Wednesday, January 30, 2008

When love Rains (or Reigns ??)

She woke up to the ringing of her alarm, which wouldn't shut off till she got up and switched off the air conditioner, after which she can't sleep cause it's too hot; and the air conditioner would not switch on for the next 15 minutes once switched off. All this was automated to make sure the user would actually wake up on time.

So she got up, brewed some coffee and went to the bathroom. The brush was ready with the paste on it. Lazily she got ready. Her computer that switched on automatically along with the coffee machine beeped out "You've got mail".
* A couple reminders for bills to be paid which she immediately transfered from her account.
* A few advertisements that she sent to the trash.
* A note from her secretary about the activities for the day.
* A coupla dinner invitations.
* A google doc that serves as a love letter.

She read the google doc with care. It was from her boy friend, Zander she met on the internet. She had never met him in person. She only saw his jpeg images, heard his mp3 speeches and songs. All that the doc contained was "Surprise Surprise!". She couldn't make sense of it. Usually he types in all mushy statements that made her blush. She just typed along asking him for what. But he wasn't online she guessed.

She got dressed, set her laptop in hibernation and got to leave when all of a sudden, the air conditioner began to choke. She stopped and looked around. The air conditioner started blowing out small pieces of red heart-shaped paper. Her laptop, which was supposed to be in hibernation started to play lovely old classic songs of love.

"The book of love has music in it
In fact that's where music comes from
Some of it is just transcendental
Some of it is just really dumb
But I
I love it when you sing to me
And you
You can sing me anything"


She stood there dazed and then slowly like as thought he held her, she waltzed in the rain of the heart-shaped papers, to the music from her laptop.

Oh by the way, her laptop reponds to the call of "Zander".

Monday, January 28, 2008

So I 'Saaranged' !!!

Sometimes in life it is necessary to do the cliched too. Like for example, this, writing a post on Saarang.

The press meet
The inaug
The Pot pourri
The way we lost
The Debate
The way we ran
The Monoacting
The way I performed
The painting
The cartooning
The Hindu
The ET
The 30things I better eat before I die
The list I'd never really care for though
The hairstyling workshop
The one I never attended
The star promotional
The dramatics performance
That filled the audi
The village
The mehndi
The earrings I pained to be bought
The same ones I lost
The food
The rangoli
The scarf
The Lucky Ali
The Karthik
The dancing in the gallery
the head banging in the bowl
The bindaas park
The informals
The lenova stall
The CLT
The ICSR
The OAT
The colours
The fun
The people
The crowd
The organising
The flood
The food
The coupons
The organising
The colours
The fun
The people
The crowd
The Saarang
The 2008
The 3rd yr
The best


Yes, the best Saarang ever. And I really feel that to enjoy Saarang you've got to be in your 3rd yr

Saturday, January 19, 2008

I live !

He shook his head unbelieving. Yes, I went dancing with our boss, so what? Why should it stifle him so much?
We were sitting on the cement embankment outside the building under a tree. Had worked all night and it was 4 in the morning. We managed to get some food delivered. As we ate we were browsing through my laptop and he ran into the pictures of the boss and I at a salsa workshop.
He kept shaking his head and I playfully punched him. To avoid the punch he ducked, grabbed at my hand and tugged it hard until we were closer than I expected. I kept looking at him, nervously. He held my gaze and smiled, and drew me closer. I panicked. He let go off me and what do I expect? He laughed his head off. He rolled on the floor. Laughing. He was laughing for the fact that I got scared, it seems. TO hell with him.

This time he tried to get close again and then I laughed away first. I knew he didn't have the guts to pull it off. But then next time he tried I panicked again. But to hide my panic I burst into laughter. And this went on for a while.

Then we settled down and looked at the stars. Tried to recognise them and talked about the myths around them. It was a clear night sky. And then he took my face into his hands and planted a light kiss on my lips.

I looked at him dazed. He didn't let go of my face. Instead, we kissed a forceful kiss. I never knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. When he let go of me, I was still with closed eyes. I wanted to cherish the moment and drink up the memories so that it remains fresh in my heart.

I opened by eyes. I was on a cold cement embankment outside the building, on a cold night, alone. I got up and began walking back. The breeze was bitingly cold and I pulled my sweater closer. As I walked away, I passed by a cemetery where they claim his body rests. But I never had the courage to enter it. To me he is alive in flesh and blood, as long as the memory of this kiss remains. I could feel him, touch him, hear his laughter and smell his perfume.
To me he is alive.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Moonshine and Skytoffee

So after the MOP incident. Prachi, Amrit and I grabbed some food and ran to the MUSEUM THEATRE, Egmore, Chennai to watch a play we were going to. I went without even knowing the name of the play.

As it turned out, it was beautiful. they were two stories clubbed into a single play. And they way they clubbed and blended together. It was romantic comedy with a lot of deeper meaning to it. We laughed and smiled through out the play. The best part I liked was the coining of the words 'Moonshine' and 'Skytoffee'. It was just too cute. To know hwy you might want to watch it. It's being staged again on the 26th at 3.30 pm, after which don't forget to join in the proshows at Saarang 2008.

taken from the perch site :
'Moonshine and Skytoffee’ is an amalgamation of two of Basheer’s stories, ‘The Love Letter’ and ‘The Card-sharpers Daughter’. Both explore love in unlikely circumstances. ‘The Love Letter’ is about the love of Kesavan Nayar, a Hindu, for his landlord’s daughter Saramma, a Christian. ‘The Card-sharpers Daughter’ is about the unlikely love that develops between Sainaba, the daughter of Ottakannan Pokker - a cardsharper, and a lovable rogue, Mandan Muthapa, a pickpocket. How these two couples come together in the face of great odds forms the gist of this story. Both these love stories play themselves out with unexpected twists and turns, all laced with Basheer’s sparkling wit and irrepressible humor.

After we came out of the auditorium, I was looking through the photographs of Basheer at the display are when I realised I had read about it earlier on naresh's blog.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

MOP

I really wanted to accompany Vatsap to M O P Vaishnav College for Women today morn where he was invited to judge an event called "Illustrate a Limerick". But then I came to know yesterday that I have a CAT-like test to write. So I couldn't.

But still. I called him up at 12.15 to say my test is over. he said take an auto and come to MOP, Caesar packs and Prachi has a debate after which we shall have grub and go watch a play. I agreed.

I reach MOP. Amrit sends someone over to take me to them. As I enter I see a participant talking on stage, and the organisers talking to Amrit and Caesar. As I approach, I realise their judge backed out and so they want Amrit to judge this event as well. He is shocked and I start tripping. Then they move on to Caesar. But he has a valid point, he has to leave soon. And they are back on Amrit and I m still tripping. And then the tables turn and Amrit turns to me. They are too polite and I m like "What??!!". Caesar says just say yes. And I say yes and he starts tripping.

So yeah, I judged the inter-departmental debate event, part of the Jhankar 2008 of MOP Vaishnav College for Women! Trippy man! I really hope the participants didn't find me too bad.

Oh! I also got a lovely mug with MOP printed on it as a token of appreciation. :)

I need some TIME !!!

Yeah.. But do I need T.I.M.E ??

I am a CAT aspirant like many people of my age. I want to do an MBA. It does sound good. And I am planning to take CAT 2008. So I assume I need coaching.

Hmmm... I know nothing about CAT except that there are sections for english, math and data analysis. Had seen some paper from a senior friend long long ago. So this is my exposure to the paper :)

Today I write my first any kind of CAT similar test.
And I think why god why ?
It was not bad. But I was franatic for time. So was everyone. But still, I felt like I was chasign a running train tryint to catch it.

Damn it. Let's see what T.I.M.E. can do to me now.

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

And Just Like That !! ??

'I am man enough to be a child', he always said whenever he licked his bowl of ice cream clean.
His cute was my gross and my cute his gross. Guys I tell you!
And just like that ??!!




I'm a big big girl
In a big big world
It's not a big big thing if you leave me
But I do do feel that
I do do will miss you much
Miss you much...

I can see the first leaf falling
It's all yellow and nice
It's so very cold outside
Like the way I'm feeling inside

I'm a big big girl
In a big big world
It's not a big big thing if you leave me
But I do do feel that
I do do will miss you much
Miss you much...

Outside it's now raining
And tears are falling from my eyes
Why did it have to happen
Why did it all have to end

I'm a big big girl
In a big big world
It's not a big big thing if you leave me
But I do do feel that
I do do will miss you much
Miss you much...

Saturday, January 05, 2008

It takes TIME

The chocolate
The fantasy
The quite
The smile
The nonsense
The grass
The mud
The shadowing branch of a weak plant
The starry sky
The street light
The cement placard
The craziness
The music
The song
The night
All questions without answers

Thursday, January 03, 2008

Train to Pakistan

Train to Bangalore actually...
I didn't find time to search through books so I randomly picked up a book and ran to the station. And through my journey I read this book "Train to Pakistan" by Khushwant Singh. I had some amazing set of companions to travel with, so did not finish my book.
I did drag along with it when everyone feel asleep.


The story is built around a small village Mano Majra, whose inmates are basically Sikhs with Muslim settlers and a single Hindu family. The stage is set during the post Independence days and the Partition. The story opens with the murder of the Hindu family head. And slowly yet clearly it portrays how the neighbours suddenly differentiate each other. The normally peaceful village stays peaceful but in their hearts they quietly build a communal hatred.
There is the generally attitude of the government too. They are the ones who know what is happening and also know it's out of their hands. they are the ones who try to live away from guilt but it haunts them down. they are the ones who cleverly build plots and try to evacuate the Muslims without any riots. they try. But they fail. they take it that it's out of their hands. They still try. And still try to be live they may take control. They also try to believe that they are not guilty.

The story is written well and clear but yes a tag too boring. I would not have read it have I not been on a train and stuck with only that book, especially on my return journey when no one spoke to me.

But I am glad I finished it. The last page, rather the last half page makes the whole book worthwhile. Brilliantly written, it leaves the reader with a mixture of pride and respect to the character that has so far been looked down upon. The whole story lies int hat half page. The meaning and the entire essence of brotherhood, sacrifice, love and courage is written down merely in half a page.

But had it been me, I probably would have written this story in five pages. But may be Khushwant Sight knows enough to write a book. He knows that without all that preamble the story would have no value. Probably the environment is not built and may be it would not enthuse the readers much. probably the life of the last page is in the entire book.

But to me, Train to Pakistan is just that last half page and I shall never forget it. A story that stays, it is. Hats off to Khushwant Singh. And I bow my head to people like the characters in the story.

PS: Incase you want to read the book please do not read the comments on the cover. Complete spoilers they are !!

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

is it over ?

music
beautiful
death metal

She looked up

sky
vast
blue
cloudless

She swam

suffocating
symbolising
sequential
sentimental

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

Celebrate Life Living and everything else

Speak
In a different language
That no one can speak nor hear

Sing
In a lighter tone
that no one can play

Music
For a thoughtful reason
That no one can rationalise

Live
In a wonderful world
that you make for yourself

Say
That you wanna be the
Way
that you wanna be that
Way
that you can
Say
That it's the
Way
you wanna be

Alone
But not afraid
Hurt
but not broken
Hard
but still fragile
Stoned
but beautiful

Dreams
Feelings
Abstract realism

An Eve

The evening was misty. The table was set over looking a beautiful view. The beach and the road, the crowd and the energy. It was a perfect occasion.

In a red satin blouse and a white A line skirt, the girl looked simple yet lovely. He was in jeans and a formal shirt and he wore her like a jewel on his arm, proud yet humble. And they walked along the shore-line.

Then walked slowly, quitely, without a word, hand in hand. Suddenly she looked at him excitedly and dragged him into the water. He protested but then on second thought folded his jeans and ran after her. And they splashed along for sometime.

It was so beautiful and so magical. When he drew her close and kissed her under the starry sky, the fireworks came to life. In the backgroud people were screaming a happy new year and the crashing of the waves was trying to muffle those screams. the water gentle waved at their feet.

Perfection