Category Archives: My favourite people

the paths in these woods

There is a path. Then there is another path. The uncertainty and new-ness of that path is enticing. But soon after, there is a realization that that path is actually in the same wood as the first path. The new path I have attempted also does not give me the assurance, comfort and sense of home that the first path brought me. It did for a while entice and excite me, but soon I began to seek and remember the sublime sun-kissed joy of the first path in these woods. It was not always the same, it changed colours, the path had green tress sometimes, yellow and pink at other times. But it always gave me joy, a lot of shade, grassy burrows to rest in and most-importantly, just seeing it flourish in happiness, makes me happy.

 

 

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Who is T-chen

I am really good at keeping secrets. Sometimes, I keep secrets from myself, never accepting some or acknowledging some fleeting truths, and conveniently forgetting secrets about myself that I have chanced upon.

T-chen is a secret I have kept for about 2 and a half years now. However, he occupies a few recesses and perhaps even the hypothalamus of my brain. We have been together since sometime in August 2012 . He is a nice guy. a kind sensitive soul. a curious bear. with a loud uninhibited laughter. infectious happiness. He says that the guiding force of his life is love. and this makes him a very special person. He has supported me through several bad phases. even now, prodding me to shine, while still allowing me to enjoy a lull. T-chen shares my sorrows, holds me when I am sad, listens to me earnestly when I have no words, and lets me enjoy his undivided attention when it is not occupied by books. He tries constantly and succeeds well in understanding what it is like to be female on this planet at this time. He is politically environmentally socially conscious. And the universe is a better place because he is here.

His eyes are dark blue with a tinge of grey, which twinkle and become smaller when he smiles. His hair is dark brown but gets lighter in summer. He has this habit of brushing back his hair with his hand that keeps falling to his forehead like he is one of the Beatles. He does not like this at all. He is very tall and I have to go on my toes to kiss him when we are both standing up. He smells and feels like home.

I love my T-chen.

Who is T-chen? I keep finding out each day, even now, when he has gone away for a while. I realize what his presence did to me when he is absent, and this way, I note something about him that I hadn’t before. I also learn things about myself, in this life with him. I would like to continue finding out who T-chen is.

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Bluerider

Yesterday, he used the word love to define what is between us.

He said that I am going to get knotted up , I won’t like it. I will break it one day and burn everything around me, and fly away.

I wonder at this. Huddled close on that winter night, I wondered at it from afar. It is always far. I am. far.
Is that why I always shy away from the knots? or often compelled by the fieriness of them do I knit them myself, like a puppeteer nimbly tracing wisps of air, pulling to secure a knot. and then light a match to see everything explode, myself burn slowly, only to be found already present somewhere else. Fully covered in wax.

I would like to allow it be peeled away. Not by him, not him at all. Although he believes he has it.

Flowers found/left in between the pages of books

They had fallen in between the sheets from one’s hair. Before that they were on found under the trees that give less shade.

Highways. The sounds heard on them. As one is riding, a huge truck passes by, a high pitched sound far away. Eyes open to glimpse a dim light on the horizon, it warms a villager. the light then, of the loud bus stop, is shocking.

Bluerider, riding in cold winters, in warm summers, always.

***

Keep riding, my friend.

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Filed under Love and all, My favourite people, Thoughts/ Ideas

My first long-distance relationship

There are a few things I remember about him. But with each passing year, my memories of him dwindle and I forget that they were ever there. My first long-distance-relationship. My father.
I am told that, as a little girl, I once proclaimed that I wanted to marry a person who would be just like him. A very special person, full of kindness, joy and warmth, he was always my hero when I was growing up.
He was a fairly strict, disciplined in many ways but totally lacked it in other ways. He would make uswake up early even during our summer holidays and go out for a jog or to the park. On most days he would accompany us. But he would come back from that exercise and take a long siesta in the afternoon, this made my mother very angry. She said that there was no point to his morning walk if he slept right after a heavy lunch!
My father made me learn the multiplication table upto 15 x 15, front to back, back to front, just when I was 6 years old. He was of the opinion that intelligent children ought to be strong in mathematics. He was a chartered accountant himself. Unfortunately he din’t do his own personal money maths too well, so he was in a lot of debt. This part about him being bad about his own money is my mother’s opinion. I think that he cared about us so much and loved us so much, that he wanted to leav no stone unturned in giving us a good education. Even if it was difficult for him to pay the school fee each month, or send us to hobby classes such as dancing and tennis, he made sure we never gave it up. He had a passion for life and his motto, of live and let live was something he followed to the T. He lived large and was always kind to everyone. His zest for life is evident in all the things that inspired him and tat he shared with me. In class six, he sent me letter on a yellow page. and attached the letter was the poem that still remains among my most cherished ones. It was called Don’t Quit.
When he came back home from work, I could hear the jingle of his keys one the second floor, even as he entered the building on the ground floor. To me it was the most joyous sound, of my father returning home. My favourite person in the world returning home to spend the rest of the evening with me!

It was quite a shock to me when I stopped hearing it. At that time I think I dealt with it pretty well. Looking back, I think I looked upon it almost as a fancy event. That my father had gone to another land to save us all from hunger and despair was a superhero fantasy. I believed we would go and join him again and be like the family we were, once again.

I just realized that I have even been writing of him in the past tense!

I am not sure when I realized that it was going to happen that way. Some time after my father left, it was my mother, my brother and I.
We learnt to make all decisions independently without having to consult my father, or even eachother sometimes. If my mother din’t feel like cooking, she would independently decide that we were eating out. It was just the 3 of us for so long and for the greater part of my memory. (It has almost entirely been just the 3 of us in my brother’s memory. I wonder how he feels about this all.) This is why a lot of things I know instinctively are for 3 people. I know the measurements of rice, dal, vegetables that need to be cooked for 3 people. I know the cost of living for 3 people. I know water quantities used and number of luggage bags and life lived by 3 people.

I have forgotten what it is like to have appa around, often forgetting him altogether. I think of him a bit later than one would think of their father, when I want to share a good or bad news. I have few things to say to him and now, as I have grown up, all the fights that come from generation gaps have manifested themselves. This has made communication even more strained and difficult, for two people who already spoke less. Two people who are so intensely bound together by blood and truth and love, but have forgotten to love.

But perhaps its only me who has forgotten to love. I wonder how he feels about this. I know that he thought about us all the time in the beginning. But I am wondering about now. I wonder if he is moved by love or if he thinks of us forlornly in an alien manner.

I suppose he wants only the best for us and wants us to be happy. as I do wish for him.

But this is only in the times that I think of him. I am sorry and I sad about this, but it its true that these times are few.

My father was my first long-distance relationship.
and it has taught me things about myself, it has determined how I interact with people, my desire for intense privacy, my desire to trust few, my desire to seek for people and then run away on finding a hand to clasp. Perhaps it will change one day, but for now, I know that it certainly has moulded how I feel about relationships, and deal with people who I am distanced from.
Out of sight, out of mind. Not necessarily “out of mind”, but certainly cast aside. With friends and relatives, I pick up from where we left off and am absolutely fine with it.
But perhaps there are relations that are not meant to be cast aside. This is where it begins to hurt and I fear to let another person close to me, believing he would leave to go far away.
Leave a gaping hole.
An empty seat in a table meant for four.

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Filed under Don't want to talk about it, Journeys and travels, La vie, Me, My favourite people

the smell of adai

Its 8.45pm and I am still at work. No one is keeping me here but the desire to be alone in a quiet place makes me want to remain here for a while longer.

It is strange how, in this place that is nothing like home used to be, I just now could smell my mothers Adai.
It was definitely one of her best dishes, crispy crunchy golden adais with an occassional curry leaf and amazing with a lump of white butter.

I long for that flavour. I breathe in deeply, but none of that smell remains.

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Filed under My favourite people, Stuff I like, World

Bombay of mine, thank you for you.

So! On the 17th day of January, I decided to kick off with the Number 1 thing on my Bucket list for the year. I booked a ticket for the very next day, on the train to Bombay!
The 1.5 days I spent there were a crazy fest of amazing food, friends, family,barely any sleep, warmth and memories!

Its difficult to talk or write about Bombay simply because I am so aware of my bias to the city I call home, where I know I will always belong but probably would not want to go back to live in. Walking down familiar paths with old friends and breathing in the sea-breeze, it felt like the easiest and most natural thing to be there with those very people. It was so wonderful to be able to talk about things to a friend who knows you since you were 3 and someone who has seen you through all the masks and facades you put up until there were no more left, and knows you for real. and accepts, and embraces and loves. you. There was no need to give a context or explain a story, it all just came from the knowledge of growing up together, in the same little town where most people knew eachother, and lived as a community, with its small failings, and small victories.

I met exactly the people I would meet if I had a limited time in my hometown and the one person I would love to meet but hadn’t made a plan with, I bumped into her on the street although she doesn’t live there anymore either! I ate exactly all that I would have eaten and have been missing.

I had several realizations in the hours I spent there, some whilst sober and other not, which I would like to put down here.
1. Every person from Bombay is an AMAZING dancer of the street ghaati/Ganpati visarjan style. (Look at the little boy in purple going for it here to know what I mean!) I keep forgetting that in Delhi where I have no company for it!

2. Into the Wild should be the next book I add to my reading list. Heard Eddie Vader belting out Society in a room full of happy people and realized that I am someone who likes to live on teh edge or outside of society and thats the kind of people I end up making friends with. hmmm

3. I live intensely in the moment. In the night I spent in Lonavla, for most of the night, I din’t remember or think about a single thing outside of the exact minute I was in, There was no past, no future.

4. A thought about my current partner or the fact that I have one, passed my mind for the first time in the night at 1.30am. I wonder if thinking about someone you think/claim you love  after a gap of four and a half hours is normal. How are people supposed to be in love if they are supposed to be any one way at all?!

5. I love Pav Bhaji, and it will always be my number one favourite dish.

I am glad this is how 2014 has started. I am feeling at peace and yet all the atoms that make me are going crazy bouncing off eachother. Thats what Bombay does to me. Its my medicine and my bane. I love it there.

Also just realized that I haven’t been doing much from the rest if my bucket list, oops! Signing off, here’s a song dedicated to Bombay and its warm showers.  Bombay Rain, I think of you often.

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Filed under Journeys and travels, La vie, My favourite people, novel, Stuff I like, Thoughts/ Ideas

My lover’s shoulder

Yesterday I noticed my lover’s shoulder.
Winter fogged the window behind the drapes, but a warmth created by the room heater(second-hand but in perfect condition)
and two loving bodies engulfed the room. Delicate yellow light from a bed-side shade threw shadows on us
and my eyes
and especially his shoulders.
After watching an episode of Sherlock(Season 3 episode 3 brilliant!) with him,
discussing, dissecting, and laughing about it, with him,
it was the only place I wanted to be in
and no Spy with a voice like Benedict Cumberbatch could have changed that.

In the process of writing this, I have just now google-searched the words ‘shoulder anatomy’
to understand and explain to you exactly
how beautiful did look my lover’s shoulders.
It was neither the most-muscular nor the most-toned shoulder I have seen,
nothing like Daniel Craig in his better days.
But a certain manner in which he held me in those moments,
shone three distinct lines of muscle and sinew in yellow shadows,
that whispered to me about love, care and affection,
and made me wonder at the universe that could make these shoulders possible.
“Ah Science! Ah Universe!”, thought I
and stretched out my arms barely tracing my fingers over them,
too afraid to alter the grace
that is held within the petals of my lover’s shoulders.

I din’t think until now that his shoulders are a different colour from my own.
While his shine like smooth ivory,
mine are more like wood, varying between shades of walnut and chestnut in parts.
But we are happy to push our shoulders together in the darkness of the cinema,
and brush them gently against one another,
unnoticed in the chatter and laughter of social gatherings.
(This specific shoulder of my lover has no moles,
unlike his back whose landscape is scattered with stars,
that are nice to kiss or to play join-the-dots.)

If I was O. Henry or Guy de Maupassant, I would tell you that those shoulders had no arms to end,
or if I was Sir Doyle or Oscar Wilde, my lover would be a spy, a prince or a frog.
But this is not a story and its no such romantic thing.
This is real life and my lover is real person.
with a human heart.
(and beautiful shoulders.)

 

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Filed under Love and all, My favourite people, Poetry, Stuff I like, Uncategorized

Life is like a bus stop

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have come across some very useful gyaan (TERMINOLOGY: gyaan- knowledge/ advice (Hindi)) about life and the state of things as they are in the world and think it might be nice of me to dispense it to you guys.

I should like to give credit to my friend Gilgamesh who is the creator of this theory and also in this process am attempting to set him up with any women who read this (only because thats how he leans though I think guys should try too).

So the theory goes like this —

Most things in life are like a bus stop.

You wait at the bus stop for ages and forever, but there wouldn’t be any sign of the bus. But suddenly, after forever, 3-4 buses come together one after the other, and confuse you about which one to take. If you board a bus, can you get off before the final destination? How committed are you expected to be to the bus? Can other people board the bus? Will the bus get moody and break down on the way? What if the bus isn’t going where you want to go?  Would you do best to leave all the buses and take your own private vehicle even if that means cycling alone for miles?

Or do you take a chance?

Its in your hands, your mind, your heart. It is in you.

By the way, I love the guys who made this. Its zenpencils.com. They have a lot of other wonderful life adoring cartoon colour sketches about  several inspiring quotes

EXplore, Dream , Discover

 

Anyway, the point was that as Gilgamesh has profoundly pointed out, Life is like a bus stop. Whether you apply it to work, education, passions, love lives, oppportunities, or anything that might not even matter at all. Are you taking a chance?

Are you boarding a bus?

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February 20, 2013 · 6:06 pm

I am 22 booyeahh!

Gah! So here I am once again , posting after a really long break and shaking my head at how incorrigible I am. A lot has happened since I last posted because my life is so-oh happening, yessir!! Its almost 2am here and I decided that for the love of this blog and all the people that I imagine read it, I must post today!

so most importantly, I turned 22! yea yea I had an awesome birthday party that started at 10pm the night before my birthday and went on till 7 am the next morning. Needless to say, there were enough substances of all kinds flowing and flying to keep everyone going for so long and then made them crash for the next many hours. But I decided that Imma be a stud on mah b’day yo and attended all my classes and felt like a used condom by the end of my day. But it was really fun nevertheless and everyone had a great time too.:)

I received some really nice gifts, like two yummy chocolate cakes, a letter from my brother, a bunch of novels and books. But the most worldbest gift I received was from someone I shall call Gilgamesh here at thestoryofparo(tsop). He wrote me a novella. He wrote me an entire fucking sci-fi novella where I am the protagonist and have level 5 electromancer powers. Its full of videogame references, space travel, funny incidents of the past, references to things I have said and done and also features many of my friends. 😀

He bound it in a plain little black book and gave it to me like it was nothing. Its the most thought-about and worked-upon gift I have ever received and I feel super overwhelmed by all the niceness.

That was about a week back.

Also met KB after many years. He decided to come to Delhi to meet me and we walked around his old school and house and walked around Delhi lakes before watching The Dark Knight Rises. (again! oh fate!)

Coming up in the next post is some very deep insight on life guys. You mist not miss it because I am now 22 and very wise.

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people getting married

My grandparents are my favourite people in the world. They are also quite deaf and I suspect its my grandma’s habit of watching TV real loud that made him hard of hearing too. When they are around, conversations are funny and repeated four times. We all talk really loudly and the TV volume is further increased and so we all talk more loudly. Even if they want to talk about something secretly, they go to the other room and talk loud enough for us to hear. haha! I love them. Blindly and more than anyone.

Last year, they celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. It was on 2nd April, 1951 , a day after April Fool’s  Day ,(my grandfather often jokes about it) that they got married. So 60 years on, we arranged a great party and even had their friends from old times over. Watching them that night, and even now, it struck me that even after so many years of being together, they still have things to say to eachother. They even spend all their time together, so its not as if they are informing eachother about what they did that day. They look out for eachother and truly care. They still fight and crack jokes about eachother to us.  But I know, they would crack without eachother.

 

My grandparents’ wedding photograph, 1951

Their marriage was arranged by their parents and they hadn’t even met before they got married.  And this is how it turned out. On that one day, I felt may be marriages can work. But may be it was just them. May be they wouldn’t have separated even they hated the guts of eachother simply because of societal stigma.  One never knows.

My grandparents of Grandpa’s 80th birthday ceremony

Yet, I am somehow, never lay my hands around the idea of spending the rest of your life with one person. Though I understand the value of companionship, the idea of spending the rest of your life with one person, really scares me. You might say you are in love with him. But I wonder if it won’t fizzle out, won’t you begin to doubt, get bored, get scared or fall in love with someone else? I know that divorce is fairly common and accepted now. However, why would anyone enter a relationship, already anticipating an end and knowing that they have a way out of it?

I read in the news today that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are splitting after 5 years of marriage. Can you beleive it, after he clowned around so much on Oprah. I don’t care about them at all but didn’t they have time earlier to figure out that they don’t get along? Arnold Schwarzernegger and his wife split up after 25 years of marriage because of some illegitimate child he fathered many years back. I know I can in no capacity understand her situation, but I suppose I could forgive some mistake like that. Especially if I have discovered that for 25 years  this person has kept me happy and we can be in the same room, without shattering plates or having the silence shatter us.

Marriage is something I haven’t understood even with the countless movies, famous couples or even with my own family and parents. I don’t know why its necessary to put that tag on your relationship just because society is comfortable with it and thinks it appropriate for you to want it. Even live-in relationships can have everything a marriage has. and have equal chances of failing, ofcourse. Why does an acknowledgement by a governments civil laws or by a religion, make a relationship sacred or more important? I am sure the breaking of any other relationship should be just as painful and important or unimportant.

In India, parents think its their duty to get their children married by the mid-twenties and pay for it too. The whole event or the not timely occurrence of it is a stigma and becomes an over-riding question in the lives of the parents, grandparents, uncles,aunts, neighbours and colleagues. It becomes everyone’s business really.

As my understanding of it stands now, love usually fizzles out. and after that its just habit and fear of the lack of this person, or of loneliness that keeps one going. Marriage usually adds other wheels like children and property to this.  I am not really sure of all these things about relationships are marriages.  But I sure of one thing- that I am afraid to find out the truth.

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