26 December, 2008

Jealousy, that dragon which slays love under the pretense of keeping it alive ~Havelock Ellis, On Life and Sex: Essays of Love and Virtue, 1937

In jealousy there is more self-love than love. ~François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld, Maxims, 1665

Jealousy in romance is like salt in food. A little can enhance the savor, but too much can spoil the pleasure and, under certain circumstances, can be life-threatening. ~Maya Angelou

He that is not jealous is not in love. ~St. Augustine

What is this, what is it that I feel,
Made of slimy green moss and of steel
Her black locks shimmering on his shoulder,
And by the waist that he holds her,

Sends a twinge within my soul
Desire in their hearts burn a hole
I pray to the one stapled to the Cross,
Is it life or is it self-respect, I am at loss

I hear my voice, a voice say,
Tears of love accompanies you on a rainy day
On hot white afternoon with labour’s pay
Its how love is here to stay

Year gone, Year ahead!

23 December, 2008

Another year came and went by. Every other television channel has this program about the year 2008. They have slimy program names like “The year that was” or “Total recap 2008.” So I thought why not write a small recap of what I thought were the highlights of this year. This is in no particular order.

Change in order: Barrack Obama became the first black president of America. Although there was much talk about how the United States of America had come of age, but I believe that they saw in him a steadier, worthier personality than John McCain who would help them through the credit crunch. This brings on my next topic.

Lay-offs, buy outs and Chapter 11: There was more than meets the eye. But what did meet the eye, was unpleasant repercussions. Oil prices rose, people lost their jobs, oil prices fell, people lost their pension plans, oil companies started shutting down, tax payer’s money, their money, is being spent not on them but on the Wall Street. And this is just the beginning. (Like a sinister one liner in a thriller movie)

Terror, Panic and the Foot in Mouth syndrome: The book “India shinning” which unfortunately did not do too well has been succeeded by another book called “Terrorism in India.” It is characterized by its immediate presence in our country. Pages of failed intelligence, screwed up national security, irresponsible comments from well-known celebrities and politicians are added to the book each day. The final launch of the complete works is still kept aside indefinitely.

Moving in, moving out, the Chennai saga continues: Both my best friends, who used to live in Chennai, got married and got out of the country. My mom, because of whom we came to Bangalore 5 years back, has got her promotion and has been transferred back to Chennai.

Amidst all of this and much more, my blog turned a year older (again!!!). I created this space December 2005 and the blog has completed three years of existence. I want to do something special or write something nice. As I cannot think of anything out of the ordinary, I will accept pRicky’s suggestion of choosing my five favourite posts. One from each year is a restriction which I do not want to lay on myself. So let me see… (Present to past format)

Shades: Dec 11, 2008
Shoe story: 23 August 2007
Mystery of marriage solved due to Ulcers: July 19, 2007
Heads or tails: October 12, 2006
A night to remember: December 16, 2005

Things keep happening and keep changing. And then there are certain things that don’t. I still want to kiss Keanu Reeves. I still love travelling. And I can never get enough of writing that too when I am at work! :- )

Mood: Happy, and wanting to waste time at work
Place: Office
Time: Christmas week

P for Pinkie

19 December, 2008

I read this really cute (which translates into informative) article about the pinkie finger.

If you did not know about its strengths, now you do. And about Dana Scarton’s plight.

And for fun, these are a few snippets about the Pinkie finger that I rummaged through the internet (which means I got the info from the first site link I clicked on) to find.

1. People with long little fingers have a high intelligence. (Small pinkies with long finger nails don’t count. Hygiene please!)
2. Holding up the pinkie, as you all know from childhood days, means that you want to pee. Pee for Pinkie
3. In Belgium, you hold up your pinkie finger to order beer. (Maybe some where, at some point of time, the Indians went to a bar in Belgium! Connect the dots.)
4. Last, but not the least, a new (or rather I am noticing them now) trend among the young men in India is to link their pinkies as they walk on the road. (And this is NOT because they are gay. Human Chain? Denial? Go figure!)

I have noticed that if I try to bend my Pinkie finger, I cannot without the ring finger following in its path. My pinkie, the leader! (Many, I have heard can bend their pinkie without having to bend the ring finger.)

Anyway, if you come across more do add em ...


Deep Throat dies

Mark Felt, famously known as “Deep Throat” died, yesterday, due to a congestive heart failure in California. News Link

The FBI informant, helped Washington Posts’ Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein uncover the Watergate scandal, which led to President Nixon’s resignation, had revealed his identity in 2005.

Uncovering a scandal, sabotage and illegal fund dealings in Mexico along with the resignation of a United States President is what (legends are made of?) great thriller stories are made of.

Never will a journalism class be conducted without a mention of this.


17 December, 2008

I loved his book "A Million Little Pieces" and I am now eagerly waiting to read his next novel. He calls it the "the third book of the Bible". Titled "The Final Testament of the Holy Bible," I am not sure whether I am waiting to read his writing or waiting to see the storm he might conjure up, given the controversial topic it is.

Info Link : What would God do?


16 December, 2008

Today, I got mad at two people who had done nothing but the mistake of calling me and happening to be at the receiving end, of my anger and telephone.

I cannot and do not have the means to call them back and ask for forgiveness and the worst part is if I don’t ask for it today then it won’t make a difference to me tomorrow. This is my selfish need to feel better now.

First is this guy who called from ABN AMRO. I have picked up worse customer care executives’ phone calls and been courteous to them. I was determined to yell at the next one who called from that bank and this time the guy was not annoying. Tough luck

Second is this lady who my father passed his phone to from a sari shop. She was one of the sales people in SM Silks (I might be wrong about the shop’s name because there are so many of them and I really don’t care to remember them). He called me incessantly, when I was on SEC filing slot (at a time when there was news pouring in and only two of us to manage it). I finally picked up the call, imagining the worst of things, to find out that he wanted to know which colour sari I was looking for. Then he thrust the phone into the sales woman’s hands and I, very impatiently and in a curt manner, said that I cannot talk to her as I am busy at work. I also said, please I am only 23 so don’t give saris which older people wear. And after all that jazz, she was sweet enough to explain the colours and ask me to choose, over the phone. (I know it sounds annoying but if I was at the receiving end of me I would have banged the phone down, but then my dad is paying some few grand. Stating that, I shouldn’t forget that she is human and has the right to be treated nicely).

I am pissed with myself.

Muse Leads only once

12 December, 2008

Words that flow incomprehensibly
Fall as tear drops on paper
Seem to arrange themselves right
Ready to be placed in proper sight

Does my muse wake me at day or dreams?
In the closeness of rush hour
My breathe exhales with yours
Waiting for the exit stop to arrive

Crescendo touched and halts at stoop
As lovers part, a magnum opus emerges
Sadness fills the writer’s own,
For now he does not understand
His spirit, language of emotion said
Never to return where his muse had led


I don’t see colours
I view all in black and white,
Many in shades of grey
They tell me snow is white
But for me so is the sky I say
I hear the dog bark,
I hear the cat mew,
And see the crow just like you
I exist in a time,
Before the Eastman blush
Where the gory of blood,
Is without a human touch
We marry in my two paints
Live in one that's yours
But see the crow just like you


11 December, 2008

"Journeys end in lovers meeting,Every wise man's son doth know."
- William Shakespeare

Ever seen a woman on whom you would dare to use a pick up line? And have you ever borrowed a corny line from a well known movie hoping that it would work? Then I suggest, next time, you think again about where you pick up your pick up lines from. Data asks us to look in to literature!

A report on dating suggests that women are impressed if a guy has read Long walk to Freedom (Nelson Mandela), likes Shakespeare, poetry and cook books.

For more information click on the article that was published on the Guardian named “Want to find a woman? Just go by the book”

"O mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming."

Moving Forward

09 December, 2008

It makes my life easier. I have better control over my drawings, free art as I would like to call them (It is like free verse, not abstract but a try replicating the original, an imagination and I fail). You can find them on facebook. I try to convey messages to my friends through those pictures. Well, my drawings are not the point. What I want to talk about is the mouse, attached to my laptop, which helped me have a steady hand while I drew.

The mouse turned 40 today. Here is the link to the article in BBC. (Please do watch the first video in the article.) Dec 9th, 1868 was the first time Douglas Engelbart, the mouse inventor, demonstrated the usage of this technology which we all have grown to love. (And I thought and believed hands free was good and cool. My mistake!)

Yonder was the age of discovery
Now is the age of invention
Future maybe the age of creation or re-creation

Every week in the online version of The Guardian, Culture section and in the sub-section, Books, Billy Mills ( a poet and small press publisher in Ireland) asks writers to contribute poems about certain topics that he chooses. This week it is about Railway Lines. I am trying to widen my horizons and write about topics that are given to me. (To filter stuff in and out) Lets see where this leads me to... (Destination somewhere with success I hope!)

Two lines made of metal
That never meets,
Connecting each life in cities
Departs are anything but sweet

Pebbles skid off the wheel’s edge
Are far for none too long,
First a mountain, hill, now a hole
Train sings its arrested gong

Passing through a rocky cascade
Asks who to break the fall,
With unsure, cupped palms outstretched
Catching a single tear that says it all

It then goes back to begin from start
Train timings, like happiness is fickle,
Silently the windows watch stations arrive
Daily occurrence a repetitive miracle

Random Thoughts

08 December, 2008

I am feeling miserable after one week of great fun. Shashank come back! Found dinosaur print in Chunchi falls.

Truth is so over rated. It satisfies the Selfish need for a person to be ridden of their guilt.

Somewhere there was a cat fight. My cat was in it. *Scratches and Bruises* Ugly Betty was a hit with my relatives. She Behaved.

I bought Meet the Spartans pendant.

I dreamed that I was building a temple, on the road that leads to the Rashtrapathi Bhavan. Religious and Political. Brilliant!

Three- One more than an eye. One short of a car.

I would want to be a wedding planner if it wasn't for the large amounts of smoke!

I need people who are not available and I am unavailable for the people who need me. Live?

My eyes rest as slumber is awake
sun light nudges me to a shake
I cast it aside in an unassuming grunt
normalcy, here, faces the brunt
A night life filled with neon rays
chalky white marble floors
While the sighted moon shies
behind the night's cloud
I want to scream and curse aloud

Night has lost its charm
Morning its necessity

I found true love. In a couple of people. Do I wait for one with all the features or do I just get hitched with them one at a time?

Of all the sentences if you guys pick the last one to comment on, I will kick your cute toushie! :P

Dostana- Wont Kiss and Tell!

17 November, 2008

Ok with the picture as your guide you already know what I am going to talk about. I just finished watching Dostana and I am still in shock!

The movie is like any other Karan Johar movie. Full of life, silly jokes, colourful and hot, sexy people in it. And this one had THREE hot sexy actors. I don't remember watching a Priyanka Chopra movie in a long time. But man is she hot. She looks so beautiful! Chiseled and perfect.

Who else is chiseled and perfect? John Abraham! He and the director has done justice to his body. No shirt most of the times and then a strip tease! :)

I have saved the best for the last. My fav Aby Baby! He has gone past being the macho man and has taken on the role of a gay guy so well that I cringed through out the movie. I howled and hollered to Abhishek... I went for happy to sad. Happy that he could play gay so well and sad that he could play gay so well!!! At the beginning I just could not take it. Such a waste of hot guys!

All in all a good movie to watch. Twice mabbe cause the first time you are either gagging or too stunned to absorb half of the jokes!! The chemistry between the three of them is unbeatable!!! Probably would rate it 3 outta 5!

Cat Calls

13 November, 2008

I would be offending many really great writers in this world, of past and present, if I called myself an author. But I do blog occasionally and try my hand at free verse.

Today, I read David Barnett’s articleAuthors' mews: writers and their cats”. Barnett spoke about an author’s compelling necessity to “not to omit” the mention of their precious feline friend in a biography or even a book. I immediately remembered a short story I had recently read Garcia Marquez’s short story “Eva is Inside Her Cat”. (Although it was not about cats, I argue: why not any other animal?)

These feline creatures have assumed its place in literature and like every other living cat, they have refused to give up their spot in lime light and their owners have made sure that it never does.

I have a cat and I am not lucky enough to say that she inspires me and that I love her being around while I try to write. What Robertson Davies about cats and authors (Authors like cats because they are such quiet, loveable, wise creatures, and cats like authors for the same reasons) does not synchronize with my state of affairs. My cat bellows loud, burps and purrs louder and follows me around from one room to another. (I have stepped on her way too many times for her to like me anymore). But there are these some moments I look forward to and cherish, when she looks up at me and I can see the need for words to form unpredictable story lines and a real inner soul to keep it alive.

- By Tsu, who lives in India with her cat, “Ugly Betty” (sometimes I can be terribly unoriginal) and her scrawny little kittens who haven’t been named yet.

Refrain is not in love

11 November, 2008

Love is my passion,
Lovers are a game,
Love every moment with me
Cause it’s just not the same
Roll the dice and play your cards
Path to true love is filled with shards

You smile and you frown
Daily adorn a new gown
In matter of minutes you are in the nude
Naked pages of you with words of feud

Yet you start all over again,
Melted scolding of refrain
We are back to where we started
Love is vain to the faithfully departed

Compromise on the hush of a library

05 November, 2008

I had a hundred arguments running through my head the minute I finished reading Lyn Brown’s article about how libraries with strict rules need to be replaced by upgrading them to a culturally rich centre to avoid being shut down.

Do I believe that a "long overdue revolution" would save these libraries? I think it eventually might but I am really not up for that change.

I don’t think that I fall within the brackets of “the ageing band of traditionalists who shrink in horror at change.” Although what I do believe is that the concept of “culturally enhancing the libraries” with a dash of jazz in the evenings every Friday night or even having coffee whilst being engrossed in Shakespearean Sonnets will disrupt the peace each person enjoys in that limited space.

Imagine a group of people loudly discussing about the evolution of the universe while you are reading economics or someone slurping (not in a manner less fashion but merely distracted by the book in hand) their coffee which rudely steals you away from your walk with Robert Frost. A whisper into the phone can distract, the swirling whiffs of freshly ground coffee beans can distract. You are effectively ripped away from your book.

I love reading a book with loud music but I wouldn’t want to disturb or encroach into another person’s space, way of reading the same way I wouldn’t want someone to poke into mine. In my opinion, the lessening readership in libraries are partly due to e-books, and also the dying culture, of loading books every week from a library or sitting in silence where each mind is processing knowledge, which my parents taught me to and which I have always loved. More than buying them or reading them from a screen! But I do hate to admit I haven’t been a regular visitor to one. May be from now onwards I will.

Are you ready to share a wave?

24 October, 2008

Let your eyes wander around,
find things people of ages before have found
why is the sky so blue and earth green
red sunlight and us in between

then I saw him

As fast as his padded feet could withstand
he ran to the wagon that took him home
on hard concrete and smooth liven sand
below the same skies that blanketed Rome

then I saw myself

Reckon, the shore awaits me,
for my pair of feet to share a wave
cause love can nothing but save
And that is exactly where I will be

23 October, 2008

Some friends that are just there
Some friends cling on to you and not let go, but you have.
Then there are some friends that you cling on to and not let go, but they have.

In the end, everyone is alone!

-- Hence spoke, Control Freak!

Laugh Riot

19 October, 2008

I went to the Russell Peters show.

I laughed till my stomach hurt
I laughed till my jaws felt sore
But I do hope some day the chotu kid Kiran gets to have the last laugh!!!! :)

Russell Tussle! Everything that I had dreamed he would be, sound like, smile and the jokes are completely pee in your pants category!

Thorough fare! :)

Mismatch and Gliders

07 October, 2008

Today, two days after I came back from Goa, my vacation with my mother, I walked out to the tailor with my rubber chappals on. Wearing the pink with grey stripped gliders, jeans and a Tee, I took my bike and left.

I had gotten used to wearing comfortable, yet not sophisticated looking slippers. Nearly losing my flip-flops, rocksters, last time, I was determined not to make the same mistake again.

I have two gliders. One, pink with grey stripes and the other is red with black straps.

Mismatched clothes and rubber slippers (and now crocs) gives people a sense of being on vacation. Other than a very few weird species of men and women, sometimes including myself, would dare to wear atrocious clothes which normal people wouldn’t want to or like to wear. I saw a guy wearing orange shorts with violet tee shirt on. But then I was in green aria nijaru (my mom calls it that, meaning half pants!) with blue t-shirt. No judgements made!

I walked on the streets (and one main road) of Koramangala with my gliders on, feeling like I was in an exotic location on another break from the monotony of work.

Life is one big travel plan and every day is a vacation


28 September, 2008

On Chesil Beach: by Ian McEwan

I did not see this book coming. I did not think a book like this would be ever brought out of fantasies or more so nightmares.

Honest and brutally truthful.

For many marriage might be the happiest moment of their lives but what next?

What do you do on the first night that you are left alone? Do you say something? do you talk incessantly or wonder whether it is a definite mood killer? Or do you just run away?

Beautiful yet saddening!

I loved it! a def 2 hour read! :) Ciao

Return of September

26 September, 2008

It has been exactly one year and 25 days since I got back from London. I still haven't yet got the inclination or the courage to rake through the left over stuff neither the stuff that I brought back. It is in a heap that I have not bothered to sort out.

To think about it... I had my dream, in a way, come true.

I WAS living with Joey! :) I had all the friends I made living on the same floor, one floor below and one a couple of blocks away. But we still ended up in the same kitchen. For Christmas, new year, Pongal (if I am not wrong), Valentine's, Saturday, Sunday and all the other days of the week. My dedication... Reminiscing ...

To London
To my first Starbucks coffee Grande
To us doing different courses in Westminster
To Susie and I screaming in the reception
To Lakshman, who we did not know then, thought we were nuts and soon found it was indeed true to every decibel!
To Shashank who put up with me when I threw him outta the room, more than twenty times (with a sad puppy face which got him loads of hugs from people in the corridor.. wink wink....!)
To Rahul who always emitted joy in his steps towards our block, every night
To Pavitra who gave me a reason to love walks in the park (with or without heavy luggage)
To Nikhil who makes the yummiest (only after Logan's) daal with butter
To Kshitij and his midnight plans
To Priya who sang while she fed us
To Sandra whose coffee and Potter mania pushed me to complete my dissertation
To Paris' Sortie, Belgium rum filled chocolates
To Srilankan Tamilian and Elvis (wink wink!!! not reallyyyy...)
To the old couple standing in the same queue as I was going to Chicago, going home

Last, to all my friends in India who stayed the same, waiting for me to get back.

Heap cleared!

The years have given a hourglass figure

20 September, 2008

I just saw and realised that my blog has an hour glass figure!

Ok well... at least one section of it :) Please See: Pages of His (her) tory

I think thats pretty cool :)

Love song hence

17 September, 2008

You once sat there with me in raging epiphany
Shaded with white so black, that grey fell shy
Our twined legs together on the cold granite table
Stretching imagination as far as we were able
Red, blue, brown set with rock, salt and reef
Is it summer, autumn or winter, have a look at this leaf?

Once, a far time ago, is now a live vulture’s feed
Where an exit was forlorn and contagious lead,
A green arrow pointed in a direction different
In one world we split to an opposite, us flippant
Yet our song, love will conquer all, made sense,
First, once, then and forever hence

Dreams a reality

16 September, 2008

Yes, I told myself, this is a dream! It cannot be true.

Say it cannot be REAL. It can be true if you want it!!!

I forced that sneaky, small yet larger than life voice out of my dream.

Oh! So you know for sure that I am in your dream? What if I walk towards you and gently caress your face with a feather? Thin as a butterfly’s wings, and as delicate, warm and so soft.

I felt something touch my face, but not as gently as she said she would. She was neither right nor wrong.

It can be true and it can be real.

I see him everyday, in a place definitely other than my dream. I see him in my office. It won’t be right on my part to say that I work in close quarters with him. But I can say that our paths do cross daily.

It is never enough for you and hence I was born, out of your indulgence. And I am willed to stay until … What am I saying? Forever!

His hand on my shoulder, he doesn’t seem short. My arm on his waist, he isn’t an ounce fatter.

Than whom? Than whom?? I am going to be alive always. (Laughter rings to wedding bells, to gongs at death)


13 September, 2008

I should learn to say something interesting or just take my leave!!

Gosh drooling never helps :)

Cya soon :)

12 September, 2008

Dear Surya,

I miss you already. Even before you left.

I am crazy with joy already. Even before we meet again.

I have no more words! Love you and God Bless...



Parle-G with (G)inger Tea

10 September, 2008

This has become a ritual of sorts. 4 Snappers kept awake by a tasty cup of ginger tea made in the cafeteria. But today I wanted something more. Little more to this experience than usual. So I turned to my old faithful, borrowed love, Parle-G.

Oh, I love saying this... My ex-Roomie brought this cheap yet appetising food item into our lunch time straight out of our childhood.

I still eat the sides first, preserve the middle part which has the name on it and then dissect it letter by letter.

Scene 1: I hid behind my three screens. I started the process and realised that I was a wee bit outta touch.
bRoKeN Buscuit pieces with Crumbs all over the desk.

Scene 2: Massacring one buscuit after another in that uncouth manner.
Pleasure derived, enjoyed.

will update with more quirks! :)

Life aint that bad huh?

09 September, 2008

Well, I have lately been excessively whining about how my life is uneventful and even under zero gravity, it sucks!

So I have decided (desperately, for my selfish benefit) to note down one incident, each day, which I think was the highlight of that 24 hour period. However trivial it might be or be seen as, that is and would be IT.

Knowing myself and assuming my expert knowledge on that subject to be accurate, I might not pursue this line of thought in the future. So I writing this right here and now. And NOW, I am raking my short-term memory field (I have spatial problems) to figure out the IT for the past week. If it makes me feel good, then I shall continue.

September 1: National Holiday in the United States of America and hence I sat at home and chilled on the first day of the month.

Nov 1st, 3rd year college, Dhanya (Neethu and I enjoying the evening at Aiwas): I believe that whatever we do on the first day of the month is what we would be doing the rest of the days of that month. We have started our month well :) (Not in quotes; in context)

5+7 = 6+6 (or whatever, hence deduced)

September 2: Scratch Scratch Scratch! Mom was at home. I got up early but not because of the annoying, eternally hungry cat of mine.

September 3: Went out with mom after a really long time to Little Italy. She ordered something which uncannily had the taste of a very famous south-Indian dish. Spent time figuring that out until the yummy Tiramisu arrived.

Bliss found, everything else forgotten.

September 4: Coffee at Barista after such a long time. Hot chocolate on a cold night is heaven.

September 5: Forgot to wish Neethu at 12. I did not say that the incident needs to be a happy one! Unhappy… tried to blame it on the alarm. I hadn’t kept one!

September 6: Met Santhosh after a long time. We wore the same coloured clothes, again. Three times in a row! Next time will message to find out what he is wearing. And I am saying this without trying to be corny …

I walked a lot. So much that I started getting pissed off. Not a good sign. Increase in patience level noted and patted. On the way to destination Ice n Spice, we sat at a bus stop for some rest.

1. We felt old. (It was Bhomi’s birthday so he had the right to! Dhanya, Santhosh and I looked plain, and painfully, guilty)
2. The bus stop was filthy and dusty. Reason: It was an abandoned stop. We looked like tourists, or worse, idiots!
3. Home delivery :D

September 7: Sunday. Do I need an incident to make me happy? God took a break and brought happiness to mankind, every week.

September 8: An incident happened today which made me think of writing this post. Nothing ground breaking. But I might have broken a few bones.

I fed Whiskas to my pet cat. (Yeah she and her expensive taste in food) and came into the living room with my eyes glued to the television. After minutes of standing there, not knowing how time had passed by or how quickly Betty had gobbled her food, I stepped backwards towards the couch.

In the meanwhile, Betty had made herself cosy at the foot of the sofa and she within seconds she saw my foot landing on her. My poor baby …

She scratched me and growled and I yelled because I think she might be pregnant and I was in pain. Both of us for five whole seconds yelled in our own species’ tongue. I laughed it off but she wasn’t too happy about it. But then I realised that nothing a little petting and cajoling cannot do. (This effectively meant that she got pampered, extra food, extra milk and I opened the door when she wanted to go gallivanting)

Cat is alive, for the people who care my toe is alright too :)

So you see my life is not as bad as I picture it to be and if I look deep, really dig deep inside, I can come up with incidents that make my life look like there is life to it and in it.

At least I am trying :-)

Chasing Dreams

07 September, 2008

I had a dream of being chased. First by Nazi looking guys and then once I jumped off the roof, I got into a huge residential area. Weaving through the small houses, I was now chased by goondas who looked they were from interior Tamil Nadu with sickles in their hands. I have no clue why and believe me hiding near the sliding doors of a lift is not a good idea when the lift has mirrors all around :-) Such a giveaway!!! lol

I went online to find out what were the explanations for dreams of being chased and here was what one of the websites said:

Dreams about being chased often stem from feelings of anxiety in your waking life. The way we as humans respond to anxiety and pressure in real life is typically manifested as a chase dream. Running is an instinctive response to physical threats in our environment. Often in dream scenarios, you are being pursued by an attacker (can be human, could be an animal) that wants to hurt, or possibly kill you.

Dreams about being chased may represent your way of coping with fears, stress or various situations in your waking life. Instead of confronting your problems, you are running away from them and avoiding them.

The pursuer or attacker who is chasing you in your dream may also represent a part of yourself. Your own feelings of anger, jealousy, fear, and possibly love, can assume the appearance of threatening figure. You may be projecting these feelings onto the unknown chaser. Next time you have a chase dream, turn around and confront your pursuer. Ask them why they are chasing you.

A more direct analysis of chase dreams is the fear of being attacked. Such dreams are more common among women than men, who may feel physically vulnerable in the urban environment. These dreams are inspired by fears of violence and sexual assault in which we are so over-exposed from the media. The violence that the media portrays magnifies our fears and how at risk we all are.

So next time I write a sequel to this post, I am hopefully updating it with the comments from my attacker!

Why are you chasing me?

Distant sound of bullets entering a person :)


03 September, 2008

Do read this article on Sahara, an Artic seal who doesn’t like the cold. (From Times online website)


The first comment on the article hits the bull’s eye! At least the first part of it

Lord Byron - Romance, an era

Lord Byron moves me to tears.

I want to be in the romantic era.

Words words words!!!! Mesmerising!


"And thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth; And form so soft, and charms so rare,
Too soon return'd to Earth!
Though Earth receiv'd them in her bed,
And o'er the spot the crowd may tread
In carelessness or mirth, T
There is an eye which could not brook
A moment on that grave to look. "

Am I grumbling?

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of Bangalore for goddamn good! I need a new life and nice one to boot!

And I want to repeat the above sentences over and over again until I get an answer telling me to how to go about it.

I found the answer is NOT within me.

It is NOT within reach.

How much ever I try, MONEY comes in the way. I found how much ever money I earn it would never be ENOUGH.

I cannot be in my tattered shoes anymore. I am getting a HEADACHE being me.

I am HAVING a headache.

Nothing goes my way. The way I am going is MOST probably and would be the worst possible way I could ever take.

Comes LATE

Goes early

I want to break things. I want to scream like I am in a horror movie. I want to scream because I have to live MY Life!

I want to work and study.

It is so fucking depressing in this place. It is just so fucking depressing! Just so fucking depressing!!

Best Friends' Weddings

01 September, 2008

Last week vanished like a dream.

A great start for a new beginning.

Memories to be forgotten only to be replaced with new ones of togetherness.

(Made me wonder why I never went back to Chennai earlier)

Two beautiful brides (and ok-ok looking grooms :-) Great guys for my awesome friends.

Opposite ends of the world meet here, part here to different parts of the world.

Imagining Opera House, Coral Reefs, Ground Zero and the Niagara Falls (Obviously sitting on the beach in Nice).

When shall we meet again? (Mouthing a prayer)

Soon, real soon.

Wedding Chimes

22 August, 2008

Jingles of the ornament still rings in my ear

Of a happy life, an end, a begin, with fear

My footsteps traced from the umbilical cord

To the blood ties bonded before the Lord

Tears of joy floods spaces all around

Starry eyes for the days waiting to be found

Fare the well, to the old, with a heart so heavy,

A welcoming smile to the new us and we

This poem is dedicated to my two best friends who are getting married on Aug 27, 2008.

With loads of love, hugs and prayers! :)

Have a great married life!

Easy comes, easy goes

02 August, 2008

Why is pain entertained more than joy?
Can gravity be blamed for tears to drop?
A thought worthy of ponder, this is my boy,
Human act of inhumanity upon him, has it no stop?

Is reality a good teacher? A guide to follow with rules
Or is he a mere preacher? A walking stick for noble fools
Are we one of them? I innocently dare to ask
Can I answer myself? Truth an inevitable task

For pain, resignation welcomed on a red carpet
This is just the beginning, a sigh, a why
For joy, indignation walled by a tight corset
How long will it last, an end, a goodbye.

Bangalore blasts- are u having a blast?

26 July, 2008


I was reading a post written by one of my good friends. He had articulately given his opinions about personal complaints.


There were 7 blasts in Bangalore, the place where I live. Three of the areas where the bomb went off were near my home.

Now… This moment!

I am alive. My limbs are working well, although sometimes they protest due to lack of activity or groan because of too much forced movement from all the exercise that I am getting (yeah right!).

I have a sense of humour or I think I do. If I bored to death by someone who isn’t I complain. But I am still alive.

So what gives me the right to complain?

My working conditions are horrible. But then you are still working and you get paid and you are buying, spending it on things that bring you joy. Temporary, but none the less, joy!

You had plans for the weekend but you live to see another Saturday night.

And believe me, I was just beginning to feel bad about my horribly failed weekend plans, when I heard that three of the blasts which took place at three areas which are close to each other and one of them happens to be where I live. It could have happened in the bus stop near my home. It didn’t. I am alive.

One of the blasts that happened was in Shivaji Nagar. This is where my friends and I would have been tomorrow. What if the blasts had taken place then? Worst of all... What if only I survived? Three of us are alive.

How would it be if I was walking one day, loving the beautiful evening sun, the pleasant breeze, enjoying the lovely scent of my new L’oreal shampoo and conditioner (which by the way I saved every penny to buy) and I had no idea how the next moment felt like because I was blown up? How will it be?

Well, although I joked about it being a “Near Death experience”
It wasn’t. Not even remotely close.

From Now on...
I think I am going to indulge in that L'oeral shampoo and conditioner now. Walk in the moonlight coming up!


10 July, 2008

I see a room
devoid of happiness
devoid of joy.

I see a room
completely swept clean
a stick and broom.

I see a room
where existed sweet love making
sweet nothings to the brim.

I see a room
filled with bitter spats
a knife and sword.

I see a room
where I once was
I now am
at the threshold I stand
I faintly hear the room say
but its echo is what I listen
Will it ever happen again?
He is my religion and me his pagan

Love and her life

13 May, 2008

Love is like a whistling whore

Sexes and seduces

In tune with her melancholic folklore

She perishes in another’s passionate fire

Consummating her true self

As she beckons her highness, majesty or sire

Any dawn and dusk is far too anew

Spreads and screams

Left thousands who have tasted her on cue

She drags from one man’s arm to the others bed

Coaxes and caresses

In sweet illusion she skips away to the dead.


06 May, 2008

Do I turn to you, my love

At this moment of tragic inheritance

Or do I turn to you, my passionate word

To lay my bloody sword in meek acceptance

Coerced to the helm, partaken in both

To whom do I bid adieu is my own

Nothing left to perchance

Regret in the aftermath, none of which unavoidable

Love, they say, is blind

Led my hand where the hearts’ foreseen unkind

I have not sailed the seven seas

Nor climbed treacherous mountains

But give myself in his hands of peace

Yet to me the same sweet is my sour

For my words, I never did have to lure

To flow a path they picked

They rose and fell on their torrid fate

Not like anything man can ever make

But words, now owe it to him, their head and their toe

In birth speaketh his name, as in death

In his joy, in sorrow, in his humble and in vain

Here I place myself at the crossroads

Coerced to the helm, with a partake in both

Cause every pride has no more than one king

For I must chose the ruler of my married ring

Do I turn to you, my love

Do I turn to you, my word

Roman Romance

03 April, 2008

I laughed with you in the rain
I laughed with you when I was in pain
I laughed with you in Rome
I laughed with you all the way back home

then you went on one knee to propose
the attack as I saw it, I completely froze
Cause I never felt it could ever be
I backed away thinking I was young, wild and free

Now in a song, in a verse, in a word, I wonder out loud,
Can I splash silver paint on the cloud
over my head pouring rain from the heavens
I cant seem to forget the curvature of your butt
to the perfume in your hut,
my heart flops toward you
and this it does to very a few
In my dreams I make you play the part
I envisage for us
Hand in hand as lovers on a Roman bus

This is most ridiculous poem I have EVER written!!!

But so funnnnnnnnnnnnnnny!

29 March, 2008

Ok dudes!!! I am really flattered but the post about the kid, affair and the who ha is fictional :-) no resemblance of any person dead or alive... its the beauty of creativity !!!

Love ya guys! :-)

For sometime I will be

28 March, 2008

I am a born optimist,
The world made me a depressive
My indecisiveness will lead to my downfall,
Dreaming high and mighty tall.

Bones and bones is all I am and can be
In ashes you will see me live
My grave, my lies and, my sin,
Alive they are, are my kith and kin

Painted by every stroke of the magic wand
the curvature has skewed my being
I am a distorted profile of myself
Hold me , Hold me tight
For I am ... For sometime I will be...

Signing off...

25 March, 2008

I could not function yesterday. I was demotivated to head to work. All I could think about is those three magical days.

Amchi Mumbai, as people call it was everything I expected it to be. Hot, Humid and so comforting. I reached the Chatrapathi Shivaji airport late but I spotted my friends immediately. At that time I couldnt care less about the flight that came late or the monday when I need to go to office.

He kept saying that his house is small and that I might feel claustrophobic being a huge gang. I, for the first time, realised that size really does matter. Huge, welcoming hearts his family had. I felt I knew them since a long time.

He was forever asking us to come to his farmhouse. He described it to be 4 tents hoisted in the middle of a pig sty where we needed to poo between the broken branches of a palm tree. No palm trees in that hill station. Only strawberry fields. No pig sty. Only Emu breeding area. We had come to the Wild!!! Expect only him to do this to us!

The drive to the airport was not the hardest thing to do. Hugging the three of them and saying goodbye just felt horrible. I dont know what this is. This feeling. I have not felt like this ever. I cant wish for it to never come this way next time neither can I wish for it to!

Signing off...

The kid, a family and the affair

24 March, 2008

I walked with my head hung low. I could not stand up to the interrogations by my father. It was after all my mother’s friend. He had come to our house. I couldn’t stop him. I could not bang the door on him. I had no rights to throw him out of my mother’s house. My father asked me again, “how can you not ask him not to come back? How can you laugh and make conversation with him? Do you not care about how I feel? Do you not care about me?”

He spoke well. He spoke well to my mother. He was took her out for lunch, dinner or just a long drive out of her home. With him she was herself. She was just her. She did not have a daughter she needed to tend to. She was not a mother. She was just another woman. He was her break from the world. He was her way of having the fun she deserved in her life for love had failed her and she had failed the test of love.

I shuttled between my father’s house and my mom’s house. I faced the same music every single time. I was asked the same questions. I was told the same things.

“You don’t understand how pure and unassuming our love was…”

“Your mother and I were completely in love with each other. I don’t know what went wrong.”

“Everything was going fine. But we split up a year after you were born.”

“If it were not for you I would have told your mom to fuck off I would have been happily married to another woman by now.”

“People wondered how I got such a beautiful woman to marry me. They wished us to be miserable.”

“It is up to you to make us get back together. You can make all the difference. How will you get married otherwise? How will any guy’s parents want to get their son married to a family like ours?”

I was no superwoman. I did not even have the strength to look any person in the eye or pose for a solo picture. Neither did I have guts to tell my dad that I cant do what he wants me to nor did I in actual have the balls to tell my mother what he wanted me to. I wanted the only problems in life to be who took my pencils, how much I need to get to be the first in class and what I did or did not want to have for dinner. I did not want to know the terms of my parents divorce. I did not want to hear about the blame game that grown-ups so love to play but I was forced to hear all of that and more. I did not want to know. I wanted to be left alone.

I am alone now. I have grown up. I am not being asked the questions I was so used to hear. I have become a detached sentimentalist. I couldn’t care less about what people want me to do or want off me but I cannot stop from being depressed blaming myself. I think it’s a deadly combination. I am upset and so is the other person. I feel I am not answerable to anybody and for anything that I do.

I got older and so did my parents. He did not mean anything to my father anymore. Neither did he mean anything to my mother. They lay on their death beds filled with unfulfilled dreams, humiliated with the decisions they made in their life, they wondered how I became a person with no heart and soul for them. How I had only feelings for the people I thought I cared for. If they had nothing to give, I left. I left and as I walked away, with no remorse of their impending death, they asked me,

“How and when did you stop caring for us?”

He bought me chocolates. He bought me ice cream. He was showered me with the love I would I wanted my dad to give me. A child knows only tangible things. Love was a two-way street. He touched me. I couldn’t tell.

“How did you let life happen to me?”

Force a face

06 March, 2008

When you force a face upon
On a body you want to care for
Do you reckon?
If emotions will make any noise,

Chartered on a rein-less chariot
On a journey you embarked on
Do you have a map?
For the eyes to make the choice,

What is left to unveil?
On a mirror bridged by cracks
Do you see a reflection?
Of my heart in my voice

Counting the ticks of the hand
On the various truths that lies
Do you claim Juxtaposition?
It a test of your calm and poise

(An after-thought: Did the red rose become the expression of love?
When a joyous lover cried blood on a pure white)

She will be loved 13 times in a row :)

02 March, 2008

Its been quite sometime since I heard one song over and over again...! This song has beautiful lyrics and though its not a new song... I want to reiterate tha fact that its worth a listen, 13 times :)

Not for sale

29 February, 2008

If I holler,
that I do care
would you let go of me

If I tempt,
that I will do
would you shun me

If I serenade,
that I sure will
would you walk away from me

If I kneel
that I will hold for sure
would you break the spirit of me

Could I love and leave?
Pixie dust for only a fairy tale
Peels of grime and grease
No one, after all, is for sale

Through the night's sky

27 February, 2008

I look up at the clear blue sky
with no stars to wish upon
tears it brings to my eyes
a sparkle and a cry

Never can I comprehend the games people play
men and women lose for their heart's desire
Isn't that a large price to pay?

With no sleep and agony to mull over
why is it, I ask, lacking love and luster
what is life if you pass by it sober

Through the night's sky, I want thee to be
in love for sure, in love with me
through the indecisive pauses
through the splits it causes

My love it ponders, my love it wonders
my love it waits, my love it breaks
my love it loves, my love it hates

Lost shadows of the last matinée sun
threatens me at closure, in the forward step, I intend
the passion that makes me jump the gun
a mistake to commit for years to come

Yet the blame is on the people and me
For we are the true criminals
pure as I can be, because it is I
through the night's sky beckon thee...


26 February, 2008

I have never been this indecisive in my life. All I need to do is take the first step forward or the last step off the mountain peak.

Either and both ways... Its do or die.

As U2 perfectly said it, I am stuck in a moment!

Peace Out!


13 February, 2008

Color me blue
when the skies are red
and clouds soft as a warm bed

Color me blue
when tears are tasteless
and the heights make you breathless

Color me blue
when my dreams sing my song
in that Church a wedding gong

Color me blue
When time becomes the peddler of future
An addiction that spoils the now

Color me blue
when the folded fist is all you've got
a soul which the devil seeks has been bought

Color me blue
when all I do in life, is love
when all I end is in one great shove
Ending in people near my grave true

Color me blue
Begin me in blue

Love and Destruction

09 February, 2008

“Yes and that does make me feel miserable. Contrary to many beliefs, if and when I fall in love, I feel miserable. Miserable that I am in love and miserable that I am capable of love”

“What are you saying? Capable of love… Many in this world in their existence constantly question themselves whether they are, can be or have the capability to love another. Selfishly or unconditionally, whichever may be the case. Love is loved by everyone!”

“Moving past my fear of sounding ridiculous, clichéd or like a standard ten English essay, my love can be split into: I hate the people I love and I love the people I hate.”

“The classic love-hate relationship huh? It defines you to such an extent that you question yourself and condemn your feelings of love? Why?”

“Hmm… The question I pose to myself and the only plausible answer I got through this act of introspection was that I hate the people I love and love the people I hate.”

“You are repeating yourself here. But I get the fact that it is similar to familiarity breeds contempt and…”

“…And the factors, small and negligible as they may look, these itsy-bitsy quirks,that I hate about a person, makes me want to love them more.”


“My life, my logic and my hate. And that same hatred might prove destructive for me in love!”

-- To the flowers that lay on the tomb stone that says

And her last words were… Life is a bitch and Love her bastard.

Not today...

03 February, 2008

Am I ready to die?
Am I ready to die?
Yesterday I did not
Neither will I today
nor will I tomorrow.

A shaken soul masters none
words fanned through the valley
in the wake of an enlightened harbinger
sieving the bluish blemishes

At the far west flying solo
the sparrow reaching its summit
passed over vulture's carcass
whose death is of no consequence

I want to invite death in
his tease, his ally, his sin
black cold with intensity, I reckon
Am I ready to die?
Not today
Not today...

Fools dig deep

15 January, 2008

The chill steel edge slicing my cheek bone
from one empty space to another empty space
a crater,
the salt stains brown
granules of wetness
on all the dried, decayed remains
evidence of a humanly existance,
buried under the flesh
the morbid embezzelments run a coarse streak
through virtue of epiphany

The puff of skin compliment the grey eyes
crow's feet leave no scars
curvatures on the face widen the empty space
filled with confident emotions
yet the exterior mirrors none within
expressions fradulent of nature
Through virtue of monotony

Author reads

13 January, 2008

I am a ten year old boy. No, man in spirit. I have to get up at 5 in the morning to deliver newspapers. I hate getting up that early. I wish I could turn off my alarm. (Laughs...) By alarm ofcourse I mean if I could set the sun to rise later. My body aches. My head especially. It spins sometimes. I think it is because of the weight of the newspapers I carry. Oh by the way, as you all might have figured out, I am the paper boy for this locality. By morning only. At 8, I report to Fix it Garage. I am the junior assistant mechanic in charge of taking care of the needs of our expert mechanics. I get to meet very gorgeous cars and their not so generous owners. I assumed that they would be nice people considering they have all the money to get whatever they want. Maybe they are upset about their expensive car. Could be. Least of my problems I say, this is why I don't want millions. I pray that my each meal is served and that I get to eat them in peace. That seems more a spiritual problem than the sparkplug of a car! Oh did I forget to tell you my age? I am ten. Do I look like one? I think I can pass off as a teenager, a grown-up maybe? (Smiles...)

I am 45 years old. I am a 45 year old mathematics teacher. Aaaah! I knew you would roll your eyes when I say the word mathematics. No, tell me, really. What is it that makes everyone squirm when you have to attend a math class, a math test, or talking to a math teacher. I am getting upset for nothing here right? I teach to an empty class and when the test paper comes I curse the empty heads. Then there are these saving graces in every class who understand the basics of mathematics. The Front-benchers. Don't judge me. You dont own the patent, the right to label them. I will exercise mine as well. So these jumping jacks sitting in the first bench, though they bring utmost joy to me with their split second answers, get on my nerves as they in the end are the ones who undermine my intelligence and command over the subject. The back-benchers, though hate me, never cease to get amazed at the speed and flair I solve any given problem. Simple application of logic I would say and they roll their eyes. I see fear more than a negative attitude. I get my revenge.. Maths: Boo!!! (Laughs, giggles leading to snorts...)

I am a 38 year old, career-woman and a home-maker. Yes, we do exist and merge both worlds with ease and panache. I am an interior designer, I always loved the arts. It gave me my freedom. And as a single mom, I am quite happy about how my kid has turned out. He is a great guy who has learnt to love and respect women. I give a pat on my back whenever his 'girlfriends' praise me for the brilliant son I have given to the society. (Smiles) Between blushing and over-powering sense of pride, I mumble a thank you to the girl and walk away. I am popular in my fraternity, highly recognised and a successful mother and thats who I am. Although it does get a little tiring when I am all that and not myself. I have carved a status for me which I cannot erase. I am all that. But I am also much more. My art has cornered me. Maybe I should start writing poetry. (Laughs quietly...)

I am 22 years old. I am the author of many lives, many emotions. They belong to me. But they once belonged to another. Maybe myself sometimes. Once they are out, they are... not mine anymore. Sometimes I write so that they stop belonging to me. Ever wondered why Arthur Miller couldn't sustain his affari with Marilyn Monroe, THE MOST SEXIEXT HEARTTHROB? Because for authors its not a woman's curves that are tintilating it is the flow of word play is stimulation. Ha! Word play, word play. It excites me so much!!! (Shudders and Laughs...)Are you asking me whether I am alone? Good question but let me know, do you think I am alone? (Smiles and winks naughtily...)

...I think I will remove my shoes now. Their shoes also. Bare feet are a blessing I tell you...

Indecisiveness traumatic syndrome

07 January, 2008

For every letter, an agreement

For every word, a profanity

For every sentence, a question

For every thought, a suicide

A hesitation guided by intuition
that persists from within
The craving to surge forward
though of nature, blunderous

Shrivelled lips speak none
Dejected eyes look up
at the angels caress and the vultures stare
but both hover with nonchalance
at the junction of mahogany and the mallot
burning desire for the noose tighter
than to suspend in time and again.

Denial is not an option when you have answers,

Wait and want for judgement is worse than the verdict itself.

Cut Cut Snip Snip

06 January, 2008


B: "Apun kya karega na, aapke baal jo hai na, usko mein ek tarah se blend kardoonga? Teek hai na?"
A: "Haan teek hai"

Cold Feet:

I had no clue what I had said yes for. I keep questioning myself as to why I allow them to take a chance with my hairstyles. Toni & Guy academy at least had a tutor. The guy who was going to cut my hair came from a Punjabi family who did not take well to his profession. Married to a tamilian girl and grumbling about Pongal he digressed into how he got into this profession. He had dreams about hairstyles. At that moment I was disturbed. I told a guy to have a go at my hair, surprise me and he was looking at a bloody mirage. Not good. Not good at all,I tell myself. One minute I was sitting at the sink getting my hair washed, the next minute nodding my head giving him permission to cut at least a couple of inches shorter than I wanted it to be. I was completely petrified.

He complained that I was young, guessed my age right and told me if I have long hair I will look old. I am not sure what exactly happened there! J With utmost care, gentleness he said that he knew that he always wanted to be a hairdresser. I could see how much he enjoyed his work and was grateful if people did not hurry him up. If he had the time he would spend an eternity with every strand of hair. Such is his passion that exuded in his personality.

Crazy thought:

“Could he hear what I was thinking like the guy in that movie??? Hello mr.sir I love what you are doing with my hair. No complaints at all.” (No reply from him, which meant he did not hear me. Continue thread of thought!)

Clarity from Chaos:

Before I knew people had queued up behind me waiting for him to cut their hair. They wanted no one but him. I was thinking what is the big deal. I looked into the mirror that was staring right back at me. But much more prettier than what looked at me when I had entered for the first time. I was astonished. “Run your fingers through your hair,” he said. I obeyed him instantly to see the magical world he had seen an hour ago. He had seen something that I could not, did not an hour ago though I was in the same room, in front of the same mirror.

He had a vision of my haircut.

Top Ten 2007 (till Change!)

01 January, 2008

It is new year and like any festive day I love watching all the tamil programs on tv. From the "patimandrams" to the weird "putham pudhiya thirai padams!!" I love to watch them all. A common program I see is that every channel has its top ten for the year program. So I stole that idea but I want to make it the top ten songs that I would love to hear any point in time! (Not in any particular order)

  • You're Beautiful- James Blunt
  • Won't miss a thing- AeroSmith
  • You raise me up- Josh Groban
  • The way you looked tonight- Rod Stewart
  • Can't fight the moonlight- LeAnn Rimes
  • City of Blinding lights- U2
  • Insatiable- Darren Hayes
  • 25 Minutes too late- MLTR
  • Everything I do I do it for you- Bryan Adams
  • Your Grace still amazes me- Phillips Craig and Dean
I am quite happy with this collection.. :-) Now I can sleep in peace!!

Happy New Year 2008!!!!
Raise your Shoulders and Fall back on your Knees, Piss through a Dime For the Whole World Sees