Beautiful Infinity

axom saa aw dede

2012-06-22T16:25:00.002+05:30

been a long lull here. its been a rough six months of bromide now and then. Although, things are seemingly unchanged, i feel quite differentky about several things. . . Will find some solitude tonight i think, though, unwelcome. been cooking for a week now... makes me happy. although tiring, but yes happy. and a way again to de-stress. Lot of work this weekend. for a change, chores around the house this time.

Need to pick up the camera. need to clean-up around the house. and paint. and experiment with some projects that i've been meaning to take up since long. Hope to get some of it done this weekend. Will watch a movie. Maybe see weasel or have a pint with papa.

Have to find a new place to move into. need to start looking for one to begin with. before that, need to get my things in place, save money, and finally come to a decision with the phantom. the phantom. sigh. i miss you dear old phantom. I'm not sure how or why.. but a part of me will always love you. im just so unable to control for now. im afraid and in smithereens inside. and yet i cant let go.

The beautiful wings with little white pearls

2011-10-14T16:33:00.002+05:30

i'm so happy and strangely surprised to see ITT Tech Institute ads on my blog !! i signed up for adsense. but i design courses for ITT! for a change i felt so proud of myself :)

i had to sit through a media session yesterday, and i kept looking out of the window at birds flying outside. There was some air conditioning malfunction in the conference room, and it was mighty windy in there. i closed my eyes and imagined i was sitting by the top-most window in a beach tower, looking out at the dark clouds above the sea. except, i sat far from the window, it was tropical sunny outside, and there was certainly no sea. haha :-|

Also, then, this happened between my notebook and me (It just happened! And it's never ever happened before. its silly, but later at night i re-read it and felt sad) :

Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was kind and gentle. She loved playing on the green meadow by the river. She would pick beautiful little wild flowers and arrange them prettily in vases. She loved lying down on the grass and looking at the birds in the sky. She had a pet dog, Tan. Tan was big and had a beautiful golden coat of fur. The little girl loved her mother, who called her Kate. Kate and her mother were best friends and spent everyday together. Kate's mother hated XML coding. Kate's mother loved reading books and poems, and read them out to Kate every night. Kate loved the story of the little girl who would become a fairy by night. Kate dreamed and hoped to be like the girl in the story, so she could fly.

One day, Kate's mother made her a pair of beautiful white wings studded with little pearls. Kate woke up that morning and saw the pair of wings on the breakfast table, where her mother stood smiling. Kate ran into her mother's arms, and her mother helped put the wings on. Kate ran out into the sun. She jumped over little rocks and ran like the wind. The breeze ran through her hair and gave being to her wings. She closed her eyes while she ran, and imagined herself flying. She had never felt so happy before. That night, Kate went to bed happy and contented. She thanked Lord for her mother and the pair of beautiful wings studded with little pearls.

Kate dreamed that she was playing by the river, while Tan ran at her heels. Kate looked down at her feet and realized that she was flying! She felt the tall grass and the lovely little wild flowers touching the base of her feet--tickling her. She flew over the river, while the water sparkled, reflecting the golden rays of the sun on Kate's beautiful gossamer wings studded with little pearls.

Kate floated across the river and sat on a rock, with her feet in the cool water. She was happy and watched the tufts of clouds in the sky, the trees swaying in the breeze, and a bird flying high in the sky. The bird was white. As it descended closer, Kate realized that the bird was a huge white Dove. Kate flew back to the banks of the river and gaped at the Dove. As it approached her, she saw a man jump off the Dove's back. The man stood smiling at her. Kate knew it was her father. Her mother had told her about him. Kate had missed him her whole life, and finally she met him because of the wings. . . the wings that her mother made her.

Kate opened her eyes and found her mother sitting beside her, looking worried, and holding her tight. Kate found her clothes wet with sweat, her pillow case soaked in tears. "Mommy, I met Daddy. . . Daddy said sorry and that he loves us."

life ?

2011-10-07T11:57:00.003+05:30

It's strange how we put years into a relationship, and it all boils down to square one. except that the initial "square one" was better and minus all the pain. its also true how the latter "square one" has all its moments of joy and peace. but in the end it does have a lot of negativity. I wonder why it was not the same magnitude and intensity of love. I wonder why is it that they say that one person always loves more, yet i never wanted to believe it until now. Maybe it is not true. i guess the standards we attach to these things differ per person. but if i were disloyal, would you have liked it, or would you have lived with it - like you perhaps expect me to live with it and not question it? the only irony is that i loved you very much to allow thoughts of any other, let alone anything more. i know you loved me immensely, and today when i think of it, it kills me the most. the man i fell in love with - the simple, straightforward, loyal and caring person, you had trouble expressing your love but i knew it always, i could trust you with my silliness knowing you would understand without making fun of it - where is that person i met and fell for? I wonder why they say that "first-love" isn't meant to last - i never believed it either. I wonder what i did to deserve this cold shoulder, this situation wherein i feel like i imagined everything about you that i revered all through, for now i find nothing what i felt and saw 4 years back. what did i do to hurt you ever that you're punishing me now. and so simply, so stone-heartedly.

i liked to be a Tree in your garden, giving shade, bearing fruit. . but how could i hold on to the earth if you flood me away with your water. how am i to bloom? how shall i live? you were my best friend, the one i loved more than myself, you were my godfather, the answerer of all my questions, the man who saw me grow from a small-town girl into a woman - all in 4 years. . with you, i explored the world, myself, you - together, you held my hand through suffering, in traffic, through days of broken-leg and broken heart. . what did i do to deserve this suffering? it feels hollow and numb in my heart, and im afraid to believe. how am i to live without you?

I wonder because i question today what i most believed in. My Hope, The Faith. . . the foundation is shattered all over; how am i to soldier on? The Home is lost and i know not how am i to be. i wonder where my Lord is. i wonder where to find You for I havent anything to hold on to.

October already

2011-10-04T13:05:00.001+05:30

The weekend was nice. We visited Jessica and her boyfriend and their sweet big Labrador June, and we overstayed our visit by 2 days. lol. we drank, ate lovely food cooked by jessie and pranjal, and played with June. Boruah and I had 2 happy days; it felt like a lovely little vacation, some different from what he and i have done for weekends over the past whole year - drink and mumble to each other, eat out, watch movies, yap over coffees. I notice its been a long time we said our i love yous. but things are changing and its nobody's fault i suppose. the ring is in the box. i long to change somethings about my life, and i wish for time to move by faster. A lot of pictures. but i shall be able to upload them after i fix the wifi in my house and get back my laptop. by this weekend, i hope to be able to clean and fix my house before my parents visit. by this weekend i hope to be a little stronger and find an action plan for my days. i wish for peace. for my whole family, for everyone, for me.

Friday evening

2011-09-30T16:24:00.000+05:30

I'm done with the work. I feel great sometimes about how I can finish off work in a jiffy, just so I can be free again. I just hope I made no mistakes.

I've had the solitude and time to ponder lately. . considering i haven't had either, since January this year - it has been a little more than difficult. I need to cut down on the smokes. Doable. I need to clean and set up my new place. Doable. I need to start living there everyday, and not try to escape. (Doable, but with more effort.) Save a little money. (Very difficult at present. Lot of pending purchases to make, etc.) Read more. Doable. Get kitchen stuff and cook at home. Doable. Forget It and Move On. Um uh.

A lot of decisions need to be taken at my end. I hope to begin somewhere, soon. I need to.

coming home ~

2011-09-30T15:46:00.000+05:30

There's been a long long block, and i intend to (finally) blog it away. For inspiration, it took me completely polishing off two lovely blogs by 2 very nice ladies. I felt happy reading them, and remembered how soothing it felt earlier when i wrote more often. Going back to painting and sketching will take a while; there's too much of clutter in my life at present. Hope. I. Still. Do.

Lame.

At work now, and some last minute work showed up. So, I must work it off. Whiskey tonight ! hopefully with June, Jessie, Pranjal and Boruah.

Cheers to the weekend. (Although Hope. I. Must. Not.)

i see you ~

2010-06-21T02:32:00.001+05:30

it seems like just a while ago. i'd stood bent above the railing. i could see the green grass below. . the path around it paved in stone. i was thinking of you. . . i'd closed my eyes and felt you. the next minute i stood at a vantage point looking at that same spot down there. lying in a pool of blood. and all i could remember was a deep dark blur. it dawned into a gray morning, the grayest day i had ever known. and when i rose, i could fly across that gray sky. the vast spanse of the city that we always looked at late nights from the roof. . all those lights far far away, was now this stormy sea. i thought i was free. it felt so light. and so damn free. but i saw you. you were right there where i left you. the last walk we had at sunset hand in hand. the last time we made love that night. the roof, the purple sky, the wind in my hair. it was all just there. and you were there and i was with you. and now i see you every moment standing so close. . but you dont hear my breath. i hold your hand, but you dont feel me. . a minute stretches as long as an eternity, but you never look my way when i speak to you. and yet i feel your tears, i feel your pain as i drift. and i find you waiting in vain for me. while i wait for you.

i'd been right there in your arms. and it seems like just a while ago. .

the last draft, sire..

2010-05-21T01:00:00.000+05:30

babadada forgetting u would be suicide.. i m struggling to cling to every little thing i have left of u.. Rebecca u gave me.. the tiny scribbling on every scrap in my register in ur handwriting..all ur smses starting 2008.. a hair frm ur head tht i saved in my journal frm one of our trips.. the bottle of bodywash i used in haridwar last winter to shower u.. the purple pick.. the yello t.. ur touch on my whole body.. thr wer so many times i longed to wear somethn tht wud declare ur ownership of me… so stupid. but i loved being owned by u.. the simple feeling of belonging to someone who loved me more than anyone else. i do mean wot i say.. i wil always love u… i want u happy thats all i want. i ll pray for u like i always do.

i need time.. maybe to find myself back..and maybe to feel again. if i cut myself there ll only be blood n no pain. i m hollow and lost. but i knw its unfair to expect u to wait. i always wondered at my soul.. tht i felt it always led me to hurt and hinders me frm being like othr ppl.. cause other ppl without their souls are so happy.. but im glad i ws the misfit. i guess it was tht u fell in love with.. the first ride on the bus me steppin on ur toe after showin u my stupid stupid sketches.. that will always mean everything to me.. tht u loved me. i knw i ll never hav babies.. never the family i always secretly imagined myself to mother. but u will always be my inspiration.. my reason to be alive. u dnt knw the biggest reason y i love u… thats because despite me tryin to lose my soul.. u kept it safe.. it sounds dramatic to u prbbly.. but u guarded it with ur love. and u think i could ever forget u?. i hav treasured these years… knwing tht my faith wud always protect u frm harm.. maybe lame.. but i guess it doesnt mattr.. it will never change.

i hav nothin left to lose.. the little i had will always remain in all my letters to u.. in all my prayers and hopes. all i need

is time alone.. i dnknw how long.. and i dnt expect u to wait. fly away to wher ur happy. if ur happy thts all i want.

to my alma mater, to-be. maybe later, or not-to-be

2010-04-25T02:00:00.000+05:30

i see all these notes my friends keep writing nowadays, about how much they will miss college, and today i felt like writing too. . most of us are in this so-called last phase of academia. . which would soon, inevitably be followed by another string of rat-race-phases ! and we ll still worry about deadlines and reports, and sudden calls for presentations, and i know i ll always say, “this sux!” lol. its amazing how ironies never cease to be. as a student, i always had all the time in the world, all the ideas to be wild, but then there was attendance-shit, obligations, and alternating fortnights of being rich and being broke and soon when we work, and work on our bank balance, we ll have all the money, and all the ideas, but perhaps not enough time.

i never wanted to give a thought to any of this. i never wanted a so-called normal life. but as Mother Irony would have it, my life seems to be going pretty normal. but in quite the abnormal way. what with all the “affectionate” episodes with AA, YA, PSR et al. and the unconditional and seemingly irrevocable ER, per se ! the first and the last ! funny, all i wanted was a tattoo; instead i got one on the marksheet *shakes head disapprovingly* LMAO

i never gave much thought to how i’d feel with college getting over. . and with it pretty much my academic life (for a while). instead all my time and effort went in trying to get it over with. i ll never miss the first day of horror at finding weeds all over the plot. the first week of excessive excruciating self-reproach at having chosen the “perfect” place for mba leaving behind better options and being stuck in a place like the kailash campus, with all the state-of-the-art facility we had there !!! i ll never miss the tasteless soporific lectures, esp the ones with Papaya starting a godforsaken speech with “Dronacharya” and ending it with bullcrap promises. . and yet we always clapped and cheered ! i ll never miss all the wonderful moments that PSR and i shared . . which always led to me sleeping, or reading a novel in his class, sleeping, embarrassed, looking out of the window, did i mention sleeping i ll never miss all the campus shifting. Lord knows my dad with his transferable govt job didnt have us moving household that often !!! i wont miss the ymca get-togethers, with the red and green chairs, and the same menu and the hall with perennially the same faces and christmas decorations. i wont miss the gruelling, and the grind that the famous hyper AA put us through whenever we had presentations. i wont miss the fines by the grand ! i wont miss the management’s love for The Autocratic leadership style ! the kind that disapproves of unity when its most apt, and disapproves of individuality at all times. i wont miss the countless nights sitting like a zombie in front of the computer screen trying to stall an assignment i didnt like. i wont miss all the times i secretly thanked my group members for not assaulting me publicly for evading some of the rather painful presentations (thankyou Ankur, 22; weasel, 24; arijeet, 26; ashish, 28; ankit, 20) i will not miss the exam days when i always felt extra sleepier than normal days. i will never never miss the result-declaration days. . while i sat quietly waiting for the day to be over, never peeped into the charts, and always waited for mausom, nikesh or weasel to tell me of my drowning glory :’P

on the other hand, i will miss having group members who probably understood my plight at being stuck at the wrong place. i will miss countless nights of laughing and howling past 2am with weasel and talli, when we were supposed to be studying for exams. i will miss growing as a person, and growing up a bit more with each day. . and yet i will miss being a child like i have never been before. i will miss all those hours in the exam-hall when i got awesome ideas for stories, blogs and pondered and scribbled at the back of the question paper. . and smiled at myself at my self-revelation that happened at the wrong time i will miss all the polo and candy shopping that kept us awake through seminars. i will miss booking seats farthest from the professor’s lectern, and closest to the air conditioner slash ceiling fan i will miss scouring a library filled with books on finance, for literature classics. . and always finding one i liked. i will miss the endless coffees and breakfast through winters, and amul cools and cokes through summers. i will miss the bus rides astride Honey buses, and Baba balaknath buses i will miss all those impromptu lunches out, and sitting every other day in dominoes or ccd because the “hostel-lunch is bad today” i will miss the late night phone calls, and using gtalk like i never used before, and yet having so much to yap at sire the next day. i ll miss trying to coax deepak bhatt saying, “please mujhe FR nahi dena”. . and searching frantically for A4 sheets which were always gently handed to me by Hemkesh Bothra or Abhishek Dabb, Gaurav Kumar or Ashwani Kumar. i’ll miss lookin at Kavneet Kaur Oberoi and Gunjan Upadhyay, apoorva ghosh and Monica Patnaik during presentations and having this big urge to burst out into peals of laughter, throw the sheets at AA’s face and scurry out of the classroom. . talking to kavneet oberoi and monica patnaik on the phone, because the former sat on the first bench, the latter sat somewhere in the middle, and i was always the back bencher i ll miss weasel cursing me for accidentally missing her calls (almost always) i will miss Professor pankaj jain, and his subtle jokes on me until the last day. hehe. i will miss the anticipation for the age-old-perennially-inedible hostel food, “kya aaj kuch achha khana bana hoga” i will always miss spending everyday with mausom boruah, saving seats for ech other, having every single lunch together, the endless conversations hiding behind the backs of the people in the front row.. me giggling non stop. and the occasional boughs of dozing off and poking with the elbow to wake the other up and all the frantic scribbling cause of the need to make sarcastic situational jokes we so loved. i will miss staying up till 5am, standing in the balcony and watching the sky go from a deep purple to pink. . to orange. . to a bright golden blue.. til it was time to get dressed for college.

i dont know if i will be allowed to finish this course, but i lived the best time of my life. got to know all sorts of people. met an amazing person and got to learn so much about life. met a wonderful bunch of girls who have been by me in laughter and tears. . like somebody says, im “a boat without a sail”. . i take it as a compliment, for that is something i always wanted to be. when i came here, i was simply an observer – a voyeur of sorts. . but today i feel complete, having lived all facets of life in all its beauty and monstrosity; a woman who can think, say, do what she wants to. i owe a major part of it to Sire.

oh. i could go on and on. and yet, there are so many people i realize i never spoke to. . that is one regret i had through all phases of my life. i guess the plight of the introvert that is, and the clumsy clueless tactless person with no filtering system and no respect for social cues. i cant say i was raised that way, but i just happen to be that way. i wish everyone a good life. i know these 2 years have been a gift for some of us, it has been important. and i mean to specify that my sarcasm and my feelings for the (virtual) institute are not a personal assault to anyone or anybody’s feelings. some of us, lived a nightmare in these 2years. . but i can also say that we learned. some of us will never give in to being captive souls. . but the mere fact that we survived 2 years, strengthens the fact that we can survive anything no matter how difficult. . and we learned to value our freedom and individuality. sounds lame i bet. but i didnt plan on staying up one random night and forcing myself to live these 2 years all over.

so here goes, to the batch of 2010 ! Our Worst, and Best 2 yrs. with a hope for everything better.

cheers.

gift ~

2010-04-23T02:30:00.000+05:30

I realized after a long time, today. the gift of kindness. something that is so rare in this world. . this “dog-eat-dog world”, like you say. i’ve missed home, and mum dad so much in the past few months, especially during the time i was sick. i was grateful to weasel and monica for their kindness when i couldnt stand, sit, bend, walk without support, not even sleep except on my belly. . i felt grateful everytime you came with me to see the doc. . you had to miss classes but you never complained about that to me.

before coming here, i now figure i only knew kindness from my family. they have done for me so much more than i’ve deserved. and i could never return in gestures, nor words ever. they have protected me as much as i could have made possible with all my stubbornness, and they have healed me in the most soothing manner possible, letting me grow, letting me fly, and yet binding the beast that i am to a hearth, that always warmed me in mum dad’s unconditional love..

its been over 6 months i havent seen mum dad.. i havent been in the simple comfort of home.. when most of this span was when i needed that the most. but i guess the Lord has his ways of making us strong. . of being it when we havent any other option.

today after a long long time i felt warmed by a gesture of kindness. i dont know how this sounds. stupid maybe. but like all other things i feel that sound stupid, this was a beautiful and important realization for me. . i remember my whole began with school. getting beaten up by bullies in kindergarten, coming back home with stapled fingers. eating lunch after lunch year after year sitting by myself. . and with a book, or with a notebook and pencil scribbling to glory pretending i didnt need anybody and i was sitting alone out of choice. but i would feel so ashamed, i could never read more than one page of any book in those 20minutes, it stung me to feel other prying eyes boring into me. growing up, it never helped being a teachers pet, assigned that hideous job of “helping the other girl” who didnt do well enough on her papers. i always thought i was no one better to teach somebody else. and i know all those girls i hesitatingly “helped” through elementary and middle school. . also felt the same. i could tell with all the silly pranks and afflictions i faced at their hands, that now do seem silly. sometimes i used to wonder if it was because of the strange stringent environment that a girls’ convent offered. maybe it bred ill feelings for girls for other girls… i could never tell. but i had no choice anyway. but being in a convent till 17, i do know was one reason i always imagined myself dying an old maid, a Virgin Mary-plain-jane at some nunnery.

but God seems to have had a better plan for me. and it seems almost happening since i met sire. atleast if not more, i know i wouldnt die an unloved unkempt, awkward old hag.

when i was 12 i met this bunch of girls who didnt criticize me for who i was. if some of them didnt like me, they never made it vocal. . and 8th and 9th standard were the happiest time in my school days, relatively. i made a few friends who liked me. even though i dont hear from them anymore, that was some days spent well. even though i never spoke at all in those days, i know they didnt mind and understood i was that way. even thought i cracked no jokes out of my pathetic painful shyness, i did get a lot of laughs.. and that was really rare for me. 10th 11th and 12th were a pain in the hole. that was the time when my submissiveness, and the morbid shyness morphed into what people today call placidly, “snobbishness” and “aggression” ! i dont know how it happened, but i guess i got to observe a few human specimens up too close. . and i guess the unpretty sight simply got into my wiring system and messed my circuits for life. i learned in those 3 years. . especially in 2003, the year of my life when i spoke 10 words a day only to my parents on the dinner table. . that life is far from a safe haven, that meanness is comparatively kinder than all the cruelty one is exposed to when their fate wills it. that submission makes things worse. that shyness is the world’s easiest weapon to hurt one who is too humble to say it out loud. that, the more i fear, the more it ll haunt me.. that its inevitable for us to go through all those lessons that life wishes us to learn, in the form of people it wills we meet. and as puppets we meet them, love them for their masks, and lie in dark for years afterward despising ourselves for having trusted blindly, for seeing all that should be burned. for still thinking of demons as friends. one morning we just wake up with a mask on our face. and then it takes another eternity, to find somebody to bring you back . . who can make you look you in the mirror and not hate yourself. . i waited everyday to find that soul who would bring mine back. undo all those spells and bring me back as i was when i was one sunny morning when i was 8. i didnt care that i hadnt a friend. i didnt mind that i was hated. i wasnt embarassed that i wasnt stinking rich. . every morning i held my head high and went to school, came back into my mums arms, played with my brother and ran to greet dad when he returned from work. i was rich ! i had everything i wanted. love, mum and dad to rescue me from nightmares, my brother to give me al the answers, delicious comforting food every single day. . mums hand stroking my hair. . and mine clasped around dad’s. there was no other world i imagined could be safer. . i was richer than any other kid i knew. . after all my wait, i met sire.. and he saw more than my mask. . and gave me my most precious gift..the infinity of all the happiness and peace i knew as a child. that i knew when i was 8.. and i ran barefeet on green grass everytime it rained just for the joy of it. . the year i decided i would become a novelist. . the year that was my happiest. . until 2008. . 2009. . 2010. . my 3rd year living with and falling over and over in love with you everyday, sire.

college was another nightmare in its ways. i hate to even think of it now.

but it got over. . . and so did everything i had to do with all the people i knew in those 3 years. . barring one girl i still love talking to when i can. she married and has children now, but i will always remember her as the golden haired, pale-skinned, thin, beautiful and graceful biker-chic typo . . who loved to sketch, wrote poetry. . loved where she lived. . the green grass at her feet, the breeze in her hair, the lambs and goats she chased in happy abandon. . the one who dreamed of playing the acoustic, and loved Bon Jovi. she always understood.. she was another child i knew who loved nature. . and still does in form of a beautiful baby that she cradles in her arms, and another that she’s carrying. even though she could never express it, she was one prson through out my misery of 1st 2nd and 3rd year. . who listened. . and who never broke my heart. everyone else did. and did it perfectly. something i know will never let me feel the same for them again. . no matter what. be it shanil, be it varun, be it anyone else.

i dont know why i revisited all those old years gone by. . being myself in front of others is so difficult for me now. . like im impaired and sometimes i wonder if its my handicap. . but its got so ingrained in all years to hide behind a stone faced mask. . simply in self-defense that i just cant help it anymore. today, i am so adept at feigning aggression, it comes easily. today i can frame myself according to the people im with, and according to every whim my mind wants to indulge in. there are times i know im not myself in front of my parents either, cause despite loving their loony wild child. . they never understood me quite exactly. . and its alright that they never will. i dont have any girlfriend like other girls do.. to sit and chat up, to gossip with. . or simply to be myself with, tell her my deepest fears and my darkest secrets. . some of the things that never interested me. . maybe because they were things i never got to do. every guy i have met and been friends with says they have never known another girl like me. on the other hand, every girl i met either took me for a doormat while a played along, or hated me because she could not understand me. i didnt know who i was. i didnt know what was wrong with me. . i was so alone, and i was starting to get really sick of it. i just wanted to talk, and i needed someone to listen, and not judge. . but with you i feel so myself. . i can talk for hours without thinking, say the stupidest things, make the silliest noises. . you’re the only person besides myself who knows everything about me. . the only person who can make me smile. everytime i see you walkin around the bend in the road, towards me.. my heart skips a beat, and i feel my cheeks flushed warm… you re the only person who can make me smile, and laugh. . doing it with anyone else seems like a chore and gives me a headache doing it more than 5minutes… you re the only one who can make me the happiest girl. you re the only person who can make me feel like a woman at the same time. the part of me that was dead until i met you. . the part of me tht dies for the world outside of you. . and that aches in memory of your touch. . every single day every single waking moment when you re not with me. . maybe the reason i love slippin my hand in yours the moment i see you. . it has the power to calm me instantly. pretty much like my feelings that flow freely, without barriers. . when i know you will read my letters and understand, and when i bury my face in your chest and cry.

Lord answered my prayers with you sire. . in you i found all the missing pieces. all the comfort that i longed to feel. the freedom i had missed since than sunny morning when i was 8. . and i found it all back. most importantly i felt loved, and i knew there is someone in this world who loves me for who i am. . and not simply because they are biologically programmed to do so, like my parents. . i love my parents. . they made me. . they nurtured me inspite of all my stupid ways. . they loved me. but you had no obligations.. you had no reasons to bear with me and my stupid ways except the fact that you love me… thats all i can think. i was touched today when you slipped that money into my hands this evening. . not because this time i went the longest without cash. . i ve had to forgo needs that cost meager amounts. . not because of any other thing except that i felt like your own. i know a thankyou will never be enough. . and no amount of gestures will be enough to return this feeling. . i dont know. . it simply made me feel so loved. it was something only my parents have done with me… being given without asking for it. . and today u did it. . despite not being naturally programmed to do it. . despite the bad person that i am you love me so much. . and its not just about today.. not the past, not the future. . but simply the fact that you do. . and that you’re there for me no matter what. . i can fight any battle in the world just knowing that much.

thankyou for everything. maybe i ll never be able to make u understand how happy and gratefu l i feel that you are with me. . something i will always guard with my life, besides guarding you. i feel so happy to be alive. in these 2 years we spent together.. i forgot that old feeling of wanting to go to bed and never waking up. i wish i cud do half of some like tht for u.. i would be the happiest person to have lived..

i love you sire. the most.

happiness ~

2010-04-22T01:30:00.000+05:30

Dear Sire,

i am supposed to be working on a deadline. but like always, i’m dreaming away. . i couldnt help but think of last summer. The nights i’d be sittin up on the roof talkin to you over the phone… or waiting for your call.. or simply sittin on my corner dreaming away about us. of the days we’ve had, of the hopes i always had for the future.

now i find solid ground where i stand. . and i have come a long way, and also that We have come a long way. and i cant help but feel this rush of gratitude for the Good Ol’ Guy Up There.

its weird how we fuss about so many things, that we might as well not even notice otherwise, if we were in a different time, situation, or if we were other people. absolutely random and obnoxiously stupid thought it seems to be. but i sat wondering, and i realized every moment, i lose a breath. . and inch closer to the Time, the Inevitable. i felt gripped by this simple comfort one feels when one knows that the path they are on would eventually lead them Home. I love my life. with all its randomness, all its struggle, pain, beauty, the placidity with which it goes on, the cruelty behind that calm, the sweet charming seductive bitch that it is, with all its vigor and happiness it has to offer in spite of everything.

i love my life. . i havent known this feeling before you came. i had regrets before, but you made everything disappear with the peace that you gave me. and today i feel as free as i always wanted to be. they say a human can never be truly free. . that with every deep commitment there comes the ‘obligation’ to remember, the responsibilities to fulfill. . the strings to be bound to. but im not blind in love to feel the way i do. . . loving you comes so easy to me. . like you ve been a part of me my whole life. you ve see me in ways i havent seen myself in all of my 22 years. in your own ways, you ve silently been there throughout. you ve fussed and fretted over me when i messed up, and then talked me out of situations when i was ready to give up. you cared when i suffered. . you stood up for me, even when i lost hope, you held my hand and lead me to light. when we met, i was the romantic, and you were the realist. . the dreamer in me always floated, always lurked about in faraway lucid thoughts and inexistent places. the man in you knew well to be logical enough to have solid ground where you stood, so unlike my vague nature. you had the answers to all my questions. had a reason to justify My whims and you were always so gracious to overlook my imbecility. .

today, i find myself looking for reason, and a solid ground for us. . and i see you dream. i couldnt be happier. now i find myself more wary of the world and its seeming beauty, and you acknowledge the breeze, and look for the moon like i always would. when i hit rock bottom, you bring back all my lucid thoughts and all those inexistent places i always so fondly loved to hide in. . in my head. you feel my pain, when im hurt. you worry about me like your own child. and you trust me. . and i swear to Lord, that is the best honor i could have had from you. . even greater than the love i found in you. even though your love is the most important part of my whole life.

life, as i know it now. . is beautiful. . i can hear your voice when i need to. . i can see your face when i need to. . and when you hold me back in your warmth. . . i know nothing could make me feel safer than your arms wrapped around me. . and i couldnt ever even dream of asking for anything more, but you. your health and happiness. cause i know there remains my every heartbeat, my every breath.

i dont anymore worry about the future. things were different when we met. even though we are still the same two people, i know what brought us together despite the hopeless Romantic meeting Realist. the child in me, found home at last in the child in you. the water nourished the earth, making it complete, bringing her in terms with her purpose. and the earth held all the water, giving him time and space to explore and find its path.

you taught me to find my answers and my purpose in all my dreams. . you taught me to be careful, to watch out for the dark that lurks behind blinding light. . you taught me to use my wings. . and you widened my horizon making me see, the more i ll spread my wings – the higher, and the farther i could fly. you ve gently pushed me into being more me. . .

i pray for you everyday. and i pray for us. i wish Lord gave me enough strength to be your anchor like you are to me. . to be half as graceful and loving, as you are to me.

Always yours.

uncertainty ~

2010-04-19T03:00:00.000+05:30

i used to think it was a good thing. to not expect. to not let myself look at any of the situations thinking i am not important, that it didnt matter if i didnt get what i wanted. . no matter how littlest of things. with passing time i seem to expect lesser. tell myself with every situation that its not a big deal. whenever my mind thinks that something lesser is more important than i am, i admonish my mind tellin it to shut up; that its only being pompous, and over reacting. but something keeps dying inside of me, and i keep wondering when it ll stop. and the worst part ever, is that i am starting to get used to it. and of telling myself that i am over reacting, and that it doesnt matter. that i dont deserve it, so its ok. i miss the peace. what scares me is if i imagined it. maybe because i was so much in need of it. i dont know ?

~

2010-04-19T02:30:00.000+05:30

I’ve been looking in the mirror for so long
That I’ve come to believe my soul’s on the other side
Oh, the little pieces falling, shatter
Shards of me too sharp to put back together
Too small to matter but big enough to cut me
Into so many little pieces if I try to touch her

And I bleed, I bleed
And I breathe, I breathe no more

Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirits well
Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child
Lie to me, convince me that I’ve been sick forever
And all of this will make sense when I get better
I know the difference between myself and my reflection
I just can’t help but to wonder which of us do you love

So I bleed, I bleed
And I breathe, I breathe now
Bleed, I bleed and I breathe
I breathe, I breathe, I breathe no more

- Amy Lee

poila boishaakh 2010

2010-04-16T00:30:00.000+05:30

dada re..

shubho nobo borsho.. aamar pronam ne… missin home and ma baba big time.. esp bhopal.. been dreaming of bhopal in my sleep all week long. it hurts somehow to think of all the years i spent there.. going to school going to college. esp last year. last summer was amazing. despite the heat.. going to office for the internship… driving around on my own.. i felt like a grown up… buying fruits and little stuff for ma baba on the way home.. lying in my room upstairs listening to music, or talkin to ma.. reading on the computer, making tea in the evening, helping ma cook… watching tv and fighting for the remote… and then going out in the evning with ma baba… talking to mausom on the phone till late night sittin at ma’s feet while she massaged my head.. the roof. . i terribly miss the roof. i used to sit nights there in the breeze alone, playing my guitar or singing to myself.. the rains… i loved when it rained in summers.. i literally waited for such days, and would drench myself silly, and sing and feel happy and then click pics of the pink summer skies.. i miss bhopal so much, esp nowadays that its summer, and i ve spent every summer of my life that i remember – in bhopal.. i dont know when i ll get to be there again. and even if i went, it would not be the same.. its like losing an old friend who died.

last night i dreamt i was at boat club, by the lake in the evening… feeding popcorn to the swans… and i was so happy. its so stupid me thinking all this, and i cant say it to anyone.. nobody quite understands.

miss u. miss being a kid …

tourniquet

2010-04-07T00:00:00.000+05:30

i met her today. against all odds. against any whim, any wish, against all imagination. i had imagined her, earlier, her thoughts, her feelings, her mind, her body. but i never wanted to see her. i never wanted to feel what i felt today. she was alone, and he and i bumped into her. as irony has it, as my fuckin luck would have it. i have never felt like i felt today. i was gripped by coldness. by so many different feelings. i couldnt help jump into her shoes; bump into a man she once dated or loved, and talk to him pretending nothin ever happened, and smile at him while his current-girlfriend stands next to him. i couldnt help but feel the pain i will have felt if i were in her place. and then it struck me i was not like her. but i am with the man who was once her’s. i didnt want to, but it was simply like my mind forced me to feel what i felt, to see what i saw in my head. flashback, something which i wasnt a part of, the only thing i never wanted to be part of. they were together. doing all the things he does to me. bare. all over. it made me sick. the whole way i thought i would choke and die. and i wanted to. i always knew i could never take sire with somebody else. that if it ever happened, would kill me.

2 days back i spoke to varun sastry after many many months. just when i thought i ll never hear from him again, he called, and i was happy that he thought of telling me he made it thru and was leaving for atlanta. we spoke like old buddies that we were once, and he was a kid again, and like once again, i was a kid too. he said i have changed.

“you let them get to you arundhati.”

i have become a bit more like the world. i have become a bit more like a person i never wanted to be. like one of the people i once disliked. but i told him,

“i’m happy vs. i guess i always wanted to be free.”

and i had no more to say to him.

“i know things were hard, and you wanted to forget and bury deep. and so you jumped into a nightmare, building a world you never wanted ?”

for once i didnt know what to say. i know i am happy. despite some changes that i had to make in the past 2 years, i feel myself. more than anything, in spite of everything, i feel happy i get to spend time with a person who understands my thoughts when i can be vocal enough. and thats enough for me. i know i can do anything to see him happy, if someday it meant leaving him, i would. if i knew it would make him happy. and more than anything, i adore him for the fact that he is himself with me. that he trusts me. . it means the whole world to me. because it kills me to be lied to. cause somehow, the curse i have lived with, i can always tell when people lie. and this one peace is one of the greatest things that sire gives me. the peace and calm of being trusted.

i dont know if i have changed. if i am like other girls. if not, then how much of a bitch i am. i dont know. and for the first time i dont want to know. if my time with sire is to be a dream, then all i want is to live the dream till the last little second. . if i am to spend a major part of my life in his memories, i would. .

if only i could be like this forever, i would let go of everything, put everything i own stake. if i could always be with you. for i know i want nothing but you. that i have never felt more alive than i do, when you’re with me. that my faith came with you, and will always remain in you.

i carry your heart ~ ee cummings

2010-04-05T01:30:00.001+05:30

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

chasing time ~

2010-04-05T01:30:00.000+05:30

we used to talk of this day. we waited through 2 years for it to be over. and now that it finally is, i cant get over it. no more spending the whole day together, everyday. coffee, lunch, shopping, classes, and sitting beside each other no matter wot. i will always miss everything. i dont know how long things last, or what will happen. but i guess somewhere at the back of my mind i always know that sooner or later it ll happen. i guess the next phase has already begun. more than finding a job, its these things that weigh me down. i miss you so much sire.. and i guess its only the beginning. Love has its ways i see. it opens new doors, and not all of them lead to heaven.

disappointment

2010-03-27T13:45:00.000+05:30

i realised a deep set flaw in me today… it was always there, but today i felt sure of it. when there is something i want.. i tend to forget about everything else. its been so long i havent gone out with friends… i havent met with old college friends even once since i met sire.. i like being with him.. and i knw i ve let it take over me. i can live alone, if i cant get to be with him. . maybe this is bad. i dont know what could be bad. but it hurts. and it is so stupid.

second lesson: the importance of living with enough money. for the first time this month, i understood how difficult life is being broke. even though people try to help, its always weird. until this month i ve never asked for cash like i had to this time. . i hate it.

time ~

2010-03-23T02:00:00.000+05:30

its strange how life has its ways. . a single memory can bring back a whole heartload of a time gone by. . one song proves to be a battlefield. . and you die all over again. we lose people faster than life erodes. pretty much like sailing on the tip of a burning cigarette.

“the ocean expands forever no matter where thou leave no matter where u are so dont worry i will wait for time is something i can barter for covering the distance of those million miles!!!“

they say words are everything. . but i guess sometimes words are all we have.

greater noida, india

2010-03-03T02:00:00.000+05:30

I’ve lived here for a little less than 2 years. I’ve loved and loathed here, in succession . . had several rabid longings to leave here.. and go back to the place i grew up. or anywhere else. this has resulted in several impromptu trips back home.. and after a point when that was no more a feasibly possible option.. i traveled with friends to other places . . trips that were short but mostly delightful. . more than anything else, they gave me better memories to live with.

The best part about living in greater noida has been the walks. i know, no matter how old i get, and how bad a memory i acquire with that onset of age… i would never forget the beautiful long walks I’ve taken here, with sire, and on a few rare occasions by myself. there’s this one particular stretch of road we’ve loved. . covered on both sides with short trees. . and winding. . with the foot of the trees strewn with golden brown dry leaves. . *sigh*

another thing about here, that i wouldnt ever be able to forget, is its smells. amazing brain paralyzing, vomit inducing, face distorting volley of smells – with an uncanny resemblance to the very odors of a certain chemistry lab that had an experiment gone terribly all wrong.

The infrastructure coming up is huge and awe-inspiring. . in the past 2 years new skeletons of buildings have come up, and in the past one year. . i ve virtually seen (each day) several skeletons of buildings acquiring layers of concrete and cement and turning seemingly overnight into beautiful, strangely artistic monsters of buildings. Be it Eldeco, where i’ve walked with sire in the “old” days . . when there were only heaps of building material. . and we would sit by the end of the road. . lost in conversation. . lost in my senseless yapping usually. . and now its a series of gigantic residential buildings sprawling across kilometers. Then there’s a series of DLF creations. . which until last year were a mess of dusty construction site, cranes and floodlights. and now they’re colossal buildings, lawned and finished to perfection. The best part about all the infrastructure, is the Golf course. . and the roads. the roads are so unlike other parts of India. the only other place i have known with excellent pothole-free roads, is Bhopal. . i’m sure there are many other places, but greater noida of them all, is outstanding. i like the entire plan of the city. The whole concept of Knowledge Park. And the whole separate corporate cluster in Alpha-I, near Kasna Towers. There’s enough greenery to balance the concrete forest coming up so fast. They have parks here. . which is a rare thing. . they are more like gardens, with trees, flowers, and green green grassssssss. . . the round-abouts are beautiful ! pretty creative, especiially Pari chowk. . even though i laughed at its childish look the first time i saw it. . but then one late evening, i saw the angels and the fountains against a deep purple, moon-lit, star studded, clear summer night sky. . . . and i was lost for words.

Greater noida has an orange night sky. when i was little, a few summer night skies would be orange, almost with a reddish glow. and my brother used to scare me that an earthquake, with a massive storm would come the next day. . that was exaggeration on his part to scare his 5 year old sister. . but indeed, there would be rain-storms the day afterward. but here ! its permanently orange at night. plus moon. minus moon. plus cloud. minus clouds. except when its raining. . cause then you cant see much when you look up, except for the ice cold sharp raindrops hitting your face.

. . . and then it smells like heaven !!! so contrary to the almost constant chemistry-lab smell, and the equally absurd and unearthly sweet cake-baking smell. . i totally forgot to mention. this is the weirdest thing i have ever known about a place. . and yes it does smell like cakes. sometimes when im on the bus, returning from college. . i can smell it intensely. . as if somebody were literally baking a cake on the bus itself – with a lot, a LOT of vanilla essence in it, the kinda sickening sweet smell, that initially gives you a craving for a hot, soft, freshly home baked piece of cake; and then soon tires you and makes you want to block that annoyingly sweet odor.

oh i was talkin about the smell of earth !!!! its the same everywhere, across india ! and the only thing about all kinds of weather change, that i love the most ! it makes me drunken, and happy. . and so alive in the simple thought that i could breathe.. and therefore able to smell a smell so pure and fresh, and so simply beautiful.

oh. there is this really interesting thing about here. Blenders Pride ! no not the brand, not the drink. but the paper cover boxes that the bottles come in . . . you will find them everywhere. and i mean everywhere ! black paper cardboard cover, with borders and lettering in gold. 21 years of my life, i had never seen a whiskey bottle up close, nor known any brands other than the really famous few i had read about. but after coming here. . i was so enlightened ! whether it be outside college premises. . parking places outside buildings, at the marketplace. . bus stops, random roads. . oh and as luck would have it, today morning while leaving for college, i saw one lying near the reception of the hostel premises i live in

Oh, and noodles. chowmein as these people fondly call it. they make it with indian spices, even turmeric, and cram it around and around the pan, until it looks like a dense blob of strange inedible “Chinese cuisine”. on the contrary. . you can have excellent egg rolls, simple boiled eggs, crisp salted peanuts, which are perfect ! the vegetables are fresher and taste better than any retail outlet. and the fruits too.

another vilely distinct characteristic of greater noida, are its infamous gujjar creatures. (i dont mean to hurl slander at all gujjars across the world; it is a mere vent to my anger at all the stupid things my friends and i have been through at the hands, and tongues of most of these uncultured swines ! ) yes they are creatures, even ‘creatures’ is a rather kind word for most of them. you will find them in bits and pieces lying here and there . . abhorringly drunk and doped. .(pretty much like the covers of the bottles that the creatures cant possibly afford except for a few luckier ones who can ! with their ill gotten money ! ) on some days these sprawled creatures on the ground here and there virtually outnumber, their four-legged, furry, wet nosed counterparts. . way more gentle and sensible than the former :X

“legend” has it (:P), that in old times, the creatures owned acres of land. . passed on from generation to generation. they farmed, and lived in brotherhood (?) with their own kind. Then one fine day, policies changed. Infrastructure saw a new dimension. . SEZs happened and delhi was extender across ncr and new developmental reforms were felt needed for. so big names like DLF and other such . . bought theese lands from the creatures, and in return paid them huge amounts of money. extortion followed. and more extortion coupled with violence followed. . and ever since the creatures have been getting richer. their victims have moved further to other people they can lavishly rob. and now they think they own this place, because the lands WERE their property, prior to the business deal that paid them money in return relinquishing all rights to the land. . a possible pig-brained mafia with the only minimal intellect that can fuel profanity in its extreme; and ways to terrorise people at the brink of a sentence, or even a word – with archaic knives and daggers; a foul temper, that probably runs in their blood, and is made worse day after day with continuous inebriation, combined with acute illiteracy. i often wonder, if illiteracy were a disease, these dirty arseholes would be rabid, highly infectious parasites. .

- who love to scream when they are on their (most likely stolen or extorted) bikes;

- love to play strange “hat ja tau” typo songs, blaring, so loud that the window panes chatter when these cars come from a distance away;

- love to get angry (usually) at no provocation. . for example. . you’re crossing the road, and a blind gujjar-bikerboy fails to see you, and has to slam brakes, would hurl abuse at you, hurling a worse smell of stale beer. and if you try to say even a word, would run away instantly and come back with another male chauvinist pig who’d be happily brandishing one of those archaic daggers i talked about earlier.

- love to hit women on the backside, while scooting past on a bike. even if its a shoulder. women way out of their reach. ahem ahem. women who wouldnt even care to look at them one time. as if they werent already getting enough porn to watch, and enough of their sluts to lay.

- shouting obscenity at women (especially). i wonder what kind of erectile dysfunction they have – to have to go to such brainless, manic, plain stupid forms of sexual satisfaction. like staring at boobs and asses isnt enough, they continually do themselves with dirty talk. a fresh example from today evening, at pari chowk, while i walked toward a cab, ”Namaste choot mata” – equally detestable as dumb; it made me want to turn back, walk across and smash his organ with a boulder, render him mute for a lifetime with a jaw breaker, and leave him there to writhe for the rest of his life.

oh. . i almost forgot. the most interesting of everything, is greater noida’s bus rides ! yello buses, blue buses, white buses, flyers, cabs, ricksha. name it ! and you shall smell it ! another class of the wonderful series of smells that greater noida is famous for – the smell of sweat. armpit sweat. hair sweat. ball sweat. stale clothes sweat. several other types of stench. . while you hang around in buses, while going either to sector 37, or to delhi, or gurgaon. . or anywhere for that matter. if its not sweat, it ll be booze – desi sharab, stale beer, rare occasions – whiskey. the same alcoholic nightmare for the nose.

oh for the joys of living in greater noida. other than the joys of learning to fake it with the agarwals, or answering back mentally to their faithful butler doggy, who has an enormous love for red neckties. . and the joys of living in the same vicinity with shit brained people, who are potentially an insult to the entire menfolk. . and ofcourse the joys of living in the planned city. . the quiet happy walks, a lifetime of experiences i know i would treasure always, the smell of rain, my first memories of sire, every colossal rainbow. . the cool breeze on summer mornings, sire, chilly densely misty winter nights, nights of gazing at the moon and stars. . golden sunday mornings, every alive moment with sire, the gorgeous sunsets, the greenery, and sire.

i guess the reasons i like greater noida. . will be the only reasons i will never forget greater noida.

inertia

2010-02-17T02:30:00.000+05:30

today was long and tiring. i missed my appointment with the doctor, and couldnt even inform her. i woke up late by 2 hours and ran really late for a seminar. . and had to keep others waiting on me till i made it. went without food the whole day, got insulted (the umpteenth time) by a professor i hate, after the second seminar. hours of sitting made my backside and back very sore, i skipped all my medicines, have a migraine coming, im very broke, and i just finished a fight with sire and had a fit of tears on the terrace afterward.

i feel very “lame” and equally as angry at myself for being so “lame”. sometimes i dont even know what i think or feel. . and just go with the day as it comes. years of being taken for granted, and not being waited for. . i stopped expecting for things to happen, until i met sire. and despite not wanting to, i began expecting again. . but i still accept things the way they come without retaliating, or questioning. and even though i understand sire loves me, i still sometimes cant help but not expect. accept it in a go if he says no, reason or no reason; if i have a hitch and spend a whole day or days wondering what was it – and if he tells me it was nothing, i press it no more; think everyday that his life is more important than mine. that he shouldnt miss out on anything just because of me. and i know no matter how much i change. . there will be a part of me that will remain this way, kind of dead. undead. even though i realize everyday how much he makes me alive. . and i will always be grateful to him for that. . but other than him, i know i will always have a really hard time trusting anyone. . and for no reason, like now, there will be times that he will have to face the brunt of my acceptance. the dark side of the virtue that its supposed to be.

i felt really bad today, that i took him for granted today. . ESPECIALLY him. and that he wont believe my reasons for doing it, hurt me more. i dont talk of my feelings to others, simply because i dont feel like. but its different with sire. i have been more honest to him, that i have been to my mother. . and perhaps more even than i have been honest to myself. i always talk about literature and the mistake of choosing this course, and i was standing outside a certain library today. . and peered in through the french windows from outside – at all the people who sat inside. . reading, researching through piles of books, discussing over cups of coffee with each other. . and i just stared at them for a long time. . and realised my mistake of choosing the wrong career, many fold. i simply cried secretly, while still staring inside. . and it hurt so much more because i knew i was being plain stupid. “we dont get everything we want” but this has always been important to me. happiness always mattered, and apart from loving sire, this love for art, i cannot live without. earlier finding a poem i liked, would make my day. nowadays, a part of me feels dead, like it accepted the death, and refuses to awake except in rare situations. . i feel afraid of losing that part forever to finance, and the related insults that i try to filter out of my mind everyday, but fail miserably. what hurts me worse is that sire tries harder than me to keep that part alive. . while keeping my feet strong on the ground. its amazing how strong he makes me feel at times. . and then when i feel he doesnt believe me when i say something, i feel like i wont last that night. but i am “lame” and yet he loves me. . how can i not feel embarassed and keep saying the same thing to him everytime. . despite knowing it is stupid, and dumb and lame. and that i am all of that, and that i always will be lame, and friggin’ tactless . . and i must not always take it for granted that he would understand. pandora’s box of 20 years left me indifferent for the world after a point that i could feel no more. . and it now leaves me at a point, when i expect when i shouldnt, and dont when i must. that i accept without questioning, and cant ask when i have some. hurting him always makes me want to hurt myself. i wish i could learn to be more grown up and unlearn being lame and stupid. i wish i learn to be grown-up good enough for him before its late. and the answer always leaves me scared. . i still wonder how could sire love the person i always hated everytime i looked into the mirror ? and perhaps for the same reasons. for being stupid, tactless, timid, ugly. the me, i am afraid i will never be able to change. i am not afraid of being hurt anymore, but i am so afraid to hurt him and i dont know why it always bothers me that i night inconvenience him in someway. . or his life. like unknowingly hindering him from doing something good that he might ve done without me in his life. i know i have no reason to explain this, except for feeling “lame”. and for the first time i took him for granted, and i cant believe i did. and cant forget and cant forgive.

myself

2010-02-15T13:15:00.000+05:30

today after a long time i had this huge wish to write something. . and after a long long time i wished a day had more than 24 hours. . say like, 30. yes. that would be good. but in that case there should be an option too. . like some days it could be 30, and some other long and painful days, it could have been 20. but then oh, the joy of being a wishful thinker has its own sorrows.

its so easy to be accepting. by easy i mean simple. maybe because im a pacifist, do i feel that way. if only everyone could be accepting, and not rebel needlessly against everything. . and not argue, and not have to argue. . there wouldnt be fights, there wouldnt be quarrels nor general disrespect of opinion. no barriers and no wars, to quote Mr John Lennon.

there’s this video sire made me watch today.

http://www.ted.com/talks/jk_rowling_the_fringe_benefits_of_failure.html

i loved it. in 10minutes it brought back so much. watching her speak, i went through a flashback of old days. sitting alone in school here and there during recess cause i would want to hide, and either sit in the chapel in the nun-block far upstairs, or creep into the basketball court in the hope that the girls who played would be busy enough not to spot me. . or else walk past the church behind the convent and sit under a tree in the woods. recess was 20minutes back in school. but some days it seemed enormous and would fade away with my notebook, pen and an apple. . and i would write. simply anything. what i thought, felt, or imagined. mostly imagined. . and i loved how time flew. i loved to see my hands work their way on the paper, the black ink making words on white. . the ink making beautiful rounded patterns and every word glistening beautifully in the sunshine. . and i would sit in class, my head down on the notebook, left ear touching the paper. . and i would hear myself write. . and how i loved listening to that simple sound of scribbling. sometimes i feel sorry for myself. i hate it. till i was 14, i couldnt speak properly except in tit bits to my family. not one sentence, without sounding like i would choke and die, or so rushed that it seemed i had memorized that line out of compulsion, or simply that i was a retard and hadnt enough sense. even having to say something as easy as “thankyou” was enough to make me cringe with shyness, and i would stutter until it was too late and the person would be gone.

i know how i made it right. and i can speak to the world today for minutes without feeling exhausted. but i know me. even though i have learned enough to look composed and almost intimidating to the world, i still am as feeble and timid. . and i realize it every time i falter at the hands of others. its a curse to come to earth. . worse so as a human being. to be sane and rational and live through a lifetime with the soul of an 8year old. . . i remember i woke up one morning to mum, climbed out of her arms, and out of bed. . rubbed my eyes to sunshine and walked out into the terrace. it was a bright summer morning, and the last day of summer vacation that year. and i stood and i saw birds flying in flocks across the blue sky. . and mom’s flowers in the garden downstairs looking fresh and vivid with color, in early morning dew. . and i went back climbed into bed and told mum. . “i dont want to grow up. i like summer mornings. . i like how i feel, and that i can feel so much. .and i know tomorrow i ll have to go to school and then it wont be the same again.”

its been 14 years, and now i know i was right. and i never saw that morning again. except a sunny winter day in an alien place. . i woke up to sunshine beside sire. . and the same evening that i sat leaning against him by the river. . and i knew that old summer-morning-feeling once again. . and felt alive yet one more time.

sometimes i wonder why sire chose to be with me. he is the man of the world, knows so much about everything. . stuff that i had no idea existed. . and he is patient with me, bears with all my meaningless banter. . im not polished, least ladylike. . and there are days when i look like a cancer patient. and worst of all, i am completely tactless, with no filtering system, and almost programmed to lose out on social cues. he on the other hand knows how the world works, tries to teach me what i must know. . almost teaches me unknowingly, to fend for myself so i’ll get less hurt. . tries to smile when i show him the moon or how pretty the sun looks. . and tries his best to be a father figure when im lost and brings me back when i weep in his arms. he understands me in ways perhaps i dont understand myself. and when he holds me, i always go back to that summer morning when i was 8. .

i know we cant have everything. but i wonder why i cant learn to be like others. why cant i say things and not mean them. or blame others, step on them and move on. . or win an argument with all the manipulation that is possible to make. why cant i just walk away without noticing puppies and pretty-big cow-eyes and how the darn moon looks, or how the wind feels. why cant my memories fade. why cant i just forget that summer morning and be a woman and live it through. death is inevitable they say. and everyday we move closer toward it. even though i can accept everthing as it comes, i wonder why i cant accept that its easier to live without feeling so much. . like just about everyone does. why am i so afraid to lose. . and i wonder what it is. even though i have nothing and no one that i can truly call mine.

how difficult can it be for a rational misfit to think lifelong through the mind of an autistic 8 year old. living with autism by choice, throughout my childhood, unknowingly, i preferred. . than having playmates i didnt like, nor growing up with pre-teens who couldnt live a year through without a new crush, and teens who obsessed with their face, waistline and men. the world has meant nothing, but it can do potentially everything to kill a thousand times. i chose once to break free, but i know i will pull through until the next time. i guess with every passing day, i have lesser to lose.

how do i love thee. . . – elizabeth barrett browning

2010-02-13T13:54:00.000+05:30

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 everyday’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 a 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.

dream – william blake

2010-02-13T13:52:00.000+05:30

Once a dream did weave a shade

O’er my angel-guarded bed,

That an emmet lost its way

Where on grass methought I lay.

Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,

Dark, benighted, travel-worn,

Over many a tangle spray,

All heart-broke, I heard her say:

‘Oh my children! do they cry,

Do they hear their father sigh?

Now they look abroad to see,

Now return and weep for me.’

Pitying, I dropped a tear:

But I saw a glow-worm near,

Who replied, ‘What wailing wight

Calls the watchman of the night?

‘I am set to light the ground,

While the beetle goes his round:

Follow now the beetle’s hum;

Little wanderer, hie thee home!’

the forsaken merman – matthew arnold

2010-02-13T03:30:00.000+05:30

Come, dear children, let us away;

Down and away below!

Now my brothers call from the bay,

Now the great winds shoreward blow,

Now the salt tides seaward flow;

Now the wild white horses play,

Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.

Children dear, let us away!

This way, this way!

Call her once before you go–

Call once yet!

In a voice that she will know:

‘Margaret! Margaret!’

Children’s voices should be dear

(Call once more) to a mother’s ear;

Children’s voices, wild with pain–

Surely she will come again!

Call her once and come away;

This way, this way!

‘Mother dear, we cannot stay!

The wild white horses foam and fret.’

Margaret! Margaret!

Come, dear children, come away down;

Call no more!

One last look at the white-wall’d town

And the little grey church on the windy shore,

Then come down!

She will not come though you call all day;

Come away, come away!

Children dear, was it yesterday

We heard the sweet bells over the bay?

In the caverns where we lay,

Through the surf and through the swell,

The far-off sound of a silver bell?

Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,

Where the winds are all asleep;

Where the spent lights quiver and gleam,

Where the salt weed sways in the stream,

Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round,

Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground;

Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,

Dry their mail and bask in the brine;

Where great whales come sailing by,

Sail and sail, with unshut eye,

Round the world for ever and aye?

When did music come this way?

Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, was it yesterday

(Call yet once) that she went away?

Once she sate with you and me,

On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea,

And the youngest sate on her knee.

She comb’d its bright hair, and she tended it well,

When down swung the sound of a far-off bell.

She sigh’d, she look’d up through the clear green sea;

She said: ‘I must go, to} my kinsfolk pray

In the little grey church on the shore to-day.

‘T#will be Easter-time in the world–ah me!

And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee.’

I said: ‘Go up, dear heart, through the waves;

Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves!’

She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.

Children dear, was it yesterday?

Children dear, were we long alone?

‘The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan;

Long prayers,’ I said, ‘in the world they say;

Come!’ I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay.

We went up the beach, by the sandy down

Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall’d town;

Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still,

To the little grey church on the windy hill.

From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers,

But we stood without in the cold blowing airs.

We climb’d on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,

And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.

She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear:

‘Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here!

Dear heart,’ I said, ‘we are long alone;

The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.’

But, ah, she gave me never a look,

For her eyes were seal’d to the holy book!

Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.

Come away, children, call no more!

Come away, come down, call no more!

Down, down, down!

Down to the depths of the sea!

She sits at her wheel in the humming town,

Singing most joyfully.

Hark what she sings: ‘O joy, O joy,

For the humming street, and the child with its toy!

For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well;

For the wheel where I spun,

And the blessed light of the sun!’

And so she sings her fill,

Singing most joyfully,

Till the spindle drops from her hand,

And the whizzing wheel stands still.

She steals to the window, and looks at the sand,

And over the sand at the sea;

And her eyes are set in a stare;

And anon there breaks a sigh,

And anon there drops a tear,

From a sorrow-clouded eye,

And a heart sorrow-laden,

A long, long sigh;

For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden

And the gleam of her golden hair.

Come away, away children

Come children, come down!

The hoarse wind blows coldly;

Lights shine in the town.

She will start from her slumber

When gusts shake the door;

She will hear the winds howling,

Will hear the waves roar.

We shall see, while above us

The waves roar and whirl,

A ceiling of amber,

A pavement of pearl.

Singing: ‘Here came a mortal,

But faithless was she!

And alone dwell for ever

The kings of the sea.’

But, children, at midnight,

When soft the winds blow,

When clear falls the moonlight,

When spring-tides are low;

When sweet airs come seaward

From heaths starr’d with broom,

And high rocks throw mildly

On the blanch’d sands a gloom;

Up the still, glistening beaches,

Up the creeks we will hie,

Over banks of bright seaweed

The ebb-tide leaves dry.

We will gaze, from the sand-hills,

At the white, sleeping town;

At the church on the hill-side–

And then come back down.

Singing: ‘There dwells a loved one,

But cruel is she!

She left lonely for ever

The kings of the sea.’