cave people

Me: i think we did a mistake by coming out of the caves, we shld have stayed there
K: right on
Me: caves are dark and u can hide and pretend u cant hear them
K: trees is more like it, per DNA
Me: and when u want to come out u can
K: if u time it well, u can scare the hell out of "them"
Me: they dont make trees like them anymore caves are still cavish
K: yes...no caves either...did u notice? those were the days...sigh!
me: dumb bastards. Even tunnels would work in a backaching kinda way
K: i'm thinking burrowing, if u cant make caves or tunnels...just dig under.
Me: my nails are weak, they will chip and be painful
Krishna: hey, i have spoons

how's it going to be

It’s been a long day, like all the days before this. Tonight, I will have nightmares again, as I have had all these nights away from you.
It’s been a long day and I am tired to the bone. Dealt with perverts and bitches. And also with my parents.
It’s been a long day and as usual you aren’t here to help me into bed, to tuck me into bed, to hold me till we both drift asleep, letting go of each other only when we aren’t awake.

constantimusical

John Mayer and Simple Red. Dave Mattews Band, The Wallflowers and Bruce Springsteen. Billy Joel and Sheryl Crowe. Sade and Paula Cole. My Ipod and I. Damn, am having a great time.

At the risk of sounding like an existentialist, why are we here?
Why are we even going about the same old things -- looking for a job, a man to love, a few moments away from everything and then suddenly, this realisation creeps in -- we still don't know why we are here.

walking gingerly

She streaks across the grey landscape, clutching her prize close to her chest. She risks a look at her pursuers and grimly swerves to the left. The blind monsters from hell run on unaware that she is out of their reach. She stops running only when the sun begins to rise. The little brown paper wrapped package glows with promise. She sits down to write


We turn the page to peruse a new chapter, in the daily chronicles of the continuing adventures of Ahalya Naidu super editor and grandmistress fiction writer.

Or something like that

The Golden Compass

It took me a movie realise how good books written by a few children's authors really are.
Mind you, I have yet to read Philp Pullman, but the thing about him and Terry and Diana Wynne Jones and Aidan Chambers and their kind is that they know children are far from childish.
And that's very important.
See, they dont write as if they are writing for adults, but whatever they do write can be read by adults as well.
Consider this, rebelling against authoritarians is not the same as rebelling against authority.
Making friends and being loyal, empathising with animals, helping the underdog and defying bullies.
And they are waiting to include these books in school libraries because?

waiting for my world to change

What are these tears all about?
The tea was alright, the friends will call, this big dog loves me
I miss being uninvolved with people I barely know
I miss not having a cellphone
I miss being unplanned
I miss trouble-free skin
I miss getting my hands dirty after painting things that will be chucked in the bin before they dry
I miss getting up at 6.30
I miss life 10 years ago
Make that 15
Sometimes I wonder why I was born at all

In my life

There are two ways to solving most problems. And I have only tried one all my life. Taking the easy way. Apologising, hiding, lying, changing my opinion. Anything goes as long as I do not have to take the hard way. As far as I have seen, the hard way is too painful, it's very depressing and I cannot afford to be depressed.
But, not so surprisingly, it is catching up with me... this second way I have been running away from.
The facing people who put me down, regularly. The shouting back when I am insulted, the picking up the phone and dialling a number, and mostly, NOT picking up the phone.
I am not a very organised person and I am not very sure if I am tackling my problems correctly, but what I do know is that things are changing in my life and now, I know milestones on both roads.

Listen

The thing about routines is that even if what you are getting thoroughly bored with is good for you, you will get bored anyway.
And you wont rest until you change it, and you will fall ill trying it, but you will keep at it doggedly.
Maybe this trick was immensely useful thousands of years ago, but not now. Not with deadlines, appointments, weekly grocery shopping trips, visits from relatives, sudden but expected costs.
Shut up and put up with it.
Dont waste time trying to get yourself a makeover as well.

Oi Rowling! What's with you?

Firstly, I am disappointed that an author would change her content so much that the original fans of her books, when the series was a fledgling, would be left by the wayside.
By all means, write for adults. But, write for children too.
That's what made her books so enchanting, the fact that the first 2 books were heart-warming. I may be horribly old-fashioned, but I think that's what children (and the rest of us) need. Some good old heart-warming books. We have enough of newspapers to dish out the surreally disgusting side of life.

Would they read Book no 7 with as much happiness as they did No 1? I refer to those little ones who had lapped up her first book and industriously put pen to paper to write a thank you letter, which she so proudly published.

Ms Rowling, I shake my head in quiet frustration.

Friends

I don't make a good friend. I do not drop everything if a friend needs me. I don't lend money, or borrow, if i can help it. I cannot offer them a free rein at my home, although I would love to. I always change plans at the last minute if they want to meet me. I do not feel useful when they ask me for advice.
But, thats about friends.
When it comes to a few of the angels I know, everything changes. their worries morph into mine. I still dont lend or borrow money, but if they need to bury a dead body, i'll get my torch along. and thats a big thing alright. considering i never find all the batteries on time, motu will wake up and start jumping around and so on and so on

Contemplation

I wonder why I rush around so much. Hardly a month goes by without me starting something new. Not all of these things have good effects, not all of these things are seemingly for me.
It is not easy being a hypochondriac geminiian woman.
Hold on, this isn’t about self pity, and I am not just saying that.
Take my pup for example. He is more than I can handle. More than anyone else can.
I extend my paranoia to his well being and since he has come home, I haven’t slept for more than 3 hours at a stretch. I haven’t been able to work very well, and I have had aches and pains for quite some time now?
I think I am complaining. But, would I change anything?
If I had a choice, if I could find him a good home, maybe a better one, would I give him away?
Let me pause for a moment and ponder about this.



No, I will not. If I can find him a better home, chances are I can make a better home too. Mum has calmed down a lot and she looks happier, but, that is not the only reason why I brought him home.
He is as my child. I am responsible for him and I love him.
I think I can come here to let off some steam and complain for a while anyway.

And they call this puppy love

A few months ago, I was walking home, when the strays near my building pounced on a new, beautiful dog. He yelped and ran to hide behind me, and feeling braver than I am (because of this canine's trust in me) I fought them off (meaning I yelled and waved my arms about in a threatening manner).
For a few days, Sniffy (I cannot tell you why I chose to call him this) would lie in wait for me everyday. Walk with me to and from the busstop. And wag his tail.
For me. I felt 10 feet taller and was proud that I could manage, without trying, inspite myself, to make a canine friend.
I havent seen him for many months now. I suspect he is no longer alive. But I see in my new puppy, what I saw in Sniffy.
my own stupid little face, grinning.

Watching a movie

Forget ten years, even a year ago I would have never believed that I would enjoy watching movies. in the theatre. But now, its almost regular.
I like it. Wish I could book the whole theatre, on second thoughts, there are other ways.
Really nice other ways.

'Healthy' cynicism

Funny. I used to think that cynicism wasn't healthy. Thats why the bear, the "only funny books" rule. The throwing away of blue clothes. I thought these things would help. Didnt want to end up as a nicotine, alcohol addict.
Won't.
It is hard to go on 'as usual'. When I get up in the morning I am usually so caught up with finding stuff to cook, that it doesnt bother me.
Its when I watch dad leave, that I realise.
Parents can be mean, friends are busy, siblings are far away and the rest come in the way.
At the end of it all.... nothing is happy. And I cannot improve things.

Crying

As a kid, I had a really good lungs, I could cry so loud that once the neighbours yelled at my mom. She was giving me a bath.
In a strange way, I think that is why I do most of my crying there these days. The time of the month, dropping food, realising I have forgotten to renew the library books, to soak some beans for lunch, run out of steam, missing something, watching someone get what they have missed, articulate it -- all these things drive the tears out. Hot and salty.
Let me make it clear, I do not like it. Crying that is. I detest the act. I think it makes my dry eyes drier.
But, here is what intrigues me... In five minutes I am fine again...
What does this mean? Crying, makes me feel better???
Look, obviously it looks simple to you. I probably got over what was upsetting me and so on, but then here is the silly bit, I would cry again, over the same thing, any time.
This isn't really gripping you. I can tell. In a moment you will choose to click over that tempting red 'x' in the right corner. Right?
Ok, But before you go... I forgot to mention, I need a hug, I just cried.

Once bitten

I could never hurt anyone. Even if you drugged me. Maybe if you held ransom someone I knew, but I’d apologise immediately and take the blame. So, when you called me to come on over, I knew what would happen. You would confront me about your brother’s death and I would say, yes, I couldn’t help it, I’m very sorry.
I bought you flowers. I know you don’t like them, conservationist that you are, but I had to bring them anyway. My empty, big hands needed to be employed some way. I did not expect you to smile when you opened the door and before I could start thinking properly I had said, yes, I would like some tea, thank you. You had even cleared up the table. Now that I didn’t expect. You are famous for your messy home, that’s when I began getting suspicious and wondered if you were poisoning my tea. I heard your stifled yelp when you dropped some hot tea on your foot. I did not offer my help because I know you have your pride.
I wasn’t really worried about the ‘poisoned’ tea, although I hoped you would, but I knew that was too crude for you. I saw your brother’s picture just before you sat down on the armchair next to it. The armchair was a gift from me, but I never told you. You don’t drink tea so you were having a glass of warm water as usual. I was hoping you would say something but you just looked at me patiently. I really thought I would cry.
Three years ago, when you believed in me, I wouldn’t have cared, but now, I just can’t take things like these anymore. Death, disease, angry words, violence. I’ve left it too late. I’m helpless. You shouldn’t have hugged me when I started crying. It made me cry more. A big man like me, howling like a child who has just lost his first puppy.
Twenty minutes? Is that how long I blubbered? But I think, I gave you my best apology yet. You listened like a mother to a child, and I told you about the prayers, the bombs, the way I felt when I watched him hit the ground.
When I got home that night I couldn’t sleep, I still had lots to tell you. I wondered if I could call you and dreamt later that I did and that you shrieked in anger when you saw my face.
Thankfully, you did no such thing when I met you the next day. You didn’t stop me from resigning and i'm glad you didn’t stop me from going away. It hasn’t helped, running away. But maybe the next time I will make fewer mistakes.

i am getting married...

... to a nice gujju girl, who will cook nice yummy food. She will press my feet and ask me nice questions. Never shout. Never be in the way. And she will clean the house too...
(And in another minute I will wake up and realise that good feminists arent supposed to talk like this)
sigh.
ok got to go clear up the kitchen. You do realise how hard i have to work, doing everything by myself, and not a word of gratitude. And these feet that are hardening, what about them eh? So i can't even fantasise about a hardworking wife instead... grumble grumble.

i walk the line

Had a horrible quarrel with mom last night. I don't think things will ever be fine between us. I never really worried about her till about a few years ago. And suddenly, she takes up most of attention - what she does and what she doesn't, what she says when she is angry and what she says when she is crying.
She isn't the only 'difficult' person I know. By difficult I mean someone who won't ask for help.
Who will drag everybody down becuase of some martyr complex.

i won't fight

it's true we seem to lose the arguments that are most important to us.
i dont know how much more reinventing I can stand, i am through with being flexible. but that decision does nothing for me.
I can change my mind and can never stop. they dont let me.
i cant compete with her, i dont know in what way. even if i did, i would give up.
i am scared, of course, a small percentage of people are, of losing what's precious. but if i hold on tight, wont i break it?