Serendipity of Nonsense

Earthen floors, maybe clay even. Lamplight, flickering but not eerie, casting warm shadows on uneven stone walls, smooth to the touch nevertheless. Inside the room, the lamp makes everything yellow, orange, amber, brown. Its light is bright enough to make the outlines of the objects in the room visible, but not bright enough for individual colours, textures, to be seen clearly. A thin curtain separates this little oasis of light from the rest of the world. Outside, the night hasn't yet surrendered to dawn and the sky and the world shift between shades of blue, as if uncertain whether it's time for light or darkness. There are no trees outside, only bare mountains, rock and stone, but beautiful in a hard way and not inhospitable. Inside, on the cool floor, a cold breeze rippling across the room, I sit cross-legged , covered with some kind of dark, woollen shawl or robe, only my face uncovered as I drink hot, spicy, unfamiliar tea through a small earthen  pot. ...

Men, I'll say this again: you have it easy. In school, in college, even in offices. Male bullies stand up and practically announce that they're bullies. They shove you on the playground, trip you in front of girls, tell everybody how you got shit-faced and threw up at the last office party. Girl bullies are different. Tina Fey got that bang on in Mean Girls. Girl bullies play mind-games, pretend to be your friends and then, when you've let your guard down, they swoop down and crush your self-esteem with one quick barb. I don't even mind the overtly bitchy type. Like male bullies, they broadcast their pettiness and that can be easily taken care of. She: "Wow, that top is not looking good on you." You: "Funny, your boyfriend didn't seem to think so..." Badambambhish. It's that easy, but the underhanded bitches, them I can't stand. Their bitchiness is disguised. Sometimes as well-meaning concern, perhaps even as jollity or sm...

"Sorry Madam, we don't open before 11 a.m" "But you are open. Already." "We cannot serve you before eleven" "I will die" Not many customers say these three words to a coffee shop counter person. That day she made an exception. And also the Cappuccino. While making a mental note to hide under the counter, the next time she sees this crazy girl walk-in.  Getting a coffee shop to start operating earlier than they should and shut later than they should, is one of my talents. I cultivate it.  Addiction teaches you many a things.  Not only am I an addict. I am a fussy addict.  It has to be a cappuccino. It has to be in a takeaway cup, extra hot, lot of froth. I want my opium designed to my specifications. If the froth and fragrance are right, normalcy sets in. Else, god help. :) Too many people have taken the pain for me. I want to kiss all their hands. Like the guys in the coffee shop at the tinsel tow...

"Strange stuffs happen all around you, and only if you had that one moment to stop and notice it.....then whaatt , you'd be a BLOGGER then" :p Yesterday the age old question again popped up from an oh-so-handsome(wish he didn't have a girlfriend) guy sitting opposite to me in the Jamnagar-Surat Intercity Express, (Indian Railways should give me discount coupons now!), while his girlfriend sat beside him grumbling about the quality of air-conditioning in Indian trains and the lousy platform junk food (do not blame me, it was her! I love having bhajiyas at the baroda station when I am travelling with my roommate or someone else).               Alright, here i wander away again. That is my new 'beemaarri'. I start with something, i drift away to something and end up with something else which has nearly no connection with what i started with. My friend Arihant thinks I need to consult a ...

I have been staring at this screen for the last one hour and using the delete button more than I ever have. It's simply never happened before. Words never fail me. I usually have a million things to say and the words always flow through. Not these days. I tried more than once to write for the new year, but all in vain. I have 42 draft posts. (*ahhh....so its not that i didn't try, i just couldn't) I have a million things swimming in my head right now but the words just refuse to form. Maybe it's because I dont have one or two things to say. As I said, I have a million things. I am rambling now. Another first. So well, This post won't be the most brilliant thing ever. It's ok. I'll live. I'll settle for mediocrity, just this once. I don't know why but i have been dying to shoot out this since last few times. It is silly. I confess it is. But darn true. I just got a sms from a buddy(KV) asking coulnt i get a better theme to write on rel...

Everyday thousands of woman walk in and out of that door, wearing their charm on sleeves and tip tapping the floor in their brightly coloured or multi-hued, blingy or matte, rough or polished oh-so-yumm FIVE inched heels.. Surely enough all these women have one thing in mind "To prove themselves". Sometimes in discomfort, on their toes, balancing on a tightrope called a life. Sometimes when she sees them, the single streak of thought that passes her myriad mind; "Will i be one of them someday?" Aah...how much she would have loved tapping those heels, gliding them on that smooth marble floor. Each of them with a thought of their own, walking through the difficult lanes of hundreds of doubts that arise everyday @ their workplace or @ home. Gliding through life, putting a full stop to those millions raised eyebrows to question her creditability, in her beautiful stilettos, she copes up with every small detail in this BIG patriarchal universe. As she look upto them, he...