I remember walking down a random street by myself in a random town long ago in time and space, the sun shining nice and bright above, the fleecy white clouds making its way across the bird spangled blue skies, pretty yellow flowers dotting the dusty gray pavements on which slept lazy old dogs...brown, black, white, spotted. And the horrid sense of shame. I remember walking down these roads every single day of my life with mankind's eye's fixed on me, judging me, rediculing me, disregarding me. Stop I'd scream. In vain. And the pall of collective disdain would descend on me and grab me in its frightful claws like a hungry vulture does swoop down over a terrified and timid mouse. I hear them call my name out and tell me how worthless I really am. I began to nauseate at the very sound of my name... those five morbid letters d..i..v..y..a strung together. Ah how rueful. I'd close my eyes tight hoping to wipe it all away. But alas, they kept playing in my head. Sharper than ever. Home, where is home? And my four walls? Haven, safe haven. The world wont find me there. The cruel unfaithful world that I could never make sense out of. I had tried so hard, but it shattered my little heart eachtime. My own world I shall make within the confines of my head, and my walls. A world where I could be me and not be embarassed about it. A world where I would not have to worry about being violated and abused. A world where I could learn to trust again. A world where there are no eyes following me or no voices passing judgements on me every moment. So, with the slamming of my bedroom door, I'd transcend from one world to the other. From the perverse and sacriligious to the reverent and deferential, and back again.                       cont...

Monish Ettan was right. The only soul you can push beyond limits is yourself. Take care of you, your mind, body and spirit, he said. I was huffing it out on our trek in Munnar, definitely not at my fittest. I guess I am good at brushing wisdom aside. I've done a good job of it so far. But now, I rethinking. I went out on my morning walk today. Finally. Hopefully, it'll continue for a long time to come untill i am thoroughly addicted to it. Its a good thing to be addicted to something that you are totally in control of isnt it? So who wants to meet me round the bend for a good hour of jogging tomorrow at sunrise?

And this one isnt way off either!

You Are a Super Flirt

You love to flirt, so much so that it gets you in trouble. In almost any situation, you find yourself flirting - even when it's inappropriate. You tend to embrace all flirting styles too.. from coy to sexy to playful to serious. And if someone flirts back, you'll crank it up even more!

you curious?

Cut off as I am, it is inevitable that I should sometimes feel like a shadow walking in a shadowy world.
When this happens I ask to be taken to New York City.
Always I return home weary but I have the comforting certainty
that mankind is real flesh and I myself
am not a dream.


-- Helen Keller

As much as I hate the noise, the materialism and the thronging crowds...sometimes....sometimes...I need to be right in the middle of it all to feel alive. My life right now is lulling me to benumbing sleep. I need to be woken up- amidst disco lights, wild crowds, bottles of beer, thumping music, dancing feet and long drives. Bangalore, Dashrath...where are you????

I took another online test today! How lame! I guess I'll never tire of all the nonsense the cyber world has to offer afterall!

This onez on What Movie Classic Are You...

An old journal entry dated Feb 14, 2007

It started out as just another day. Just another day with something to celebrate. Sevde turned six today and I went to the school to see her with a 500 piece jigsaw puzzle, colourful stationary and an Enid Blyton story book. She seemed to love them. I got back home just in time to be reminded by my father that we were going to the studio yet again. ‘Go get dressed. Put some powder on', he said as I got ready to sulk. This was an order that threw me into deep resentment, like all those times before. I knew the routine. I'd throw my best dress on, squeeze into my best shoes, flash my fake smile and the pictures would be either put up on matrimony.com or sent to aunts and great aunts who at 67 found new meaning in life through matchmaking. I sometimes wonder if it is their way of making sure that no one escapes the ordeal they went through themselves. I will never know.

Every Indian family with an unmarried, single, 26 year old daughter deems it mandatory to possess and distribute presentable pictures of their ward. You never know when good fortune strikes and a ‘suitable alliance' comes along. And based on what you looked like for those two miserable minutes in front of an indifferent cameraman, this prospective family is going to decide if they want to go ahead with your ‘proposal' or not. God save you if you have puffy eyes from working 18 hours straight on a presentation for the National Economic Forum the following day!!! They wont pick you for not being pretty. Normally, there are two shots- one, a close up and the other a long shot. The more enterprising ones shoot more frames- wards dressed in western apparel, followed by wards dressed in traditional clothing and accessories should a prospect be thus inclined.

This time I decided I'd wear my green dress and my father made me carry the blue Vietnamese Au Dai he got tailored for me. We'd have four shots he said. The only pair of feminine footwear I have are a pair of black boots. I carried them along in a bag, along with the powder box and the pearls. I have ridiculed myself before, but ridiculing myself in two sets of clothes in the same evening for the same camera- that was going to be my first time.

I started losing myself the minute the lady sat me down on a stool and brought out her much used box of colours- face powders, lip colour, eye shadows- things I'd never used before. With every stroke of the brush across my face she took away a bit more of me. She brought out the hair spray and slicked my hair sideways. Now, after my thoughts, I am most possessive about my hair, and I like to wear it short and messy. The least I could do to defend what was left of me was to furiously ruffle my gelled plumes. Without looking into the mirror I walked to where the lights were. Walking never took so much effort and my legs never seemed to weigh me down so much as it did now- not even when I was doing my 200^th split after a good half hour jog at the gym. My heart grew heavy and now lay somewhere around my ankles. I could feel it beating from there- loud, violent, repressed. The voices in my head were growing louder and profane. They were too many to contain within. I wanted to tear my head apart and let all of them out. The lights flashed behind me, above me, in front of me and the photographer pushed and shoved my limbs until he thought I was ready to be shot. I was. With a gun.

I thought I heard him say ‘1, 2, 3...smile...', but I wasn't sure. I didn't know where I was. Was I at the pizza place? Had I asked him for some extra cheese? Or was it happy hours at Java? In that case, can you top up my StoliCrush please and bring me my pack of smokes...why is the sun shining so brightly on my face? Is there going to be an eclipse later today? Why are my eyes watering? Why is dad looking so grim? And why was that guy with the camera asking me to smile. Camera. Dad. Studio. I remember now. The guy was getting impatient. How long had I been standing here? A minute? A decade? I couldn't tell. Ah! My throbbing head! ‘Smile. Get it over with' said a voice. I couldn't tell if it came from within me or from some annoyed soul in the room. Nevertheless I tried. Really hard too. My heart urged my lips to smile but my lips wouldn't comply. I could feel the battle between my lips and my heart and after a while my cheeks began to harden and ache.

And then I heard the first click. The first picture had been taken. What had it captured? My brand new clothes? my make up? my unborn tears? my pimples? my flat nose? my bulging body under that long flowing dress? the smile that never came? the eyes that seethed with anger sadness and resentment towards anybody who would look at me? ‘Okay, time for the blue dress', dad's voice came back trailing through the daze that engulfed me. ‘I am not doing it', I hissed back at him, clenching my teeth. "Now that you are here, you might as well get it over with and peacefully too. Don't look like I am taking you to be slaughtered. There are people watching you". As I slipped into my new mask I knew I couldn't fight the situation. I was now like the wounded dog- tail tucked in between his legs, subdued, submissive, vulnerable, scared, and worst of all, with no pride left. I wanted to scream till my lungs burst and my throat tore and bled. I wanted to scream to drown the voices in my head. I wanted to scream because there was nothing else I could do. And then I realised I couldn't scream either. Two shots and no smiles later I stormed out of the building to seek refuge in the car. I will probably hide there until I find a photographer whose lenses transcend the flesh and capture the mind.

By my freckled skin

Judge me not,

For scars on my cheeks

Tell my story not.

Nor do the bulges around

My widened hips.

My fuzzy limbs and

Cigar stained lips

Bear no testimony to how

My soul does quip.

Look beyond my bespectacled face

What lies beneath will truly amaze.

http://simplyme.shoutpost.com/

May the 24th, Sometime around 10:30 in the night

I am sitting here on the washing stone on the terrace listening to the stories the stars have to tell and the songs the winds love to sing. Stories of distant unscalable mountains and green turtles that swim through rugged ocean tubes. Songs of burly blue waves kissing the gold spangled sands and the little black bird humming his sweet love home. Stories and songs so magnificent, even time stopped in her tracks- mesmerized. And everything froze, even my heart. Amidst this realm of cosmic inertia, the Universe and I consummated. I made sweet passionate love- to the winds, the stars, the skies, the oceans, the moon, the trees and the birds. I made love to each of the seven colours of the rainbow and the four seasons of the sun. I kissed the day in her lips and the night in his eyes. I fondled the snow from the mountains and let its chill run down my spine, while the virgin summer rains stroked my thighs. Impregnated by creation, I lay there in breathless ecstasy as I became the Universe and the Universe became I.  

You Are 16% Phobic

Wow, you're scared of very little. And you're always conquering new fears that come up. Have you considered a career as a stunt double? You should at least go on one of those crazy reality shows where you eat bugs!

How Phobic Are You?

You Are a Boxer Puppy

Energetic, playful and good with kids. You've also got a wild spirit that can't be trained or tamed.

What puppy are you

There's a 28% Chance You've Been Abducted By Aliens

Even though you have a few alien abduction signs, you're almost certainly in the clear. However, if aliens ever do come to your neck of the woods... they'll probably be coming for you!

What are your chances

You Are Midnight

You are more than a little eccentric, and you're apt to keep very unusual habits. Whether you're a nightowl, living in a commune, or taking a vow of silence - you like to experiment with your lifestyle. Expressing your individuality is important to you, and you often lie awake in bed thinking about the world and your place in it. You enjoy staying home, but that doesn't mean you're a hermit. You also appreciate quality time with family and close friends.

What time are you

well...thats all for now...i guess i need to get outta here.... laterz guys!

I've spent the last two months working around one sole issue currently looming large over my life- my marriage. Starting from meeting the guy and his family in late March to getting engaged last week. I am through with this now. The very thought of the upcoming event makes me want to throw up. In fact I did throw up an hour ago. There is only so much a girl can take! I have been running around the whole damn place working on everything, from the smallest details to the biggest of them all that would go on to make the event. The engagement last week had me dead by the time it was over and the guests all gone. My parents are aging and so is my doggy. They push their limits every single day too. I just hope they dont cave in. I just hope I dont fall dead mid way. Booking hotels, finding economically viable venues for the reception, looking for caterers, hunting for wedding cards, looking up the printing guy, cars for the guests, hotel rooms for the guests, my clothes, my mom's medicines, my dad's post operative care, my doggy's unclipped nails... I even had to drive my fiancee around to buy him his ring when he was here last week!

And today he calls up to ask me if we can push the wedding reception hosted by his family up the calendar. In fact, he wants us to rush to his home town a good 4 hours away  right after the wedding. Thats the most insane request I've ever had! Gimme a break man! Whoz gonna pay off the people whose services we'd be utilising that day- guests need to be checked out of their hotels, they need to be seen off, they need to be attended to for crying out loud- you just dont walk out on them like that! N then therez the wedding hall guy who'd be waiting for his share of the money.Then the transport guys, the caterers...gosh! the list is endless! and he thinks he can just frisk me away?

We'd decided to have the reception on the 17th. Itz been agreed upon...and its not fair on his part to ask us to reschedule the whole thing just coz a few friends of his cant make it to the event coz its a weekday! The wedding is on a weekend- if they truly cared, they'd make it to the wedding.

I am telling you guys, I've really had it up to the top of my head with this whole wedding shit. I am actually beginning to detest the whole idea now. I am gonna just go blow my brains out!

''This just isn't fair!'' I wanted to scream at my father but honestly it didn't quite occur to me. I was barely nine and rebellion apparently wasn't discovered then. Besides we'd done this before and it hadn't exactly killed me. It wasn't like I was being forced to choose Prince Adam over He-Man. Oh no, it was much simpler. Dad had just told us we'd be moving. Soon. Again.

That was dad. He never asked us if we wanted to move- he simply informed us two weeks in advance that we had to. I caught my mother throwing a few concerned glances at me. I had just finished telling her how after almost 10 months into my third school I was finally feeling comfortable enough to settle down. ‘'Hey munchkin, its gonna be alright. You'll soon make new friends and besides Suzanne and Shirley would love summers down south with you''. Yeah. You got that right. We were moving down south from Mumbai, then Bombay. And Suzie Shirley and I happened to appeal to each other so much so that the previous night we had pricked our fingers and swore to be blood sisters forever. I had no clue how long forever was but I certainly didn't think it would be over in two weeks flat.

Did anybody even think of me? It was just over a year ago that I was hauled from Coimbatore down south to Bombay in the west coast. Inhabitants of the adult world felt the transition wouldn't affect a seven year old in the least. If only they knew as much as they thought they knew. For one, an average North Indian considered anything below the Vindhyas ‘Madraas'. I was one of those right from day one. A year in Bombay- a whopping 14.5% of my total spent life then, precision beyond brilliance while spewing out fluent Hindi and Marathi- and I was still the god awful madraasi.

Life at seven and a half isn't all about pan cakes and honey. It's a tough ride out there when you are learning some of life's gravest lessons- the most important one being that not ALL kids pee squatting. And if you do then you are also required to wear pretty pink  frocks, clutch a frilly rag of a doll and skip around town singing, ‘Georgie podgie pudding and pie...'. Then there is this peer pressure to hate anything that walks on two legs, climbs trees and fences, has a toy car and responds to ‘Jeethu', ‘Aaron', ‘Suhail' and other equally ridiculous names.

All this is sensory overload enough without wanting to think of ways to tell your blood sisters that 336 hours after the elaborate commune swearing in you'd really have to get up, dust your candid little bottom and leave for good. Now that's exactly not what you could call commitment. Mind you this is the age when mind doctors as well as all survivors of the innate eccentricities of life say, a young mind ought to be fed on a moral and ethical diet.

Too many minds in the previous paragraph and basic nutrition apart, all this doesn't really matter to an adult I guess. Ethical connotations lose their context when pitted against adult inconvenience. Thus evolved the concept of what is rather in a pretentiously philosophical manner termed, ‘situational ethics'. Light years ago a twisted priest Joseph Fletcher decided that ‘absolute standards could be considered less important (read ignored) than the requirements of a particular situation.' This meant that yardsticks used may vary from one situation to another and may even contradict one another. Phew! Now that was a rather unexpected spell of adult brilliance there, but I don't think I can ever use that to justify things some people do.