A Long Long Time Ago....

I used to skip and hop and walk, often akin to a monkey.

Now I walk, still fast, but oh so normally slow.

I used to be up for something new every day.

Now I come home, and watch TV.

I used to stay awake all night, and still manage to work.

Now I’m in bed at 11pm. Still in bed at 9 next morning.

I used to look forward to work.

Now I wish I could shirk it.

I used to sometimes want to dress up.

Now I stay in, just to not have to find something to wear.
I used to want to dance, to learn.
Now I stay eerily still.

I used to love meeting new people.

Now I like my comfort zone.

I used to talk a lot, a lot.

Now I’m the quiet one who has nothing to say.
I used to do shots and everything else 23.
Now I crib and feel every year of 23.

In my friend’s words,

2010, you were a bitch.

I can’t wait to bury you.

In my words:

2011, you’re full of promises.

I can’t wait to embrace you.

Quirky Doodle Doo

So years and years ago, when blogging was a huge fad, and everyone blogged and commented on each others’ posts, called one another up just to remind them to read and comment, and tagged tagged and tagged…I was tagged in a random post about ten weird things about myself.

For reasons unknown, or perhaps well thought out, I never bothered going ahead with that particular tag. But since this blog really seems to have no quality control anymore, and I am just that bored in office, here are ten quirks about me, that perhaps you might have been better off not knowing at all.

1. I have a weird thing for symmetry. Be it clips on my bulletin board, the justification tab on MS Word, sleeves of my shirt, a drawing, a poem anything. It has to have some level of symmetry in it. It throws me completely off, and I can concentrate on nothing else till I achieve symmetry in whatever is there before me, in a weird-ass pattern. And well, sometimes the colours matter as well. The darker colours in the middle, the lighters outside, make it a rather balanced pattern.
2. However, when it comes to geography, I dearly believe that things should NEVER be symmetrical. It isn’t humanly possible to remember the way if things look the same left to right, and right to left! Connaught Place will always remain a pure untamed wonder to me!
3. I am a stationery freak. No explanation required. Paper clips to pens to notebooks to….oh…my favourite….Post Its…. SIGH.
4. I’m an organized mess. HUH?? Well. I’m not a very clean person. There will be clothes and stuff everywhere in my room. BUT, in my head, there is some pattern to it, and I will NOT stand you messing around with my mess!
5. I absolutely absolutely cannot stand anyone brushing my eyebrows in the opposite direction. I will literally punch the person who dares to do this. To me its comparable to others hating nails on the blackboard, or some other quirkier people hating two thermocol pieces rubbed against each other :P :P :P
6. I have a weird habit of randomly whistling while working or thinking about something. Not a big deal right? EXCEPT, I’m usually working or thinking in the middle of a very quiet class room or an office meeting. NOT cool.
7. I can talk and talk and talk when I’m with guys. Not so much with girls. Still haven’t figured that one out L
8. Men’s perfume. Hmmmm…
9. I go through weird phases when it comes to emotions. There were years in between when I genuinely couldn’t get myself to cry, even though I was well aware of the fact that the situation demanded it. And then there were these two years, when the waterworks worked overtime, and anything from a Shah Rukh Khan movie, a low pay check, to even a Tom and Jerry cartoon made me cry. Embarrassed much? Duh.
10.  

I’m still thinking about point 10. As it turns out, I’m not weird and quirky enough to have ten points.

Yayyy?

Expressions

There are funny things which happen around us all the time. The best perhaps are ones which completely change your mood, which snap you out of your reverie, and make you wonder about karma and the world in general. Here are a few independent incidents, all more beautiful than the rest, which will remain imprinted in my head for a long long time to come.

Incident 1

There is a crossing, on the way from JVPD to the highway, which has a large number of slum dwellers. And they have to be by far, the happiest group of slum dwellers I have ever come across. Specially the kids. This huge group, which seems least concerned with life in general, always roam around in a huge group, and always have one performing to entertain the others. While they always manage to amuse me, the last time I was stuck in the traffic at that signal, I was met with the most amazing sight ever.

The signal turned red.

The traffic stopped.

The kids ran across the road in front of the traffic.

Dancing.

Specially one, around ten years of age. With a frilly Christmas decoration around his neck. Break dancing. In the middle of the road. And he was good.

He knew the steps.

He raised his collar and yanked around his shirt.

He looked directly into the eyes of the car drivers. And winked.

With attitude, like never seen before.

The signal turned green.

The traffic policeman chased him away.

He laughed, and ran away, one last look towards the amused vehicles.

Incident 2

Again, in an auto. Again stuck in traffic. I was randomly looking around, dazed, wondering when I’ll finally manage to reach home. Without much thought, I stared on at two men standing inside a bus, some distance in front of my auto. One of them was clearly excited. It was easy to tell from his body language, his flurry of movements, his expressions. Somewhere in my boredom, I was transfixed by his lack of boredom. He was emoting like I perhaps haven’t for quite some time. He seemed happy, and was clearly expressing it. I kept looking at him, randomly smiling to myself, my imagination coming up with random stories he might be narrating to his friend.

My auto moved forward, even closer to the bus now.

His excitement, happiness, emotions were even clearer from here.

His body language unique.

And then I realized.

He was talking excitedly to his friend.

Using sign language.

Incident 3

The walk home from office is not a pleasant one. It involves dug up roads, mush, and heavy traffic, along with a million other human beings rushing around in their hopes of reaching home a little earlier every day.  It’s an ugly walk, where you’re pushed and tugged from every direction humanly possible.

Every day.

That one crossing. Where the signal turns red for exactly 5 seconds.

5 seconds to cross two roads.

With cars waiting to run over you.

A zillion people rushing across. Those 5 seconds. Two roads. Need to reach home.

So you bang into people, but you keep plowing ahead. You get hurt. But you keep moving.

Because that’s what life in this city is like.

As usual, I was crossing the road. Running for life in that tiny window of 5 seconds.

And as usual, a man came running from the opposite direction, and banged into me, hard, before continuing on his way to the other side.

I grimaced. It hurt. And plowed on. As usual.

But then I felt a hand stop me from behind.

I turned around to find that man, pausing.

“I’m really sorry.”

I froze. I managed to nod, before making my way to the other side of the road.

Two roads. 5 seconds. Need to reach home.

But it just wasn’t as ugly today.

Be Kind, Rewind

After much thought and usual fretting, I finally did decide to head back to MICA, for the alumni meet, albeit just for a day.

A day for me was optimum.

It was just enough time to meet everyone, remember the good times, but not the bad.

It was just enough time to realize a lot of my mistakes, but not dwell on them.

It was just enough time to have fun, but not waste away.

But without doubt, MICA would have to be the two most complicated years of my life. And perhaps the only two years I would have regrets about, and wish I had a chance to relive. Because for once, I knew my misery was of my own making, and my complaints were plain silly.

For the first time in my life, I wish I could undo and redo a lot of things.

So the one day I spent on campus, every time I met a MICAn, a particular thought would pop up in my head, wondering how I would’ve been different to that person, given the chance, to rewind two years.

This is to you, MICAn.

I would have liked to have known you better.

I would have liked to not pretend to have known you.

I would have liked to have given you a chance.

I would have liked to not have run in the opposite direction, at first chance.

I would have liked to have judged less.

I would have liked to have been judged less.

I would have liked to have talked more.

I would have liked to have been talked about less.

I would have liked to have paid attention.

I would have sometimes liked less attention.

I would have liked to have shown my love for you, more.

I would have liked to have hurt you, less.

I would have liked to have liked you, just the way you are.

I wish you’d liked me, just the way I was.

I would have liked to have known MICA like you.

I would have liked to have been a MICAn, like you.

 P.S. I don't know if I managed to bring out all that I felt in that one day, in the correct way. It's just a funny feeling, for a rather non-emotional person, to realise that I actually do love MICA, and MICAns, and really do wish I had more time, for once.

The Second Sin

Writer or not, good or not, but I do intend to write a novel one day. Not to sell. But for the satisfaction.


One day, I would want to create a character. And I would want to write about her in depths not yet explored even by me, ever before. I would want to be consumed with her for days, while churning out those words, feeling those emotions, or the lack thereof. I would want to understand her, and push her to her limits. I would want to create her, and ultimately destroy her.


Here is a small glimpse into her. She goes way back, inspired by a character created by an old friend, the Original Sin.




The Second Sin

She inhaled sharply and opened her eyes.

Wide open.

Unblinking.

She hadn’t fallen asleep. But she had been asleep, all this while. Deep slumber. Her life.

She stared at the wall in front of her, grey, with slight traces of moss creeping around the corner. It was humid. A bead of sweat slowly traced its way down her neck. She shivered.

She felt the satin sheet under her bare skin, her legs, her waist, her breasts.

She felt the weight of his arm, around her, burning her skin, fast asleep. Deep slumber. His life.

She slipped out from under the covers, padded across the room to the window and looked out. It was pouring, the rain, washing away all traces of the night before.

She turned around and looked at his naked form, splayed across the bed, used, drained of all life and emotion. Life. And Emotion.

She played around with the silver lighter, the light playing across her face. His lighter. His smoke. Her Life.

She closed her eyes, and ran her fingers down her bare skin. Her breasts, her waist, her legs. She felt him. His touch. Her bruises.

She looked through the veil of hair covering one eye.

Unblinking. Monotonous. Emotionless.

She looked at the stranger in front of her.

She looked at her soul.

Torn in two.

Stronger.

Number.

And she smiled.

Let's Stalk

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Tell me

Are you

A nerd

Pervert

Single

Or deferred

So sweet

Or creep

In love

Asleep

Mine

Or dead

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Won’t you

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Let's

Let’s talk

Let’s not talk about the end

Let’s think

Let’s not overthink

Let’s be in love

Let’s love life

Let’s make the next six months

Last us a lifetime.

The City of Dreams

Where beauty is abundant

Never seen, by some.

Where things move fast

To die in a blink.

Where you need to run

Without knowledge nor reason.

Where life catches up

Not always your own.

Where the sky is rare

But always the aim.

The earth barely felt

But hardly missed.

Where the noise is drowned

By the chaos within.

Inside a Foodie’s Head

I come from a family of the biggest food lovers on the planet. People whose days are defined by breakfast, lunch and dinner…and all those yummy not-so-tiny snacks in between. To understand the extent of the importance of food in my life: The moment the alarm rings in the morning, the first thing I do is come up with a reason to get out of bed. My entire school life, my willingness to get out of bed was dependent on what I was taking in my tiffin to school that day.

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, the kind of despair I feel when I come across a non-foodie, or worse a borderline anoerexic, who really couldn’t care less about what s/he eats, and how it tastes.

It’s rather simple…My thoughts, my moods, my life revolve around my food.

Oh, sweet awesome food.

And the memories.

Strawberry cornflakes: Breakfast with friends, new and old, in an office new and old…When the pink sugar coating slowly spreads in the ice cold milk, dissolving in your mouth, how can you not sleepily smile to yourself in the morning…knowing that it is in fact a brand new day…started in the most amazingly sweet and perfect manner.

Hot Chocolate: The steam which fogs up your specs, warms your fingers in your cold air conditioned office, clears up your head clogged with numbers and excel sheets, and just makes you sit back for two minutes, and sigh out in pure guilty relief…Candies or the office machine, its sinful, always.

Chicken Pepper Steak: Nothing drains away all the tension in the body like a good filling chicken steak, complete with mashed potatoes and loads of barbeque sauce. I know I’m sounding like a glutton by now, but I probably am, exactly that. You want a peppy me? Pump in some pepper chicken.

Blueberry Cheesecake: I was definitely born with a sweet tooth, or 32 of them, to be a little more precise. Cupcakes, cheesecakes, mousse, soufflés, ice creams, pies, chocolate anything….sigh… A blueberry cheesecake. Biting into that slightly tangy top sauce, the creamy and frothy cheese, and the final condensed biscuit base, pure delight, three layers, one cake.

Subway's Double Choco Chip Cookie: By itself, or with Pappu's mint chocolate ice cream, when stuck in a college with limited sugary delights, this cookie has been known to make me sing and dance...a fact soon realised by close friends, and used every few days to pep me up.

A breakfast buffet: The one thing that will drive me crazy beyond recognition. The spread of breads and  cakes and cold cuts…juices and milk and cream…cornflakes and chocos…pure pleasure, served on a zillion platters. What a beautiful starry eyed start to any day!

At this point, I think an apology is justified…Inside a foodie’s head…was supposed to be some insights into why I love food so much, what it really means to me, my life, so much more than what simple food means to most people.

But then I started imagining the food I was writing about, and all philosophical thoughts went right down the… stomach, literally.

I think I should start looking for a gym, soon.