It takes a plastic bag!!

Yeah, its like our brain is programmed to perceive only out of context...like a self surprising machine.
Me and Ash spent yesterday afternoon trying to fix that blinking srs light in the Civic. Ash worked something out, gave me a print out and I was to read out the instructions. He was looking underneath the steering wheel with a plastic bag over his head. (floor of car was dusty and we din't have the insight to fetch a cap...so we improvised with what was lying about in the car)
And thats when it hit me...the contentment bit. Maybe I'm not living out my plan but to watch my husband wear a WalMart bag on his head seemed so right!!!

And so did the high five and the "yay team!!" at the end :D

Where did you go?

I don't know how my train of thoughts landed on Dee. Its been quite a while since we spoke. Quite a longer while since we said anything meaningful. I wonder why that is.

Dee, who began to talk to me only after an entire year of acquaintance.
Dee, who always wrote with an ink pen.
Dee, who said I was one of a kind.
Dee, who stood by me through out our college days.
Dee, who always helped me with my luggage.
Dee, whose humor almost always rubbed me the wrong way!!
Dee, who put up with my tantrums.
Dee, with whom I associate long bus journeys.
Dee, who had funny notions about sharing food.
Dee, who gauged my mood before putting on some music.
Dee, who has preserved some of our silent conversations on odd bits of buttersheet.
Dee, whom I have fought fiercely with on a long walk from Alsa Mall to Spencer Plaza.

And suddenly we stopped talking...or rather communicating. We would from time to time have phone conversations in which we would keep asking each other what else was new. And then exasperated, one of us would start a fight which would end with promises to keep in touch. And that would be it...back to square one.

Why did we stop being close friends? Why this veneer of ice? Perhaps we have changed....perhaps past hurts seem larger now. Or maybe there isn't much common ground anymore.

But the memories remain.

Sleeping Muse

I think I'm going through a phase where I'm not able to blog. Its not laziness, its not lack of time....its none of the usual excuses. As I said to a friend earlier in the week...my mind is too crowded with a lot of nothing! I still crib and yak about so many things but I'm not able to write. I think my Muse is in hibernation and I cant wait for it to wake up and get me going!!

There are times when you surprise yourself...do things you never thought you would. Endure, trudge and survive!!! And for causes that your conscious cannot really perceive or imagine. Its like you do so much...keeping faith that its the right thing to do. And that some spiritual force is leading you to rewards worth everything and more.
And hence I keep the faith.

Yellow bellied excuse!!!

A stomachache is such handy little thing really. Or atleast an excuse of one is. Its a one word answer to a whole lot of annoying questions.
"Why isn't your home-work done?"
"Why didn't you submit your pappers on time?"
"I didn't see you at my wedding...?"
"Will you help me dust the encyclopedia?"
"So why only rasam today?"

So finally when you do acquire one and have absolutely no use for it, you can almost hear the fates giggling!!!

After a long long time, I sat to design something. I must admit I had forgotten how it feels to first see blank paper. A sense of exhilaration tinged with panic!!!!

Looking Down a Lighthouse

I love Oscar Wilde's unique and startling take on life. Makes me ponder, makes me laugh!!

My favourite Oscar Wilde Quote :
I can resist anything but temptation.

Here are a few others:

To lose one parent, Mr Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.

Man is least himself when he talks in his person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.

There are many things that we would throw away if we were not afraid that others might pick them up.

Clouds and masts

Sunset boat cruise, St. Augustine.

Factory Made

Have you been to a plastic place... moulded in the factory and placed for bare function,usually ugly, no identity, no relation to context, one amongst a million others....like a mobile home which can be picked up and plonked anywhere; it would be just as out of place there too.....No? Then visit the smaller cities of America...you'll know what I'm talking about.

Lucky Ali songs take me to a different place. His voice is like water as it trickles to dusty corners of mind, awakening emotions long forgotten.
A long time ago I knew a person who I thought was like such a song. A rare, lovely blend which enriches me by merely its existence. Ahhhh...life and its illusions!!!

As the sun rises

I clicked this one from our balcony...on one of those rare mornings I woke up early :D

When words fail

Sometimes words crumble like a sand castle that has stood for too long underneath a baking sun. Sometimes our minds cannot swallow the enormity of life. Sometimes we just lose ourselves in the maze of our thoughts. Sometimes we fool ourselves into becoming numb. Sometimes we are so weary that nothing seems to be worth it.

But Life goes on......

For my friend who lost two people who she loved within the same week.

A lullaby

I suddenly had a vivid recollection of dusky chai -times and nights when my mother would talk me to sleep. She told me her stories- now they are mine, entrenched in me-and those images and impressions are branded forever in my memory.....

As I lay me down
on a lonely night
I hear her whisper,
a whisper, a soft whisper.

With a voice soaked
in our past, she
sings me a song, a
song, the sweetest song.

She washes me with
a lilting saddness as
I drown in the comfort
of darkness, a heady darkness.

She twirls a tale
as I sleep yet awaken,
she speaks of my mother,
my mother's mother's mother.

I can touch her velvet voice
as we travel away and
they fall in place- the pieces,
the pieces, the very many pieces.

I drink those words of long ago
and the walls of my mind ring
with an echo, an echo,
a poignant echo.

Yup...I'm not going to be posting much for a month. Totally busy.

We have a guest .....the Guru of Healthy Living....my mother in law :)

Magic of place

Some places have it and some don't. A sense of being....a sense of wholeness that resonates with the its context. Or maybe I could describe it as a life of its own with its merits and its flaws...like a person. When it has a story to tell that somehow links everyone who walks by.

Maybe its a sort of timelessness...... or should I say an ability to float through time? And you feel your presence as if its aware of you. Its like you're really alive....more alive than usual. I wonder how that comes to be? By virtue of design, history or thriving inhabitation?

Or something more intangible and metaphysical?

The Problem with this country

The Problem with this country is that they won't give you a PHD if you don't dot your "i"s.

As you can see I have been customizing my template and I worked on Photoshop after a very long time. And let me tell you Photoshop has therapeutic properties! Once I started I couldn't stop.....And I took out some pictures I shot in the past six months and worked on them too. Here they are.
This one above was shot in a service plaza. We were driving from Houston to San Antonio and it got so hot that Ash decided to stop and take a mini nap.










The boat picture, one of my favorites. I shot this is we were canoing down rainbow springs. Oh!! And this was before Ash lost his paddle...thats another story!!








The one below is also from the same expedition. Its a beautiful park/forest- the water is bright blue and trees are huge. They have these trails winding around a number of cascades (artificial but lovely anyway)






The picture below is one of the San Antonio sky. As you can see I've used the same image for my Blog Heading :)

Does art really make a difference? Or is it just another medium of elite entertainment? Or something that gratifies your senses?

I often wonder- like all those who attempt to reconfirm faith in their cause- if beauty really changes things at all. If it can really touch a person, a soul...if it can nudge a society toward refinement and culture.

Sometimes as I open myself to metaphors, their meanings and their secret depths.....I gasp and marvel for a while and then I feel somehow disappointed that it doesn't really leave a mark....It washes over me and I'm still the same. Unmoved. And I go back to the same world I came from.

Anything larger than life is expected to take you away from reality....maybe therein lies the paradox. Art as fantasy or as a response to the real....depends on the notion behind creation and the whim of the perceiver. But sometimes thats all there is....a whimsical whim. It agonizes me, pains me that this conception/comprehension is so fragile, so elusive. Yet it is so tremendous....it swallows me whole. And yet I cannot touch it.

I can sympathize with Rand's Dominique as she wants to destroy beauty because she cannot bear to see it mutilated by.....life. In fact, I envy her profound passion. To her frozen perfection leaps to life and the rest fades away.

I hate white light....its stark, ugly, and crude. Its ok for wal-mart...but I think it should be otherwise banned!!!
I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!!!!!!


(whew!! That feels good :D)

The Leaf and I

She sits upon her twig
high up on a willow
and smiled as I
whizzed by in hurry.
'Where to?', she whispers to me
and I bellow out an answer
of castles and seas larger than I.
She wants to know more
whether the castle has a song
or if the sea could laugh
but I'm not sure so
I tell her I'm late. Then
a while later I change my mind
and rush the other way
seeking a desert and a spring.
She wonders why I left
the sea and the castle on the cliff
and she asks why I din't stay
to learn their story.
She asks me questions I
don't want to answer, questions
which i don't want to hear.
So I pretend to be rushed and
blow past her as she
clings to her twig
high up on a willow.

I cant think of a title for this one!!!

I think everyone needs to be king somewhere, sometime in his or her life. Even the most quiet, unassuming of the lot need to know they can rule...or at least hold the spotlight for a while. Its this sweet lingering memory that propels us through reality.

Narrating my life.....

Ever since I started blogging I seem to go about life hunting for moments or ideas that I can put into my blog. Its like this parallel processing my brain seems to be doing as it tries to capture the little ironies that hold my attention or flitting thoughts that breeze through my mind. And as I walk down the driveway, check in my luggage or water my little indoor plant, I seem to string together words and see how it all unfolds. Though most of it does not find its way here (since the moment is lost or I just forget), I think I've become a Thought-Collector.

I don't know if the next three weeks are gonna be the longest or the shortest!!

Murphy's law....

How much of bad luck can you have in one morning? I had my drivers test today...and I had to drive myself (which is not allowed because I just have a learners') to the office....took a wrong turn and had to drive back....had a document missing so had to call up the insurance company to fax it across and hence was 10 min late for the appointment....and then i flunked my test due to a bad case of nerves....and i kinda misplaced my learners' permit and had to hunt for it for ages!!!! Then had to drive back....!!! And the cherry on the cake was that today was boiling HOT!!!

When sadness isnt sadness

Sometimes we cling to our sorrow like a plank in a ship wreck....holding on to it to keep our head above water. Our gloom seems to give us identity among the ocean of people around us. Or we hold it up like a priceless prize. And carry it around close to our hearts like an achievement.

Last hope for survival or a trophy to be showcased.

Little nothings

My fingers brush against the keys
To find the words that scurry away
Like little crabs upon deserted shores.

Its heavy, its strong,it grips my heart
but what it is I cannot say,
If I could I wouldn't feel this way.

VT.....

VT has set off an avalanche of blogs, I'm sure. And this another snowball.

So much has been said already and I choose not to state the obvious. What amazes me is that there is so much of tragedy in a society which is economically stable, socially evolved (supposedly), and which has access to pretty much everything. Medicine, education, your basic day to day needs, entertainment, opportunity....you name it.

And most importantly freedom....freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom to dress the way you want, freedom to make money.....freedom to change your sex, for godsake!! Isn't this supposed to be an ideal society where justice prevails and people live happily ever after?

So now its not money, not the green lusty greed, not religion, not war or peace, not politics or power...then what is the reason that this boy has tread the dark, murky waters into the recesses of his mind? If its such a perfect world which runs as smooth as clock-work, then why does the system collapse so miserably? In a country which prizes national security above all else (to the extent that it goes to war with an already crumbling nation) how can young civilians be shot so easily, so simply in broad daylight?

What should be the solution? More rules? More laws? And more vigilant systems? Will that be enough? Or do we dare an attempt to find out whats really wrong with paradise.

"Oh! I made Biryani along with....."

I was in a grumpy mood on Saturday. For no particular reason. Ash tells me "Why dont you call up your mom and tell her you made rava laddu. That will cheer you up!!"

I growled and said nothing but that statement wrung a smile from me later that day. I didn't realize I was so transparent. But its true. I slave over (ok, I'm exaggerating) a new dish, wait for Ash to come home and test it; if and when he shows the thumbs up, I get hyper and excited till I tell some one back home.

It could be because I'm bored or maybe I am so amazed that I am actually not-so-bad at something I expected to fail miserably at. When I first got here, it was an effort to put a brave face, look as if I knew what I was doing and keep reminding myself not to burn down the kitchen. Well, I dint burn it down though the smoke detector has squealed in terror more than a few times.

And its not just cooking but home-making in the general sense. Stacking the magazines, taking out the trash, watering the plant and throwing pebbles at garden lizards.(The last one may not be too house-wifely but its fun)I manage most of it and did I mention that I've not burnt the kitchen down? Yes and finally, I've not lost my sanity. Now, that is an accomplishment.

No, really it is. For the simple reason that i used to be a total career-junkie at one point of time. Getting 8 hours of sleep at night and free time during weekends used to be like a decadent vacation. I used to enjoy the franticly rushing, pedestrian swearing, mad life to the hilt.

But I've not sobered down completely. Have faith in God, humanity and the craziness of my soul. I hope to transform into a coffee gulping, traffic-light running over-worked machine soon. Cheers!!!

The Different Life

As kids, we grow with up opinions of grown-ups and the things they do. Oh, I'm so not gonna do that when I'm older!! Or I'm never going to join that band-wagon as an adult!!I'm gonna be so much cooler than that!

Our perspective of many things from down there seems so different now we're up here and see eye to eye on all those issues. Or perhaps it is expectation and grooming that condition us to walk along the road our parents and those before have taken. Or our very definition of whats cool or rather whats important changes.

Right now, I surprise myself as I undertake so many "uncool" tasks with gusto and I'm even more startled to find myself enjoying most of them. A lot of things my parents did make sense and some of them inspire awe.

Everyone thinks he or she is different and yet all of us fall into a pattern. Even the ones who refuse to fit in will follow other "refuse-to-fit-in"s. No two snowflakes are the same yet not one of the millions of snowflakes stands out. Their differences become uniform, stereotyped.

Hmmm...I sound so melancholic. But its true. Try zooming out of your life....the issues that loom over us are reduced to dots and we ourselves are a tiny part of much bigger mechanism.

Blog About Blogs

Like all new bloggers, I've been surfing the blog-o-sphere to see and perhaps, learn. Well, I'm not gonna crib about those who devote their writing to their daily routine or those who account, very publicly, for every calorie they intake.

I'm gonna crib about cliches. I came across this blog group, or whatever it is they are called, by a few people I am vaguely acquainted to. And they have put together, what seems to me as copies of copies of copies....Like saying something for the sake of saying it. Or saying something that has been said ...like maybe a couple of million times. There is nothing remotely original about the narrative or the content. But to compensate(?), there was an abundance of "desi learns to talk American" phrases.

I'm just wondering is this just an outcome of showing off the "hippest" side of their personalities....or is it that they're thoughts are reduced to this as well?

"Excuse me.....Where am I?"

I think I've mentioned that I'm learning to drive. I'm doing well, thank you very much! As long as I have my navigator (read that as Ash) beside me.
"Right or left?" I keep asking him at every signal...and he booms out "We take this route everyday...can't you figure it out?"
So I'm not a map-finder...yes, I shamelessly fall back on that cliche. The system of numbered roads and a gridded network baffle me. Back home, we went by landmarks and names as opposed to exits and numerals. I mean, would u recall a "Cathedral road" or "SR 200" ?
The thought of driving in a highway and figuring out where I'm going seems terrifying to me. The numbers seem to slide off my head within a few seconds. The loops, turns, this-a-ways and that-a-ways are a wee bit too much. And MapQuest with its mixed up directions doesn't help.
The most agonizing part is the fact that you CANNOT stop and ask for directions. Next time you people back home swear at an unruly pedestrian, or complain of crazy cyclists...remember that these very people can point out the right way at times of distress. Ah!! The grass is always greener....

Marketing for the numbed

Its like everybody is out to con you. They say its free and it is; only that to use it you have to pay. They say its on sale and it is; only that it works out just as expensive anyways. Everybody is marketing, Everybody is selling and they push and prod until out of sheer exhaustion you buy.

But a daily commuting, fast food consuming urban dweller develops a partial immunity for this kind of advertising. I say partial because he is already caught in the vicious cycle. The immunity causes his eyes to glaze instantly when commercials that lurk behind talk shows and sitcoms spring out in action. And the promotions on the radio are given the same importance as the hum of the microwave. You get the picture.

What is appalling is the sheer quantity you have to block to preserve your sanity and your bank balance. Thats when you want to leave all the trappings of a capitalist society behind and decide to tread into the wilderness...and what do you know, it follows you there too..."Oh, is your tent branded?" "I'm sorry, this fishing area is reserved for the Platinum members!!"

Sometimes I feel, this culture of hounding/marketing and over advertising is eating into the soul of society. I wonder if there is a way out? I wonder if the corporate biggies can churn out a healthier alternate?

Sunbathing in Rainbow Springs

We went canoing yesterday down Rainbow springs and we found Mr. Turtle taking a nap on a tree trunk, soaking in the sun.....and pow!!! I shot him...take a peek!

Fragments of rain thought

Someone once told me that the rain makes the world look like a watercolor. The hues wet and blurry and the tones, soft.

The rain makes me quiet. Its a beautiful melancholy that washes my mind and a strange emotion that I can't quite name, fills me. Wisps of thought float along- sometimes coherent and sometimes not.

And today, as I watch the rain dance on my patio, bursting into tiny explosions as it touches the ground....i go into this trance.

Subtle water, strong water...water so hypnotic and yet so mild. Life-giving water that will someday destroy the world.

Identity Crisis

When i blog, i picture myself talking to someone....and each time i blog, that someone varies. And thats why its happened. The identity crisis, i mean. My blog doesnt know who its talking to...each post sports a new mood, accent and style. Catered for a different set. Just like me. I change to suit the audience...hell, I change to suit my fancy. Just for fun...its like I get bored if I'm the same me for too long.
So if you read something you really relate to...its meant for you :)

p.s: the last one was jus an experiment with youtube...getting the hang of things!!:D

Are you scared of teeny fish?

Ice fishing is more dangerous than you think....

Why I cant ride a bicycle

Its not completely true...that I can't ride a bicycle, i mean. When i was around seven, I used zip around the apartment terrace in shiny red cycle. We- my friends and I- used to blow mist into the chilly air as sped along chasing one another, circling around the ventilation ducts. The pride of being the fastest (never mind the oldest :D) is quite heady, let me tell you. Yes, I could ride a bicycle.

Then some know-it-all kid at school popped my bubble. "Riding with safety wheels doesn't count!!!" " Really? Says who?" "Says me and I'm taller!!!" Ok..he had a point. And I had to admit defeat...I couldn't ride a bicycle......yet!

With this new found revelation of my naivete and a couple of bruises (You guessed it...i tried to ride without my extra set of wheels), I asked my cousin to teach me the art in the propah way.

Oh! what fun!!! I would sit on the bicycle and pedal slowly as he gave me stern instructions and a whole lot of encouragement. I would smile loftily at my mum, perched on the verandah seat. And holler at my other cousins who tried to get in the way asking for a turn.

And then he let go. Woooooops! End of fun. I crashed into a lily shrub (Poor shrub!! No more lilies for you) I think I cleared out about half the plants in my grandparents' garden by the end of that summer vacation. Oh and there were scratches, bruises and some more scratches all over me....and sadly, him as well.

Well, all was not in vain for there was vast improvement. I was steadier than before and could drive on our street. I could cycle steadily for about five minutes as long as nothing made me nervous. Like dogs, people in the way, other vehicles in the vicinity or an approaching turn. Thats when I would close my eyes. And then I would either crash into my already bruised and battered cousin or into a street lamp. As he did not pose an electric hazard, I felt my cousin the safer option.

And then he gave up....just like that!!! Without rhyme or reason, threw his bruised purple hands in the air and walked away. Or rather limped away. I crushed his little toe when i was trying to maneuver a tricky turn. Whatever happened to cousinly love?

That was the tragic end of my childhood cycling lessons. The next time I attempted to ride was when I was around 20 and in an expedition to Auroville. Auroville- international city, land of experiments and dreams, mud roads and complete absence of streetlights and signages...It had to be Auroville!

If you haven't been to Auroville, I'll let you know that there is no public transport. You could rent two wheelers and navigate through the dusty spiraling roads. And thats what my friends and I chose to do. All of them opted for mopeds or scooties and I settled for...guess what? A bicycle!!

To my surprise, I managed to ride back to our dorm. I was wobbly but I could ride. The next afternoon we planned a trip to the matr-mandir (the huge sphere at the eye of the spiraling roads). I rode. Wobble, ride, wobble, ride...when something in the way moves, stop the cycle. Its a simple enough process if you get used to it. My confidence rose and on the way back, it was smooth sailing until i lost my balance and drove right into a thorn bush!!! Need I say more?
No more cycles please....I've given it up for the good. Mine and humanity in general!!!

But I am learning to drive!

Just a thought

I think expression is like water; if one vent is closed, it swirls within you- rippling, rumbling, sometimes roaring until it finds another way to flow.

Cafe Unique

Anokhi means unique and unique it is, this cafe in the very heart of my city. It sits so very quietly beside a busy road, hidden behind a plethora of greens. A little pathway takes you from the parking lot to a boutique (which is frightfully expensive) and further down, to rickety garden furniture strewn amidst a cove of trees. Tall floor mounted fans spin to ward away the humid heat and a large net is hung overhead to ensure leaves don't drop into your salsa.

The menu is funny....limited, but funny. There's a bit of Italian...and you can spot Indianized Mexican, some all-time American favourites...as Lou Bega would say "a little bit of this and a little bit of that"

The service is slow....i mean real slow. There times I've had to walk up to the counter and ask for the check, after all efforts of frantic waving and calling out to the waiter hadn't worked. Its better to let them know at the start of the meal if its gonna be a "I've gotta meeting at 2.00" lunch.

What i love about the place is the calm....you can stay for hours, and people wont bother you with "Will there be anything else, ma'am?" Or "Could you shift to that dingy half-a-seater? We need a table for 24." Its one of the few places in the city, you can go sit by yourself, have a nice meal, read a book or simply stare at a tree.

And when I think back, I can recall I've sat there with almost all of my closest friends at some point of time. In large groups- laughing, chatting. And sometimes with a single person- conversing over cappuccino. So many moods. So many contexts. So many memories.

Anokhi lets you be...do your own thing. It doesn't impose, it doesn't try to make a statement...it simply is. And thats why I miss it.

Whats your favourite word?

Words are beautiful little things....we use them so carelessly, so easily without really understanding their potency, their inherent little wordly qualities. I see them as tiny beads packed with meaning and definitive purpose. Strung together as sentences, flavoured with accents and moods-they are tossed across in conversations. And when these garlands touch-maybe caress, sometimes hit the other person-they explode into a shower of comprehension, imagery and colour.

Some words are hard, unyielding....like a "cut" or a "brunt"...then there those dynamic ones that can "swing" or "slash". The softer "slush". The tempting "lure".

Then there are the quiet ones, mild but shrouded in mystery like "ether"...It has a cottony feel as it slips off your lips. But my all time favorite would be "metaphor"....enigmatic and dignified. Something about it that makes it so powerful in a subdued sort of way....

I used to write.....i used to have a need to express through solid words.....then the medium metamorphasized, combined with my profession...become a collage of spaces, colurs and metaphors. Now...im at the crucial node of choosing the medium...or perhaps no medium at all...

In this new land of "dreams"...(yes, its laced with sarcasm as this land has shattered mine), the rules are different, the rewards are different and the parameters are different. Its altogether a new ball game, my friend.