Creating God

Creating Gods
I created a God for myself
When I lost...
And when I found love...
I conversed with Him
Shared moments
And I saw the cracks in my faith
Long before I admitted it to Him...


On the pavements, there lay
Innumerable mother figures
Brought to life by rough, illiterate hands
Man creating God
And then worshiping his own creation
Folding the same hands that had moulded
A Deity.

I understood faith that day.


Cold winter nights
A mother willingly feeding her
Miniscule share to her little one
Adding hunger to her bag of plights
With a god-like benign smile on her face

I understood a mother that day.


A rose that I had kept in a diary,
Hidden or perhaps forgotten
By the One who had given it
In a moment of craziness,
The fading petals crumbling
At the slightest touch
Just like the pieces of a heart

I understood pain that day.


I prayed for your end
Knowing I had no other choice
I chose freedom
For both you and me
I know you wouldn’t have done that
I know you forgive me

I understood guilt that day.


I grew out of fairy tales
Stopped believing in ‘happily ever-afters’
A cynic, some called me
I don’t care any more
My rare smiles grow even more brittle
And my laughter is silent
But my heart remains unbroken
Unhurt.
I smile at the world and close the door
I’m alone. I’ve learnt
The art of creating

Pain

Love

God.

Juno, Jughead and Maggi

This weekend was spent with Juno who graced us with her presence early Saturday morning. This girl is not named after a mythical Goddess or some circus elephant. Her parents loved the Oscar nominated movie Juno so much that they decided to name their first born after the protagonist. To begin with Juno.. just saying Juno does not seem enough. I know her mom would kill me for this but don’t you expect it to be something like “Juno the elephant” or Juno the.............. I mean something..... Someone should fill that blank seriously. So Juno looks like a tiny tot [Even though she celebrated her first birthday last month], holds herself quite regally and can make you feel like an idiot with just her stare. We always feel like she is the ‘visiting royalty’ [must have got the genes from her Mom].
On this particular Saturday, she arrived looking freshly bathed and smelling nice in her colorful attire. And she actually looked down at me. Who bathes early on a Saturday morning tell me?? She came downstairs and behaved like a celebrity visiting a third-world country. I expected her to start throwing food packets any minute. Sighing with disdain, the lady chose to be seated on a tricycle.. the catch is that one has to hold her in place.. her little legs do not touch the ground and I felt like her loyal subject, kneeling before her. All the attempts to make her laugh went unacknowledged. I wanted to see if she would cry on being slapped but fear of retaliation by her mom made me curb my not so Gandhian instincts. She ignored all offers of biscuits, toffees and chocolates [wish I had that kind of will power] and she proceeded to talk in her code language to Rachit who was grinning at being the ‘chosen one’. Juno let loose a series of incoherent sounds and Rachit was nodding his head and jumping with excitement. He brought one toy after another to show her and that is when Juno started howling loud enough for her mom to come and threaten me. I looked here and there for the reason of this discontent and then I discovered her weak point. HA HA. The lady is scared of teddy bears.. Do you even need to ask what I am gifting her the next time she comes to visit??

Saturday also marked the beginning of Navratras. Don’t ask me why but I actually thought I could keep all the fasts [a last effort to lose some weight, I guess]. Anyway I have realized within three and a half day of fasting that I have a lot in common with my idol Jughead. The first day of fasting Moni promised she would make some yummy Khichdi. Having had nothing besides an apple and two cups of tea in the entire day, it sure sounded promising. Oh, how I wish it could have looked and tasted like that too. Lesson learnt on Day 1: Stay away from burnt peanuts, especially if you have a bad taste in your mouth.

Day 2: Moni was contrite. Promised to make something edible. Foolishly I agreed. Ate two apples instead of the usual one, just to be on the safe side. Good I took that measure. What was served in my plate made even Rachit crunch up his nose and ask, “What is that??”

Day 3: The time had come to do something. Two days of going hungry is not good for your temper. Decided to take matters in my hands. Thought of experimenting with a new kind of dish. It turned out well but alas... the quantity was barely enough for the two hungry souls.

Started hallucinating and dreaming about food since last night. And I have been watching all the cookery shows on TV. MORBID, isn’t it? And you know what is the worst part? Making hot steaming Maggi for the two monsters AND watching them relish every bite....

P.S. Jughead, I know what it feels to be hungry all the time..

Behind the Veil

The footprints of people dead and gone
The whispering voices I hear alone
That single touch I longed to steal
I see thee standing behind the veil..

The answers to questions I asked in vain
All doubts that weren’t washed away by rain
The flood of tears held back and sealed
For the truth that lies behind the veil..

Mine eyes have searched for thee so long
A glimpse sufficed with entity gone
Believing thou still has the power to heal
Mine eyes meet thine behind the veil..

Eyes that see yet cannot cry
Arms that long to hold on tight
Lips that move but words unseen
Silenced by the curse behind the veil..

I know not how to cross the gate
Neither the answer to change the state
I know now how it makes you feel
A fluttering heart behind the veil..

The veil between some hearts that care
The veil divides, the veil makes us share
A love like the world has never seen...

I’ll wait each breath
for the last breath that seals
My final journey
Behind the veil...

The Last Words

“My dear child, I’ll have to go
And leave you all alone
Remember me with love tender
When I’m dead and gone

In the morning if you miss that hug
Or in the noon, that smile,
In the evenings the words of prayer
My child, I’ll bless you from miles...

If you are ever set against the odds
Don’t bend or break down
Remember someone believes in you
Apart from the Great one with the golden crown

Don’t cry... Don’t shed these tears
They are pearls... Can’t you see?
They may drop down from your eyes
But it’s my heart that bleeds...

I hate to leave you alone, my child
But since there is no other way
This night of sorrow shall pass
And we’ll meet again some day...”

A Mirror's Confession

I’m sorry I lied…

In that moment of harsh truth,

Softened by the pity

Moved by the plea and the fear in your eyes...

A fear shared by all women through eternity.

I lied to save you the pain

But lost……

Though God knows

I tried

Shall We Dance?

Being born in a Punju family that does not need an occasion to break into a jig, my dancing capabilities have never been questioned. Whenever there is a function or a wedding, you can find my entire family grooving on the dance floor.. Well except for the person who is getting married maybe. Since childhood we train our kids to show off their dancing capabilities at various occasions. And the competition is pretty tough. All our kids seem to learn is dance :P

Enough of charting out my lineage where dancing is concerned. I would rather talk about the people I love to see dance.. There are people who bring the dance floor alive.. not because they have any training or such but because they dance without a care in the world. My theory about dance is pretty simple. There are two categories of people who are considered good dancers: Sachin Tendulkars and Rahul Dravids. Don’t get boggled down.. Any cricket loving person would agree that while Rahul Dravid has magnificent technique and correct everything, it’s Sachin we enjoy watching more.. So logically it follows that no matter how much you learn technique, if you don’t have that spark, it won’t work for you. Technique does help, but attitude conquers all.

So here are some people who rock the dance floor..:

Kids: Kids are born Tendulkars.. taking example of the two monsters at home who start jumping enthusiastically whenever any dance-able song is played, well.. It is jumping.. no technique but their delight is unmatched by anyone.. I cannot imagine any adult dancing/ jumping with such abandon. And their repeat performances do not fail to delight.

Oldies: Old world charm or nostalgia.. there is a certain charm about old aunties who step forward shyly at weddings and then rock the dance floor. They are slow, reluctant starters.. but when they get in the groove, you can’t budge them from the dance floor..[Believe me, I have tried quite a few times!!].

Cartoons: Not the mimicry artists from Mumbai, but our very own family walas....there is a mimic or a cartoon character in every family. When this fellow joins the dance floor, you can be sure of entertainment. Be it the filmy heroes or any music rock stars, he/she makes sure that the space vacated the floor or the special music being played for him/ her is justified!!

Sardars: It’s just that when sardars dance there is nothing to match it. Their songs, their music.. makes a delightful mixture. Their enjoyment is vivid maybe because of their music and its beats.. but rock they do!!

Me.. of course: I don’t need a reason to be in this list.. This IS MY BLOG!!

My Best Friend: Rarely have I seen anybody follow dance with such passion.. and I’m not writing this to make her follow my blog.. :P

Salman Khan: Well.. the guy is not a great dancer.. but he DOES take off his shirt each time..

Any South Indian Actor: Especially the not so new ones.. remind me of OSO and SRK.. MIND IT!!

Rajkumari: Not a real princess.. She was a maid or rather a babysitter we once had..she was around ten years old, with a grin stretching from Kashmir to KK.. Ash and I asked her to dance once and BOY...she danced with full abandon.. forgetting that the oil fed lice from her hair were falling on ground.. A bindaas performance.. total entertainment.. :D

Rosesh Sarabhai: HE did dance in a couple of episodes.. when he wasn’t writing poetry or saying Mommaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!

Farhan Akhtar: The man ROCKS!!!

To be contd...

A blank note of love

In my mind, we have

Loved each other..
Showered red roses
Sung a million love songs
Already

And that bench beneath that big banyan tree..
Remember?
We have passed hours there just talking
About many things
Already

We have celebrated a thousand Valentines
In my mind..
Each one more special than the other

What can I give you then
But a blank note of love
I strive to find words to adorn it
To embroider my feelings
with the thread of care

It is not emptiness..
It is for you to pour out
your special memories and moments
I’m all ears to hear you speak
After those silences we share
Where your eyes convey
what you never say

I know you still haven’t found a way
Novel enough for you
So I’m giving you a blank note of love...
Will that do?

I HAVE NO ANSWERS!!!!!!!!!!

I look over my shoulder

With a nervous glance
To make sure “you two” don’t follow
Dreading a meeting with you by chance.....

I’m a nervous wreck by now
Sweating and shuddering alike
Holding my arms up in prayer,
“O lord....Just for today...
Please don’t let the “monsters” strike!!!”

Your ten thousand questions
About a simple cow
Your whats, whens,
whys and hows...

The moment your eyes
Get that curious light
I know it’s the right time
to disappear out of sight

Like a maniac I run
And try to hide under the bed
Of course you find me out
And I'm dragged out instead..

And then it begins again
The never ending cycle
“Why is an elephant so big?”
“Why is a cat called a cat still?”

“Why do kids wear diapers?”
“Why don’t big people go to school?”
“Why does Shah Rukh Khan dance on train?”
“How come ice cream is so cool?”

“What does Monu- the doll eat?”
“Where do lizards sleep?”
“How do people get into TV?”
“Let’s sing BABA BLACK SHEEP”

I’m stunned into silence
Where do I begin?
The beginning of the beginning
Or the ending of the end????

There are animals to be identified
And rhymes to be sung
I’m supposed to know Monu’s preferred cuisines
And also the precise ingredients of cow dung

Out of use and incapable
My nervous voice just slurs,
"Sorry my two monsters
I have no answers!!!!!"

Tell me a tale...

Once upon a time... That is how it begins every time- our introduction to the world of stories. And that is the only common factor between stories of two different generations. While growing up, I read stories in books like Nandan and Champak. Stories of kings and palaces and magical creatures. Or else stories about animals who could talk and preach as well :P. I never knew being a storyteller would be such a ghastly job...

Setting: A house in Delhi 5. A lazy Sunday.

Circumstances: Three kids dumped by their respective parents on a poor RELUCTANT babysitter (who is never paid btw)

Scene: A bedroom where the bed is scarcely visible, covered in clutter and toys. A girl enters carrying a bawling ten-month old baby( who incidentally is named Juno), followed by two kids who are trying to get ahead of each other by pulling at each others’ hair, clothes and pretty much everything.. :P. Inevitably the kicking, screaming starts and this time the baby joins in.. The girl plonks Juno on bed and yanks the other two by their arms. They are made to remove footwear and climb on the bed. The reason for their sudden obedience and silence is the one word that works magic.. the offer of a “story”

Here is how it goes..

Shivanshi: Mujhe baba wali, metro wali, jungle wali aur animal wali story sunao

Rachit: NAHIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!! Mujhe crocodile wali, dirty duck wali sunao

Girl: Err.....(Dumbstruck at so many demands, just looks at Juno to see if she has any demands too.. Juno is busy nibbling at the toy duck and oblivious to all)

Rachit: Meri wali story.....

Shivanshi: Meir waaaaaaaaaaali storyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
Girl: Stop it................... Meri wali story suno chup chap..

The kids nod in agreement, having no clue what they have let themselves into.. The Story begins.. It is about a witch with a bloody face, who stalks the streets at night with a candle in her hands looking for naughty and disobedient kids.. She then takes the kids to her hut in the forest where she cooks and eats them. It is being told with full sound effects... There is complete silence in the room, broken only by the girl’s voice. . The kids are staring at her with their mouths hanging open, eyes opened wide.. even the baby has abandoned the duck and is listening avidly... Just as the story reaches the point where the witch reaches her destination and is standing outside the house of a naughty kid.. there is a knock at the door, followed by a loud crash.. And then it is mayhem.. the kids think that the witch has come to get them (When all the while she was narrating the story to them :P). They scream and start crying.. Juno believing that this is a kind of after-story ritual, joins in with full force.. They all try to get as close to the girl as possible who they believe will protect them from the witch.. (AS IF!! She has been searching for the witch’s address to drop them off there). The kids kick each other wildly.. in the resulting scrams and cries, it is discovered that Juno has wet herself.. the knocking becomes more persistent... more bawling.. more crying and screaming.. “What worse could happen??”, the girl thinks aloud..
And then....


...........................


The power goes off...

I leave the rest to your fertile imagination..

P.S. Don’t ask me to show the battle scars.. :P

And then the gods laughed!!

She drew lines.. lifelines in his palm
Tracing the time they would be together
Her own lines washed away like barren sands
And then the gods laughed..

She caressed her womb
Talking to her unborn
Telling stories, sharing smiles
Knowing perhaps that she won’t get
Many such chances
And whenever she paused for breath
The gods laughed..

In her final borrowed breaths
She asked all to keep an eye on her babe
She died clasping the little one’s hand
And then the gods laughed..

And now the little one
Searches for her mother in the starry skies
And the nights when there are no moons
She is silent ... waiting for the voice that sang her first lullaby
And now the gods also have averted their eyes...

FINDING MEGHALAND!!

Welcome to M.E.G.H.A.L.A.N.D. and prepare yourself for confessions of a threateningly un-dangerous kind, from someone SPECTACULARLY ordinary and taking pride in the fact!

Meghaland is a place where, as a very good friend puts it, my “jaundiced perception” rules!! So be prepared for biased views and narrow-minded perspectives.

Anyway, so a couple of years ago I randomly composed a list of people who irk me and wrote down what I would say to them if they were in MEGHALAND. The process was so cathartic that since then I have been jotting down everything and anything in my diary under Meghaland and to my dismay, the list keeps increasing at an alarming rate!! So if you meet me someday and think I’m sweet and silent and submissive.. Take a second guess, I might just be sizing you up and wondering what I’ll say about u in ML. That speaks a lot about my sizing up skills..

So in ML there are some people/things and issues you NEVER EVER speak against especially in a sarcastic/ironic tone, yet with a I’m –only-joking kind of expression. Here it goes:

1. Poetry: Mine of course. If you don’t have anything good to say, then shut up! I am not interested in your criticism, Mr.Eliot wannabe. Get a life and remember.. I got a voice too!!!
2. BABYPHOBIA: If you are grossed out by kids.. WELCOME!! Don’t send me pics of your friend’s brother’s sister’s somebody’s baby assuming I’ll go gaga over them. I just might be tempted to delete you from my friend list!! HUH!
3. Sachin & John: Two celebrities I adore. If you don’t like them fair enough but please spare me the list of their faults.. Especially anything related to Sachin’s voice!
4. Womanpower: I’m not a hardcore feminist.. I have my own brand of humanism cum feminism. Stay away if you are an MCP!
5. Flesh eating: So you might think I’m a heathen considering my craving for non vegetarian food.. Spare me your vegetarian diatribe.. Go eat grass and be happy!
6. Sleeping: There is nothing like “too much of sleep”. 24 hours are too short any way.
7. BLACK: I’m not just shades of white and gray, its black that completes the whole. I identify with Black: it’s me, my color! If you don't like it......search for your rainbow!

ML is not just a space of repressed anger or criticism. It is a testimony to the fact that I'm basically such a nice person that I don't say nasty things to people (at least not to their face :P). It's just me..no apologies!!

BABYPHOBIA

Well having had the [mis]fortune of being stuck with two kids, in a family that needs a babysitter desperately; I have no other course of action than to claim that I suffer from a chronic case of Babyphobia.

I used to think that I loved kids.. you know I was the type who used to adore babies, cute chubby creatures who went goo goo and gaa gaa.. but then I found out that appearances are quite deceptive. Babies are cute....... from a safe distance.. cos then you are not within the hitting distance.. cos then you can’t get wet if they decide to offload.. and most importantly you can’t smell them... So in 2006-7 when I came to know that we were going to be blessed with two lil ones in the family. I was quite ecstatic... see I used the word “blessed”.. that tells you how naïve I was.. Nothing could describe the horror that followed..

To begin with.. and to be honest.. both of then looked cute enough.. Shivanshi was the first one.. chubby and cute.. and Rachit came two months later.... looking and bawling like a monkey.. (They are not twins people.. though the title “evil twins” suits them quite well). Anyway to keep on the story.. well things were quite well as they slept most of the time.. infact all the time. But then my dreamy world of babies started shattering.. the constant wailing, the late nights and early morning milk bottles that I had to warm.. not to mention the constant changing of nappies and diapers.. ufffffffffffffffff.... that was gross.. I even puked one time and felt like fainting while cleaning shit..

Coming to the present day...... 2009. April.

A scene set in Delhi 5:- A harassed looking girl running after two toddlers who are engaged in a fight, trying to tear each others’ hair.. all the while kicking each other and shouting and crying at the highest possible decibel level.. The girl keeps saying.. “No Rachit”.. “No Shivanshi”... “behave you two”.... Finally she yanks them off each other.. Both the kids have messed up hair.. scratches from the fight.. red faces.. and they are wailing at the top of their voices.. Stifling the urge to slap them, she drags them to a house where the drawing room sofa is littered with toys, drawing books, crayons, pencils, aero planes, packets of chips and biscuits. Asking them both to stand in a corner she tries to clear a space for both of them to sit. The kids stand in a corner, trying to look sheepish.. they know they are in the danger of being thrown out of the house any moment. And they do this only for a moment.. and then get embroiled in an argument abut whether Hanuman ji’s nappy needs changing or not.. (Hanuman the soft toy that is!!). The girl snatches the harassed looking hanuman from them and charges towards them with the intention to give them a well deserved whack. Instead the poor thing slips on a toy thrown on the floor and falls down.. This occurrence delights Rachit and Shivanshi who think that their masi/ bua is playing a game.. they jump on her kicking and screaming with delight.. 22 kgs of combined weight causes the girl to faint.....

[CURTAIN]

P.S. And just in case you thought this was a one off thing.. you cannot be more wrong.. this is a daily scenario.. much to my regret..

This is not a blog entry.. take this as my suicide note .. just in case one day things go overboard.. :P

A God of My Own!!

Preposterous idea indeed!! Talking to God?? What the &^%$!! That was MY reaction when I was gifted a book titled Conversations with God. It is the usual reaction of a person who views motivational literature such as the above mentioned book with disdain. And I do not go on here to reveal how the reading changed me and turned me from a skeptic into a believer. No. It just made me realize that I had been conversing with My God for years... unconsciously, subconsciously. I am not a schizophrenic. I know there are skeptics like me out there but it is hard indeed to explain exactly how you talk, how you converse. I believe each one of us has his/ her own God or rather the idea of what God is. A Personal God. A God of My Own. And I have been asked what is my God like. There have been things/ events in my life where my faith in God was shaken badly. Loss of anything you hold dear makes you a disbeliever. And I became that. I ridiculed silently the people who went to temples or prayed religiously. But then God proved me wrong. It was not because of any miracle or any prayer coming true that I started believing in Him again. But believe I did. And yes I conversed with My God. There is a line in Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Part I where a character says, “We Owe God A Death”. The line somehow stuck in my mind and this became my tribute to My God.

We owe God a Death
and yet the ignorance of it
Makes braves die but once
and cowards bit by bit..

We owe God some love
for making us see
The infinity of a moment
and the limits of eternity

We owe God a smile
Coz when we are in pain
He gives us the strength
to stand up once again

We owe God a chance
When faith in heart dies
Coz He comforts us
and with us, He cries

We owe God a life
Coz He set us free
To overstep boundaries
and explore immortality....

My God is a friend, a teacher, a comforter, a mother and most importantly someone I can talk to. He is always there to listen, waiting for you to come.... perhaps it is time you took the step..

Delhi 5

The onslaught of the title track of Delhi 6 on FM stations made me think about my part of the city.. It is known for its market, the crowded lanes and the hustle and bustle.. for me its home.. The lanes are familiar, the landmarks.. well I have seen them change shape and color over a period of time..Delhi 5 is a place where the refugee families, especially Punjabi families, were allotted land for homes after the partition. My grandfather brought his family from a village in Sargoda, Pakistan to New Delhi. My aunt laid the bricks of our homes with her bare hands.. that is the history seeped in this area. I often walk through the narrow galis just to have a look at the homes with arched doors reminiscent of an era gone by.. you can see history here not just in architecture but in the walls themselves.. The tiny balconies and jharokhas, the latticed windows, and the posts made for sitting outside are something you don't get anywhere else.. and there are actual wells on the chaurahas that have been covered up.. people say someone committed suicide by jumping in the well and since then the local people covered it up.. I have had the chance to sing national anthem and watch the unfurling of the flag at one of these chaurahas on and independence day. It was a feeling that cannot be described in words..

In a comparative old locality like ours the special ingredient is the people you are surrounded with.. your neighbours.. you know everything that goes on in their homes and I guess your life is no big secret either.. So we refrain from lighting the lohri in the front of an old woman's house whose husband passed away on the same day many years ago.. and we celebrate festivals together by making rangolis on the doors of not just our own home but everyone else's too.. if there is a wedding in someone's family.. the neighbours help you like its their celebration and in the case of a death... they stand by your side and give you strength.. On sundays when the kids have an off.. the street is teeming with tricycles and kiddos playing on the one slide that we have.. yes we have a slide in our street.. lucky we!! And aunties sitting in the winter sun..knitting or talking.. gossiping actually.. but its a feeling of being surrounded with love.. and safety.. the feeling of coming home at the end of the day.. that is what Delhi 5 is to me..:)

I too had a love story!!

The story I am talking about is not mine.. I too had a love story is the title of a book I had the pleasure of reading last month. It was Christmas day.. browsing through stuff at Janpath, I told my sister that I wanted a book as a gift..and though she was grumbling quite a lot, she accompanied me to the book store.. i randomly picked up this book with a white cover.. flipped it over to read the story brief and after a bit of dilly dallying.. bought it. And kept it in the book cupboard where it gathered dust for ten days.. One fine day someone asked to borrow a book and I picked this book and handed it to them.. When it was returned, out of sheer curiosity I thought I would read a few pages.. But I was wrong. I had my viva in a couple of days yet I had no care for that.. I was hooked.. it was a tale told with simplicity, a kind of love that is unimaginable... I was laughing, smiling, crying.. and I guess a part of my heart got broken too at the end.. :(

Ravin's love story is touching because there is no effort in it to impress the reader with lofty words or expressions.. there are moments we all can connect with.. the pleasure of having late night phone conversations, little fights, smiles, especially the moments of first meeting.. It is a true story but I do not know what else to call it coz for me it came as a story.. something that has made me appreciate whatever I have in life, the value of time itself... I have been guilty of using this quotation often:

I hold it true watever befall

I feel it when I sorrow most

Tis better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all..

But I would not do the same here.. Coz the reading has made me question many things including the emptiness of words and promises.. words do not really soothe or make you feel any better...

I recommend this book to all who have been in love ever.. who have lost their loved ones and those who are cynical of the concept of love..

Not everyone in this world has the fate to cherish the fullest form of love.

Some are born, just to experience the abbreviation of it.

A TORTOISE NAMED SPEED!!

An offer from a friend to gift a tortoise to me this birthday awakened ridiculous longings in me.. to own a cute pet .. and i pondered quite a bit over what i would name this cute pet of mine and the name i came up with was SPEED.... Why SPEED u might ask... well it seems to make sense to me.. if i have to motivate the tortoise to move I would have to just say its name.., "SPEED.........COME ON!!!!!!!!.. I NEED SPEED!!!"

I dreamt of having a tortoise of my own for quite some days until Dad made me sit down and asked me a few questions wth the condition that I had to get atleast some of them right before I could be entrusted with responsibility of a pet... I was soooooooooo confident I said I was ready for interrogation there and then.... AND I THOUGHT I KNEW MY DAD..

The first question was a blunder straight on.... I mean how many of you know the difference between a tortoise and a turtle??????? He just asked me calmly if I wanted a tortoise or a turtle.. and I was like, "You mean there is a difference between the two??"... Honestly.... Do you guys know the difference?? From then it was all downhill.... if there was ever an uphill to begin with....

What is the natural habitat of a tortoise/ turtle?? I mean i thought i would just put it in a bucket in the bathroom... of course that would jeopardise my privacy somewhat.... but its winter and who bathes in winter?? In summers I had thought we could put Speed in the water tank to keep it cool.. gud idea no?? But Dad was shocked... seemed I had failed again.... sighhhh... tell me something new..

Next.. what does a tortoise / turtle eat? I mean come on Dad...... if its tummy is as hard as its shell........ it can digest anything!!!! Yeah you guessed it.... I said dat... AS IF I was planning to feed my Speed Chicken momos or something..... Hey that's not a bad idea actually.... Momos are infinitely better than Biryani.. RIGHT??

A look at Dad's face warned me to not even ask if I had passed the interview....

All my dreams of spending days and nights with Speed were put to rest... I had thought of singing songs to him.. ( see how Speed graduated to "him" from "it" in my imagination...) .. I would share my poems with him... ( my sis very unkindly said that the tortoise/ turtle would commit suicide to escape SUCH a fate...) and I dreamt of taking him for walks... you know that is the thing with tortoise/ turtles.. you HAVE to carry them... for me it would become more of a weightlifting than a walk!! Dogs do seem better pets in some ways!! But the novelty of having a pet like Speed was something else.... Imagine if someone were to attack me. I could just take out Speed from my pocket and hurl him at them.. again and again.... see no need to carry pepper sprays!! my bodyguard..... my OWN WMD..... SPEED... WOW!!

So wat if I don't knw what does he eat..... please read and comment to convince my dad.. :P

13 REASONS!!

13 Reasons why I’m considered ECCENTRIC (A euphemism for mad :P ) by many people....... including my family....

1) To begin with...... I’m often found mumbling incoherently...muttering to myself...... often breaking into weird smiles and occasional bursts of laughter!! WHAT PEOPLE FAIL TO REALISE IS THAT :

a) I may be conversing with myself....... or better still I may be conversing with God.. DIVINE CONVERSATIONS...

b) I may be recollecting some funny incident/ line/ conversation I might have read/ encountered earlier in the day..

c) I might be in the midst of composing a poem or concocting a make believe scenario with me getting to say all the witty, funny lines..

d) I could be day dreaming of participating in a karaoke/ talent hunt competition..(of what nature exactly .... don’t ask me!!). where I win.. OBVIOUSLY!!!! (Dude if I DO NOT win even in MY imagination. then there’s something wrong)

2) MY ORIGINAL DRESSING SENSE- Ok... so some people might consider it weird but WHAT THE HECK!! I call it my “scholarly garb”..... something that makes me blend in perfectly well with the library walls all over the city... at times I wear all black stuff for days to avoid the pains of matching or mismatching... . there’s a wonderful thrill in wearing mismatching clothes.... in knowing you look like a weirdo.. Kurtas + Jeans+ colorful socks+ floaters + a big bag + oily hair + eyes seeped in kohl.. does make me look like a nutcase..

3) My idea of an excellent day is one spent in a library/ bookshop....... ALWAYS!!!

4) M someone who takes a rickshaw when I go for walk......... hell I’m supposed to be walking AND I do that when I reach the park......

5) I prefer Mohabbatein over DDLJ.. . BIG DEAL!!

6) I LIKE STUDYING.......... SHAKESPEARE.

7) I have a quote for every occasion.... and usually they make sense only to me...I tell you people do not take kindly to geniuses...

8) I often travel to my college which is like two and a half hours away...... just to eat a plate of Chicken Biryani....

9) One of the sports I follow passionately is WWE : both RAW and SMACKDOWN

10) I hate Babies...... abhor them from every angle.. I am a certified, compulsive Babybeater.. and I suffer from an acute case of BABYPHOBIA... no wonder kids in my own family run away from me..

11) I’m a drawing room, street side.. road singer..... I sing ( which many describe as croaking!!) and I do dat whenever and wherever I feel like........ even if it looks a bit silly to people ....imagine someone with the above described attire singing or rather croaking at full volume..

12) Whenever I go to shop, I head straight for the men’s section... not to shop for my dad, or bro or cousins.. BUT for myself........ Needless to say I borrow clothes from my brother all the time... THIS when I have two sisters...

13) And finally.... The last but not the least cause of my eccentricity is my ever varying expressions which I use without a care of being labeled a plagiarist.... From my urdu fetish of saying “takhliyaa” to the two kiddos who ran out from the room scared like hell, fearing that I had finally lost it, to my mumbling of Potter’s “Expecto Patronum” instead of saying “God please help me!!” “Carpe diem”, “Slumming It out”...”Suspending disbelief”... “whatevaaa!!!!”........ all jumbled versions used by me efficiently enough to justify my eccentricity...

And you know what.. today is Friday the 13th.... the timing is sooooo apt. Watsay??

POXED!!!!

Poxed Indeed!!
Well recovering from Chicken Pox I never thought taking life easy could be such a pain in the *&^% . Having your meals served in bed... meals meaning boiled food devoid of spices... just plain, boiled veggies... yuckkk.. and me just craves for a good dose of Chicken Biryani.. sigh!! I have been catching up on my reading and how!!! Every single book that had been bought from book fairs and Darya Ganj and that were piling up everywhere..I devoured them.. Agatha Christies, fat historical romances, Princess Diaries part X, Almost Single, another book by Cecilia Ahern, a victorian romance, In Memoriam by Tennyson, fragments of ghazals by Faiz, and my own Juvenilia.... phew!! hard work indeed..

The first thing a friend did after being told that I have Chicken Pox was sending me an sms saying......"O you poor thing!! you will spend the valentine in bed!!" AS IF!! Honestly its good to have an excuse to not go out of home.. not having to justify your single status to people who stare disbelievingly at you.. not having to explain the reasons behind your heartbreaking poetry.. :P. AND I SUCK AT LYING!!!!! boo hoo hoo..... i wanna go out and celebrate.. well usually every year its me and my best buddy Ranjana who go out together and just roam around, shop or just eat. Its fun having a plan atleast for the day... buying gifts for ourselves, gorging on hot chocolate fudge or just chilling out in CCD.... sitting in Central Park, browsing at the book stores or libraries is our idea of celebration.. we do things that make us happy... sounds like the sensible thing to do.. WHICH I WILL NOT BE DOING THIS YEAR!! :(
I will be online I guess.... reading poems, surfing sites, reading ebooks, chatting.... celebrating my Spotted Valentine..!!

M not your type

I don’t wear short skirts
I don’t use makeup on my face
I’d rather wear my old sweatshirt
Than silly frills and lace
I can’t strut around in high heels
I can’t bat my lashes at you
I can’t pretend to understand rock music
When I sing better than they do

I wud rather watch a cricket match
Or dance out there in the rain
Or curl up wid a good old book
That makes some use of brains
I know I’m not size zero
So wat if I’m a bit on the bigger side
I wud rather eat wat I spend on
I’m allergic to every type of diet.

I cry smtimes for no reason at all
Just as I laugh, frown and smile
And I need to be told that I am loved
Everyday, daily, all d time
M not difficult to understand
M not stupid or vain
I don’t pretend to b intelligent
Coz all others pretend d same

I hv had my share of crushes
Not much but a fling or two
A kiss, a hug.....here and there
Now I wish it had been you..
I use swear words that cud make u blush
I’m mean and bitchy in a fight
But if u cry I’ll hug u close
And kiss to make all alright


I know I am too different
From the clones who roam out there
Its dis difference that is the real me
That I hope u wud want to share
Coz m not ur type as they all tell me
M not ur type at all
But since wen hv types ever mattered
When its hearts that r involved…………….

Scholar of the Bard

Scholar of the Bard.....

I am a scholar of the Bard

and believe me its hard

to understand the workings of a mind

to whom many have been not kind

O Bard!! Bless me as i start

On the journey to discover you from start..

I face the jeers, the sly glances

of those who havent been given these chances..

Here are my words.. mark them well..

when the tidings become more swell

I will with my words make history..

Celebrating unashamedly

Bardolatry!!!!