Closest..

'Hey, tell me something..' she said,' and only one thing thats really close to your heart.. closest.. can be a person also.'

And I felt happy... that somebody wanted to know.
I thought of the people that I love.... and I couldn't make up my mind... And yet I wanted to come up with something that wouldn't disappoint this person.. this person who made me happy because she wanted to know something about me.

So I thought.. of the e-mails my brother writes me.. of songs that make me happy.. of home.. my mom's cooking.. my father walking around with his glass of scotch.. a bunch of unsent letters to a teenage crush.. of late night phone conversations .. early morning scooter rides when the whole city is asleep... of just being allowed to be myself and being loved.. I went on a trip thinking.. and felt good about all the things that I held close to my heart.. and then deciding that none of my thoughts were good enough, for the 'closest thing'... I kept thinking...

I finally told her,that if I were to think of a person that I held close to my heart, there are four that I cannot choose from.. And I cannot think of a 'thing' that would ever compare to them.. I knew it wasn't an impressive answer, but atleast it was honest..

I asked her what her answer would be.. And she said, 'My dreams are the closest to my heart.. I can't pick people or things.. All my dreams are the closest to my heart..'

And I smiled, impressed... but still happy that she had asked me...

Just Friends..

They're just friends.
Even though most love songs remind him of her...

A thought..

When I was in college, I used to pray every morning.. and I had this perfect prayer worked out.. with no loopholes.. It covered everything...I prayed for 'long, happy , healthy' lives for my family, and that I would die before any of them.. And then I had one line for each of them.. Generally covering their health, what they dreamed for and wishing something nice for them. Then there were friends who needed to get placed, backs cleared, a CAT aspirant who i wished would get into IIM A, B or C or anywhere else that God thought would be perfect for him. Then for myself.. that I wouldn't get caught sleeping in class, that i wouldn't be asked any questions and generally that sessionals would go well, exams would be cleared and that I would never disappoint my parents. And after all this I'd put in a line for the 'general good of humanity'.. whatever that implied. I thought it was perfect.. my perfect prayer with no loopholes.. That if I protect the tiny world around me with prayers everything would be fine.. And I know there are times when things don't really work out and there's disappointment.. But I was better off that way.. I realize now that praying everyday is something that I learnt and left in college.. With sessionals and placements and getting caught sleeping in class and so many things to worry about, it was something I needed.. And somehow now, its taken a back seat... I have stopped praying everyday.. its sort of sad to admit this.. but I forget!.. Its as if I have settled into some complacent little routine where I've stopped worrying about things other than what to wear.. or whether the meter on the rick is showing exactly 25 rupees to get till office.. or whether I'll be able to deliver the code.. Thats it.. and none of that calls for daily prayer.. But I should still be praying for my family.. and I convince myself that my mom does enough of it to compensate for me.. So that leaves me with just once in a while emergency-prayers for when somebody wants something real bad or is worried about something.. And I don't know where this is taking me, but I've just settled into it and I cant seem to break out of it.. and its beginning to worry me.. :)

Believe it or not...

Someone I know once went to drop off his girlfriend at the railway station.
They held hands ALL THE TIME and since they didn't have much to talk about, they concentrated on, and perfected, the art of looking at each other dreamily, like a pair of love-sick cows.. I mean doves. So anyways, story is, they were at the railway station and he was supposed to see her off. They were holding hands as usual. He didn't want to let go. So he took another ticket and travelled all the way to Kottayam (65 km away) because he couldn't 'bear' to let go..
Aaaah Love!.... * puke *

P.S.:All characters and events portrayed are fictional. Any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental, but if you know what i'm talking about, then Hey! How are you? See I wrote a post about you.. :)

WHAT???

Seriously.. WHAAA.. ?!?

She ask, me write 2

G doesn't think this is as good. But still...

She ask : You haven't spoken to your best friend Jalajasri for nearly two years. Do you remember what caused the rift between the two of you?

My take :

"New School !" they told me. "English medium!" , "ICSE !" , "Quality" , "Standard".. I heard them say.."New friends," They tried to convince me.. I would love it.. They were sure.. And I did not. I hated it. A class of 23 snotty 12 year olds who gave me one look and collectively dismissed me.. for wearing two plaits folded up with dark blue ribbon, for wearing my anklets over my socks, for smelling like coconut oil, and for bringing curd rice for lunch instead of cheese sandwiches. Being ignored.. For a whole month. They wouldn't look at me if I stood in their path, not that I dared to. I hated it. I hated the school. I hated them and I had begun to hate myself.
Until Jalajasri talked to me.
After a month in that horrible class, she smiled at me, and we walked home together that day, holding hands. She was kind. She didn't care what the other girls thought. She liked me the way I was, not that I knew very well.. We could talk about anything.. We had nicknames for all the snotty girls in class.. We rolled our eyes imitating them and burst out laughing.. I was finally happy. She was my best friend, my confidante, my sister almost, the best thing that had happened to me. I didn't feel miserable anymore.
Then they caught us whispering in class. I remember how the teacher stared at us, and the whole class turned to look at the two of us.. in the back bench.. "Atleast they were looking at me, finally!", I whispered to her once class resumed. I don't know whether they heard me again, coz they all stopped and stared again. The teacher looked upset when I refused to tell her who I was talking to.. As if I would betray my best friend!
Then Papa took me to the doctor. I think they thought I was mad. They said she was imaginary! Jalajasri! As if I was stupid! I don't know when I stopped talking to her.. I think it was the night Amma held me to her chest and sobbed. I didn't want her to cry. She made me promise I wouldn't talk to Jalajasri. Ever.

----------------

She ask, me write

"Okay, here's the idea," she said. "I ask you a question and you write a short story explaining it."
And everybody's attempt would be a 'take' in the comments box...

She ask:She knew he wouldn't approve. So why did Visalakshi go ahead and do it anyway?

and
'my take':

She watched with her chin in her palm, elbow resting on the table, as her mother-in-law gobbled up her dinner noisily. Visalakshi was used to this. She would eat up everything drenched in buttermilk, tilt the plate and slurp up what was left, wipe the plate clean with her fingers, lick each one of them, sit back in her chair and burp loudly. Then she would make a face at Visa, tell her there was too much salt or too less or something and walk off leaving a mess at the table. Then she had to be read to and finally her feet massaged till she fell asleep. And she took forever to fall asleep, nagging and complaining about every thing that fell in front of her myopic eyes. She had heard it a million times and could almost... almost tune it out. Except when the old lady started off about how Venky should have agreed to marry his uncle's daughter Mythili, and how much better off they would have all been if that match had worked out!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!! They had been married 6 years and they had two kids and the old lady was still thinking about his marriage proposals. Nobody and nothing was good enough for her and her precious catch of a son!! Every time Venky's mother came to stay with them, Visalakshi would be walking a tight rope, gritting her teeth, being 'polite', 'civil', 'respectful', slaving away at the kitchen to feed the old woman's enormous appetite, cleaning up after her, washing her clothes and massaging her legs forever. The kids steered clear of their mother, stifling their laughter when she threw them warning looks.

As she wiped the table clean, she heard her mother-in-law call her, and she rolled her eyes at the hours of feet massaging that would undoubtedly ensue. She sat on the floor rubbing Tiger balm onto those hated legs, tuned in reluctantly now and then to hear the name 'Mythili' and songs of her glory, and felt miserable at the thought that there was no way out of this. Every now and then, she would come for her 'visit' and things would be the same, if not worse. To get away, just once, and have Venky do this instead of her. That'd be a dream!

She heard her snore and got up, ran to the bedroom, packed two bags; one for her, one for the kids. As she stood in front of the mirror, combing her hair in a hurry.. She paused and practised her lines...
" Hello Venky? I had a call from home.. Amma is not feeling well.. I have to go right away.. I'm taking the kids.. Vacation time no.. so its ok.. I've called the maid from nextdoor.. She'll stay with your mother till you come.. Yes.. I know.. You might have to take leave while she's here.. But .. you understand right?"

He might not approve.. But what the hell .. She grinned.

----------------

P.S.: In the excitement of finally having a 'take', I forgot that she'd asked to keep it short. :D

Let go..

Yesterday he asked me how she's doing. I said I don't know... I wish I'd bothered to find out.. atleast so I'd have something to tell him when he asked me..
But then.. I never thought he'd ask me.
I used to wish she'd just let go of him.. Yesterday I wished she hadn't.
I wish he hadn't let her.

Condolences..

I wish I knew what to say to you.... I wish I had the guts to call you up.. But no matter what everyone tells me.. I'm sure you don't want to talk to anyone right now... I'm sure you're least interested in people's condolences.. What is it actually? Someone expressing their sympathy for your loss? I'm sure they're grateful it didn't happen to them... It sounds evil.. but I know I'm praying it doesn't happen to me... I'm praying that I won't have to lose anybody I love.. When I tell you that I'll pray for you.. What will I be praying for? I guess I could pray that you have the strength to come through this and go on without him.. But I can't possibly tell you that.. What should I say? What can I possibly say that you would want to hear right now? It doesn't make sense...

In a car...

To answer the lesser known , "HOW did the chicken cross the road?"

Angel..

You make my heart melt everytime I look at you.. the cutest thing I've ever set eyes on..

Can't help wishing you were mine..

tea..

I was on my way out, trying to strap the velcro of my floaters on, running down the stairs.. and something about the scene in front of me made me slow down.. the two old friends sitting on the sofa.. at right angles to each other.. with their legs stretched out on the small centre table.. talking about old times and motor cycle days and retirements and knee ailments.. I've seen pictures of them from their bell bottom days.. one with a french beard and shades.. and the other with a thick pointy edged mouche and a cowboy hat.. And now here they sit.. with their stretched out legs on the centre table.. the french beard has disappeared.. he has a pot belly now and his knees are giving him trouble.. The other has skinnied down... balding slightly.. his moustache trimmed and almost entirely grey... She brings in tea and sliced plum cake.. Black tea for her husband, the other one for his friend.. She pushes the plate of cakes towards their guest. As he sips his tea, he thanks her and even though she tilts her head and raises her eyebrows as if to say, 'There's no need'.. I can see she's pleased.. She sits down with them as her husband reaches out for the cakes.. and I'm on my way out smiling at the trio..

funny..

" I can see the carrot at the end of the tunnel "
-- Stuart Pearce

No.. I don't know who he is.. but seems he's got something to do with footbal..
Whatever.. it cracked me up :)

For me..

I decided at some point that i wouldn't put anything about myself in here... It all goes back to the first blog feeling about why would anyone write down their thoughts for the world to read and judge.. But somedays you couldn't care less. What does it matter if what I have to say is interesting or whether someone liked it or not.. There's a billion things we do everyday so that its the right thing and what is expected of you.. Basically I just want to rant today.. I woke up with swollen eyes and a stuffy nose from my sinuses acting up overnight... I decided to lie around in bed for a while and read this novel i got .. Its 'Lucia, Lucia' and I don't know if the author is famous or whether the book is famous.. I just found it and am happy that I've got something to read.. Anyway.. so early in the morning, I read that Lucia's newly born two week old baby neice dies... And I'm not generally carried away by things that happen in novels.. But still it got me thinking about how and why things like that happen.. Whats the need for a woman to carry a baby for nine months and go through all that.. For the family that surrounds her to be expecting the baby, for everybody to look forward to something so much that they love it even before its born.. and then have it die in two weeks? I guess it happens all around the world.. And if I start listing out events there are more than enough calamities and unfairness all over for me to get worked up and depressed about.. And I don't know if thats what went wrong.. I put the book down, had breakfast, bathed, got ready, watered the plants and came off thinking that something is wrong.. Something's bogging me down.. and I can't stop thinking that something is wrong but i dont' know what it is.. And its still like that.. Something is wrong.. or its going to go wrong.. I know.. and I hate feeling like this...

Romance?

Girl: Why can't you be romantic?
Guy: What do you want me to do?
[very short pause]
Girl: Forget it.. You ruined it already.. Why do i bother asking!
Guy: Ok.. tell me what you mean by 'romance'..
Girl: Its about doing something beautiful for someone without being motivated by sex.
Guy: You mean I have a romantic relationship with my mom?
Girl: Aaaaaaaaaaaargh! bye.
..
Later on 'Girl' goes to google, answers.com, webster's and wikipedia..


P.S: Decided NOT to send him a link to this

To be.. or not (hopefully)

His 'true calling' in life.. changes every month..

He wants to be:

. Sachin Tendulkar's secretary
. A commercial pilot
. A restaurant owner with well endowed waitresses
. A scuba diving instructor
. An actor
. A movie producer/director (what kind.. i'm not sure)
. A professor giving lectures on narcotics
. Rich enough to own a Mercedes McLaren SLR
. A travel journalist
. A sports car driver
. A rapper
. An arms trader

. Married to her (she hopes)

An SMS

Life without love ... is like a boob without a nipple..


Pointless.


(Yeah it made me smile and yeah i was bored brain dead)

Closed...

I wish I were a shop.. with those big metal shutters...
I'd pull down the shutters, put a big brass lock on it and hang a sign that says 'CLOSED'.
And I'd stay inside shut out from everything.
I wouldn't have to deal with anything.
Not even myself.

She's changing..

She thinks I haven't noticed...
The newly bought pumice stone.. The daily 'foot scrub'...
Finishing off the bottle of moisturizer on her feet..
The new anklet .. and her toes painted silver...
Right after I told her I've seen him judge women by their feet..

And she thinks I haven't noticed.. :)

Objects in the mirror

Are closer than they appear....

Ego..

I will not call him.

Just remembered..

I don't know how this came to me today.. or why.. I was on my way to work.. and I remembered this happening a long time back.. I think I was in first grade then.. and I think the class was Social Studies or something of the sort.. We were learning either about Family or Professions.. or something.. Can't remember.. But there was this part where I had to write down my Dad's profession.. and I didn't know what that was.. He was working for Schindler Elevators then, and I remember him telling me that Elevators were the same as 'Lifts' .. like the one in our building.. And I don't know how I came up with the term 'Lift Operator'.. I felt really proud of my Dad for being someone so cool, and of myself for having come up with such a cool profession amongst all the Doctors and Engineers and Bank Managers.. My teacher raised her eyebrows when she saw what I'd written.. smiled and asked me if I was sure.. I nodded .... and when my turn came to read it aloud in class.. I don't think it made an impact on anybody.. except I think the teacher.. and yes... my mom when I got home.. I think she was struck .. she probably imagined my Dad wearing a red coat with two parallel rows of round silver buttons and a cap and standing in a corner of a lift asking people which floor they'd like to go to... She told me Daddy wasn't a Lift operator.. and to my disappointment erased it and made me write 'Engineer'.. which, I consoled myself, was something like a Train operator...

Crush...

He had a beard and I'd seen him twice... I don't remember if I heard people talk about him, but I have a feeling I did. There was no other way for me to form an impression about someone I had seen twice. He's the sort of guy who probably writes well...Listens to music I've never heard of, or will ever understand.. done drugs, probably still does... sketches, draws or paints in abstract ways he doesn't care to explain.. Probably cooks.. Not sure he bathes very often .. Must've had plenty of affairs with like minded unconventional women.. He could be gay.. But I like to think that he isn't... Doubt he believes in marriage.... Surely likes photography.. probably black and white.. Can't imagine him in formals.. Must be the sort that loves to travel.. Doesn't care too much about money... Probably gives the nicest gifts for special people.. Probably likes dogs.. maybe cats too..

Hate..

I am convinced that she hates me.. Its not news.. Or is it? If its something that I was always aware of, then there's no reason for me to feel so bad about it.. All I want to do is escape it.. I don't need to lash out at her.. She's not someone I know or have done anything to intentionally.. And yet she hates me and I felt it today.. and I want to escape it.. escape her hatred.. or defend myself and hate her right back.. But that wouldn't hurt her.. She wouldn't care.. So why should I? I cannot sit here and feel all that she is knowingly or unknowingly making me feel.. I have to escape it.. But there is no getting about her.. The only way to escape her is to do without him and I can't do that..

Grumble Grumble...

That day.. we were at Shivasamudra.. I forgot when.. But it wasn't very long back.. The ride was terrible.. the roads barely defined and the hours it took to get there took its toll on bladders and backs.... And if not for this one boat ride (in the picture) I would've killed everyone who convinced and dragged me along on the trip.. We got into these little round boats and got around twenty minutes of screaming, laughing, getting drenched under a waterfall, watching the world spin from a round boat and five seconds of dazedly watching a Canon digi cam fall into knee deep water...

And today.. I'm in the office... %$#&%!!