27 December, 2009

Song Sung Blue

Some songs remind me of myself.
Inanimate objects are overvalued and undermined.
Why does it take a bitter winter to make us enjoy the sun?
Here is the only place worth being in. There is too far away to see.

22 December, 2009

Catharsis

When the year end leaves you particularly uninterested and non-plussed, you know something is amiss. That a brand new yummy red diary and three newly downloaded albums of Norah Jones cannot get me overtly excited it disturbing too. I guess its the shaadi fatigue, or maybe all the things I have been doing half-heartedly. It could be so many things and nothing at all. It could be the us in the you and me, or it could just be my solitude. It could the weather (under) estimating me or the people over (doing) me. Its getting colder and the poorly sewed Santa caps are offering no warmth. So I decide to do something that I am told, triggered one of the best things that happened to me this year. So, here I go again, thanking the people who helped me along:

  • The Family: For letting me.
  • The Atul: For giving us all one more reason to smile.
  • The Sopho: Of the 2,10,71,986 reasons I can think of thanking you, I'd like to choose just one. Thank you for staying up with me that bluish-grey dawn. 21st April 2009.
  • The Unwitting Healer, my Roosi, who has only given and given and given. We should forget about our DoC scale and start on a new HoH (Halo of Happiness) measurement. You're an 11 on 10.
  • The Firangi Friends, Maitreyi and Ashwina. Even on different continents you've managed to hear me out. Thank you for allowing the distances make the heart grow fonder.
  • The Beautiful Stranger, Rain: You have (so poetically) been my dirty little secret, my stashed away joy for a rainy day, my tears and fears all rolled into pretty prose.
  • The Warrior, my Rinchen: Thank you for all our laughs and all those trips. They'd have been imperfect without you :) But most of all, for being most fun on the coldest of days.
  • The Russian Romance, Ani: You have to be thanked for managing to make me smile from the most difficult place ever - my memory. Thank you for all those unexpected land-up-on-doorstep times, chocolate-sauce-off-your-misshapen-fingers, crooked smiles and spontaneity.
  • To Zach Braff for being the guy I love to love. All the time. For filling a 101 lonely evenings with laughter.
  • To G, the Gargoyle: For teaching me that I do, after all, have a lot to learn.
  • To Feeder for singing to me a song for every mood. "Been calling out for days, as emptiness invades, another moment's lost again, just sunk beneath the waves."
  • To CPC, for giving me my love for the colour orange. It took me so long to realize that it was because of you.
  • To Leh, for showing me enough beauty to make me believe.

For a year so trying, I think I had more than my share of laughs :) And now a post this drab has perked me up! New Year? Here we come :) Enjoy your parties people! And try to fit it the environment into your new year resolutions. One plastic cup less and one car pool more does make (enough?) a difference.
Take care.

14 December, 2009

Come away with me

I am taking you on this trip with me. To this quiet little place. It's a dilapidated little cottage. Without the Internet and definitely no phones. It's surrounded by oak trees and at this time of the year, the brown leaves must have fallen, our shoes can shuffle out a melody walking on them. There is an old spaniel guarding the place, he likes lolling in the sun and chasing any squirrels he can barely see. We could subsist on canned sausages and that marvellous bread I bake. And a brew of some kind.

Don't become starry-eyed now - we aren't going for long. I wouldn't want you to start getting on my nerves. Confrontations were never my favourite place, you know that too well. It's the library I am going for. That, and the sunsets of course. There is going to be no music too, I am being hard hearted you'll sulk. But this one time, shhhh. I am taking you on this trip with me. You must know, you don't have a choice.

06 December, 2009

Memories

These last few forgettable times
They've been leaving so quietly
That now I don't even try
To lie in wait and listen
Tormentedly as they
Go.
Silent-slippered children
Slither out through me
Softly as if almost
Sensing that I
Sigh as they
Go.

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