Little Sister

roots

as the evening ages, i sit here
staring absentmindedly at my roots

the grotesque poisoned sores, bubble and vomit
like a forever maturing volcano

a young branch, with a lively flower,
bends down casually swinging freely

now close to the roots,
now flying free

laughing with the winds
smiling with the sun

many colours glistening,
now almost maturing

stuck far away, frozen impotent
word bereft, tongue stuck,

i hold my desperate wordless nameless sores
and one crumpled silent screech

in one nerveless fading fist
i nurse my impotence

rambling

i have seen this happening to other people. best friends. family. lovers. split and separated by diametrically opposite geography and situations, are wedged apart by circustances and slowly the tiniest mundanities of everyday life slip in the gap left between them while the drift apart. and ties are irredeemable loosed. i keep telling myself it wont happen to us, sister of my soul?

but maybe i should not panic so much. what is broken can be rebuilt. who knows that better than us? they say blood is rather thick. besides however much you value your people and relationships and permanency and completeness, there is only so much you can work you can put into them. sometimes you just have to accept and play along. and hold on to the faith, love and hope package. and tell the voice in your head saying i told you so to shut up and go away. and anyway, what choice do you have?

you are at a new beginning. i am at huge ending. you are at high noon. i am at midnight. orbiting in our cycles, we have come at cross points. remmber, you were born at midnight, and i at noon. in all your sunshine, will you lose patience with my darkness, or will you understand? in all my gloom, running out of light to share, will i run out of things to say to you. or even, heaven forbid, miss a baobab sapling of bitterness one morning?

i am at the mouth of a tunnel. it’s long and dark. my courage is a tattered dirty war-worn security blanket slipping off my shoulders and dragging behind me. my heart is weak and old with centuries of battle, and a nagging, complaining horse throbbing under me. but madcap is at the other end.

my madcap. i had seen you glistening in your broken tainted glory, shimmering in the distance. fatally alluring. before the thought of warning formed, i knew the thunderbolt had fallen. maybe it was destiny. it takes mere seconds, for the songbird to spot it’s thorn. i slipped away in the dark of the night, leaving all that was known and safe, to set off towards you. are you to be attained? are you even for real, or just a shape in my head? a glorious figment of my imagination? the road ahead is so dark, and so long, and so unknown. do i dare? do i even have a choice? i like to maintain the pretense of deliberating and weighing decisions, standing here, at the mouth of the tunnel, but i am choice-bereft. i cannot not turn away now.

the first stretch was easy. relatively. one bridge crossed. foolishly, i have squandered all my courage and strength, almost, on that first stretch. that bridge has been crossed. but the shore is yet to come into sight. my ship stalls and awaits admission at the shore. will i be let in?

and in all my exuberance, i had not thought beyond that first bridge. it is only now, that i realise, the journey has just begun.

i was curious about the colour of pain
mine is like a mother-of-pearl shell

it glistens and winks in the afternoon light
and darkens with the fast falling night

floating in the flowing wind
it changes weight and shape

not for the first time, i am illogically afraid
but it helps if you dont think, but just wait.

in a way, it’s just ‘keeping some kind of record’
to mark these days as an end of some sort

nothing makes sense, but it hurts there’s no words…

nothing makes sense, but it hurts
there’s no words to say how or what or why
and there’s no one to give those words to, even if there were
but i just wanted to leave a record, of sorts
what you sad, really hurt
losing you really hurts
and yes, this is ‘it’: goodbye
i’ll love you
you’ll love me
we’ll split the lladros fairly
but it wont be like that
you wont be her for me in this foreign house
you wont be the one swan who fed crumbs to the duckling when the king and queen werent looking

that hurt my love, most of all. watch how you wal…

that hurt my love,
most of all.

watch how you walk,
outta the door,

my little love,
that’s my heart on the floor.

there’s nothing wrong,
with goodbye. i knew our time had come.

but for you to laugh like that and say
i never cared anyway,

and to know that i’ll leave open the door
just in case you come back once more,

i know it’s not, but it feels like it
it cant be the end, it feels like it

i’m sorry, i should be happy for you
but it’s hard letting go

funny blue

funny. started to write the story of my life today
it was the first time that i thought of doing this
but then i lost patience before i reached ten, and thats when all the fun began 🙂
when i hate the blog is when i feel like i am using it as a crutch, to aid my crippled powers of communication in the real world, to tell someone something i darent face to face. so thats why i stopped
the last time me and barbie talked, we decided that the intense secrecy and the living in the past is madcaps’s door. so that we must avoid
have ever since tried to be open-er, but then, who would understand

why do i keep getting caught in these lover’s games? these triangles?
maybe that is what the astrolger meant? because they all take me back to that one night of humiliation, when i was first caught between to warring lovers, trying to get at themselves with their little love games and using fool me.

twenty odd years is a long time. dunno why it’s still so fresh.

she was wrong. i am not that dumb. i dont fall for any story you tell me.
i dont. i dont. i dont. i refuse to. i wont fall for anything ever. it seemed like the only solution. not to believe anyone, ever. but i cant. she was right. like she said, she knows how she made me. god i hate her. and i love her. my pretty pretty monster.

so i swing. from extreme to extreme.

but i’m not dumb. i just humour you and dont let on. i can atleast put two and two together, just like the next person. lol. yeah right. thats why i keep getting caught in these lie-traps. how can you be like this? you amaze me. you are the chameleons: masters of trechery and disguise.

anyway, the catch is not to feel humiliated. just like a formulated for him. ur dumb bcz someone you loved is bitch enough to make a fool of you. your just trusting and loving. lol. yeah. dumb

It feels like the beginning of the end. I spent one year praying for this one year, and its just beginning to sink in that it is not to be. I feel guilty for every other prayer that I uttered in the period, and every other desire. Feel like I diluted my wish for you. Boston is so far away …

I cant say these things to you. You would only laugh and tell me I am being silly. That I am being a big baby. Yes I am. I know. But I cant help it. So learn how to help it Bebu, you would say. I started with such a big headstart, lol, how did you so overtake me in grownup-ness?

I did the thing I most hated you doing. Wouldnt it be funny if we exchanged roles? If, like in the movie, if they met in nepal and instead of her dying he reformed her and sent her home and stayed back and became a junkie? be funny, no?

I know you would say not to be so panicked. Its only a year. But its not. Its the beginning of the end. It will never be the same again. We will drift apart again. I spent all those years building the most important relationship of my life, only to lose it again to time and distance …

I feel like we cant put it off any longer, like we are finally now teethering on the edge of the cliff of adulthood. This is it. ‘Life’ now begins. I’m scared Barbie … Scared of going alone, scared of cutting the chord, scared of flying, scared of jumping … scared of flying solo …

mist

missing steppenwolf (for mad men only) and aurangzeb at his father’s bier (murdered voices beckon me?). and one scene from 4 weddings. After all these years, it still feels strange to be away from home just for this
not to be able to look up my books and movies when the itch strikes 😉
so maybe, this is what i miss …


mist 

only madcap could help now
only madcap could do anything

make the air all around misty and dim
to let me see you once again

ofcourse, in the morning i myself would say
there are models of how it could happen this way

but in the moonlight, the moon you loved
i can close my eyes and dream of you again

madcap could help, madcap could help
madcap could make my dead walk again

somewhere inside pandora’s box
your face, your voice, your touch your love

lost in a attic full of dust
madcap could bring you out again

and you were so beautiful
you skin albaster and pink, your eyes brown and grey

your eyes that loved so sincerely
that wed the eyes in the photograph that i burnt

you said they were heartbreakingly innocent
crumbling deceptive innocence that atlast fell that day

your ankles were so thing and delicate
speckled brown, turn charcoal grey

first thing i saw when i moved the red curtain
and took you out of the pot

i crushed you in my hands, once again
and shattered and scattered you away

to the bed of your gods,
to travel like you loved

maybe if i had sold them some more of soul
maybe prawns, maybe a road, maybe cities …

maybe if i had negotiated better
we would still be together

but the bridge between us was so long and frail
roots to branches to leaves

now fall comes and leaves die dry drift away
only branches sway, over dead roots, giving away

i have made a treaty with the winds …
they’ll count my cost, but take the flower away

they’ll count our costs,
the flower safe

you never saw how pretty it was
maybe it was too far away

so now they say its the only way
there’s no tomorrow after today

but madcap doesnt come when called
you stand there calling, waiting till dawn

bereft, tear-dry, maddeningly sane
if at all, this be sane!

Imagine …

If you could make a world of your own, a life of your own, what would you change, if you could change anything?

This is what I am thinking. Small house, barley beer, lots of friends, just enough on the table for everyone, barely, ends stretched and made to meet with love and smiles. Snotty nosed children, with pink faces burtsing with laughter and wonder. And you and me. Exchanging glances. Knowing that you know that i know that you know, ad infinitum, that this is what and where and when. (The way we do when we see those nice mommies and daddies)

Outside, the rain is spitting. Somehow, here it doesnt seem as bad as the spitting I always complained about in my letters from Pune and Bristol. So you laugh at me, because you always know, dont you?

The sky has bent down low to share a joke with the earth. The mountains (and I cant get over how amazed you are with the snow) stand tall and bit indifferent. Fascinatingly stoic.

for kiddo …

it makes sense, doesnt it, that i love you so madly? i learned it in class today (EP)! partly, its genetic shared investment. then its the fact that we are alike. then its the fact that like the bee-eaters, i’m in last term, with low chances so better chances to pass the shared bit of the baton if i help you out than get distracted with endeavours of my own ;0)

yeah. i am just kidding. felt so good to talk to you. been so long. Kufree? wow! i never even knew there was such a plac.

moonshine

the colourless moon
stained blue and yellow
from hanging with the stars in a midnight sky
slowly droops, as his courage wilts

every now and then he smiles
down a shine
to charge the reflection below
so far away, floating on a uneven face of lead

no wonder it was distorted
does she really think
i look like that?
the wilting moon, tiring wonders:

i love you all
but the mountains call
if i leave today,
wouldnt you miss me at all?

i know that it would break her heart
and i know i could almost not bear to part
but at times, i get so tired
i cant wait for the tomorrow to start.

the stars will shine on
through the night
and the reflections
stand the test of time.

shadow so pure
so scared and clean
everything that he wanted to be
a better him. maybe he should just leave.

cold, leaden, unsmiling, uneven water
so far away. so changing
now giggling best friend. now cold heartless stranger
so far away. wouldnt even notice.

but from this night out
the road is long
and the path unmarked
and the end unknown.

the colourless moon
stained blue and yellow
from hanging with the stars in a midnight sky
slowly droops, as his courage wilts.

every now and then he smiles
down a shine
to charge the reflection below
so far away, she floats like lead

i love them all
but the darkness calls
if i leave today,
would’nt you miss me at all?

pink





i want a day
pretty pink
dressed up in ribbons and rainbows
blue skies, one cloud
white, fluffy, friendly
green grass
rolling hills
majestic mountains
taller, bigger, older
brave

i want a day
to run away
from troubles, worries
free from dreams,
and nightmares

those who might love you
those you might love
not want to
uncertainities
effort
treading carefully
avoiding toes
to step on

i want a day
away
faraway from everyone
this world
escape to another
better one
clean air
innocent

innocent, clean faces
smutty noses
dirt smeared faces
clean hearts
a little high
on life
on the mountain air
barley beer

bamboo groves
still
silent
eternal
mossy bridges
cool
soft
rustling falls
deep
washed
smooth rocks
bizzare shapes

passion flowers
red, purple
just a touch
for depth

one tiny hand, held up in mine
my shadow
an echo, of my voice in time
stronger, more beautiful
a better me
beside me
to inspire
give hope
care for
listen to
live for

rustling, giggling little voice
tumbles on heedless
are you listening?
didi, look a donkey trail
a shephard
stars
wow! awesome …

childlike wonder
out there now
far away
on the timeless shores of the ocean
with him who’s shadow i am
looping patterns in time
families
mad mixes
of mad genes
one link in the chain
me
taken out
far away
wish i was there with you
arguing out
stupid little things

i want a day
on the hills
alone
because my heart is lonely
clean, fresh winds
with a hint of wet
rushing against a tired face
drying the rain
a want a day
far away

Underwater Worlds

The days are still dark and cold here. For the first time since the course started, I find myself, in a way, friendless. Most of the times I am too much in a rush to care, but sometimes I miss having friends, if not around, existing. Anyway, it cant be a bad thing. I really need to get work done. I’m sure I will make some soon enough. Friends is a bad word in this context. Thats not really what I mean. Don’t know though what the right word is, so I will leave it. An old friend (in both senses of the word) used to say that we are natures ‘leanee’. So what we miss most often is someone with whom we can be the leaners for a change. Sometimes I feel that my friends, universally, love me only when they are in an emotional crisis. Which is actually fine with me, for most people, thats what I would prefer, anyway. Dont waste my time if you’re fine. If you have a problem and need to talk, I’m there. Is it mean? I dont know. But sometimes, and with some people, its different. Oh, I’m Rambling …

I was very worried when I started off on this. Burnt my bridges and leaped off into the dark. My first gamble. I wondered if it was worth it, constantly. My family and some friends still cant get why I would reject oxford to do a vague course i dont even know much about. Last few weeks have been so hard, struggling so hard just to keep abreast, that I too, wondered if I must not have been a bit mad. But this morning, browsing, checking bloglines, every article of interest to me was somehow related to something i had done in some class, or something i had a vagueish idea about what they were going on about … I am sure I didnt express that just the way I meant it … but, that really made me feel, in a funny way, that I had, infact, done the right thing. The right thing for me.

I am dying to go somewhere. I’ve never travelled alone just for fun though. Feels weird to do it now. Desperately want to get away, though. Anywhere. Even if its just for a day.

I am inspired by Barbie’s taking one year off to travel. Would I ever do it? Suddenly, as for the first time I feel like I might have a vague idea of the direction I really want to go in, and life seems, if not on, then a little closer to the track, the hurry to “get god knows where”, prove something, be someone seems to calm and for the first time, I think, like “one of them“, I could also imagine atleast, taking a year off to do nothing.

Baba and Barbie are in Andaman. Snorkelling. Walking through the old prison walls. Him telling stories of yesterday the way only he could, and today, and everything. Him being himself. She will probably at some point say “didi said …” and give away some half baked funda i used sometime to impress her, watch her gape, lol, and he will probably tell her its all crap. Damn. I wanted them to do this now. I knew I would never go to Andaman. Or Somnath. Did’nt know they would throw in Kerala though. I have always longed and longed and longed to go to Kerala. Someday. Strangers become friends as we drift. That is the part of journeying with family that I miss most. I, open to those I love, become ultra social in the company of any one person I care about. Alone, I usually become the solitary brooding scorpion.

Is it a wonder, Meet Joe Black, on my mind? But then, let his eyes light up. Thats enough.

sister of my soul. and other ramblings.

still tired and nauseus almost all the time
under a couple of layers of miscellaneous excitements
is a layer of calm numbness
and beneath that a speechless panic that
next a layer of impotent detachment.

as it watches the rotating mind pass that spot again
where it knows a way of life has passed for ever
and though the table has been cleared
and the sorbet brought in,
i have no clue what i want for my next course
at the bottom, i think, is stinging angst
of feeling unsettled and unsure
and just plain missing friends
and their reality checks.

without you to give me a reference point
without you to laugh with,
without you crack stupid inside jokes with,
without you to talk about love, life and men with,
friendless, twinless, alone.
anyone else is too many words away
noone knows as much background as you
i could talk but who’d understand
half sentences, like you do.

watching Hazaaron Khwaishen reawekens the itch
and relocates it tantalisingly, teasingly,
just barely out of reach.
what who where is this thing
i ache to be.

outside, its a sunny day.
and i’m feeling much better today,
thank you. a bit busy (for polite non conversation).
brb. catch you. cheers. happy new year to you too.

Hello Stranger

So I’ve lost you again
Its my own stupid fault
I should never have come away
Stayed home and on gaurd
Now ur floating again
In ur clouds of purple haze
My sweet little child
I look at you and wonder
What is it I want
From and for you, anyway
Then you’ll say again
You’re grown up and sane
More than me anyway
Yeah!
Right
Thing is, she said she made you for me
My little dollie
Now ur all messed up and getting dirty
I want my baby clean

Originally Posted at http://prerona.blogspot.com/2006/11/hello-stranger.html
“>Prerona.

Baby’s day out with Bebu: SPE Times

When the Mommy’s away (australia – a month) the ‘babies’ will play. Every evening after work, we go for a little outing. The CCD down the road, Thumsup at Fillers, puchka @ VP … then I park the car and we walk back from the garage.

It was an ordinary day. Dull, long and slow at work. Dot net training – 3 days long. Had me going to a place I have managed to avoid since I got back. For the first 2 days I flew home safe. On the 3rd day it hit me. But, I must have grown much, in years or strength or numbness, bcz the shock of impact came and went quite soon. Or is it just my ‘humanity’ dulling and fading?


Island: From GDC Cafeteria
Originally uploaded by prerona.

Funny thought keeps coming to my head: the last min reading of the last chapter of Pressman we never read normally – heritage systms, reverse engineering, re-engineering – cram it up for short notes – you’ll never see it in real life … indeed!

There’s something about the place though. The vast open spaces. The invisible walls, and the vast spread of water in front. The blinding white of the wings of the vbirds, as they swoop down, to snatch up some invisible prey. And the vague white clouds, hung out in the shaded cobalt blue sky, over the water.

When I looked out through the glass walls of the cafeteria, the richness of the colour, the incredible stillness, the occassional lazy afternoon breeze , the nodding leaves, the little boats … made an irresistable magnet which wouldnt let me focus on my lunch (which can only be a good thing when ur being starved by ur mommy 😦 – disgusting boiled veggies – every day). No wonder they keep the blinds drawn in the training rooms.

I was home by eight and was greeted with a bite (last one of a ham & mustard sandwich) at the door. Showered and changed. 3 Times. When you have a little sibling a decade younger, the next generation, so the speak, Its hard to please. Finally, it was the same blue jeans (my one and only) and the same white T Shirt – the set that I had originally said were the only clean things I had – which she had to settle for.

I dont drive a lot in town, so it was excited. Took the short cut to the Park. We’d gone for a Hip Pocket pilgrimmage on Friday last, but the place was so crowded (wrong kind of crowd – fresh new / pseudo cool – out for a drink and a good time – f the music) that we had to quit. So we figured, we’d have better luck on a Wednesday night. We did. It was still full, but less packed than the other night. And they didnt have to play Oh Susannah type numbers either, to keep the mob calm … though they didnt do Baba o’Reilly either. We walked in to ‘where were you …’ and then it went on to ‘Open Invitation’ & then ‘Here I am’ … not brilliant, but beautifully familiar, alive and rocking. I sqatted on the floor – tucked into an obscure corner at S’s feet, and in good view of S doing it to the mike. well, nobody does it better.

Before that we dropped in at Roxy. I showed her around in high excitment – reminded me of the time she first came to Pune and I was showing off Fregie. The verdict: Cool and Grown up. I’m happy. Everytime I order something, she looks at me with big round eyes and says, ‘U have money???’ – for full impact, I’d have to get the tone in. I’m a little lost, till I remember the days when we went only to SPE and scanned the menu carefully before ordering – having almost never looked left of the border. It reminds me of the first time ever I took her to a disc. We’d been staying in Bombay and the hotel had a disc (I’ve forgotten then name but it was something like Cyclone or ThunderStorm – whatever) – it was cool and she was so excited. Since then, she’s long outstripped me in terms of music and social life, so last night felt like a ‘cool’ reminder of my seniority. Good Fun 😉

While walking out of SPE, bumped into “Ma’am” … who used to be my physics teacher. Of all the teachers I have ever had, she is one of the top 3 coolest, so that was ‘nice’. I ofcourse threw away quickly everything in my hands and went instantly blank. Isnt it curious how carefully we preserve the pedestials? Is it a human thing, the need to worship?

After SPE (she wouldnt let me tip the doorman), we went to Sharma’s and had ThumsUp and malai kabab. Not grub to die for, but its tradition. Have always gone to Sharma’s post SPE. It started when we were kids and perpertually broke. We had to chip in all our pocketmoney for cab fare – one way, didnt think of how we’d get back till it was over. It was pretty early, in the morning. chatts, juls, addy and me. We hitched a ride back from some people leaving from Tantra. They were a little strange (tantra-cool) but nice. They stopped at Sharma’s on the way and we’ve done it ever since. After SPE, you stop at Sharma’s, sqat on the edge of the pavement and stuff urself with kebabs and chai.

The long arm of B.C road, a name I have always loved, stretched out in front and behind. Since I was only in Cal for winter, and since we usually went that way at night, my memories of this road are painted in as a long black line snaking out forever. Orange flamed fires lit by the roadside. Lined with tree’s that looked old – so much older – than me …. isnt that a comforting feeling? I wonder why?

Cal’s has changed. Everytime I came back I heard people crib about that. They(we) used to come back, starving and hugry, from Blore and Pune and other ‘faraway’ places, and everytime what they ran back to had run out a little more. Will Cal become like everywhere else with time and progress? Is that such a bad thing? I dunno. Could never figure out. Bad for me and you, yes. But for her?

It’s late by the time we get back home. As usual, I want to crash. As usual, she wants me to look at a new post she wrote. As usual, I cant bear to say no to my favourite miniperson/monster. As usual, I’m blown away. When did that little pink faced, squealing thing with curling ringlets like a piglets tail, grow into this ‘person’! I love the way she writes …

Originally Posted at <a href=”
http://prerona.blogspot.com/2006/06/babys-day-out-with-bebu-spe-times.html
“>Prerona.

Baby’s day out with Bebu: SPE Times

When the Mommy’s away (australia – a month) the ‘babies’ will play. Every evening after work, we go for a little outing. The CCD down the road, Thumsup at Fillers, puchka @ VP … then I park the car and we walk back from the garage.

It was an ordinary day. Dull, long and slow at work. Dot net training – 3 days long. Had me going to a place I have managed to avoid since I got back. For the first 2 days I flew home safe. On the 3rd day it hit me. But, I must have grown much, in years or strength or numbness, bcz the shock of impact came and went quite soon. Or is it just my ‘humanity’ dulling and fading?


Island: From GDC Cafeteria
Originally uploaded by prerona.

Funny thought keeps coming to my head: the last min reading of the last chapter of Pressman we never read normally – heritage systms, reverse engineering, re-engineering – cram it up for short notes – you’ll never see it in real life … indeed!

There’s something about the place though. The vast open spaces. The invisible walls, and the vast spread of water in front. The blinding white of the wings of the vbirds, as they swoop down, to snatch up some invisible prey. And the vague white clouds, hung out in the shaded cobalt blue sky, over the water.

When I looked out through the glass walls of the cafeteria, the richness of the colour, the incredible stillness, the occassional lazy afternoon breeze , the nodding leaves, the little boats … made an irresistable magnet which wouldnt let me focus on my lunch (which can only be a good thing when ur being starved by ur mommy 😦 – disgusting boiled veggies – every day). No wonder they keep the blinds drawn in the training rooms.

I was home by eight and was greeted with a bite (last one of a ham & mustard sandwich) at the door. Showered and changed. 3 Times. When you have a little sibling a decade younger, the next generation, so the speak, Its hard to please. Finally, it was the same blue jeans (my one and only) and the same white T Shirt – the set that I had originally said were the only clean things I had – which she had to settle for.

I dont drive a lot in town, so it was excited. Took the short cut to the Park. We’d gone for a Hip Pocket pilgrimmage on Friday last, but the place was so crowded (wrong kind of crowd – fresh new / pseudo cool – out for a drink and a good time – f the music) that we had to quit. So we figured, we’d have better luck on a Wednesday night. We did. It was still full, but less packed than the other night. And they didnt have to play Oh Susannah type numbers either, to keep the mob calm … though they didnt do Baba o’Reilly either. We walked in to ‘where were you …’ and then it went on to ‘Open Invitation’ & then ‘Here I am’ … not brilliant, but beautifully familiar, alive and rocking. I sqatted on the floor – tucked into an obscure corner at S’s feet, and in good view of S doing it to the mike. well, nobody does it better.

Before that we dropped in at Roxy. I showed her around in high excitment – reminded me of the time she first came to Pune and I was showing off Fregie. The verdict: Cool and Grown up. I’m happy. Everytime I order something, she looks at me with big round eyes and says, ‘U have money???’ – for full impact, I’d have to get the tone in. I’m a little lost, till I remember the days when we went only to SPE and scanned the menu carefully before ordering – having almost never looked left of the border. It reminds me of the first time ever I took her to a disc. We’d been staying in Bombay and the hotel had a disc (I’ve forgotten then name but it was something like Cyclone or ThunderStorm – whatever) – it was cool and she was so excited. Since then, she’s long outstripped me in terms of music and social life, so last night felt like a ‘cool’ reminder of my seniority. Good Fun 😉

While walking out of SPE, bumped into “Ma’am” … who used to be my physics teacher. Of all the teachers I have ever had, she is one of the top 3 coolest, so that was ‘nice’. I ofcourse threw away quickly everything in my hands and went instantly blank. Isnt it curious how carefully we preserve the pedestials? Is it a human thing, the need to worship?

After SPE (she wouldnt let me tip the doorman), we went to Sharma’s and had ThumsUp and malai kabab. Not grub to die for, but its tradition. Have always gone to Sharma’s post SPE. It started when we were kids and perpertually broke. We had to chip in all our pocketmoney for cab fare – one way, didnt think of how we’d get back till it was over. It was pretty early, in the morning. chatts, juls, addy and me. We hitched a ride back from some people leaving from Tantra. They were a little strange (tantra-cool) but nice. They stopped at Sharma’s on the way and we’ve done it ever since. After SPE, you stop at Sharma’s, sqat on the edge of the pavement and stuff urself with kebabs and chai.

The long arm of B.C road, a name I have always loved, stretched out in front and behind. Since I was only in Cal for winter, and since we usually went that way at night, my memories of this road are painted in as a long black line snaking out forever. Orange flamed fires lit by the roadside. Lined with tree’s that looked old – so much older – than me …. isnt that a comforting feeling? I wonder why?

Cal’s has changed. Everytime I came back I heard people crib about that. They(we) used to come back, starving and hugry, from Blore and Pune and other ‘faraway’ places, and everytime what they ran back to had run out a little more. Will Cal become like everywhere else with time and progress? Is that such a bad thing? I dunno. Could never figure out. Bad for me and you, yes. But for her?

It’s late by the time we get back home. As usual, I want to crash. As usual, she wants me to look at a new post she wrote. As usual, I cant bear to say no to my favourite miniperson/monster. As usual, I’m blown away. When did that little pink faced, squealing thing with curling ringlets like a piglets tail, grow into this ‘person’! I love the way she writes …

Originally Posted at http://prerona.blogspot.com/2006/06/babys-day-out-with-bebu-spe-times.html
“>Prerona.

Song In My Head: Roses Blue

Have you ever read something and felt f! he said it! Like someone had found the words you’d been unable to lay ur hands on, and layed them to thoughts you had been fumbling to describe? Or maybe, drew the lines to a picture in your head, that you hadnt even even seen …

“Men all seek happiness. He alone sought completion”

After a long time I’m doing a song in my head post! The theory behind it is that if you listen to the song in your head, it will tell you what your hearts thinking. Sometimes, the heart sings, or cries, or screams, so softly, you dont come to know. Its masked. Its evasive. It shows and hides and teases: the heart. But the songs, give it away. Sometimes.

When all the black cards come you cannot barter
No, when all your stars are stacked you cannot win
Shell shake her head and treat you like a martyr
It is her blackest spell she puts you in

In sorrow she can lure you where she wants you
Inside your own self-pity there you swim
In sinking down to drown her voice still haunts you
And only with your laughter can you win

You win the lasting laurels with your laughter
It reaches like an arm before you sink
To win the solitary truth youre after
You dare not ask the priestess how to think

Sometimes, some of the books and movies we see stay back in a back room of our heads and become ‘real‘. Sometimes, like people and places, you miss them. Today I miss 84 Charring Cross and Steppenwolf. Badly.

Last night, the skies rang with the thunder and flashed with lightning. It went on for a long, long time. Strangely, it wouldnt rain. It reminded me of how I get sometimes. It was the loudest thunder I had heard in a long time. For the first time in years and years I was scared …

I am rarely scared. When I was a child, whenever the thunder rumbled and roared, back and forth, I kept the rains scruplously dry. I punched walls at times. or used the edge. But I kept dry. Never thought about it much. Never let it sink in. Maybe that was the beginning of the dontthinkaboutitanditwillgoaway mantra. No. The jokes and accusations and decisions and repercussions. the choices made. that was the real catch. anyway.

i went through an old drawar last night. came upon it by ‘accident’. poems, stories, journals … all the way since when i learnt to hold a pencil. on napkins. on the backs paper carton. even one on a t-shirt (i cut that part out). even then, i was fanatical abt not losing my words. what else did i have? if i wrote u a letter and it had particular artistry, i might steal in at night and steal it back! like that …

it reminded me of the song: deewana shayer ka, ek deewan milega. Found this poem. Class 5 or 6, I think (1988)

“From a deep abyss of blackness
a flash of light;
From the soul to the mind
a question rings.

When each day becomes
a fast losing battle
against bitterness, unfairness,helplessness and confusion,
blind grasp for the headlights
zeroing in – target? heaven knows where!
So now come tell me what is love?
Hate & Hope, truth & Fasle?
Show me the lines and please justify.
I’ll follow you come lead me on by.
Get up Karma Yatri
Rise and Shine.
Hark, Hear, Alert,
the beckoning sign.
Pull on the chain**
and slow the wheel.
I’ll tell you tales,
if you promise not to cry“

** – I think I vaguely remember learning about the chain on the train – and about the fine – just before that 😀

and from college:

“ek je chhilo Poongie-ma aar**
taar bondhu Gadomba
dujon mile thaakto besh
shokal theke diner shesh
jobe hoto purnima
bolto tokhun Gadomba
‘aye Poongie, dujon mile
ghure ashi tram-e chepe’
bole Poongie uttore
‘khela chhar dekh dokkhine’!
Ajob bepaar! Ota ki re …
Nach dhorechhe Gadombite!“

The Sequel:

Gadomba aar Gadombite
Naach dhorechhe anonde te

Purnima-r chaader alo
Prem-e bhubon bhore gelo

Dure boshe Pungima
Ekla dekhe Chandrima

Jodi ekta shaathi khuje pai
Nachbo jemon janto koi

(26.11.96)

** Poonigie was then my nick for Barbie/Munal/Pakhi. Whic came first, the chicken or the egg, dont remember now.

*** this was found behind class notes from Liu Gibson (TCS) – my favouritest book in college.

And here’s an old collection of Top 5’s I found on Ricercar:

my top five irresitable songs TO CHEER ME UP …1) elevation (u2)
2) need u tonight (inxs)
3) never to old to rock and roll (tull)
4) twisting by the pool (ds)
5) im too sexy (right said fred)

top five songs that give you goosebumps Prerona View Delete
nota very accurate list … cz there are millions … these are the top five of those that come to mind:

1) jealous guy
2) purple rain
3) final cut (any / all)
4) feeling love
5) when a blind man cries …

n.b. – could not resist – everlasting love (U2), Going to California, Baba O Reilly, Love Hurts, Love Bites, Feelings, The way we were, Lets get it on, most of the time, she breaks like a little girl, suzzane, creep, the starting roll of fever dog, free falling, to make you feel my love, crazy, pink, moonriver, im not in love, smooth operator, wicked game, throw your arms around me (PJ), Cant take my eyes off you (Damien Rice), Another Lonely Day (Ben Harper), Goodbye My Lover … and i guess i better stop somewhere …

top 5 songs that make you throw up …
no offence to the songs themselves – but i am just SO sick of hearing them!

hotel california
blowing in the wind
imagine
last christmas
one the wings of a snow white dove

my personal top five literary dissapointments:

1 – hitchhikers guide to the galaxy
2 – great gatsby
3 – catcher in the rye
4 – love in the times of cholera
5 – alchemist

(ZEN and the art of … ? Immortality? Not sure for sure … but they got close)

Disclaimer: Not putting these books down at all. Or even saying I didnt like them. Just that FOR ME they were ‘different’ from MY expectations.

top five cute guys in film Prerona View Delete

watching love, actually, one on my fav movies and almost on the back of that, pride and prejudice, made me think of how gorgeous they both are and how tough it is to decide between them!!! so heres my top 5 men:

1) anthony hopkins
2) collin firth
3) hugh grant
4) liam neeson / alan rickman (tie)
5) gregory peck

and ofcourse – further east – saif, ajay devgan, big b, small b, uttam kumar.

and non filmi focourse there mukul sharma!

Top 5 perfect women in film:

1. Aparna Sen
2. Zeenet Aman / Sushmita Sen (tie)
3. Sharmila
4. Antara Mali/Nandita Das
5. Julie Andrews

Might be offline for a while, but will be around checking other peoples blogs and looking (hopefully) for comments on mine 🙂

Originally Posted at http://prerona.blogspot.com/2006/06/song-in-my-head-roses-blue.html
“>Prerona.

Sister of my Soul

After months of effort, finally got my little sister to open her own blog! Check it out at Procheta.

Finally started running again. Feel like I have now settled down here. New snaps from this morning: Lakes in the Morning

Drove to work today. Been a while. Been fighting with mum and dad to keep the Palio – it was after all my first car – but I think this time I might be persuaded to shift toa Swift – Black and White. They look pretty cute! Remind me Mini Coopers.

Pretty Materialistic Huh? 😉

Originally Posted at http://prerona.blogspot.com/2006/05/sister-of-my-soul.html
“>Prerona.

My First Barbie

My mother has this habit of randomly picking up gifts on her way home from work. Every evening, as soon as I opened the door, I would do a quick-scan to spot any hidden surprises. Then I would check her hands, her bags, even her hard hat, to see if she had a little packet of mint fudge, or a toy car, or a tintin concealed somewhere. If I was really lucky it could be that most un-attainable worshipped, ‘super expensive’ thing … pyramids from cookie jar. Sometimes if she was working at a construction site near school she would turn up at lunch time with some pyramids.

Twenty years ago, on this day, at 9 in the morning she got me a doll. I called it Barbie Doll. I hated it at sight. It had a funny colour. You could move its arms and legs, but it wasnt pretty, so you wouldnt really want to. It had wispy black hair in curls. It could cry, but so could another one of my dolls and its cry didnt sound half as ‘natural’. Anyway, I never liked dolls much (except for Jane who was lame, and Prajukta, or Dolly, who was My Last Doll – like in the Little Princess)

However, the Barbie Doll had something special about it, as I soon discovered: She could grow. She grew and grew, till she was taller than Mommy by a much respected inch! She stands 5’10” in bare feet. Her hair grew too: wispy no longer, it grew thicker as mine vanished. It hated cigerettes, then loved them. It loved ‘NOW thats what I call music’ then grew to Led Zep. It loved Nancy Drew, then grew to Kafka. It even grew grass on the roof to my Mommy’s eternal shock!

Before I knew what hit me, that scrawny, whiney, sissy little wannabe, that trailed me everywhere and played with dolls and wrote on the walls grew into a ‘person’ and morphed into one of my best friends, eerily like enough to be able to guess I did a undo-redo 3 or 4 times on the ‘one of’ part.

Happy Birthday Barbie. Love you, B%”£@. Like one of your childhood cards to me ends, ‘dated till this good phase lasts’ … hope it lasts forever


barbie and leo
Originally uploaded by prerona.

Originally Posted at http://prerona.blogspot.com/2006/03/my-first-barbie.html
“>Prerona.

how not to write a sad post …

to day was barbie’s birthday. i spoke to my friends on the telephone today. they had all gone to visit my gran. i spoke to my dad on the phone and really psyched him. i had class in the evening. i am going to to go home now and eat the leftover boiled veggies from yesterday. Then I will wake up again tomorrow at 5 and go to the gym. After that I will go to ‘work’. Where I will ‘work’ till 7 pm (atleast) and then – repeat (except no class) till friday. then i will do my homework, clean the house, go to glasgow to row in an eight and go to bed and think about

(the rest is censored in the name of good cheer)

list of the day:
top five reasons to live another (censored in the name of good humoured cheerfulness) day …

sister of my soul

i dont have internet access at work. and i dont have a pc at home. which makes it impossible for me to keep in touch with people. calling is crazy – just calling my extended family is almost too expensive for me, with my one set of natural parents, and dozens of adopted parents, chatts, ad, sauce, juls … and of course my kiddo. theres the work email, but its very cranky. it randomly picks up people and decides to block them?

looking back, it was one hell of a lousy week. everything i did just went wrong. lost my notebook which had everything imp in it. went in a four and 5 turned up. couldnt remember my numbers correctly. and ofcourse the usual home troubles were at an all time peak. cant do anything right. fat and ugly. bad person. either piss of someone everytime i open my mouth or piss myself off cz im being totally fake. how can any one person be so totally crappy in every possible way. its an art form and im an artist. the king of crap.

but still, its such a beautiful day today that its easy to forget all that. its bright and clear and crisp. blue skies and clouds in little wisps. friends to love who feel like they’re close. dreams to make you forget ur woes. chatted with poongie till deep in the night. when u laugh before bed it makes u wake up bright. just woke up once 2 for a drink. the sky was so pretty as i stood at the sink.nice sunday 🙂