Thursday, October 28, 2010


it is the purest and more intense of anything you can feel - it is infact the most powerful feeling one can experience .

one might even go as far to call it , the most individual of all feelings - if you really hate someone , you have a very personal reason for doing so - or else , you're just one of those people who can hate everyone and everything .(who are geniuses , are exceptions )
hatred , is very much feared by everyone around the hater - crude forms of self abdication are often piled onto the hater - the hater , is described as being  bitter , frustated and  crude - a hater makes everyone around him uncomfortable .
they say , hate is a destructive feeling - and most importantly self destructive at that - i want to know why , would one call hate so - it fills you with resoltion , it fills you with a sense of clarity ,where all that matters is the hate , the revenge -

so why should one , not want to hate , everything and everyone violently ? why should hate not be the end all and be all of life - because , when opposed to the placidity of emotions like happiness and love , we can  see that hate is actually an emotion which will make you care immensely about things you do hate - it makes you feel so driven to distraction that it holds you , solidly in your own realm of your thoughts - how can such a mind then, accept the drudgery of a creative finish ? how can then - a mind so full of hate , want to give up the growing engulfing emotion that fills it  that seems to carry it in the world ?

hate - i say  i like . i like to hate things , and i like to hate people. i like to hate the environment and i like to defend the reasons why i hate something - for hate , unlike love is not twisted - it is a linear emotion , with a sense of purpose , a sense of true self seeking justice - it will lead you to believe in yourself , and it will lead to self confidence , it will eliminate dilemma , it will screen for you the things you really do want in your life - and it will leave you with the closest person who can truly love you ( the way love should be understood)- you.

hate will plight those whom you do not hate - i think , it is the exclusion that they feel. they then , want to employ the second purest of all feelings - pain , to feel their existence in you realm. they , will employ the subsideries of pain - disappointment and dispair , to feel closer to your "convulated" and more importantly , personal space - the one created by hate.

you learn to live in the now - when you hate . and you are made aware of your existence by the pain that will accompany hate .

so then, why so scared so afraid of the two purest and most beautiful emotions then ? why do you , convulate their absract beauty by trying to live throught the comfortable drudgery you call life - why ?

Tuesday, October 26, 2010


"never let any man touch this and this and this " her mother said , slightly slapping the untouchablity she had marked out in her own daughter's body . The little child , looked balefully over her school tie , trying to remember the things she must not do  , the things she should'nt say , and ofcourse the things she should not let other people do.\
it was years later , that she remembered her mother's slight jabbing at "those parts" of her body .he asked her while he ran his fingers down her bellybutton , into the area mommy told her never to let anyone touch - "do you like it baaaaabyyyy" he slurred on , heaving and sighing , poking and pinching , groping and kissing , fondling and squeezing - she closed her eyes  , as she felt the strange man , trying to rub off her bridal lipstick , ruining the pretty flowers didiyaji had put in her hair and she wanted to scream - "NO !!!!" , she wanted to tell him it hurt , she wanted to tell him that  what he was doing was wrong , was chiiiii , but she did'nt , she bit her lip and followed the new rule her mother had wispered into her twelve year old daughter's ear - "never say no, ok , be pretty , comb your hair regularly , wear a clean sari and never disagree allright ?" - she tearfully heard her mother , whom she loved inspite of all the nevers and do'nts - she wanted to cling onto that woman , who had told her to not do this and not do that - but she let herself be swept away by the many arms of her brothers , uncles and her father - into a new life , where life was going to change itself , where even the right to say no would no longer exist - it was a new found level in her life , stifling or liberating she was yet to know.

she did not understand , why then did they kick her out of the house when they found that her husband's brother had tried to touch her in "those parts" - they said , she was characterless , and kicked her out of the house - her father had refused to see her face , and her mother had tearfully told her that she was a plighted child , difficult from the very beginning --- 

the child had lost her tears , she was confused , there were too many rules to remember  - her mother had said never to say no in the new house , she hadnt told her husband that it hurt her when he touched "those parts" ,  so when his brother asked her to come with him , how was she to say no ? what had happened between the finality of always refusing and always agreeing ?
was she being told to decide where to apply which extreme ?

she wanted to cry out , in joy for her new found freedom - but the very thought of having to decide for herself scared her senseless - she wasnt quite sure nymore what was supposed to be done -

the child stared at the world with quizzical eyes , for pain , fear and exhaustion , the natural agencies one has to distinguish  between what one should do and what one shouldnt she had shunned and ignored since childhood.

so as her father was draggin her across the room , tearfully , in hysterical fear asked her mother - "what should i do now mother ? should i say yes , or should i say no ? what mother what ? "

she died of a violent rape a few days later.  her mother , tearfully thought to herself , that the plighted child had found a miserable end - she introspected where and how she had failed in teaching her restraint .

Sunday, October 24, 2010


i think friendship is a social construct , which forces people to do things for others that they really shouldnt be doing.

i mean , as a friend , i have certain responsibilities which i must undertake , or else , i am deemed to be called a bad friend - my problem is , i do so many things that your other friends dont do , and so many things that ur frends do and i dont do - why dont u mark the difference ?

it causes pain everyday - when you waste ur time and energy doing things which you could have not done , when it is not returned by your friends , when by some stupid frivolous gesture your friends alienate you .

so i have decided - to have no friends now :)

i want to meet people and be good to them - i would rather not have relationships of any sort , apart from the ones god made , by blood.

friendship is so disappointing at times - and the worst thing about friends is , they are never there when they should be there , and they alwas judge you , and they always disappoint you. i am sure , i as a friend do the same things -- it is this understanding which has made me realise , i do not want the so called close friends anymore. whats the use ? you will disappoint me , and i am sure i will too.

concentrating selfishly on myself now - living as a good person , who does not form barriers of too stifling familiarity - this is the new me ,

p.s. maybe when i am in a better less disgruntled mood , i will feel like explaining this , i feel like changing the way i feel right now - maybe , maybe not.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Blog Update

a good friend reminded me today that i have been ignoring my blog now that i am back in delhi - i think , she is very bored and wants the confirmation of my boredom - hence , asks for a blog update.

now a blog update is a difficult thing - it must be funny , or sensitive - it must be making a poignant remark on some thing stupid  , or maybe you could tell an incident that made your draw generalised conclusions about the world, or you could be abstract and show how cool you are  - it must atleast be readeable. or you know you could just ramble about being bored or somthing , but that is belittleing the spirit of the blog update

that is pressure i say !!

now i could tell you about a million things that dont/should happen to me - if i could just think of a particular thing worth the serious business of my blog - or i could start by writing about a movie , a book , or some new song i EXPERIENCED.

or the cynical me - could make fun of someone - yes that sounds appealing right now .
a blog update should not be this big a deal - or else , you are forever scared of being or rather not being  interesting , funny or cynical - a blog should be a blog and people should enjoy the banality of the written material - if they dont , then let them come up with something !


would it hurt if i could just exist a mindless puddle , with no saving graces in this highly judgemental world ?
who would i let down and who would i give the satrisfaction of being right about me.

im rambling now 


Friday, October 15, 2010

random crazy things about me :)

i am all out of ideas for a blog post - nd as  i will be in delhi in another two days , i think my blog is going to be ignored like the poor baby always is - so here are some really random things about me , some secret , some not so - :

1.) my favourite font on ms word is comic sans - i never put my work in any other font , it reminds me of the way maam seth used to write on the black board , like beautiful little rounde chubby letters .

2.) i love typing in caps - i like the order and neatness of letters in capital . i only type in small letters when i am very upset , angry or confused - or am trying to change the way i have always been .

3.) i talk really loudly , and to whisper is very difficult for me .

4.) i have an immense love for books and would consider my life very well spent if i could spend it reading books .

5.) when i write something particularly good ,i get a huge writers block after that - that is why i stopped writing on my first blog. i felt the three stories i put up on it were brilliant and i could just not come up with nything of that sort for the longest time (and i still can't)

6.) i really believe in the brilliance of my friends - and even some girls who are not really my friends .

7.) academic excellence is an excellent to have - when i get it that is. i love to do well on tests . exams are a different thing, somehow.

8.) i love to talk - painfully so!

9.) i hate talking to boys on the phone - i think , they are so boring and lack teh ability to make interesting conversation . i love chatting with them though !! specially some guys , are just so brilliant when you make them think what they have to say next.

10.) i think a guy with strong arms and a nice straight nose is hugely turning on.

11.) i am creeped out by really bad acne - i am not proud of this , but somehow i am .

12.) i love to dramatise my dislike for people - its so nice to feel so intensely about things.

13.) i believe whole heartedly that i cannot love another person with the intensity that most can - i regret this though , it must be nice to have that chemistry.

14.) i think flirting is amazing - relationships boring and sex must be awesome :|

15.) i love watching movies - on my laptop and in the underpriced pvrs of lucknow.

16.) i hate dressing up - except the times when i like it.

17.) i love make up - though im too lazy to wear it everyday .

18.) i am majorly freaked by white maruti vans - due to the fact that most of the kidnappings in movies happen in these vans .

19.) i am fascinated with writing about morbidity , and i think i should ahve outgrown it by now but i havnt.

20 .) i love to discover new music and new bands - i think it is very enriching.

21.) there is nothing better than lucknow street food and my mumma's khana/

22.) i love coffee dates -  i love coffee, i love  interesting conversation and if u start getting bored you can always bolt :P

23.) i am creeped out by guys wearing pink - i think it is our colour and should be left forus :)

24.) i think TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD  is one of the best books to be written ever.

25.) i think so many things in life are overrated - sometimes, includin awesome music bands/

26.) i want to be strong enough as the strongest of men , yet somehow retain the very feminity of a bharatnatyam dancer .

27.) i think our dance soc girls are super hot !

28.)  i think i suffer from teh most violent mood swings - they suck . but they are so importatnt too !!

29.) i would love to be able to play the guitar, but if i cant , i am fascinated with those who can :)

30.) i love to update my blog - but mostly i feel the posts are such a sorry excuse for a blog post. i would like to write better.


fuck it .

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Gone with the Wind

Somethings are just so beautiful that even someone who can translate everything into words cannot describe them. Gone with the wind - its almost as something fills me warmth to the very tips of my toes – it is probably one of the best made movies ,and the greatness of the book is uncontested.

When things seem to go very wrong for me , when i lose hope in all that i believed was good , when men are particularly nasty and women pointedly bitchy, when mothers don’t want to know why i have been crying , when the pg aunty wouldn’t let me go out for a night out , when i am very broke , when i am sore , when i don’t believe in love anymore , when the rain just wont stop , when the summer just wont end , when a friend would just never call , when my old pair of jeans wont fit , when every car would splash muddy dirty ecky water only on me , when i am down with flu – then i think of Gone with the Wind , and somewhere , somehow things seem better.

When i kiss you , an unexpectedly well done term paper, a brilliant street play performance, a nice day of getting high, finally being able to download some obscure song or movie , when a good looking guy hits on me , when there are millions of books to read , when someone treats me for giani’s , when suddenly a bitchy girl apologises , when my parents are particularly proud of me – then also , Gone with the Wind seems to work just fine .

when nothing seems to go right,when romance seems dead ,when music is nolonger melodious, when movies lose their color, when men are no longer handsome and good , when women no longer fair or vain , when the world stops to make sense -i watch GONE WITH THE WIND - and though all seems lost , you alone , of all things are so beautiful that i cherish all that will and has to be called now and forever -GONE WITH THE WIND

i will love you, forever as passionately as i did when i first read you , as crazily when i first saw you - as a memory of the childhood that has gone with the wind

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Friday, October 8, 2010

Day Dream Believer

i wanted to fly to the moon and tell you i've done that -  but then i thought , you'd never believe me - so i started thinking of what i could do to make you believe. i sat down , two little bellowing curls at my temple , a pen in my hand , a half bitten apple and scrunched up my nose , ready and determined to make you believe .  maybe , ill tell you bout the things i saw there , which would be so wonderful that you would be taken aback and readily devour anything i said - but then, maybe you'd mentally call me imaginative and blithe my truth by the illusiveness of imagination. and that would taint the beauty of my visit to the moon . so i thought , again and again of the various ways to convince you , to make you feel what i would feel on the moon .

maybe i'd take you with me - then both of us would believe each other . but then , how would we make everyone else believe ? for people must believe - they must believe ,  for otherwise we live selfishly for our own pleasure (though we might say that beauty is lost on disbelievers and write them off as disbelievers) gloating on the secret knowledge we have , and nobody else seemed to possess - i  know you will feel it later that others never believed us , and then you'll blame me , for the stupid journey we made .

no ,that will not do - for stupidity is too much beauty and perfection to be wasted on my little ride to the moon . it will cause destruction of the little peaceful memory i wanted to make for you - it must be beautiful but not too beautiful and being stupid , like iv always told you , is being extraordinary and painfully beautiful .

so i thought , maybe , id go to the moon anyway - and figure out later how i shall convince you about the fact of my visit .

 i came back , armed with the perfect knowledge of just how i will convince you that  i had visited the moon. but when i told you , you in your random , absolutely breath taking way asked me - "but what did you do all that for ?" - and i was bursting , to tell you my argument , to convince you just as much a person can convince another - but your question left me lost for words - i was aghast , tears welled up in my eyes , this just didnt make sense - "ofcourse , to convince you that i had been there !" , you looked puzzled and taken aback by my very violent reaction - "but this just does'nt make any sense , you must have had a point , going all the way to the moon !" "it wasnt supposed to make sense !! ," i shouted at you ! - "it was supposed to be a beautiful , exquisite , abstract memory - created with the utmost thought by me for you !! and now you've ruined it !" -- you looked at my pityfully , i am sure , somewhere waiting to burst into that amazing musical laughter of yours and drawing me closer to you , then with that gentle motherly way of yours , you asked  me - "do you want to recreate it for my anyway ? would you like it for me to be convinced ?? i'll put up a major fight , and let you really get all hot and bothered in convincing me , and i promise i wont get convinced  till you've gone through all the little hurdles you pictured in your mind- which were to stand in me believing that you did visit the moon - i promise !" - i was pacified by this seemingly selfless suggestion of my mother- and i went on to make her believe how i had seen the moon , and she , like the true sport she was , continued to be all aghast at the non-senseness of my talk till the very last moment , when she got convinced , believing me , for her belief , she knew , had to be earned by me - she could'nt just give it to me , even though she was my mother and would have wanted to readily believe anything i had accomplished .

p.s. this is a weird post - but somewhere it speaks to me , as the teenage-angsty relationship of a daughter and a mother . i  have no clue what induced me to write what i just wrote , i want to believe it makes sense , and its abstract and its beautiful , but if it isnt , im sure , my mother will believe it , if i explain it to her in great detail :)

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

mind over groin

the little boy , pulled up his shorts as he wiped his right hand on the clean white muslin hankerchief his mother had lovingly attached with a safety pin to the left breastpocket of his school uniform . He was 11 years old.

the girl he had been spying at could'nt have been older than 10 - yet she had breasts .  little knobbly things they were , yet such was their mystic power that they could send shivers down his little weenie .

he was a good little brahmin boy - every tuesday evening you would find him lost in a  crowd of vermillion streaked foreheads at the hanuman temple - praying for strength , promising brahmacharya (or celibacy) - he would  follow his father , holding the very last end of his father's dangling thread of worship ,  slung across his naked torso.

he still had his hair parted sideways , and had not yet started listening to rock music , or blindly following into the steps oh his slightly older and far more rebellious brother whom his parents had given  up on -  as a lost cause ,for he had been rumoured to have visited dirty websites on the computer and had been known to  cut class to watch "Striptease" in some shady cinema hall of the very hindu , the very religious city of Benaras . after particualrly violent arguments doctor sahib's wife would cry in his arms (in the respectable sexless way she was supposed to behave after having been blessed with two sons - that was all her claim on her man's penis , and anyway she was too wrapped up in the nutritional needs of the men of her family to ever crave sex. she was a brahmin , born and brought up to lead an example to other sex crazed women who were typically born in lower castes - her saris were tasteful only on family functions, her hair regularly oiled and her ornaments ostensibly austere.) that it had to be the influence of his early influence to channels like MTV.

but her little boy , oh ,  his JANIYO (a man's coming of age - religious coming of age ceremony) had to be performed as soon as panditji would give them the right date .

so why was this 11 year old boy , who might as well have been castrated to the people he lived with , masturbating ? how did he even know how to do that ? his friends had been carefully hand picked by his parents , his society manufactured with the very children who were younger siblings to disappointing elder children - he had been moulded into religion since before he could remember - he had been kept as innocent as possible , denying him television all together , taught by the strictest of conformist teacehrs -- how did he learn to reach into his pants and give it a little doink every now and then ? how did he become so unscrupulous to spy on little girls with little bee pecked breasts ? how did he become so sexual after all of everyone's efforts to protect him from desanitizing the holiest of aspirations his entire world had envisaged for him ?

and how were children this young , even with every sort of protection from unnecesary "western" influence growing sexually lethal ??

maybe , there were radiations in the air -  power waves coursing through every child of every age - wanting to make them socially sick , perverted and hypocritical. maybe , we cannot find anyone to blame any more.

maybe , years of  religious and moral hedgemony will now be avenged by making children grow up too soon - maybe , we will again need to establish child marriages , if we have to protect unsuspecting sexual objects from both privation and exploitation -- maybe , sex is going to have its revenge.

or maybe , we could just keep our hands glued to our groins -- maybe we could give up false notions of love and romance - maybe , every pair of breast now is only to excite that walking of the dog , by every kid on the block - maybe , even sexual attraction is namesake - for even sexual objects have lost the particular charecteristics they earlier required to arouse sexual interest .

what are we going to do now -- ??? and how are we going to save face ?

p.s.: written after a day of reading Judy Blume's - Are You There God ? Its Me, Margaret . and  Then Maybe , I Won't . --  two little books  on a little girl and a little boy dealing with their individual sexuality and various other issues. interesting reads .