Fate

He came into this world

A little bundle of joy

He looked around impatiently

And waited for her to join

She came into this world

Farther this world round

She basked in his love

And waited to be found

They grew up in two corners

Knowing deep in their hearts

They were meant to be together

Existing far apart

Somehow they always knew

Somewhere they were meant to be

But in the name of growing up

Mature was he, and she

Years passed and so did dreams

Of destiny love and fate

They chanced upon each other

Too little, too late

Why did you take so long? She asked

Where were you when I cried?

I was waiting for you right here, he said

Waiting the entire time

Why didn’t you wait for me? He asked

Why did you give up?

You were a figment of my imagination, she said

It was time to grow up

As fate shone down upon them

Victims of their own belief

This world claimed many a cynics

And drowned them in its grief

But two souls brought into this world

Meant to be, meant to be

Lost faith and yet found each other

And made their own destiny.

Lost

There’s no other word for it. Because I can’t describe it. I just can’t. I’m feeling something, I don’t know if it’s an overload of something, or a void, suddenly cracked open, left for me to leak out of slowly, undetectable, unavoidable…

So here I am, using my blog for what it does best, to think. Here are the thoughts in my head, right now, at this very moment, and in the few moments that have led up to this moment:

Are you a hypocrite, if you have spent your entire life rebelling against control, and suddenly not only willingly succumb to it, accept it, but ask for it?

Is hypocrisy bad?

If your priorities change in life, is it really that big a deal? Have you changed as a person? Or have you finally grown up?

The small brown round things in my oregano, are they some kind of seed, or dead bugs?

How long have they been in there?

Would it really have been so difficult to have spotted them before I polished off my generously garnished meal?

Why did I choke on my medicine?

Why do I find it impossible to hold down a thermometer using my tongue?

Why did I break the thermometer?

Why does something as poisonous as mercury look oh-so-pretty on the bathroom floor?

Why did the last five thoughts and events occur in a span of five minutes?

What has the maid been using to cook, when there seems to be no cooking oil in the house?

Why do I suddenly feel emotions? Why do I like it?

Why am I so happy? Then why do I feel so sad?

Why am I suddenly homesick?

Why does the ship feel lost without its Captain, even if it has been safely anchored?

Why do I actually know the answer to each of the above asked questions, and yet, still ask?

A Walk in the Clouds

The rain

To hurt

The wind

To uproot

The clouds

To blur

The view

To daze

Your love

To live.

For the Love of Shoes

It’s funny how the smallest things in life can turn into ordeals for some. Shoe shopping for example, has always been something I look forward to, and something that makes me cry.

It’s almost impossible to find the perfect shoes that you set out to hunt for.

Kinda like men, dontcha think?

Oh well.

Anyhoo…shoe shopping has ALWAYS been a task for me. Some simple things I wish salespersons would keep in mind:

• Am I looking for shoes? In a shoe store? Jeez! That’s a tough one. Let me take a moment to think about how to answer that in a correct and precise manner.
• No, you can’t help me. Because you can’t carry my feet around and push them into shoes, you know?
• No, just because you thrust that shoe almost up my nose, doesn’t mean I can appreciate its prettiness any more than when it was sitting on the stand looking ugly.
• I’m already 5’6”. Try not to make me over 6 feet tall, if possible.
• I know my feet are big. Pointing to the men’s section does not win you any brownie points. Well, you know what they say about men with big feet… Oh wait. That doesn’t apply here, does it?
• When I say I wear a size 39, try to trust me. Don’t get me a 36 and ask me to trust you. Especially when your plans for the next two minutes involve shoving my foot into a casket too small for it.
• The purpose of my shoes are to keep my feet comfortable. I don’t need to be able to see my reflection on them. That’s what mirrors in loos are for. Or up someone’s skirt. That’s what the Delhi perverts are for.
• Oh you think they’re perfect? Buy them then na.
• Try not to look at my bathroom slippers to judge whether I’m worth your time or not.
• Try to not frown because its 21:01 when I’m helping you meet your month’s target, ALDO bitch.

Yeah, ok, so I have a bone to pick with a certain ALDO saleswoman. But that still doesn’t change the fact that shoe shopping can be a pain.

But in my experience, you also happen to find the perfect pair when you least expect it. When you were just ambling along with a friend who’s going frantic looking for shoes. Or when there are two minutes left for the store to close, and the saleswoman is breathing down your neck. Or when Aliens attack, and in the last few moments of life, man’s most exquisite creation presents itself to you, in your size, and the colour you wanted…

But you do find them, when you least expect it.

Kinda like men, dontcha think?

Oh well.

Blood Bath

Ever felt

Stabbed?

In the back?

Right through the heart?

Ever wondered

How it would feel?

Knowing

You sharpened the knife?

The Cho Cha!!! – Two in One

It’s been some time.

It’s been a few busy weeks.

It’s been two chopsueys.

Yes, I got lazy.

Here’s two in one.

__________________________________________________________________________________

The challenge is simple.

Mumbai.

Random tiny Chinese Restaurants.

One American Chopsuey.

Every week.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Location 1: Fat Kong (Santa Cruz)

Location 2: Ordered in, Gyoza Banjara (Andheri East)

Order: Chicken American Chopsuey

Disappointed.

One put too much of everything.

The other too little.

Too much tomato, too much ketchup, too much sugar.

No sugar. No ketchup. Nothing.

But both were enjoyed.

With company.

Because, while it does spice things up, prove theories, make you believe…

You have to admit,

Life isn’t just about chopsuey.

Strange Love.