Of possession and fear...

“Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon which you reason and your judgment wage war against passion and your appetite.

Would that I could be the peacemaker in your soul, that I might turn the discord and the rivalry of your elements into oneness and melody

But how shall I, unless you yourselves be also the peacemakers, nay, the lovers of all your elements?” 

–Kahlil Gibran

One finds a strange comfort in the hollowness of beautiful words sometimes. Like gems that were waiting to be unearthed by you. Waiting to tell you what you want to listen to.

Those words are not just that. They are what I am. They are what I am fighting. They tell stories of the cold nights on the terrace. They tell stories of the sleepless darkness that I’m fighting. They are the stories of those words casually thrown around and that refuse to leave you alone.

The stories of the pain that comes with a harsh, cold night, when your eyes smart from the ice-cold wind and your fingers turn numb when you run them over the steel railings and you muffle a shiver as you place your bare foot on the granite slabs washed by the cruel, cold moonlight. And you know there’s so much to say and you know that much of it will remain unsaid, because you fear. You fear losing what you cherish and you fear having to face it and you fear that nothing will be the same and you fear that you will wake up to a reality much harsher than this. And you know that you’re fighting that war.

The stories of the turmoil when you know it’s the not the right thing. But you want it to BE. And you close your eyes and walk on pretending to know not where it’s all leading. And you fumble for your totem and hope the dream is your reality. And the war is still on.

And you know the answer to it all along. When it comes down to the battle, there’s only one way you win this one. The answer lies in fighting for oneself. Your needs are but your weaknesses. That person you seek is but your undoing. The answer lies in YOU.

Hiding somewhere in the night

I keep the ice-cold water running. It sends a chill down my spine, but weird how the painfully cold water, that almost stings me, is a rather welcome feeling. It makes me feel like I can wash away the last vestiges of a part of me I don’t want to keep with me.

The feeling of letting the cold water run over your tired eyes and throbbing head. I’m afraid to open my eyes. I’m afraid there’s too many things that are going to hit me at the same time, too many answers that I owe myself and to many others, too many issues I’d rather leave unattended.

There’s a part of me that wants to curl up in the bed after the shower and never wake up. And a part of me, that  wants to go out in the bright sun and let the warmth fill me, like everyday...

I look at my fingers turn white and wrinkly. They feel so weird, like they aren’t a part of me, like I can’t feel them anymore. Like memories long forgotten.

I feel the goosebumps and welcome that shiver. Is it time I woke up? Or am I still going to believe in the mantra of ‘Reality is overrated’? Sometimes, just sometimes, we know the answers all along. We just don’t want to accept them. We love the dream too much to let go of it.

So where does one draw the line? When is the right time? Which price is too high? The stakes only keep increasing...Is there an exit?

I don’t know. I probably never will. There’s no turning back, for now.

There’s only one thing I know when I come out of the shower. I need to change my shampoo.

Little women...and men.

I never know what I really want. I want a bit of this and a bit of that, only to realize its one or none.

My DEEP conversation. Actually, i wanted to try out a cool screenshot ;)

In the course of having a DEEP conversation with one of my close friends* today I came to two VERY IMPORTANT conclusions:

My Little Monster <3

a)Boys are monsters**. ALL of them. Even the one who you thought was really nice . Only you probably/will probably choose to close your eyes to signs of his monstrosity. The good, little monster of your life you know.

b)MOST girls are evil, manipulative bitches. Don’t get it? Try this. It’s so true its creepy. http://www.nytimes.com/2007/12/02/fashion/02love.html?pagewanted=3&_r=2.*** It’s like  someone cut-copy-pasted all that I had in my mind. But I said ‘MOST’. There are a few good ones also. Rare, but there. Or maybe we again just choose to close our eyes to it because she’s your best friend and she’s the good, little bitch of your life. A little bit of manipulation and bitching never did anyone harm. :P

I need to start loving myself a little more. Late realization, but true. I’ve spent all these years giving primacy to others before me- parents, friends, best friends, boyfriend, the-one-I-want-as-my-boyfriend. Enough. Must stop now. Noone’s worth it. Except, your parents. Mom and Dad are the best things that happened to you. J

I cried myself to sleep last night. It’s possibly the most unpleasant thing in the world. I woke up in the morning with a headache and exactly the same thoughts as I’d gone to sleep with. Fail.

What I really need right now is the beach + coconut water + my best friend + a LONG conversation on the ultimate question of  life, the universe and everything (and the answer to that is neither 42 nor ‘nothing’ in my Universe).

Alanis Morissette is God! She knows everything. And she has a song to suit every problem in my life. I don’t think I can EVER get over “Hands Clean”. It makes me laugh everytime, and feel a little bit sad too.

I LOVE the cartoon week celebrations that’s all over Facebook. It’s funny how it’s made so many of my friends ACTUALLY  Youtube  the favourite episode/scene of their favourite cartoon/animation movie. I like the happy feel of it all. As MM says, “the world has finally woken up to the art that is animation”. J

I think the song  “Sheila ki Jawaani” is ABSOLUTELY disgusting. I don’t know why everyone’s going gaga over it. It sounds bad, looks bad and is well  BAD. Period.

My projects will NEVER get over till I log out of GTalk. Little I can do about it though. I feel like I can’t breathe without being online on GTalk. =/

I think today was the International Day of Cynicism. It was everywhere, all the time.

Don’t be fooled by the title of the post. It has little to do with whatever I wrote. I TOLD you I was messed up in the head today! Or did I?

*You know who you are.

**Copyright-Niya. Don't forget to check her out at http://newlampsforold.blogspot.com/ <3

*** Thank you for that absolutely life changing article- you know who you are.

"Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields"

Strawberry Fields 2010.

It came and it went. Leaving behind in its wake more than just 3 days of brilliant music.

Every bit of the “unpaid slave labour” (as my friend likes to put it) worth it, in the end. The 3 days when law school doesn’t seem like law school. Pure, unadulterated music that brings together almost every law schoolite.

And well, it makes for some of my best memories from law school. The charged atmosphere, the cheering crowd, the chaos, the smell of Nizaam’s Rolls, benevolent seniors ( :P), the pretty lights and the sheer brilliance of the music. It’s my favourite time of the year.

And I’ve mentioned it once before in one of my posts, but it’s my FAVOURITE moment from this year’s SF- being drunk and sitting on the precariously balanced bike, leaning against a friend for support and seeing the laser lights make patterns in the sky and listening to o the crowd swaying and singing along to Raghu Dixit’s “Har saans mein, har dhadkan mein ho tum” <3

Here’s to many more moments like these to come. No matter how clichéd it sounds, Strawberry Fields forever.

Photo Courtesy: Paldron Tenzin

"Last Friday Night"

So, everyone has one of those days.

Days when one makes that one big faux pas. So how much does it really matter? The mistake. More importantly what matters more? The friend you lost? The trust and faith people lost on you? The guilty conscience? The pointed glares and cold shoulders? The humiliation and embarrassment? I could never decide for myself. I didn’t know which was worse.

But the best way to deal with it, I learnt, was to be with my friends. It’s a test too. You come out of it knowing those people who you know will stand by you through thick and thin. And it’s a comforting thought indeed. So, give it back to them when they are facing the rough patch coz you know the worth of a text message asking you if you’re ok. Coz you know the worth of a long talk on the parking lot benches. Coz you know the worth of that hug that says “I’m right here”. Coz you know the security of knowing someone’s fighting for you. Frame that moment when you’re drunk and can’t stand straight  and you sit on the bike and lean against your friend for support and see the laser lights making patterns in the sky. That’s your moment and there’s your friend.

When so many things are going wrong, take solace in the fact that someone’s ready to watch your back and set it right. Find those people and never let them go coz they are the ones who really care. Good or bad, everything happens for a reason so follow MM’s mantra in life- Keep calm and eat cupcakes. But don’t forget to share them with the one who bought you that comfort food. J

Calcutta Chromosomes

HOME.

Its takes one word to make everything in life a little easier.

Wake up late in the bed which I’ve slept in for 19 years. Woken up by Mom who then tries to prevent me from going back to sleep again by striking up some random conversation often about the headlines of the day, shopping/movie plans, my dad’s newest colleague who comes to office drunk, my distant cousin’s wedding plans or my first cousin’s hostel life updates.

It’s all so comforting to be talking about things and people I’ve grown up amongst. To let her do all the talking and let it all sink in. The feeling of being home, near my mother; Smiling at the fact that none of those abovementioned things really affect my life except that they seem familiar, less alien than every morning that greets me in law school. And the best part is that your Mom knows it all, knows that you really don’t care that much about a drunken colleague or a distant cousin but she knows I need the familiarity of family, friends and relatives.

It’s just the perfect beginning to any day!

Get hold of a book and sit in the verandah reading it and dozing off and waking up in fits.

The collection of your favourite DVDs.

A long phone call with your best friend.

Radio One and your favourite FM channel (a non-existent thing in Bangalore unless you want to listen to Kannada music!).

Dinner with your family while the TV plays the soppiest soap on earth!

Home.

Theres something magical about it. The comfort, the predictability, the known smell of freshly laundered clothes, the touch of the weathered study table, the couch in front of the T.V.  and the comfortable spots of which you’re completely aware, the familiar smell that wafts in from the kitchen, the comfort of piping hot food, the balancing act when sitting on the parapet discussing life with your cousin...

And there’s something about returning back to your own city.

Of Park Street and Peter Cat and Flury’s and Christmas celebrations and Someplace Else and Oxford and Mocambo and Roxy...

Of Elgin Road and Forum and the infamous CCD that has witnessed much of my life’s many funny escapades and Aqua Java and Prime meetups and Kookie Jar...

Of Lake Gardens and the Lake and boating  and South City and Sneha and evening walks and phuchkas and plans to change the world and Grub Club and Southern Avenue ...

Of the walk down the road in front of school and the Upper Crust and the Xerox shops and the rickshaw rides...

Along the Outram Ghat and ferry rides, ice-cream at Scoop and walking along the Circular Railway tracks...

The silhouette of the  Hooghly bridge against the evening sky, the outline of Eden Gardens from my terrace on a ODI night, the Maidan and Book Fair and football, the lit up Howrah bridge and the night lights...

The festive feel in the air from a month before the Durga Pujo. The charged atmosphere, noise and the chaos that ensues during those five days and how everyone enjoys every bit of it. The first glimpses on Shashti, the morning anjali on Ashtami, watching the procession for the immersion of idols on Dashami from my grandmom’s balcony and writing the Durganaam ten times on the Bel leaf. The familiarity of traditions...

Of so many memories scattered all over the city, in the unlikeliest of places and dingiest lanes, on metro rides and pirated book shops on the Golpark pavement, in the darkest alleys of New Market and the rows of fresh bakes in Nahoum’s, of friends forgotten and promises not kept, of returning back to the people who know you the best and manage to surprise you with that knowledge in the unlikeliest way ...

Here’s to my City of Joy...

Error, qui non resistitur approbatur!

Error, qui non resistitur approbatur - An error not resisted is approved.


So, i came across this Latin, legal maxim that made me believe once again that I was meant to be in Law School!
It's way too funny how I've actually used it in my life! It's like that moment from Legally Blonde where Elle Woods goes "I Object!"...
Hahahahahha..