Thoughts That Come By

Taking Stock

2011-09-28T13:01:00.003+05:30

Five plus years of being here. I began taking stock, of the people, of moments, of experiences. Taking stock was definitely not a pretty thing to do. So many people hurt, so much growing up I had to do, still do. Five plus years and I couldn't think of anything significant enough to be proud of, nothing that binds, not place, no people. Now that's a sign, isn't it?

2011-07-26T00:37:00.000+05:30

I dreadfully envy people who are complacent, you know. Because only when there is a want, a desire, a passion, that is where restlessness springs up like a Jack rushing out from the box and yelling 'surprise!!' into your ear. I wish I could be freed of this restlessness and be accepting of what life tells me to take. I envy people who go down without a fight and hug to themselves all that the days of their lives rations out to them. In a way, I feel, I would be freed of most miseries if I didn't fight every rule, every diktat, every new surprise and learned to accept my 'lot'.

But then, I imagine that would be a "normal" boring life. And I like the line 'normal is boring' a tad too much to settle for anything less.

2011-07-15T17:06:00.002+05:30

When I chance upon some books and happen to read beyond their fifth pages, I wonder, how could that person write and unleash their narcissism, thinly coated and ill disguised, upon the world. Then I come upon some people and I think, how can they not write? It is grossly unfair that such talent remains mostly hidden from the world.

It is so unfair that some people must write and others, not. Or be or not be. Or be allowed to thrive and others not given a chance. Or handed on a platter or snatched from the fist. You get the drift. Unfair.

But then, life is unfair. So I have been told.

2011-01-12T19:11:00.001+05:30

I did the right thing.

Right things may not be what you would ideally want, but it is the right thing.

Needs at the Moment

2011-01-06T23:31:00.002+05:30

I think what I really need at the moment is a farm house with a cow, a dog, not a cat because I don't like them much, a lot of green, NO internet, NO phone, an equipped kitchen for my new love of cooking and a room full of books. And some writing paper and pen. May be that will do the trick.

2010-12-02T22:01:00.001+05:30

The sole purpose of some people's continued presence in your life is to amuse you with their histrionics. Thank goodness for their immaturity! :D

Hehehehehehe!

2010-10-31T21:25:00.000+05:30

"We will always have Paris."

2010-10-06T00:35:00.002+05:30

And another one let's you down. And another one; and another one; and another one lets you down....

Copied from a friend's status. Was wholly appropriate.

2010-09-28T00:55:00.001+05:30

Coffee. Lots of it again. With a dash of sugar this time. The last time around was nearly five years ago. Is it back? The many cups of coffee?

All Hail Tolstoy!

2010-08-22T21:46:00.002+05:30

The Kreutzer Sonata by Lev Tolstoy is one of the most fantastic portrayals of human behaviour and social norms that I have ever read. It talks about marriage and love and relationships. Not that the theme is new, but I have never seen such an insight into an aspect of society such as this ever written before.

What a story! What a fantastic writer!

I will, one day, touch the earth that he tread upon.

Ah Well!

2010-07-30T01:20:00.002+05:30

Wheee! It has been looooooong since I posted anywhere at all!!! No this is not dead, neither am I.

The last four months have been a whirlwind, emotional and otherwise. There have been too many journeys, too many projects, too many thoughts and laughs and tears and the usual paraphernalia that accompanies my life.

I type this in the middle of the night from a hotel room in Bagalkot, north Karnataka. What brings me here is another of the unusual-ities that I quit my job to pursue.

As of now, for better or for worse, life, my life has been the most incredible journey I have been on. Despite what I might tell some of you out there!

2010-03-22T22:48:00.002+05:30

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armour, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give then a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.

I hate love."

Neil Gaiman

A Fishy Tale

2010-02-09T22:28:00.004+05:30

The other day, one pure veggie of a Tam-Bram and me, the other true veggie were sitting and talking things of a tribal nature. My friend D had another friend who worked with tribals in Arunachal Pradesh. The way she said they cook fish had my mouth watering at the mere description.

This tribe catches fish. Long bamboo sticks are cut and hollowed and sealed from one end. They take a fish, gut it, smear it with chilly powder, salt and masala on both sides. Then they throw in a handful of rice grains into the bamboo stick and stuff the fish inside. They then seal the open end and throw it on the fire. By the time they have caught more fishes, these are perfectly baked with rice sticking to the fish, complete with salt and spices. And then, by the river, next to their stock of fresh fish, they take a large juicy bite!

Slurp! Slurp!!

None

2010-01-17T20:19:00.002+05:30

There are none today.

Rather, there are too many thoughts today. Too many unwanted ones. Too many that are making my mind ache. Too many that makes me forces me to act. Too many that makes me think of changes.
I don't like them, these thoughts.

2009-12-05T18:51:00.003+05:30

I cannot not breathe. I cannot not get those voices to shut up in my head, they are stronger than I. I dare not be pompous enough to call it a purpose of my existence, that is too lofty an idea, even for my otherwise rein-less imagination.

There are words that form, thoughts that shape up, ideas that are just too forceful to not come out. I cannot hold my breath for long.

I cannot not write.

It's Time

2009-10-26T22:29:00.003+05:30

There comes a time in life when you know that it is time. Time for everything. Time to know to continue. Time to know to end. Time to stay, time to leave. Time to move on. Let go. I wonder how it is that you know it is time. Maybe that is what instinct, that gut feeling is all about. Maybe the signs are actually there. Maybe there is a language of signs that screams out; words that I choose not to hear. Maybe there is something pointing out to something.

I think I am nearing that stage when I will say "it's time". It is about time I said that too.

Infinite Whys

2009-07-14T22:14:00.004+05:30

Why, I wonder, is the human mind so complicated? Or is it the heart that complicates the simplicity of the logic that the mind is designed to deal with? Why does it hurt even when it is good? Aren't all things good supposed to, well, not hurt? Why is there longing, mixed with a deep regret, both for not having and for longing itself? Why is it so hard to hold on? And also to let go. Why is there always a conflict between what you know is right and what you always wished for, all illusions included?

Why does life insist on teaching you its lessons with the slap of reality?

Life is Beautiful (Though Conditions Still Apply)

2009-06-25T17:02:00.003+05:30

Rambling is easy, isn't it? Just pull all thoughts from your brain and throw it out there, out wherever, and breathe in relief, its no longer screaming at you in your head. But well, the thoughts are "out there" but the reasons and the issues never really go away.

Sometimes, life or people in it try to teach you something. Rebel that I am, I resist and scream and shout, but life wins, most of the time. At other times, it lets me have the delusion that I have won, but the lesson I learn either ways.

If I sift and sort through all the layers and peel apart the many worries that plague the days and the brief nights, I notice that, conditions applied, life is still beautiful. Not screaming from the rooftops, jumping with joy kind of happiness, but there is still a lot to smile and laugh about. There are beautiful people, lovely times, each memory a page I can later turn back to and smile again, fleeting moments that, collectively, make it all worth it.

I might not agree with myself on some days, but given a choice now, I wouldn't have wanted life any other way. It is, after all, a strange ride. And I can proudly tell the world, I survived.

And that is what makes life, my life, the greatest journey I have ever been on.

Sounds of Silence

2009-04-28T22:36:00.004+05:30

It is a quiet room. And the voices in my head get louder and louder. I can almost not bear it. There is a screeching sound, some gritting, a lot of vibrations and terrible sounds. I strain not to hear those, try to open my eyes and see the light. It is but in vain. The sounds, like the irritating sound of an iron chair being pulled across the floor, goes on and on. The noise increases and I cannot distract myself, which, usually, is a very easy thing to do. The sounds get louder and louder.

And all at once, there is total silence. Deafening again. There is, for a moment, a stillness. I dare not call it a glimpse of peace.

And then, the usual thoughts rush in, all things I need to do/say/think. Thought processes begin.

The silence is too loud. But I no longer hear it.

Some Non-Sense

2009-04-07T20:45:00.002+05:30

There is again, a torrent of thoughts in my mind. Am I a writer? What am I writing? Does it make any sense at all or does it make too much sense? Why do I write? Do I want people to read and tell me it's good or do I hope, but in vain, that my thoughts, once out there, will not surface again to haunt and nag?

When your writing is taken in the opposite sense of what you wanted it to be, doesn't that make you a not-so-good writer? No, I do not need validation here. I do not need anyone telling me whether I am good or bad. These are thoughts aloud.

I do not mean to hurt, I don't think most people in the world intend to hurt others at all. But yet I seem to, by words, spoken, written. Would it be that I am too forthright? Or maybe, like a mother whose child can never do a wrong, I am blind when I write. Maybe I cannot see what you might when you read it. Maybe that is what hurts.

As a writer, as a human being, I feel. And I used to write here because I wanted you to know how I feel. My feelings probably still trickle out there between these words. But maybe they no longer make any sense.

Not Much Ten Rupees Can Do

2009-03-21T18:46:00.002+05:30

This evening, the friend J and I took a walk on Church Street, she had to buy something. I had all of Rs 10 with me. In one of the moments of craziness that visits upon me on and off, I decided I simply had to spend that Rs 10. Now, I didn't want to buy anything to eat, that would be very easy. We walked the length of Church Street looking for something that would cost just that much, you have no idea of impossible it was.

First was a junk jewellery cart. Lots of wooden beads, plastic earrings, colourful, cheap (or so we had thought), junk. Even the cheapest looking pair of earrings there, the kind I would never ever wear, was more than Rs 10. Another jewellery cart yielded similar results. Roses that the little rose girls were selling were out of the question too. No pirated novels or junk or anything! Goodness, Rs 10 in the fancy central business district really doesn't have much value!

Finally, just below office, I slipped into a stationery store, desperate for something now. A tiny notepad that I didn't need caught my eye. And it cost Rs 15! I thought I ought to buy some chocolates but then, nothing to eat, I had told myself. Some crazy adventure, I tried...

Back in the office, I just had to tell everyone. That was when Gul-ji told me that about a kilometre away, in dingy Shivajinagar market, there are vendors who, with a masterful swish of the hand, would throw in a few tomatoes, some onions, coriander leaves, and some more, all for just Rs 5!

I tell you, Rs 10, a lot in this time of recession, does not fetch you any under the starry lights of CBD.

And I am so jobless today that I write this in my blog! Hmmm....

For Those Who Know What I'm Talking About

2009-03-18T17:52:00.004+05:30

When does God decide it is enough? When does He decide that your pot is full and that it is enough of testing or whatever it is that He does? How much can a pot hold before the pressure from its within threatens to burst for long and then, without warning, unleashes one day and then there is no chance of controlling its flow?

That aside, I am glad, so thankful to the God (that I have come to little believe in) for the wonderful family and friends I have. People I never expected to do all that they have done, things I never expected them to say, surprises never imagined in the wildest of dreams....it feels good, a lot lot strengthening, to hear that one little word, for that one firm handshake, that one look of the eye. I am so thankful.

I wouldn't be here writing this, been able to write at all, or think, or be strong, or be, if not for them.

You know who you all are. You know what I am talking about. You do not know though how much I appreciate and thank and love you for all of this. Many many thanks (despite the slips on a day or two or three.)

March Days

2009-03-07T19:32:00.003+05:30

There is something about the month of March that is just not right. Too many not too nice things happen.

Someone said, life is not much about arriving at your grave after a smooth ride. It is more fun to slide in, all bruised and worn out, yelling, "woo-hoo, what a ride!"

Infinity

2009-01-12T19:18:00.002+05:30

If a thing loves, it is infinite. So said William Blake.

That's my tattoo, for those who were curious. Yes, it is a permanent one and that means life long (some people don't know permanent is, well, permanent.) And no, it doesn't hurt at all, well, just a bit.

Why infinity? I do not care to explain. I have forever loved the symbol and all that it depicts to me, my life and the universe.

True love is infinite.

Marquez's Masterpiece

2008-12-31T17:02:00.002+05:30

“…because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth”.

Awe! That is all I have to say for Gabriel Garcia Marquez's writing.
Love in the Time of Cholera remains an eternal favourite.
I just finished One Hundred Years of Solitude.
Must must read, for the sheer brilliance of his writing.
And yes, he is a confirmed favourite now!.

Nostalgia....

2008-09-30T19:52:00.005+05:30

A mixed day.
...I arrive at a plague/Inscribed on it is, "NOSTALGIA". Ipsita, that brave, very chirpy lil girl I met at a random assignment over two years ago (has it really been that long?) shines at a distance now, but like she says, the star that twinkles far, is yet so near. From a few minutes between work to my favourite pastry after my birthday to all night long conversations to her craziness, nostalgia emerges. A set of her old pictures with her friends I see and I remember mine. The pictures are badly taken, against the sunlight, wrong angles, too close up, shaky some but all of that does not matter. The pictures are beautiful for the laughter I hear in them, the smiles, the bonding with friends, most of all, that care-free attitude, the joys of being alive. Memories of those college years...Nostalgia comes up again, a big lump in my throat, bigger and bigger with every picture, with every name of a friend that's saved on my phone but hasn't been used in a long time. The lump gets bigger and passes over, life takes over again. And friends, most of them, remain in pictures and in mobile phones. Some like Ipsi, like Raksha, like some others, shine often and I add, to my nostalgia, for another day.

Fleeting thoughts

2008-09-08T19:45:00.003+05:30

I have said it before, I say it again. What fascinates me about the human mind is the range of emotions it is capable of feeling in the span of one day. Emotions itself are not something you can explain....How strange life turns out....

This morning, the world was a shade of blue to me. I had dreams of being in Kashmir. Later in the day, memories rushed in, thoughts of travels, the times spent, the prospect of more travels...It is amazing how memories rush to you, rather sneak up to you from behind your back when you least expect it, make you cry, make you laugh, bring that secret smile to your face, a warmth, like a tight hug....and now, I heard a bit of something, I so want to say it, but the soul sister has forbidden just as yet. I am just so thrilled for her!

You said it right, you often live and want to live for the ones you love/for those you love. I am doing that today.

On a Moan-day

2008-08-11T19:30:00.003+05:30

Its Moan-day today. That is indicative enough. This weekend, I go home to Madikeri, the one place on earth where I smile for myself, where I belong. What do I feel now? There was a time I could write a post on this. What of now? My Madikeri awaits...where do I run? I just want to break free and run and run and run. In the rain. When my face is wet. And not just from the rain drops.

Of Love and Love Stories

2008-07-30T17:35:00.002+05:30

I am rather sceptical about love, once in a while, though love surrounds me in its most intense forms every single day. I have never believed in the overdose of red on Valentine's, though red roses are something I drool on. Mushy movies are just oookay, would rather ogle at Bruce Willis in Die Hard
:-) But you know what, I love love. Because it makes people happy, simple. Be it of any kind. You know you are loved a lot and that feeling alone makes up for all the bad hair days, the really bad days, the power shutdown hours. That feeling of elation makes up for all the lows. To love and to be loved.

Today, I heard some love stories. I remembered a few more. I have lived through some, my own and that of my friends' I was closely part of.

I believe in love stories that stay untold. I believe ones where letters are written everyday for several decades. I believe that love sustains. I believe in those stories today, mine, some others, of the ones I know. Love is beautiful, really.

2008-07-23T19:18:00.000+05:30

So many secrets. So many lives. So many moments. The ones that I now understand. The enigmas of a life, cruelties of fate. The mysteries, in me today, let them remain so.

Random

2008-07-21T20:32:00.000+05:30

The weening hours of a long evening. A haunting Tamil song. A life that I have known for a million moment, a life that I am only now beginning to know about, truly. A life of survival, a lot of courage. A passion for living a life. In the people I meet, in the stories I see, in the work I admire. A red rose. My iPod, my music. My friends, my support system. Dreams of a travel. The open road, a rucksack. A wallet of memories. Plastic toys on my workstation. A pink candle. Some Post-its.

Random thoughts, at 8.37 pm, this Monday evening.

2008-07-07T15:19:00.000+05:30

What a journey it was, from the night of June 30 to the 4th of July! It is amazing how a people, often shunned by society, accepts you wholeheartedly. How free and sincere their blessings. How simple, how genuine their smiles. Most of all, in the face of convention, strict norms, how independent their rebelliousness. How courageous their spirit! To their bravery, their spirit, their survival, their happiness, my salutations! To the Devadasis of Bagalkot, I bow in respect, in awe.

What the....?

2008-04-04T22:47:00.000+05:30

What is happening? Why is life so mischievous that it changes the entire direction of where you are headed in a matter of a few hours? Why does it have to happen just when there is some semblance of order in your life? Why should there be change in the world? Why is life such?

On another note, I am thinking of Love in the Time of Cholera. I love that story, so much....

Strange Dreams

2008-03-22T16:38:00.000+05:30

Aren't dreams sometimes the strangest ever? The other night, I dreamt of a herd of elephants walking down Stewart Hill, that's the hill behind my house in Madikeri. I woke up in the middle of the night and noted it down on my mobile. The elephants came downhill and started grazing in our fields. Isn't that so strange.
Years ago, I had dreamt that I was in some desert waiting for a car on the rope way above my head. The Hindi actor Jackie Shroff was also in the scene, I don't remember what he was doing.
I wonder what dreams mean? I have never studied Freud. Maybe it was best I did not.

A Picture

2008-02-17T22:44:00.000+05:30

A picture I loved taking, of something that I absolutely am in love with!

Q & A

2008-02-17T22:32:00.000+05:30

I want to blog today, but what do I write about, I wonder…. Sometimes I feel that somewhere along the road of making a living out of the words I write, my though process is not as…let’s say….interesting as it used to be. While at uni, I couldn’t wait till late evening when I would rush to the cyber centre and blog. That drive is no longer too prominent. There rises questions of whom do I write for, for myself alone? Then why on a public forum like a blog? What is my purpose, mere documentation of a life lived on my terms or a desire to be a part of other lives when they read this? Who reads this, for what? Questions that often rise, answers to which I am not too concerned with I must say.....

Love Life

2008-02-14T13:09:00.001+05:30

I was reading through a newspaper just now and came across this page where people had dedicated their messages to the ones they loved. Curiously, I read some of them, good ones, very sentimental, some plain and simple, some crazy. Reading this, I thought of this morning when my best friend tried to get me to either argue for or against Valentine's Day. I stayed neutral, like I do every year.

Reading the paper though, I had this really happy feeling. Call the day a commercial initiative or whatever, in times of violence in Mumbai, wars, so much hatred, so many human rights violations and so much sorrow, it feels good to know that so much love exists in the world. I am not against V-Day, neither am I all for it. But I am all for love. It is the only thing that can heal the world. At least V Day reminds you to love, reminds you that there is still love.

Love the world, love yourself, love someone, love life, that is the only true, positive, necessary feeling in the world. Happy Valentine's Day people!

2008-01-28T00:16:00.000+05:30

So strange life is. There comes a time when despite all your convictions, all your promises, all that you believed in, you end up doing just what you always swore you would never do. To me, it springs this time out of disillusionment, out of the lack of a brighter path, out of my own reluctance.

Riot of Colours

2008-01-06T12:12:00.000+05:30

A brighter picture is coming up. Again, taken at Channapatna with my N73 (I love that camera). I love the colours. If I were asked to come up with a word or an image that described India, it would be colours. There is so much colour in lives here. Everywhere there is a riot of colours. Colour to me is India.

Meditative

2007-12-29T23:23:00.000+05:30

There used to be a time when I meditated everyday, until I went away to university and lost all discipline in life (!), as ma constantly loves to point out to me!

Anyway, last evening, after quite some time, I happened to go to a temple and had a “dialogue with God”! The sound of bells, the wonderful chants (always had a thing for those. Call of my roots?), the smell of camphor, the taste of the holy water, the ambience. I have always loved going to temples, on my own accord, of course. I have never been to temples just because I have to. It has always been a feeling I get, a time when I just want to go. I have not been too religious, except for brief periods of a fascination for atheism, Christianity and philosophy when I was growing up.

I found the entire exercise of going to a temple and sitting there meditative. I was there for a while, closing my eyes and letting my mind absorb all that was happening there. That is meditation in its true form right? You do not direct your mind or your thoughts, you merely let everything come to your mind and go, without being affected by it. Spirituality, not in its bubble-gum form, mind you, has for long interested me. Symbolism is important to me too, a direct reminder of something higher. Om is my favourite symbol.

Come to think of it, walking down the street, past the vendors of fruits and vegetables and plastic toys and cheap clothes and prayer items was in a way meditative too. Observing people calling out their wares, people haggling, a gang of girls giggling, jewelry, old people, everything takes you to a plane beyond your thoughts. Isn’t that meditative too in a way?

I should go to a temple once a week. Not a New Year resolution though. I never make those. Jan 1 is just a change of date for me. But in the spirit of things, Happy New Year you all!

Random

2007-12-22T13:47:00.000+05:30

I wonder why its so hard to "understand" even when you understand. You know something has to be done, you are seemingly ok with that, yet why is it so difficult to understand and make your peace with it?

Things fall apart. Status right now. (Book of the same name by Chinua Achebe is quite good too).

Only the weather outside is sunny and bright, not much else.

I have to go somewhere tomorrow, though I do not know why. Its just one of those things you are told you HAVE to do.

Too many thoughts, voices in me.

Art. Creativity. Expression.

Shoes, I want shoes. I want to travel.

This is a very random post.

Today

2007-12-20T17:31:00.000+05:30

3 pm. Cold weather. A warm woolen shawl draped around my shoulders. The
pouring rain that lands on the pavement, on the hoods of cars, on people. A
whiff of sweet breeze through the barbed window. The dirty office canteen. A
cup of piping hot, strong ginger tea. Old, often soulful Kannada songs
playing on the cheap radio in the background. Voices. The rain. Peace.

Life could not have got any better just then.

D(eepa)-Day

2007-11-28T22:23:00.000+05:30

November 28, I turn a year older. It didn't feel like my birthday today, don't ask me how it is supposed to feel though. I had a good day though. Some people very dear to my heart did some gave me the best present ever, again don't ask me what it was.

My very indulgent parents bought me a real swanky cell phone, more complicated than my old one, still trying to find out how it works. Does have a fantastic camera though.

As I turn older, I wish I could say I am wiser, more mature, more in tune with the way my life is going. But then, it was just another day I guess except for a hundred calls, several text messages and lots of love. I am still me......

2007-11-19T13:59:00.000+05:30

This dirty, crowded, extremely noisy city of Bangalore too has a soul, I realised. On the way to the office, a lady bus conductor, usually known to be arrogant and rude, started chatting with me. Was very sweet. Several such instances come to mind, little anecdotes that make me realise that humanity is not dead, that Bangalore or any city for that matter, still has human beings living in it. And thank God for that!

Mistakes

2007-11-04T17:03:00.000+05:30

Headstrong, stupid, dumb, arrogant, stubborn, call it the reason you want, all of us make mistakes, horrible, stupid ones and lose our chance to happiness. Not often do you get to rectify them, not often do you take the chance to rectify it, for fear of being embarrassed. Isn't that being headstrong, stupid and dumb again?

A Banana Leaf

2007-10-28T11:31:00.000+05:30

As far as I am concerned, I don’t think I would ever stop loving things that are ethnic, traditional, eco-friendly or all of the above. Such as a banana leaf.

Dad came to Bangalore today. Ma, typical of all mothers whose sole worry is what their children eat, made some coconut dish and sent it. Being a Sunday, I lazily woke up (but then, I wake up late every day, the best part of being a journalist. But there is just something about waking up late on a Sunday that is so charming!) and opened the pack. The breakfast dish, steamed and topped with scrapped coconut on top, was wrapped in a banana leaf and smelt divine.

Banana leaves are very much a part of a Brahmin meal, easily disposable, hygienic and we believe that it gives an extra wonderful aroma to the food. Living in cities and towns as we do, eating off such leaves often becomes a luxury. I took the leaf in my hands today and took a deep breath. It smelt of green meadows, of rain lashing down, of the banter of women engaged in cooking an elaborate festive lunch, of food so plentiful and delicious. It reminded me of us kids stuffing ourselves with berries and wild fruits and groundnuts and sweets and still managing to have a hearty lunch. It reminded me of childhood. It reminded me of the sole banana plant behind our kitchen back home, of ma telling dad to cut a few leaves off it, of rolls of such leaves stacked up at weddings. It reminded me of traditions, strangely of who I am. The beautiful green leaf reminded me today of who I am not.

2007-10-14T14:15:00.000+05:30

From long and often tiring times of experience, I have discovered that the best way to really know a person is to travel with him or her. Of course, this would only be applicable to those you already know, not some random stranger you met. Because I have discovered that when you travel with a person, he or she is most themselves. That is when you really get to see the person. If you still like the person after you get back, you know you like the person.

Always worked with me, has even helped me re-adjust my views about people I have all my life.

Life.....

2007-10-02T00:35:00.001+05:30

....Like I told you, is eating fruit chaat! This seems to be a marvel of Indian street food. I so love it that just looking at this picture I took with my mobile makes me salivate! It is basically an assortment of fruits, and sometimes vegetables too, cut into pieces and garnished with chaat masala and a syrup that I think is honey (you can never be totally sure where street food is concerned!) Oh its just so yummy....I could have it any time of the day, much to the chagrin of my friend. The fun of street food is in eating it with friends. I always pass on it when alone. Watching the world go by as you stick the fork into a piece and put it gingerly into your mouth....ah! I am always pestering Manju to go with me and eat. Nevertheless, he never ceases to be amused at my craving for a plate of these! :-)

Life is.......

2007-09-28T11:18:00.000+05:30

Life is.......

Getting a bouquet of deep red roses from someone special.
Watching life go by on a busy road and eating fruit chaat with my best friend.
Missing someone desperately and turning back to see that someone standing beind you.
Blowing soap bubbles in the middle of the road and laughing and jumping, even as families on an evening out stare at you and shake their heads. "The youth these days!"
Craving for street food and stopping by dirty lanes for masala tomato slices and pani puri and vada-burger and the other delights that have no name.
Sitting at Cafe Coffee Day, listening to great music, chatting with the waiters and just....sitting there.
A great cup of coffee.
Talking on the phone for hours.
Sweet SMSes.
A look that says it all.
Sitting in a car with heavy rain lashing down and listening to a slow, dreamy song.
Mindless conversations, silly fights, great friends.
Laughing till it hurts for a really silly joke.
BEING HAPPY, despite everything.

2007-09-22T00:28:00.000+05:30

We are nothing but the sum of our experiences. The pictures we take. The music we love. The work we do. This is how we are cataloging our existence. These are our lives. Everything we capture, share and create adds to us. And anything lost takes a piece of us with it.
Forever.
And forever means forever. These things that define us-we need to keep them safe. So we won’t ever have to worry. Or regret. Or start over. We will just keep adding to who we are.

I wish I had written these lines. But I didn’t. It so happened that a few days ago, I was at a press conference for a launch of some storage devices and this above bit was in one of the press notes about the products. It is so rare that something like this comes by in press notes that are sometimes shabby, sometimes good and to-the-point and most times, too full of frills we need to tediously go through to make some sense of what it is about. This was quite good and I thought I would share it with you, my dear readers.

Reflections.....

2007-08-28T10:46:00.000+05:30

The hardest thing in life is to live it simply, I have come to believe. No matter how much you try, life becomes just so complicated, relationships, work, career concerns, pollution, money or the lack of it, life itself becomes so complicated. Amidst all of this, love for life emerges, you think ah, you have figured out life, and it becomes a muddle of thoughts and hopes and dreams and aspirations once again.

2007-08-24T23:39:00.000+05:30

The hardest thing in life is to manage relationships, the more special a person is, the harder it is to run things smoothly.

But I have, off late, come to believe firmly that if you are nice and polite and sweet to people, you will have a lot of sweet and nice and wonderful people in your life. Life always reflects what you give to it.

Another One

2007-08-18T11:22:00.000+05:30

Why is it that the one we end up hurting the most sometimes is the one we love more than anyone else in the world? Is it because you know you will be forgiven? Are you testing the strength of emotions? Why is it? Is it because you can really be yourself, including being cranky, rude and yell and not put up a pretense? Is it because you know hurt can never diminish the love? Is it one of the ways in which the love strengthens and grows?

I would say yes to all of the above.

Scent of a Memory

2007-08-13T23:53:00.000+05:30

It so happens that a whiff of something, somewhere pulls you back to a day long ago when you were in another life, in another space and brings to you a memory that you then thought was not so memorable.

I was in a bus today and a strange smell of cigarette smoke mixed with something else that I cannot place hit me, reminding me of a family friend of mine, my lecturer actually. It brought to my mind thoughts of his house in Madikeri, a cosy little place that was crowded with books and had a heady smell of his cigarettes and the smell of books floating in the air. I hadn't thought about that place in years......

Un-quotable Quote

2007-08-13T23:47:00.000+05:30

"I the Supreme neither cook nor eat the dead!"

-Divya Jayaram

The other day Divya and I were talking about being vegetarian and I was quoting Gandhi's statement, where she said "My stomach will not be the graveyard for dead animals" (I think I have paraphrased it) when she was asked to eat meat when she was sick. That is when Divya came up with this. I told her nobody is going to be quoting her, but poor girl, she is a great friend, thought I would at least write it here!

Random.....

2007-08-09T23:40:00.000+05:30

Recklessness, anger, ecstasy, depression, joy, irritation, helplessness, carefree, love, sheer senseless hate, utter dislike, more love, friends, happiness.......How amazing that in the course of a single day, a few hours even, a human being goes through these emotions and much more. How necessary all are to make a mundane existence, a life lived!

When I Write

2007-07-31T22:45:00.001+05:30

When I write, I write for myself. I do not translate the things I feel, think and see into written words with the intention of evoking discussions, opinions or debate. I write because I feel, I write mostly because I want to see what I feel. But on second thoughts, it is gratifying to see what I write make another person think. I sometimes write to see this contradiction of my thoughts before me.

Strange.....

2007-07-29T11:31:00.000+05:30

How strange it often is that thoughts of a person, random, nonchalant or otherwise, should open up several other thoughts, opinions and discussions, despite that not being the original intention of the writer. Is this what is called the power of the written word?

One For the Night

2007-07-25T23:43:00.000+05:30

Sometimes the desire for self-destruction, mentally, comes from intense love. It is one emotion that can create havoc in you, but also one that makes you meet life, however much you would desire to envelope yourself in a shell of fear, of doubt, of mistrust, of existence.

Why a Thought

2007-07-25T23:38:00.000+05:30

All evening I debated with myself the logic of starting another blog when I find it tough to post in the one that I have. I did start another, Beating Around the City, but that didn't work out really. I officially discontinue that one today on.

Thoughts That Come By would be better because most times I would be writing only one liners or random philosophical, funny, stupid thoughts that I keep getting throughout the day. I do not want my "pearls of wisdom" to be buried in the other, bigger blog.

My thoughts, my mind, out there for you........