PRATZ-OLGY and PRATZ-SOPHIES OF THE WORLD

What is it like to meet SRK?

2011-11-27T03:25:00.001+05:30

25th Nov, 2011: this date will also have a special mention on my gravestone. The reason is simple, i met SRK on this day. I have met him 3 times before what is the big deal today? So this day on my 4th meeting i actually 'MET' him. It is a feeling beyond words to be embraced by SRK, to be in the same space as him not because he is a film star, but because he is what he is without a godfather in an industry that thrives on them. I have immense love and deep respect for what SRK is today, what he has achieved on his own just chasing a dream. I have a dream too and when i met him it gave me that confidence and the drive to chase it like a mad cow. What is so special about him after all? I was like a teenage spellcound starstruck school girl giggling in the crowd looking at SRK. Litle did i know what was gonna hit me. I have always been introduced as someones associate, assisting on something somewhere... It is a feeling of great pride to meet SRK as me. As a person who is something by her own merit. The way people look at achievers and achievements is different and so applies to SRK. I probably wouldnt be in the same space had i not achieved something or have been worthy enough in life to be there. I came back completely and totally awesttruck.... impressed and swept away by his charm and warmth. Another dream fulfilled... strike it off my list.... this man gives me the courage to dream... and dream big.... i should've ideally written this post right after i came back from the party... i was too excited actually.... am posting after a long time and nothing inspired me to write all these days... but this is a sure shot worth sharing piece.... SRK you will remain my first love always.

Sorry

2011-08-14T00:34:00.000+05:30

Sorry is such an orphan word....

Sorry has no parents, sorry is not fostered
Nobody wants to own it, nobody wants to claim it.

When someone gives it, they dont want to take it.
When someone takes it, they don't want to let go off it.

Sorry has attitude, sorry has humility
sorry has a puppy face, sorry has a vicious smile.

Its so hard to come out, and when it does... its harder to fathom
You may owe it to someone, but you may not end up giving it really

Its so hard to own and so easy to disown....
It goes from one person to the other... but doesnt find its ground.

Sorry may melt your heart in a moment, the next it may cut like a sword...
I feel so sorry for sorry... its such an orphan word.

What goes up...must come down

2011-06-28T23:52:00.000+05:30

What goes up has to come down. Perhaps this high was too exciting to scare her of the low. She isn't prepared for what is actual. She isn't least prepared for the hike. The tiny white flowers spread around the arms of the mountain like sheets of satin in uniform floral prints. The spreads of green lay like velvet icing and her bare feet depress the grass to mark their presence. The dew has made her route slippery and the mist in the air makes it harder for her to breathe. She wont stop. She pauses, breathes harder and moves ahead. The clouds have hazed her vision. She squeezes her eyes to narrow her vision and she walks over the green velvet carpet laid for her. The scent of the high draws her closer. This uncontrollable rush of emotions, thoughts and anxiety pumps her with the energy to go on. Clouds make way like curtains drawn from a surprise. Her eyes fill with extreme joy can't seem to believe what was like the end of the world in front of them. She was there. The point of no return. She was up there. Above everyone. She was high. A high that few get to experience. A high that was so high that if it engulfed you, nobody would hear you shriek. So high... so serene... just she and her existance....She walked right upto the edge, spread her arms and hugged the high that awaited her. The clouds began clearing, like in the fairy tales. She looked down with no end to her grin. The breeze was harder and swept her hair in all directions..... this high gave her wings... and now she wanted to fly. She closed her eyes... kissed the sun, and embraced the depth as the breeze quietly airlifted her. Downwards was easier and smoother. Her mind was zero but peace prevailed on her face. She was high, the only thought.... What goes up...must come down.

Moonlight

2011-05-19T21:40:00.001+05:30

It was in the night. Something. She had sensed it. She was ready for it. She wanted it. The music in her ears came from her heart. The conspiracy was laid and neither could guess what is in store for them. A dark room and the moonlight trickled through the large glass window. The sky was silver and the room milky white. Light breeze blew her hair over her face and blew his mind at the same time. The moon was calling out to both of them. Their hearts were pounding. He pulls her close to her, hugs her tight. Their eyes twinkle in the dark and glow their faces. Tiny diamonds shine through as they smile. He pulls her to the window. Pulls the sheers away and opens the whole silver sparkly sky to her. It spells magic. He sits at the window comfortably and pulls her close to him. She leans against his comforting warm chest. The warm melts her down completely. The moon begins to fade out in its blanket of the darkness and leaves a trail of sparkling silver light and the breeze sifts past humming songs of tranquility in their ears. The window lights up with their aura. The magical light and sound show begins as sparks fly under.

Humpty Dumpty

2011-02-28T22:25:00.000+05:30

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King's horses, And all the King's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again!

Purple Verve

2011-01-23T13:08:00.001+05:30

Back to the weekend grind. Her high heels ready to clink the floor. Her short skirt, tiny enough to make hearts sink and the plunge on her blouse deep enough to make hearts skip a beat. Her long hair straight like straight can be. Her lips plump red inviting a kiss. She is on a kill tonight. Her eyes still search for the eye that will catch hers and pierce her ice cold heart. On the purple night, beneath the sparkle of the stars is the blouse that shimmers more than the sparkling stars and the look in her eye darker than the night itself. She enters the rambunctious room and the noise leaks into the silent night. She cuts the crowd of swaying bodies fluidly swooning to the music. No one seems to have noticed her yet. She doesnt care. Her walk upto the tall ramp is unpunctuated. She holds the bar and jumps on to the ramp like its her territory and it was waiting to be ruled by her. The moment she goes up all eyes turn to her. The universe seems to respond to her moves. The beat thumped at her sway of the hip, the lights dipped at her dropping low, people cheered at her hurling of hair. She had arrived. Yet she was oblivious to the roar she created in the busy crowd. He was looking at her. Observing her from the time she entered. She notices him too. The lights mischievously reveal her face and hide it. The plunge on her neck teases to death, the eyes play hide and seek. She smiles and lights up the room. She stops and so does the music. She extends her arm and invites him on the ramp. The crowd cheers. He looks around in disbelief. She smiles and asks him to come over. He holds her hand. The plunge drops lower as she bends. His eyes widen and shut in embarrassment. She notices and mends her blouse. He gets up as the music picks pace. His hand impulsively goes around her slender waist. She smiles again, she loves it. He draws her close to him as they sway like one body. The room is filled with blare but her heart echoes in the silence within.

Black Hole

2011-01-19T23:00:00.002+05:30

Dark. Just dark. Hollow dark. Thick garb of dark. All black dark. Suffocating dark. So dark that no ray of God can pass through.

Emotion less dark. Feeling less dark. Heartless dark. Meaningless dark. Ruthless dark. Shameless dark.

Faceless dark. Headless dark. Limb less dark. Handicapped dark yet strong dark. Scary dark. Whimsical dark.

This dark has no light at the end of its tunnel. This dark has no arm spread out waiting at the other end. There is no happy ending to this dark. There is all white to this black. Nobody lives to see it atleast! The black hole of life. That's how I've seen death today. And resurrected in the silhouette of death.

Now I know why I am scared of dark.

An Open Letter to Mrs. President

2011-01-18T09:56:00.000+05:30

Dear Honorable Mrs. President,

I am Preeti Phalke, 30 years old. In all the life that i have spent i have loved my country. I still do. But everyday when i turn the TV on to catch up with what's happening around the country, i am disgusted with the way our country is managed by our so called selfish leaders. The Adarsh scam, Lavassa, Banda rape case (a ruling on a rape case is the slowest, justice delayed we all know is justice denied), the CWG scam, the worst is the state of affairs in UP led by Mayawati. My question is how can a CM spend lavishly on her birthday using our hard earned money we pay for taxes and ignore the crimes happening under her own nose? How did she manage to construct that aimless narcissist park in Noida with her own statues all over and nobody said anything then? The currency garland not to be forgotten How doesn't anybody question her expenses or actions? Every day we hear some crime happening involving a person from UP. It is almost like 'all muslims are not terrorists but all terrorists are muslim' likewise, all UP-ites are not criminials, but most of them are UP-ites Just how can we allow one state to be handled by a frivolous teenager like mind who thinks that the state is her playground? It upsets me and makes me think, is or judicial system and law blind towards people in power? What is so obvious to everyone is being ignored for what? I strongly believe, her wrong has outdone her good to the state. I will never travel alone to UP for a fear of being raped in her state because it is so unsafe. What is she doing about it? I have never written to a leader before but i am ignited inside today and instigated enough by the 'deshbhakti' in me to write to you.

I just need answers as to who looks into all this? Many more civilians like me would have the same agony. I do not know what i can do to dethrone Mayawati from power and get another able uncorrupt leader to better lead the state that has potential. This letter is only out of extreme agony of having to see my country being misused like this. I hope it has brought some pain to your notice about how we people feel about leaders like her. I would love to contribute to the better of my nation in whatever way possible.

Thank you for your time and patience.
Respects and regards
Preeti Phalke.
Jai Hind

Just How Does It Work?

2011-01-06T02:15:00.000+05:30

I just logged out of facebook. Frankly i never really thought of finding out or learning about the genius named FACEBOOK, until i finished watching The social network just 10mins back. I never thought about the thought behind this brainwave. Never bothered to read or google the brain behind it. I was just happy logging in 5 times a day, changing my status once a day, being happy about the fact that so many people on my list care to read my status msgs, just plain simple happy to have stumbled upon so many long lost friends yet so many more new people to be friends with. I bow down to the genius of this man who created a mass hysteria so powerful, it could become another continent.

From what started off as a small college network grew onto become so big, that probably even the founder may not have expected. My friend once msgd me on FB some facts about facebook -
Facebook itself is becoming the new internet..People logon to facebook more than anything else.. If
facebook were a country it will be fourth largest in world...i guess facebook must be planning to start their own operating system like microsoft windows or mac and also search engine like google and the searches in facebook will be better because it will search for u based on what u like..
When i read this i was awed. But again, it was affecting my life until i saw the movie. What inspired me from the film was the simplicity of the idea that gave birth to a billion dollar company and made Mark Zuckerberg the youngest billionaire in the world! Just how does a genius brain work differently from the rest?

I am speechless and totally awestruck by the genius of this young boy who is younger than my younger sister! The newer the breed the more intelligent their generation is getting. I would've probably seen a mobile phone when i was 16. My 1year old niece can actually unlock a mobile phone. She instinctively knows what that box like instrument does. The moment i hand over the phone to her, she sticks it on her ears. HOW THE HELL!??? Just how does this genius (in the making i assume) of a brain function? How do they pick up things faster and better than the previous? Is this what you call evolution in your science class? If it is, its too cool!

As i blog right now i wonder if there was no facility like this where the heck would i share my views? How would people ever read what i write and form opinions about my writing? If there wasn't someone who thought that blogging was the next big thing, he would probably be punching keys in a private firm doing a mundane job.

Phew! This doesn't and won't cease to amuse me for a bit atleast. Its time to go horizontal on my bed and escape to my movie world. My genius is limited to constructing and writing stories. Tales that take you away from your boredom and entertain you for a while may be. Two film scripts pending, a lot of other writing work in the limbo... while i watched Social Network! So much for a film... hunh!

The bench

2010-12-29T00:36:00.001+05:30

Two chocolate cones melting drop by drop in the heat. Just you and me left behind. Shh! Let them go don't stop them. Stereotypically I am looking for something that has suddenly fallen out of my bag. You stay, lets walk together amidst tall buildings and zipping cars. Hold my hand, come close, the melting ice cream's making me cold. He holds me close and wraps his arm around me. Cars are zipping too fast and I cannot cross the road. One scoop of my icecream is wobbling now. I loose balance and the scoop falls but he holds me. I took a risk because i trusted you'd save me. This risk is fun.

We cross the road and my ice cream is so romancing my fingers. A droplet of the icecream kisses my nose and instantly his peck wipes that droplet. Yellow footpath dimly lit up by tired bulbs on a lamp post. A bench, we walk faster towards it. One corner each till we finished our cones. No talk, only slurps. The occasional exchange of smile and snigger behind the back. No word uttered, its been an hour. But its not uncomfortable.

We turn around now. Inch by inch we move closer. Our heartbeat had stopped but not the passing cars. So unruly this desire. We sit quiet. For an hour more. Speechless, just feeling our hearts beat and listening to our hearts talk to each other. He holds my hand. Its warm. The warmth is transferred to my hand. Our hearts tell each other, this too shall pass. It tells not to be afraid and not to give up hope. The heart speaks a language i dont understand. All i understand is a spark has gone inside and ignited the darkest corner of my heart uninhibited forever. The seat on the bench is taken.

Its past midnight. The city is asleep. Every car has zipped past and its only time that is unwilling to pass. The only eyes open in the dark are his and mine. They are open coz they're seeing a dream. A dream, they have photographed and will reminisce forever. The bench has started a new story, a story that will never end.

Waiting Room

2010-12-26T16:02:00.000+05:30

Stealing glances across the room. I know those eyes have captured her more than a thousand times in the few minutes that have gone by. An X-ray of the heart and mind has happened and those hands aching to shake hands and start something new with her. A twitch that show the contemplation of the lips to smile. The intermittent gulping and breathing to keep the nervousness down. The ear that is only cued to her conversation and keenly pick up her breathing also. Toes curl up and a spark of joy rushes down when she looks at him finally! I sigh of relief that the glances were acknowledged. The twitch turns into a smile instantly. Confidence exudes from the eyes and the smile gets replied with another smile. Eyes meet uncomfortably and make a connection so strong that it ignites a new story. The wait for the next train turns into a wait for the first word. She plucks her hair behind her ears and batters her eyelids as her cheeks turn red and she looks away to avoid anymore sparks. What had to start had begun. She was yearning for his attention now. Time and again wetting her lips to utter the first word but the chase was too much fun for her make the first move. She was shy but knew exactly how to hold his attention. She looked and smiled every few minutes to assure that she was feeling the same fire. She finally mustered enough courage with a long breathe that induced life into her feet to get up. Just then, he got up. His smiled dropped and eyes became glum. He turned around ashamed and sorry. He looked at her one final time with his eyes locked into hers as she took him away from her. She was the one he had chosen. The emptiness in her heart was filled with the sound of the arriving train. "Platform no. 1 se train ja chuki hai"

I am not God

2010-12-23T23:48:00.000+05:30

I'm not perfect, i'm human. Like the countless others, i have my share of imperfections. Countless imperfections. To begin with i lie. I lie through my nose, to save a situation, to save myself, to save my people. But i'd never lie to harm anyone. Even if that lie saves anything yet harms someone i would refrain. I talk out of my hat. I often end up with my foot in my mouth because of my illogical talking habit. I have always looked like someone who is mindless in an argument and will go back on my words. But i say things at that time to save a situation from getting into an argument and will completely forget what i said.

My fault I live each moment as it comes and dont think about anything. I dont know whats in store for me tomorrow because i cannot foresee tomorrow. All that i see is right now, and if something makes sense right now i'll do it. So if the same thing doesnt make sense tomorrow i will act differently! How complex is that? Have you seen tomorrow? How do you manage to plan your tomorrow without knowing what it is going to be like? Its like agreeing to get married without seeing or knowing the person. Total blind shot. You think i am a risk taker, i am impulsive? How different are you? You are investing or trusting a time that you haven't seen?

When life is simple, why do we need to complicate it? Why sit and count faults in others and waste so much time rather than simply embracing and accepting them the way they are. I start explaining. But i now i know, there is no point. What to accept what is already there? What difference will it make in the larger picture if i dont accept? Its nobody's duty to point out my imperfections and certainly not a moral duty to make sure i improve. I was born with a set of disabilities and emotional incompetancies. So are you. I dont keep track of other peoples flaws frankly because i dont have the mental capacity to remember so much and then talk back. I chicken out of arguments and i have no qualms in admitting that.

When my mistakes are counted, i dont get defensive, i become conscious. I get scared that now i will have to mend my ways coz what i do has affected someone negatively. That takes away the 'Me' from me. That will naturally have its repercussions over how i behave and eventually the way i am. I will change. Why would you want to change someone if you liked them the way they are in the first place!? I am imperfect. Show me one perfect human with all that you always wanted in one and i will give you my life. Life would be so much better if we did not have to think about our actions each time. I'm not perfect. If i were perfect I'd be God.

A walk to remember

2010-10-07T11:19:00.000+05:30

This night is exceptional. The darkness has some light in it. The glitter of the moon kisses the sea and the sea blushes to a plush silver ripple. The twinkling lights from ships from the far and away waters romance with the shore. A dark narrow walkway leads into the ocean waiting to dive in. the reticent street lights shy away from glowing. Tonight is indeed special. The noise gets cut. The only sound is the sound of dark and you and me breath. The waves seem to dance on the rhythm of our breath. No one in the periphery of our sight. No one but you and me. This is so unlikely. Take this chance, lets dance when no ones really watching. Just you and me and the shimmer on the sea. Let our heart beat do the talking. Hold my hand, slide it around my waist. Soak into the darkness and walk. Walk to the end of eternity for once. This night is special… don’t wake me from my slumber. This walk will always remain a walk to remember!

Twilo

2010-08-27T18:48:00.000+05:30

Midnight, as he crawled into the lane that had a peculiar smell. He ducked and shunned the hungry eyes and blinded himself from the lust that called out to him. He steered through the pigeon hole and glared back at the eyes that stared at him. She stood at the door with a smile on her face. New night. Her eyes spotted him from a distance and he looked at her like they called out to her. He was drawn to her uncontrollably. She held his hand and dragged him inside. Just one drink and that tip was her target. He had no control over his heart and hence the alcohol. She poured one glass after the other as she charmed him with her smile and he pulled out one note after the other as he was lured into it. He emptied the glass and filled her pocket. She grooved with him to entertain him, to show that he mattered to her. She did not realize when this sham turned into reality for her.

She was at the door waiting for him. Second night. She did not know why she was waiting for him but her eyes looked around for him. He came, straight at her door. A smile assured them both of what was happening. She did not have to drag him in this time, his feet directed him to walk inside. She was smiling this time out of joy and not for the deep pocket. Her innocent pixy face had a smile that came from the heart and it was infectious as hell. Every soul she touched then on smiled endlessly. Her tiny hands were strong enough to assure that she would hold on, her tiny eyes had dreams of nights that she won't have to wait at the door any more and they would light up each time she saw him. Mai, the smile, the warmth, the intoxication at twilo. You are welcome.

Solitude

2010-08-18T00:34:00.000+05:30

The sky had invited her, the breeze hugged her and the skyline twinkled to light up the way for her. A strange romance led her way as she jittered and rambled at that dizzy height. Everything looked small from there. The gush of wind played a romantic melody in her ears and a smile donned her face unwittingly. Her grim face glowed with joy and the pale cheeks turned rose. Her solitude was finally romancing her. She was on a new high.

For the first time she dared to over come her fears, only because she felt motivated enough. For the first time she dint care, because she felt cared for. For the first time she took that step ahead because she had someone to fall back on. The glass reeling showed more than they could contain. The songs echoed a tune that the world was dancing to. Her loneliness was filled with life with all the lights that glowed around her, as though they participated in her jubilation. The firecrackers were replaced by the loud thunder the sky roared and champagne was replaced by the downpour. As she looked down once, a chill ran down her spine. But a warm hand that swung around her waist negated the chill and calmed her down each time she froze.

She was high... high up... above all myth, with just one reality next to her. The love held her to ground firmly. He pulled her back, gently flung her hair behind her ears and whispered, don't worry, i am there, you are not lonely at the top.

Float

2010-07-25T16:30:00.000+05:30

Dark blue, indigo almost. Swirls of turquoise and silver kiss the face. The white lace fills with verve suddenly and dances up and down uncontrollably. Her hair velvet glide in directions that ripples take it to. Her face reflects the moonlit silver softness. The light from above the sky sieves and scatters at the surface to spread thousands of tiny light balls. Her irregular breath releases bubbles that wobble up to taste the sun. Darkness is lit up by the sheen of the light pink gown. She is insubstantial and floating in the blackness like she has no resistance. She doesn’t care where she is taken as long as she glides. Her locks giggle up and down like the octopus. Her body scoops through the water like fish. She breathes in the water and another bubble erupts and casually floats till it dies. She dissolves in the water. The surface pulls her feet up and she tries to restrain them. Her body curls up as she desperately tries to pull her feet down. Sudden burst of bubbles… disturbance in the water… ripples turning still water into gobbles. A struggle that lasted for a while till… the ground finally pulled her down. Her gown turned pale. The light grew brighter on her. Her hair draped her face and her big brown eyes still managed to peep put of it. She surrendered to the water and she Float… to her eternity.

Keep Walking

2010-07-15T14:21:00.000+05:30

And so she has grown out of her cocoon. Beautiful, un-abraded by the viciousness of the world around her, so naive and fresh. She has just worn her pink glasses and stepped out of her house. The walls that she had never seen beyond. She is curious and anxious, her eyes move rapidly trying to absorb every detail around her totally unaware of the sharp edges that surround the smooth beauty.

She tries to touch a rose and tears her sleeve in the thorny bush. She tries to pick a stone and gets a spasm by its weight. Suddenly the blue-sky turn gray and the red on her cheek turns pale. Thunder storms from the dark clouds and hazes all the effervescence around her. A black out and she falls to the ground. Her wings cut off. She tries to elevate herself. The heaviness on her shoulders fails her efforts. She is perplexed, doesn’t know what is bogging her down. She stumbles, injures herself. She quivers and gapes but the ponderosity keeps her from getting up. With great effort and knocking knees she manages to hold her ground and stand up. The thrust of the wind has blown all the green away. The pressure is making her sway. A bolt of thunder sends shivers down her spine and miraculously a stick loads her shoulder. She is completely unwitting about the stick. She notices two baskets suspended at each ends of the stick. They are empty yet she is weighed down by it. Another thunder in the sky and her image of the beautiful world she had just stepped in to came crashing down in front of her watery eyes. The thud was so loud that it shattered her pink glasses. She could now see a man and a woman in each of the baskets. They looked at her with helplessness in their eyes. The vulnerability in those eyes was more engulfing than the dreariness in the atmosphere. She feels she is accountable. She feels she is chosen to sail them through the storm. She gives them a reassuring smile and ploughs her way through dust and creep. She begins to stoop within a few steps. Her spine shouts for some rest. Her arms ache to straighten. Her throat parched completely but not a fret on her face. She moves on with a smile on her face. She ducks every bump on the road, glides through the rough terrains and gets corns on her feet but that doesn’t dither her spirit. She is determined to take them ashore. She had assured them so.

Her feet begin to tremble after some time. They were helpless, but they had feet, hands and breath intact. She wonders after a while, why wouldn’t they walk that distance on their own. Why would they sit so pretty in the basket and watch her collapse. They acknowledged her effort intermittently. Initially that was encouragement enough for her to walk a few hundred steps. Now, it became irritable to her. She is growing weak. The constant change of weather from the bright to gloomy is taking its toll on her. Her hands begin to shake, her toes become hard and ankles crack. Her lips chap. Her eyes dry out and the wind lines her lids with dust. Her mind is now playing games with her. She sees things that aren’t. She hears what is not spoken. She isn’t comprehending anything, hence all the misunderstandings. She is hoping this journey would end sooner than now.

The world she had stepped into wasn’t like this. It was much rosier, till her glasses broke. She has to now tread this long unwinding journey all by herself, carrying this unwarranted luggage on her shoulder. She shudders at the thought of it never ending. They look at her with hope and pity. They are able, but are getting use to the comfort of sitting in the basket and begin carried by someone. They don’t have to go through the turmoil if some one else is bearing it for them. She is bearing it all for them so they don’t get hurt. But they seem to not empathize. She can't run away. She can’t leave them alone now on a journey she has started. No matter how hard the wind blows, no matter how dark it grows, no matter her body gives up, no matter her last breath goes… she moves on… chasing that illusive horizon in front of her. Keep Walking…

The Rhime Of An Ancient Mariner

2010-06-17T02:39:00.001+05:30

T IS an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'
He holds him with his skinny hand,
'There was a ship,' quoth he.
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye--
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The Mariner hath his will.
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon--'
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
And now the Storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken--
The ice was all between.
The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!
At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God's name.
It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!
And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners' hollo!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.'
'God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!--
Why look'st thou so?'--'With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross.'

Quest

2010-06-10T21:51:00.000+05:30

She looks around surreptitiously. She opens her clutch discreetly and pulls out tissues to wipe the kohl that blackened her pink cheeks. A long breath brings back the smile on her face but her eyes can't hide what she doesn't want to show. She sways her head from side to side to the trance and her eyes seem to absorb the devilry of the kohl, the trance and the night. Sweat makes her glues her hair to her neck and face. She rips them apart trying to display her pseudo smile. Her wet hair smudge the juicy lips. She struggles to keep the strap of her dress on her shoulders as it keeps falling off. She cares least! Her eyes pierce through the crowd trying to find the one heart that beat for her. The music is deafening and the thump of the speakers quell the beating hearts in the room. Suddenly her eyes are stuck on a spot... the music garbles and sweeps away from her ears. Images of the crowd dilutes and grains away into the surreal play of light and sound. Her eyes transfix on a pounding heart ... she follows the heart and finds a body that houses it. Her heart skips a beat. The twinkle in her eyes returns. She has found her soul.

Kohl Night

2010-05-30T21:43:00.002+05:30

A pile of clothes on the bed, her bare back is covered by the black dress she chooses to wear. She pulls out the hair stuck in the back of her dress and fluffs them. Looking into her reflection in the mirror, she smiles… retouches her make up and blows a kiss to her self. She slips on the black boots on her fair skin and velvet feet. The zipper gradually covers all the bare feet till the knees. She gets up to leave and her shoes announce her departure. Plop, plop, plop! She loves the attention she gets. She enters the zone of the oblivious, dark and tenebrous. The cowl on her neckline teases every gaping eye. The glow on her hair reflects every color of the light. You can’t help but notice those red lips and a cigarette going in and out of her mouth. The strobes caress her one after the other. The laser aims at her, the disco ball sparkles upon her. The fog hides her. The beams search for her. The music plays for her. The smoke that makes her cigarette turn to ash is also making other eyes burn. Her hair tosses and covers her face and they all yearn to get a glimpse of her… the kohl in her eyes melts and smudges all over her white cheeks. An ogling eye notices the moist eyes. The eyes that were comfortably moist in the dark and shut as the strobe flashed on them… are they trying to say something?

Splash!

2010-05-23T02:10:00.001+05:30

The alley is quiet. The air as still as a dead body. A sudden rush of feet breaks the noise in the alley. The heels screech through the silence like they are asking for help. They stutter at the door, panting, the feet confused which direction to take and suddenly they find their destination.

Plop goes one show flying and the other lay listless on the floor on its side. The satin gown falls on the floor and the pin unfurls soft conditioned tresses that bounce on the back. Sudden motion makes them swirl and bounce from side to side. The gasping grows faster and then… SPLASH!

A blob of water that split from the splash drenches the high heels. Hair, float on the surface and shine back the light in the pool. Blue hallo inside the pool, blurred vision distorted by the disturbance in water and tiny sparkling bubbles that carry oxygen. Nothing could wash the tears. The dark blue sky above and the light blue sparkling water beneath had only one string of life obstructing… the one that floats… waiting to find its course.. above or below! Splash… doesn’t wash all there was…

Preeto Singh

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

That's me! That's not me actually but that's how i have begun to be known as. I have nothing more random than this name attached to me in my life, apart from my thoughts that is... I do not know where this name originated... i do not know why it originated in the first place and i do not know why my name is tweaked to become Preeto singh. But after 8 yrs of this randomness association, i have started living this name and realized how almost everybody calls me by that name.

Two totally disconnected souls who may have met me at totally different instances will have called me by that name. The first time i remember i was 'christened' Preeto Singh by Gaurav Sharma, Sameep Nanda and Ajay Munjal. I guess it was for my punjabi-ness despite of being a maharashtrian. Each of them had given me a name which added upto this rather longish and bizzare 'Preeto Singh Ahluwalia(gaurav) Patpatiya(ajay) Randhawa(nanda)' name which is more bizzare than Eyjafjallajökull* volcano. *(see how cleverly i pasted that weird name coz i couldnt spell it!)

All the people i have met who have ever nicknamed me have called me Preeto Singh and i still fail to know why. My appetite i agree is Punjabi... my looks i don't think are punjabi but i definitely don't think are marathi either... but that doesnt mean i look punjabi. So why this name?

This one time in college in our amphi lecture room, one girl stopped me and asked me...'aap sardarni ho?' cut to - KYA KYA KYA???? nahi... kyon kyon kyon??? Why would a punjabi ask me if i were sardarni? I woke up to my punjabi-ness that day.

Nicknames to me are your way of remembering people. Nicknames are given to people who become so close to you that you can call them anything and they actually respond to it. For me, i am bad with names. I cannot put faces to names, so i put names to faces. My own nicks and they are usually never related to the actual name. Nannu, Gutdu, Bob, Dhimnee, Monika, Tiny, Aanshubhari, radha rani, ICG, blah and blah... are some nicks i gave to people as opposed to Preeto singh rewarded to me!

Sometimes this name intrigues me, but most times i love it. It oozes closeness, warmth, belongingness of a kind. I don't mind it actually. I have been awarded by several nick names throughout... PP, PH (programming head for non radios), Nunnuji (saujanya: Charu), Martha (saujanya: prateek), Fdeeti (saujanya: Iti), Bossi (saujanya: Safa) etc... but so far the one name that has been unanimously chosen by Nickname gods is Preeto Singh. Nonetheless, I accept this name with an open heart and confused mind!

Resurgence

2010-05-12T16:43:00.000+05:30

I am back after a really really long hiatus. While i was away, i have experienced the most diverse emotions one can ever possibly get to experience in a lifetime. I never thought my life would be such a roller coster ride interesting enough to write about. As i write i rewind to the slow september last year when i came back from the film shoot and the world seemed to have stagnated for me. i din't know where i was heading and what i was doing... till i got this tv show with opti.

These bunch of highly creative and funny people i had worked with before were no strangers to me... i was told to write comedy and i failed so badly that i did not attempt ever again hahaha... i knew i couldnt write comedy even though i am funny otherwise... that day i realised its not easy to make people laugh. So i joined the team instead. Since then i have had a blast working on the funniest show on indian tv. Skit after skit i grasped comedy. Each day i grew fonder of the people i worked with. I made friends for life... people with whom i shared the dirtiest jokes with... darkest secrets with and lightest banter with. I felt this warmth after a really long time.

I have met with the most fascinating turns and twists in life during this sabbatical from blogging. I wrote professionally for the first time, i became so broke for a while that i dint have no money to buy food... i got all the money from every where suddenly and vanished suddenly also... i went to manali on a holiday on my hard earned money for 10 blissful days (of which i shall write about separately) and came back enlightened like never before... and the most important resurgence was when a friend of mine opened my eyes to the biggest problem of my life and eased that burden off in a matter of seconds. It was surreal.... like 'why din't you think of this before???' like ' where were you all these days????'

Suddenly my urge for writing has upped manifolds. Suddenly i have realised i CAN write and its always very very humbling to know that so many out there relate to your writing or atleast understand where i come from.

I am back and i shall write more often coz i have too much to share. I want to explore what my mind beholds!

Silhouette

2010-02-28T14:22:00.000+05:30

Her silken hair covers her sore eyes. Her smile hides her wrinkles. Her banter surrogates her sadness. She wipes the dust off the surface to uncover a velvet dress. She sashays into the dress and poignantly looks into the mirror. The red dress did not match her face. Where’s the other face? She looked through the mirror in search of a proxy image. She slowly pulls out her Pandora’s Box. Her fragile hands brush out some powdered rouge and stroke it around her cheek. This red matches her dress. She is reassured. She paints her eye red against a clean white canvas of her face. There is only one thing missing. Her smile. She has lost it somewhere. She looks around… finds a stray smile on an old picture frame. She slithers into the dark alley not wanting to be noticed. Anxiety is making her sweat… the air conditioner is making her freeze. She sneaks through the door into the room where pair of anxious eyes awaits her. Her eyes run through the room and nervousness spills out of it. The frown on her face turns into a smile as soon as she shuts the door behind. She has been asked to smile as soon as she enters the room. Her bag slips down from her shoulder. Her red silk scarf unfurls sensuously and curls on the floor. Those stilettos dig a dot on the carpet as she walks towards the bed. The lights go off!

Discovery

2010-02-13T20:51:00.001+05:30

Wrath besieges my mind. I reflect in the mirror, a person that I know not. Each day I see a different me. Today a happy face tomorrow glum. Ecstatic, another day… My mind rebuffs the reflection.

Sometimes what you become is an outcome of the surroundings you are in. Under immense pressure from your environment, your circumstances your inertia breaks and creates some inexplicable seismic changes in the core of your heart. Over the years my heart has become molten iron from inside. I wasn’t born that way. I was made to become as hard as a diamond without the bling!

I feel the pain when a hand is slit in front of me. Its only that I don’t exclaim. I feel the happiness when a baby is born, its only that I do not have maternal instincts. I feel the sadness when a heart breaks its only that I don’t shed tears. Does that mean I don’t have a heart? I have often been casually taken as a boy. Metaphorically, it means I am cold, strong or perhaps unemotional, detached and crass. And all this only because I am not the opposite of it.

Beneath the multiple layers of iron and thorns is a regular heart that not many have tried to see. I am a normal girl with desires of a regular girl. I want to be loved, I want to be made to feel special, I want to be the world to somebody, I want to be the special someone and want to be pampered too. The only difference is I don’t express it. My exterior is rough and seasoned now. Its not a choice that I made. I became like this. One’s who know me now, do not know my then. One’s who know my then… do not recognize me now. This tom boy who doesn’t wear Indian outfits also wants to dress up someday. I want to shed my jeans to wear clothes that bring my identity back, that make me feel like me. I want to look pretty too. When I look at other people looking good, I wish I could make an effort too. I don’t have any motivation since I do not have anybody to dress up for. Who do I dress up for? What’s the use? My shabby jeans and soft loose tops hide my molten heart. It’s a defense. Against the vulnerability that it carries, the responsibilities that it shoulders, the loneliness that engulfs it.

Beneath those endless layers lies a heart that yearns for love, attention, affection. I am a girl and there is nothing wrong with me. I am loud, I use swear words, I don’t wear make up… but I am a girl at heart. The heart that very few have seen. I want to feel the emotions surrounding me. I want to feel the love. I want somebody to peep within those thousand layers of cold and discover me.