai nee Bachchan. For the way I look at it, merely casting her in a role, demands that the movie be avoided like the plague, unless of course there is a Mani Rathnam factor included. If so all prejudices aside, I shall sit through anything. But having said that…. DHOOM 2 was painful to say the damn least. Though the first part was much more bearable despite Uday Chopra.

Okie so where do I start?
1. Why show Rimii Sen and Bipasha in this flick at all? Both could’ve been willingly chopped off. Neither really added any actual value to the movie!
2. The crappy bit between Uday and Bipasha. Irritating.
3. Jai is the only officer across the globe who manages to find a connection between the various robberies of A! (Right! considering he is the most incompetent cop who can catch no thief and lets them jump off or pretend to die in front of him. KILL HIM OFF FIRST!)
4. Uday sees the A’s face, but even without passing on information to Jai, he manages to turn up in a helicopter just at the juncture where he loses A.
5. Aishwarya’s horribly irritating attempt at being cool and imitate a wannabe thief. (Her deplorable use of like, cool. Her finger movement etc etc)
6. The first robbery…how come the diamond was not protected using infrared beams? So that he could easily get a toy to flick it?
7. The scene at the theatre…where both men flank her and the robber does not recognize the cop.
8. The twin Bipasha…and how she does not know HINDI!!!
9. The second robbery…again attesting the fact that jai is a deplorable cop and that one should never trust him
10. How after that jai knows exactly where the villa is
11. And then where to take his bikes and follow them
12. Why they never bring in Aryan for questioning despite having enough reasons to suspect him.
13. Why he turns humanitarian and lets the lady walk after she shoots a world renowned criminal
14. And then why he waits for 6 months before turning up and demanding details
15. Better still why no other cop is pursuing this thief who has been committing robberies across the globe as they claim

Okie there are many more…but now more than ever I am terribly bored and pissed that I took time out to list them. How very un-needful. Anyhow.

It was disgusting to say the least. Please refrain from making another one.

A Page from SR's Life!

“Suspicion is most often useless pain.” Samuel Johnson

"We have to distrust each other. It is our only defense against betrayal." Tennessee Williams

He wrote….“Despite my love for you, you will never get rid of your suspicious nature…do what you want, I don’t care…”

I was angry, irritated but for once I was not ridden with suspicion. I merely wanted to know why he hadn’t picked up my call. And to accentuate my anger, I cut his calls. Why was anger and rebuttal only his prerogative?

Now he has once again made accusations. He has made them in the past. Like I have. But I had begun to lay off. Matrimony I had believed would gradually ease me from all my jealousies and suspicions. My concocted visuals and fears were beginning to die a natural death. I had slowly begun to laugh along at jokes about women, flirtations and all else. So then, why push me into the abyss again?

I have never masked my failings. I have proclaimed my flaws pretending often that it would allow me to choose and belong only to the worthy. Today it seems to have turned on its head. Its biting at my soul and threatening to kill my happiness.

I was betrayed once. While on the road to recovery, all my fundamentals were rudely shaken when another mental blow was dealt me. This time I had to play nurse and help the others involved in order to restore a semblance of order. My upper floors creaked and groaned. They couldn’t take all the weight. The unexpressed fears, anger, wailing, abuse, hurt, disgust, helplessness all faded into a corner. They scratched into the fabric like there was no tomorrow. I was afflicted with a disease, which I had guffawed at when my peers had told me about it. Now I was the worst victim I knew. Or would ever know.

Then I found love again. I thought it would cure me. Over time. And all I asked for in return was patience, for I had promised fidelity. It was hard, and self-defeating most times, but I had promised and that meant more than anything I could ever delude myself of. So I persevered. I was getting there though with baby steps.

But my reputation prevents him to see the light. All my follies of the past are playing catch up and he seems to have donned the hat of referee. I am not proud of my actions, but to punish me forever for those acts in the distant yesterdays seems inhuman and terribly unfair.

I once asked him about a “Cinderella”. He accused me of reading his mails on the sly. I had never ever dreamt of such an action.

I accused him of wanting to spend time with “his genuine colleagues and friends”. He reminded me of my wrong doings during our rough shod days, when we almost called it all off.

Today he has told me that he doesn’t care any more since I can never get rid of my suspicious nature.

The fault it mine and mine alone to bear to the grave.

Maybe I was never meant to settle down. Those had been divine messages to prevent me from embarking on a holy matrimony trip.

My affections have cost someone so dear and so close, his entire life and his shot at companionship.

It has caused many hearts to ache and still I persevered.

I wasn’t the best in town, but we chose each other knowing all our faults. So now to hold them against the other is the most shameful act.

When he decided to pursue his dream I relented and stepped back to support as was necessary and right.

Today I suffer in silence of the many times I let my dreams run asunder and put my love above me.

Today I am a long way off from some dreams I had cherished since the day I knew to tell the clock.

Today I am doling out advice to all and sundry while I languish in the darkness of the choices I have made for myself.

Did I deserve this?

Was I the most despicable thing to walk this earth that I am being tested over and over again?

What more is in store?

Why did you create me in this form and give me all my follies if you were going to make me pay every time I used one of them to meet my ends?

Why create me at all?

Why put so many flaws in me that everyone wants to keep me at arms’ length and still they cringe when they have to pick me?
Why not give me the courage and strength to be on my own?

Why not deliver me from my sins and leave me with a pinch of happiness?

I can’t take it any more.

I am tired. Or being made to err. Then being made to pay for the crime.

They say all our lives are written out in that gold book.

Erase me.

I don’t want no more.



NOTE: From the diary of SR.

The only thing I have wanted to possess since my student days. And finally it’s mine, to keep and savour.

Unfinished Tale

I had been meaning to write for a while...and this was all that came out...suddenly I screeched to a halt....I could think of multiple versions this could take…I didn’t want to continue…seemed like one of those mushy Tamil movies….why was I writing this? I simply have no clue. I do need to keep at it, though…before words forget me…

Anyhow if anybody straying here has enough time to kill might as well read on……



They sat across each other not uttering a word. Life had seemed such a pleasure and possible just a few moments back.

Sumit had been waiting for Reena at the wayside café they always met in. The last two years had been difficult with both not finding much time to meet or talk. She had enrolled for a Masters degree and now suddenly when things seemed to be slowly falling into place he had just received the acceptance letter. He had always wanted an MBA to slap behind his engineering degree. And now finally he was so close to it…. but he was confused. There were so many things to consider…. Reena’s family for one….

Suddenly interrupting his thoughts the sound of anklets filled the room…. she was climbing down the stairs…. he swiveled back with a huge grin on his face. And there she was. Her hair swinging in rhythm to the bells at her ankles…. she was smiling and had something hidden behind her back…

The anklets had made him look at her the first time. He had been waiting outside the college library, patiently whiling away time as his sister made a scene sorting out her friends, books and what not. An innocent face, completely wrapped by a head full of jet-black hair, tied neatly into two plaits…she seemed to be hopping in tune to some unknown rhythm. He had smiled at her childlike demeanor. And then dismissed her till a week later. When she bumped into him as he climbed the steps to the cafeteria in search of his sister. Their eyes met, muttered sorry and they turned back at the end of the climb to smile at each other.

The next two years were the easiest of his life….they had talked into the night….sipped coffee at inane hours while his accomplice sister had woven her own love story. He dropped by after classes and only exams kept them at bay. He finished his engineering amongst the top five of his class, she graduated with top honours from her college. He had been picked up by an MNC. She decided to take a year out to figure out her priorities and give him time to decide on their future.

Now four years after they almost walked into each other, they had to take a tough call. They had never been away from each other. The casual glance had satiated them and they didn’t ask for much more. But knowing that the other was somewhere close by, to run across when required had always kept them happy and content. But that was about to change.

Reena had wanted them to tie the knot at the end of the year. She was finishing in two months and had already found herself a job. They were planning to stay with Sumit’s parents since his sister had moved to the US. Once her exams were over, they would fix on a date. After today she would meet Sumit only after two weeks. He was going to his village to meet his grandmother and seek her blessings for the wedding. The first time they would not be meeting each other for so long. She had bought his grandmother a small gift and couldn’t wait to show him the grand Afghani shawl she had bought. As she raced down the stairs she kept imagining his face when he saw it. His smile made her go weak in the knees even after four years. The world was a happy place, she thought as she saw his back slowly grow in size as she reached the last step.

His back was arched and the minute Reena saw his face she knew something was terribly wrong. Usually he yelled out for tea and stood up with his arms open. Today he sat still, looking at her with forlorn eyes. Her mind was racing; his grandmother had been unwell for a few weeks now. Had something untoward happened? She ran up to him and stood quietly. He took hold of her hand. She froze. It was ice cold and there was an envelope lying on the table. He nodded to her and as she tore open the cover to look at the contents, her heart kept chanting please let not anything go wrong.

At first she smiled, and hugged him. Wondered out aloud why he was being morose when his dream was about to come true. And then suddenly realization dawned........

The Captain & The Mermaid

These lines struck a chord…. I wish I had chanced upon them way earlier in life…. for then I argued about the fate of the captain and the mermaid with someone dear…. she believed her fate would be as romantic and spontaneous as the mermaid’s…If ever you look down and see this….

This is for you.

"I have followed your ship for many a mile.One day the sea reflected your smile.And I'll give you my kingdom, eternally,If you'll marry this Mermaid that lives in the sea."


And the whole thing can be read here…http://www.ovff.org/pegasus/songs/captain-jack.html

Bon Voyage!

Well finally the jinx is broken…and I am off…to other wonderful shores to soak in the sights, smells, colours, people, places, food and what not!

I am headed to a place, where they claim food is a national pastime and one that has more than 1000 malls…Singapore…

Just FYI: The name Singapura is derived from the Malay words singa (lion) and pura (city), which in turn is from the Sanskrit words simha and pura. According to the Malay Annals, this name was given by a 14th century Sumatran Malay prince named Sang Nila Utama, who, on alighting the island after a thunderstorm, renamed it Singapura after spotting an auspicious beast identified as a lion.

Anyhow I don’t have too much time since I am more worried about the nitty gritties of getting into an unknown land and making do with strangers for company…for now this is all…

What is marriage?

A marriage...makes of two fractional
lives a whole;
it gives to two purposeless lives
a work, and doubles the strength
of each to perform it;
it gives to two
questioning natures a reason for living,
and something to live for;
it will give a new gladness
to the sunshine,
a new fragrance to the flowers,
a new beauty to the earth,
and a new mystery to life.
-- Mark Twain

Bugger off Ass Holes..........

They want me to do them a favour…

So many previous occasions…when they have never bothered to be nice or even respond…

Why should I be nice?

Am I under any obligation to be nice?

I am simply not interested you fool?

Why the hell won’t that enter your brain or your sensibility?

In every possible decent way I have tried again and again to explain to you that come what may I am simply not interested.

So bugger off.

Don’t bother me so.

What you sow, so shall you reap!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Didn’t know revenge could taste so sweet.

To hell with you and many more of those uppity arse holes, who think they are oh so above everybody!

Hail Me????!!!

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!

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.

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...

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”

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.

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!

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