Drowning ...

Before I close my eyes
And let the waves suck me in,
I wish to feel the same warmth
I wish to feel the heat of love.

The waiter hands me another Margarita,
I wonder if it is I who washes it down my throat
Or is it you who pull the strings
And wash away my poise

I am lost or I have lost
I am not me anymore
I look into the mirror
The hair dresser tells me that the new look is killing.
I wonder if she actually knows that I have been dead for a long while.

I stir in my sleep,
You hold me tenderly,
Pull my cheeks into a smile...
and hands over my shoulder..
Is it only in my dreams that I embrace you??

I wake up with dark circles under my eyes
Was it the drink, I wonder..
When you pull me close
"Your kohl has smudged" you say.

No more of your games
No more empty gazes driving through the wall
No more trying to make sense out of this wordy world
It is just me who is bobbing her head ...

Have I drowned... or am I drowning
I wonder , as I order yet another drink.

I want to be a ...

how would life be, if I were a log! Hmm... I would lie the whole day in bright sun. I wouldn't care if the air conditioner were on or not... I would not sweat!!

If I were a log, I wouldn't fall in love. A log afterl all is a fallen tree! How could that which is already fallen still fall further!!!

Sometimes the devil pokes out its head. My lazy mind doesn't even bother to shoo it away. I ask him, what is it that you want. Mischief!, he says with a gleam in his eyes.

What if I transport you back in time, when you were still young and fancied falling in love? The devil asks.

I look at him unfazed. With time definition of love has changed, dear devil (no resemblance with IPL's dare devils, mind you!). What once kept me preoccupied has become a different philosophy. If I go back to the time, I see a young reckless driver, talking to an illusive lover while driving her car alone.... With the fast change in time, I see the driver in me has disappeared. I avoid driving. I do not enjoy it anymore. Is there any correlation between driving and being in love? Or any covariance..hee hee

Glossary:
std deviation of x X standar deviation of y X correlation xy= Covariance

Another one in quick succession

This is going to be a quick, curt and quirky post...

So my dear Ankils and Auntijis...if you are reading my blog..kindly stop reading at this point... I regret I ever disclosed to the relative world of mine (know what I mean... :P) that I have a miniscule presence in the web. Well, then you lose the whole damn point.... Minkoo do not use foul language... Damn! I never knew damn was foul... (pls note... my pet name is not Minkoo :P)

Hoping that I have pissed off the clan of write good feel good relatives, let me move to a pungent world.... What is pungent really? The smell of Hydrogen Sulphide in the chemistry lab...??? That is the memory of a time gone by... God... how I hated Chemistry...organic chemistry to be more specific..

So, why does the world have to be perfect... I sometimes wonder if perfect is actually beautiful? I ask myself is not perfection an obsession? Imperfectness is natural... Wear a pajama and a loose t...let your hair hang loosely on your shoulders... don't bother if your brows have been done... or your upperlips (damn! why was I born a girl....men dont shave their chests, do they? then why bother with eyebrows!!!!!!!! ) Why bother that you are looking great while all you want to do is enjoy that movie that you were dying to see.... I sometimes wonder if certain people have only one parameter in life... 'gotta look good!'

what about gotta feel crazy.? I sometimes wonder why i am this good girl... is it how we ought to be once we grow... okay let me state the obvious... once we grow old!
Need to smile when you should...laugh politely when you should... bear boring company when you should.... GOD!

Am I cribbing? Hmm...that should be the surest sign of getting old...or is it about getting creative... a satisfied soul seldom writes... unless there is some restlessness the fingers do not click on the keyboard....

I think of it now... I have not told Sri that I blog... Or I would have an avid reader (another avid reader, as I would like to believe!!! ;) :) ) .... Sri...has she been introduced yet? Okay, let me tell you all, vid has a friend called Sri... She is another crazy soul...so obviously we get along well... She doesnt think i am 'proper proper' probably because she doesnt know me from skool... she thinks i am this pagal pagal girl....(girl..not woman...aha) ...

More on Sri later...

good night for today...and thanks Susant for reminding me that I have a blog!!

Signs of growing old

It has been a long long time that I have made a list. A list of crazy things??? Well, well well.... Vid is no longer crazy... thats because she is growing wise...grr did somebody say old!!!!!!!!!! :D



okay top 10 signs:

1. Birthdays become a chore. It is another day when you are eating out!

2. You catch the smell of tobacco on a teenager and realize that you have passed the phase when you could have fagged..

3. You look for straight cut relaxed fit jeans and prefer them anyday over skin hugging trousers.

4. You have very few single friends... And you tell them tragedy in love is a state of being high..a magnificient stupor that few experience!

5. You have more relatives than friends!!

6. You wonder what to blog about? No crushes to rant on... no more meaningless chatter... no fictitious star or GOD who would smoke grass...

7. You struggle to list out points after you reach the 6th point.

8. Blank

9 Blank

10 Blank :P :)


A toast to my readers,

Thanks for having checked up on me after all..

vid

Adding some spice

Tadka laga!!

Hmmm.. as JB (my once upon a pal in Switzerland) used to say, a majestic marriage has made Vid quite unimaginative. So, I took stock of my life today and realized that it needed a tadka! So, here is a little imaginative story... ;-)

What's a life without heartaches, at least it is quite boring for a budding writer. Heartaches give you immense material for creativity, trust me! When the tummy is comfortably full, all one can do is doze away! Well, to feel the pangs the tummy needs to be empty... a contended heart can write no poems...

Anyways, let me try to add some spice, for my dear readers. Yesterday evening I looked in the corner of my heart. I shuffled about to see if there remained the love that I had stashed away a loooong time ago. Hmm.. the telephone wire lay ripped apart...the connection is gone, the poet sadly realized. Ah! those were the days when the lover in me would behold the world in tears and promise that this love shall last me a life time. And when the spring has come, and I make an attempt to clean the kabad I find broken records! I am not a great listener of music, but there was a time when life seemed to be a beautiful song. Young and reckless, the heart would keep falling in and out of love. But now like a wine in cellar, my love is resting undisturbed, maturing day by day... Ah, Linus don't you feel lucky!! Hmm..

So, despite myself...despite the mellowed, and matured.... yet sensuous and subtle , I pick up a shred of what seems a broken heart and examine it. The love seems to have seeped away from the shattered piece. Should I let him know, I muse. Imagine calling your ex beau to tell him, that there is no connection anymore. Who would do it? Someone, who would dream of going bungee jumping, or a bored writer who has no other spice to stir up a delicious story! No, cooking up stories mind you!

As soon as I flipped open my 3 year old Moto razer, I realized I had not fed the number corresponding with that broken heart. Hmmm...

"hellooooooooo"

"hmmm...., tune mera number feed kar rakha hai?"

"kaun bol raha hai???"


ooops...wrong number!!

I hang up hurriedly and decide to take up culinary classes in stead of giving writing a shot. Mom calls me in the kitchen and asks tadka daal or plain daal..

Since I have a sore throat you know what happens to the tadka!

It's been a long long time

It has indeed been a long time, that I have written something for myself. So, what am I implying- ghost writing or blogging as a profession! Ahem, it is the latter which is occupying me at the moment!

So, let us connect to each other from where we had left! My dear reader, I am thankful to you that you manage to pull me out of my hibernation time and again. That you bear with me even when I (regularly) let down the promises of writing regularly!

Now, that I have decided to finally write for myself again, I feel free! This is a strange freedom! I do not know what I will write. I wonder if I can still pen down stories that tug the heart. I ask myself if I still have that curious writer in me, who will pick up the story of the chai wallah at the entrance of passport office in Kolkata. Can I spin a story around the chai wallah and his nod to the security guard standing in the window of first floor of the passport office indicating that the person sipping his chai has paid for more than the tea and should be allowed to jump the queue. Can I start a story called 'gate pass' as they call it there! Can I write about Mohmad who I met in front of the passport office. Mohmad who looked like a young ruffian but promised that my file would be dug out if i could pick the tab for some chai pani!

Hmm, okay so that was my ramble from my tiring to and fros to the passport office. However, I scented a story there. The way the chai wallah threw in a cup ful of sugar in the boiling tea. The way a little boy sat near his stall eating daal bhat. The way an old lady sat on a stool selling passport forms. The dalals (brokers) moving to and fro fishing for a customer.

There must be more material for a story... But well isn't it wonderful to see a story in there. I wonder if I will be able to describe you the long queues, the impolite gatekeeper shooing away the crowd, the noise, the hustle bustle, the anxiety and more!

Hoping to write some more tomorrow!

Anti Climax

Dear Curious friend,

My last post on Swara and Avnish, stirred in a wave of curiosity. It was intended! A friend of mine who had long forgotton me, finally rang me up at the mention of these sweet names. I had been thinking that by the time he calls me up, Swara and Avnish would both stop being imaginary cutie pies!! So, my dear curious reader, there is no good news in the offing. I will keep you posted any case!

Best wishes,

the good old vid

Of life, of happiness, of satisfaction

Life need not be philosophized, he says. You just put a logic and it will work! Will it?, I wonder.

Think of how as a baby you saw life. You saw Ma and you smiled. After she fed you warm milk, you purred like a satisfied kitten. She snuggled you and you fell asleep. There is such a beautiful logic, isn't there?

What happens when you grow up... Somewhere you fuzz up the logic and call it fuzzy logic. Of course it is not just zero or one... black or white...but is it worth looking at life with grey shades on?

jo dil naa kare, woh kar ke karoge kya

'gar dil kee na suno, toh sunoge aur kya

raaste bahut hai manjil magar ek

'gar kadam aaj ruk gaye, toh chal kar kaoge tum kya

Life is a beautiful story. It is a lovely poem. It is a saga of going on... Do not get stuck, he tells me again. I look at him smile and know what I am going to do!

:)

Swara and Avnish

Finally I write about them... or finally some one has been curious??

Well... what do I talk of them... People tell me that they are sweet names... After a series of deep thinking each night, debating on one name and then the other...finally I settled for the two..

Avnish is another name of Lord Ganesha, I had read in the Internet. And it means the lord of the earth.

Swara (I am still wondering if it should spell Svara but I think without the 'w' the name lacks the power.. ;) ) is a sweet name.. it has an S and a V (I guess w means two v ;) )

Hmmm... have to see them and touch them in order to write about them...

Will do the writing after I get back home..

till then,

vid

Some Q n A early morning

Do you know what a whiff is?

A whiff is a whiff is a whiff!!!

Why do we seek permanence in life?

Life is a whiff?

And what is a whiff???


Perfection cannot be in permanence. Isn't it true that you the precious one is also changing each moment. Look inside your body, many cells are born and many die. You are made of infinite new atoms. Look out, you are not who you were yesterday. Change, they say is the rule of nature. Change some say is the only thing that stays.
What a paradox!

So, what is love? Is it like a dew drop dancing on the edge of a leaf (I have read this line somewhere.... long time back.... in the library of my university during BE.... guess what i was upto reading such stuff amid gruelling vivas on electrical and electronics..)

Love is not permanent... it is not eternal... Love just is... It is no use seeking the answere whether it is permanent or temporary. Because in seeking you lose the essence of it.

Last night, before going off to sleep I said to Linus... when someone dies... she dies alone. She leaves behind her parents, her spouse, her children.... all of them who she had professed profound love for. But you still die... Die alone.

We are mortals... then why do we seek foreverness!

with this I end my blabber for the day.

Forever a writer ;)

vid

Maktoob

It was another ordinary day and another ordinary walk. Had circumstances been different, I would never have remembered it. But chance had it such that I would keep going back to that day, that moment in time. It was a simple moment. For the first time in life I understood what 'freezing' means. Literally.

I hadn't frozen out of fear but some unexplained feeling. There I had to decide to walk one way or the other. I had reached another fork in the road of life. My walk would now have to choose a path. Was it chance, choice or comparison... I do not know. When I recall this incident after having chosen a path I thought was more secure or say safer...I often end up explaining my choice. It is then I realize that it was not my choice... because I couldn't have compared between the two. Comparison degrades. It was chance... it was fate... it had been already decided for me. I just walked. It was already written..

Cheap Thrills

Why do people watch horror movies? Quite a common question. With an equally common answer- it gives a kick to the adrenaline.

This post doesn't come in response to RGV's Phoonk. I had dismissed Phoonk as another movie I wouldnt watch. I am not into horror genre at all. You can call me this typical girl who enjoys watching romcom... I also enjoy thrillers like Sarkarraj, A Wednesday, Kaun some rare offerings by the Bollywood... But then we are not talking about my choices.

My first experience with horror was Zee horror show. The ghastly faces spattered with tomato sauces made the tween in me cup my hands over my eyes. Years later Carrie was the only movie that I have watched of this genre. Me and horror movies are like impossible. Even Adidas cannot change this :P

Yet, the twist in the story of my life is such that I am here trying to write a horror story... not long it is going to be a 400 words long tale. It is a TOI competition ...and I thought let me try my luck... Get my name printed on TOI- the spell bound page.

To say the least, i am freaked out... because what ever i imagine turns out so funny... sample this... cold water bottle piercing into the chest of the man who is about to sip.... a man watches a horror movie to realize that he is not who he is .. He is the ghost- the man who was murdered ten years ago... And he finds his killer from the movie...and ..

No more..

I will post the story for you to have a nice laugh when I finish.

:-)

who said horror was just cheap thrills, it is huge amount of freaking hard work !

Abandoned

This blog has been abandoned or so it seems. A friend of mine, rather a colleague of my hubby and an erstwhile neighbour of mine had once commented that a 'majestic' marriage has made me quite unimaginative. Hmm, even if I don't disagree, I am forever reminded of these words.

Why should something/some event make you unimaginative, I ponder. In the background I hear Linus yawn twice. He must be glad that I seldom post my silly thoughts in the blog. Good for him, he doesnt have to track it any longer. He must have forgotton that I write altogether. Well, I myself had.....almost!!

There are few faithful friends (gee, I know you visit once in a while) who just come in to check upon the good old vid. Blogs, you see are an excellent networking tool, better than orkut atleast. Here you would know what your buddy is up to... a silly poem on yawns or an interesting love story...

Hmm, should I make a promise about writing. I guess I should apologise first. Really?? Well, not really. But lets try and make Vid's corner a once in a week affair.

What say? any readers!! (any takers!!!)

Till then,

ciao

vid

Handwriting

Handwritings!

When I was a kid, I did not think too high of my handwriting. I wrote distinct letters without joining them. During primary school, a teacher came and asked us if we wrote in 'joined' handwriting. Since she had looked down at those as lesser mortals, I joined the bandwagon of joined alphabet writing. It was not all, I tried giving the n's and the h's a nice curve that my sis had excelled in. Well, as a kiddo I looked upon my sis as a whizkid. Well, she was a sort of crazy kid- she woke up early for her school, did her homework, covered her books with brown paper and never tore them,and wrote poetry which she kept a bigtime secret from a little scoundrel called ME :)

After sometime the handwriting business took a nice turn. I had pen pals. Writing to them was a great achievement. I boasted to those who would care to listen that I had penpals from Canada and South Africa. Tracey was from S. Africa while there were other two girls from canada. Although I do not remember their names, I still have their letters stashed up in a drawer in my home in Nepal..

Few friends however never wrote letters. That is because there was email. I wish there weren't any sometimes...so that i could see the paper and wonder what made my pal write on that sheet. A no nonsense A4 paper picked up in a hurry from a nearby stack in a printer... a hurried scrawl... If one pauses and looks at a letter there is more than the content...not necessarily reading between the lines but touching the paper ....sweeping your glance through the curve of letters...and wondering how your pal looks like...

well... to keep in the mood of this blabber...let me post a random mail (email) that i picked to read.... Its lovely as well -

listen to a language you dont know, and try and imagine what would the thing
you dont understand mean. read the wackiest things on wikipedia. read
shaayari. do poetry. do humor. try and make a joke on which many
people will actually laugh. plan your next prank. try and remember old
jokes, and laugh. remember childhood, and your 5th b'day. and maybe
the 7th too...:p also think about the next exam.

Random thoughts

I have not been writing but I ought to. I sometimes wonder why I have given away my blog URL to people who could be my relatives... There are times when I want to write without bothering about being politically correct. Aint it already cumbersome to be in a world which wants you to be like that!

Nevertheless, like a shy lover who postpones proposing the object of his affection for the lack of ambience while walking on a busy street, I postpone letting my hair down to allow a stream of emotions run riot through words. Okay, I have already started getting poetic. If no one I really knew was reading this blog... I could swear that a good whisky would probably set the mood for a poet in a blogger ;)

Okay, enough of my multiple standards ( I knew you just turned your nose on my double standards)now lets begin on some good enjoyable conversation.

I know we have not had a nice chat for a long time. Much has happened if you ask me. And nothing has happened if I see it as it is. The same peaceful life, the same pace with which I have quite managed my short temper, the same high maintenance me, the same fuss about home cooked food,... thats how life has been... but let me look around me...

Shrawani

Shrawani is a young woman with delicate hands. I like the fact that her name begins with "Sh". Suddenly I wonder why is not sugar spelt SHUGAR! Ah, I have begun to talk of me again. Shoo, i must not do that. Let me tell you about Shrawani instead. Her cheek go red when I mention that she is looking pretty. Well, she is pretty. Pretty like Neha in Five Point Someone. And like Neha she has a deep secret. A sad secret. She has suffered a loss too or rather she likes to think that she has. No, she does not remember what it was. May be she has stopped acknowledging it after all. Is that why we call time is a great healer. After some time all sorrows begin to fall in place like the pits in the road through which you drive home each day. You know where the pot holes are, and you are apt at saving the bump over each one.

Shrawani stands by the window of my room and stares at the moon. The crescent moon, her lover. It is amazing how this girl could have fallen for a moon- a distant and a cold object. She now tells me that she no longer spends night in her open terrace staring at the moon. "How long could I have gone begging, asking him to come to me? May be it is a woman's vanity or may be I was brought back to sanity." I muse at the rhyming of vanity with sanity. She continues- Ah, yes it was a painful decision, but not something i came all of a sudden. I knew it deep in my heart that the moon I saw in the silver bowl filled with water was as illusive as it could be. I therefore let me heart bleed and I ran downstairs, never to step back on the terrace." I wonder what she meant, "never to step back on the terrace".




Shashank
Let me also introduce you to Shashank. Slender, slightly dark and with that Buddha's smile, he is not exactly a picture of any young girl's hero but he is some material. This carefree devil has his own sweet charms. The way he wipes the corner of his mouth his slick ciggi as if wiping away an itch or the odd way in which he continues to stare at you while you are walking towards him. Well, this guy too has his own set of secrets. No, I do not know about those however. Guys you see are better at keeping their secrets. Hmm, girls must wash their linen clean...whether in public or private...but guys they will keep their dirty linen stacked in the laundry bag where it will stay as it is for days..months...years.... I sometimes feel what will I find if I dig deep down --- a dirty sock???

Sage

Now enough of these people... However, i must mention a sage I met today. She said she had conquered pain. she said...she had suffered like a butterfly caught in the net of fate... that with the loss of the ability to fly...the butterfly could only crawl on the ground. Now is it a feat or an accomplishment that this creature feels no more fear or no more pain. Can there be a pain bigger? If it is small it is nothing... I just dont feel it...

parting lines

These are again for those reader friends I hardly know, but who know quite a lot bout me. Thnx for asking after Linus. The guy is hale and hearty despite being married for now more than 2 years!!

Could this become a song...?

Live this moment / As long as it lasts

Don't try to clutch me in your dainty little fists
For I am time and I flow like water

Don't fret about what tomorrow holds
For today you are holding his hand

Don't ask me for promises that end with 'forever'
A moment of togetherness is all I can offer

Don't be alarmed if your heart bleeds
For that is the proof that is not made of rock

Don't pin me foolishly to your bosom
It is just tonight that I can bring love to you


I am just a moment, I will thence pass
So, live it as long as it lasts...

Vidwata

कुछ सिलसिला ख्वाबो का !

Hmm, blogspot now has this feature to change what you type in English to hindi...you saw the title of the post!

Well this is not a Hindi poetry but just some random jottings..

# no longer is any wait long
# no longer are horns too loud

Hmm... why do some people murmur 'I love yous' while sitting in solitude. Are they thinking of a beloved far away or are they used to talking to themselves. I had a friend who often would be lost in thoughts, smile to herself and then unintentionally say those three words... Don't know to whom?

She told me one day that she had got so much used to dreams...dreams of the right one... dreams of the one who is made for you... and all that mush... that she decided to talk to him even though he had not made the worldly appearance.

I sometime think her world is like Harry Potter's. In a way she lives with us, the non magical people (muggles) and she lives in the magic of her dreams. Hmm...

Now...some more disconnect in thoughts...
#Who can be better friends than words,
Words that you can twist and turn but will still come to you as the magical thing that can express you... be it your sorrow be it your smiles..

#write those words down....doodle...

#Friends.... are left behind....they get good jobs, they get married..they wonder if they have anything left to share with you...

#Friends can desert ... words will not.. Even after you decide to abandon your blog, or your stories or the pen and paper...they will still come rushing to you...

#In your loneliness if you ever welcome a soul who will not poke you where you are still vulnerable then thats words...

# did you see a movie called 'shabd' starring sanjay dutt and aish... what a co..both are now married, albeit to different people..

# now posting this piece because of my reverence to words today... what's been written shall not be deleted... he he he (the ravana laugh..:D)

Khwab aur Saagar

hmmm poetry after long is it? Okay, I know it is a post after a little too long.

A year has gone, you will say.. but let me make amends...

There was something i was thinking of this morning.... thoughts had come in Hindi, I will write it that way (but not in devnagri) and translate it to English

Saagar key they tum,
Sagar mey mil gaye,
yu hee bas anjuli baar baar dooboti rahi
yu hee bas tumhey dhoondti rahi apne khwabo mey
-----

You belong to the ocean, you have gone back there,
I just kept on trying to fish you out of the water
between my palms that I so many times dipped in

You belong to my dreams, and I am used to looking for you there!

----

Hmm, what day you say dude? Well, do you sometimes miss some one like this. Someone who was never yours, never belonged to you. Someone who is just a dream, or an illusion.

No Comments but Compliments!

Compliments are always nice and they make your day!


After having read somewhere that giving a compliment to a stranger (like a bank teller who you are interacting with in a bank, a salesperson in a boutique etc),was not considered uncivil but was rather one of the good things you could do in life. I actually do that once in a while. If I find someone with beautiful hair, I walk to that person and tell her. She is astonished at first, breaks into a smile and then perhaps gets slightly suspicious until I disappear!! It however leaves a nice finish, a lingering feeling of joy or rather, a joy out of doing yet another‘weird’ thing.

All that aside, I am now developing an ease at complimenting people who I 'know'.Be it D's lovely kurta or G's white shirt with nice black vertical stripes or M's beautiful eyes! Most often, we just don’t do that. Can you remember when were you last given a compliment? And when did you give one!

Every individual, specially women, crave for compliment. Be it on their dress, looks, hair, smile, eyes, or the curry they cooked last night! One thrives on such attention or the rare adulation.Though women are known to be checking out other women. But when it comes to compliments, all women are the same, they really need one, and they hardly give one!!

Men and compliments must come in a package. Specially when they are courting their sweethearts. They are apt at giving you that look and telling you, that you look great! Great!! that word sums it up. A woman's compliment to another speaks volumes- the compliment albeit a rare one, has more texture and depth than just GREAT! Is it the women's eye to detail that the compliments are rare, or is it the adulation of men that complimenting the women is easier for them!

Well, compliments are not recieved everyday. You want to make someone's day then give a genuine compliment. And for you all is not lost,you have yourself- to compliment! But again, you should be able to compliment honestly! As in, look in to the mirror, when you have taken care to dress up and smile …GOSh, that female in the mirror is looking pretty!! Well, in case you smile you are bound to look pretty! So, said my class teacher, all girls look beautiful with a smile on!

Now this deserves a comment if not a compliment!

Media Vehicle!

Health, Beauty and Cosmetics Estée Lauder always said there were three ways to communicate: telephone, telegraph and tell a woman.