Serendipity of Nonsense

This morning I was in Delhi, now I am not. Tomorrow I won't be waking up to a radio alarm, an impromptu conversation with the colleague(who goes to work at 8! and calls me) and crying out for the morning coffee with my eyes still shut!    Wrapping up four months of work and life in a few boxes has been tough. And I am not going to mention how many boxes. Coming back to the prohibited state marks an end to my stint at Fashion Journalism. Rise for Two minutes of silence. Okay! It is time for something new again! Do i sound bored? Yes! Well, I have no answer to the "Whats next" question. My mom tried and then called quits. So bear with me. To tell you, I am a round the clock cribber. I cribbed of work. I whined of eleven hour schedules. I cried when had to go to work with a hangover. There was a moment when I cribbed on having to travel to Mumbai every week. I cried of not having enough time on hand. Not being able to meet my friends. Not being able t...

I wanted to tell you that how my life is full of random moments. Why? because it's a better thing to start than saying "yes! I am back again" Yet again .  Well, it doesn't take the wits of a rocket scientist to figure out that this blog has been dysfunctional for quite some time now - very much close to FIVE months. And I have no idea why did I stop scribbling on this blog and when? It just happened. Like falling out of love. Somewhere it felt like a chore and I grudgingly dragged my feet along. all so much so that I did keep up the charade of constantly reminding myself that such a space existed and my regular readers (yes! you can laugh to that) would be missing me. With time, washed away many disillusions, for no one actually missed my constant banter.  That is what pushed this space into an existential crisis and I had no time to figure out answer to any of the questions it asked.  Now that I have explained well about my absence, does this cou...

She was three and a half, very much aware of her surrounding with extremely awakened senses. That of the aromas of her grandmother's meticulous kitchen to her mother's extremely disorganised minimalist urban kitchen. She wouldn't touch the toddler-appropriate food the mother hastily would try make before she left for work. No! That wouldn't work. It had to be elaborate.  The only way the parents could get her to eat happily was if they fed her food that she had learnt to like. It started with glazed-carrots and tiny nibble-sized tea-cakes. So there were glazed-carrots every day for six months on the menu. The parents had to eat whatever she ate. Please feel sorry for them! Over the years, however, the items in list of comfort food increased, much to the mother's relief. It started with Dida's ‘paayesh’ and the father's extremely elaborate Sunday chicken curry rice with potatoes.  Every day, the food situation was a thing that had to be planned and ...

Nostalgia is an odd thing. It garbles your hindsight and does weird things to your mind's eye. So that no matter how heinous a time you've had back in the sulky past, all you remember is a warm glow of contentment, bathed in a soft golden-yellow twilight.  Look at the past through sepia-tinted glasses and you don't see the jagged edges that ripped your emotions back then. You don't hear the false notes that ran fingernails down the chalkboard of your soul. You start forgiving people for minor personality flaws. All you remember is the good times, the cheer, the frolic. You remember how this one time, so-and-so said this-and-that to whats her name and how you all laughed together. You remember that prank you guys played on Professor A, how that one and this one were caught and oh, the times you all passed out shit-faced after a night of binge studying. Good times, good times, you think. The problem is that nostalgia is a lot like alcohol. It can only make...

He’d hoped for a perfect day Of dirty shoes and a long walk While she had made plans To drink coffee and talk He sat behind the curtain Altered by the sugar Took questions one by one Without a perfect answer He almost never had one She whimpered on Walking about restlessly Without any footwear on He had nothing to ask But the one that made her shudder It wasn’t her love for dogs But why she sang in the shower

To the guy who gave me Nickleback's "Figured You Out" because he thought it'd help me cope with a broken heart (it did) To the guy who introduced me to Terry Pratchett, saw bad student films, ate good student desserts and watched fireworks with me on Marine Drive to help me get over another guy To the guy who convinced me to apply for the Rhodes' scholarship, who put the worm of book-writing in my head and who didn't mind that I was crazy. To the guy who loved smelling my hair, who cooked for me and didn't mind that I cried on our second date To the guy who gave me what I asked for, when I needed it the most To the guy who liked me but doesn't mind staying friends To the guy who calls and talks nonsense and doesn't expect me to do the same To the guy who flirts and compliments and lifts my mood and my ego on a daily basis To the guy who thinks I should stay sarcastic and not give a fuck about what others think To the guy who pursu...

I confess I am not a man hater. I surely am not; and I have references to prove that. But, I am jealous of men.  I surely am. Of the many things for which I'm jealous of men ( lack of fear of cellulite, capacity for alcohol, ability to travel anywhere anyhow, guaranteed orgasms, license for immaturity, capacity to burp anywhere and so on) the one that gets my goat vote is the way they handle their friendships.  It doesn’t take much for two guys to be friends. A beer, a shared passion for a game or loyalty to a particular team, similar music tastes, whatever. For men, a friend could be the guy they drink with, smoke with, bitch about women with, watch a game with, play a game with, do lame-ass shit with, and even borrow shit from.   Piggy once told me while returning from I-Rock one evening, her guy friend had stopped a random stranger smoking a joint and asked for a drag. And eventually got one. With the directions on where he could score good s...