Tuesday, June 27, 2006

angry musings

I would outweigh the manner of your balanced life.I would do so many things I'm not meant to.Scream and throw pool furniture around,eat chocolate wrapped in tissue paper.You know,weird stuff.My mother watches from afar at what I've become.She's too far off than I would have liked her to be,but thats just how things are now.

Yesterday,Dad kept telling me how everyone in the States is doing so well.I know its his way of tempting me into things,he knows me too well sometimes.I just told him 'Its great to hear that,Dad.They shoould be happy about it too,cuz not all of us are fortunate enough to do what we want to'.Dreams are for rookies.But why can't we stop dreaming?He told me I have a brilliantly intelligent mind,and that I'm so expressive about things.'You're wasting yourself,betay'.What the fuck am I supposed to do,then?I wish I could run away like you do all the time,find solace in measly things,but I can't.Existence is all about compromise.I gave up myself so my mother could live with the fucking excuse she gives herself all the time.I should feel proud.Whatever.I'm proud to be a big ballad of nothing.

I walked around with a sour taste in my mouth.A stench in my pjs.At chuggi's,I described the real feeling of home.How,for me,its comes from the smell of my pillow and the texture of meaningless things lying around that no one bothers picking up till its too late.Then she drew a silver heart on my ass,and I stopped being my philosophical self.

The string thats woven us together will break one day,unless you don't do something to save me.I asked you to stay.What if I want to leave?That's the whole problem.My entire life,I've been unsure about everything,and now you're a part of my collection of 'unsure things that mean too much and I don't know what to do'.heh.what a bitch.what a cold,hard bitch.

Zehra named the punching bag 'Gul',and I hit it till my knuckles almost bled.I don't why.My knuckles still hurt.

So four girls figured out at 2am that the hole of the vagina is the size of your nostril,and the one-eyed snake is...well....a lot bigger than that.So we're all kind of in a dilemma about whether we want to 'do it' or not.

hmm...lets see.God save the queen.Yes.That sounds about right.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

he has this uncouth seriousness about him.shrewd,focused.i've never seen such eyes.i know he's somewhere else and one of his many selfs is all we mortals are allowed to amuse ourselves with.he has no incredible specialness around him,no talents a normal 18 yr old should have,yet there is something about the way he is unsure how to carry himself that makes you want him to steal a pot for you.
he moves silently.all around.
he's hot too=)

Saturday, June 17, 2006

6:12 am.

thank you=)

Thursday, June 15, 2006

my pait is kharab,but i'm going to try to write anyway.

its a bit wonderous how we dont talk about...you know.each other's important people.i shut you up whenever you're about to start,and you shut me up when i'm about to start.thora ajeeb sa nahin lagta?i sat down once and wondered what it would be like if...kuch aur hota aur ye na hota.phir pata nahin kya hota.

mein uss din koka lene gayi,but all the kokas were so weird.too big for my nose hole.when i found the perfect one,it fell out cuz i was crying too much.and then i had this weird thought.I've been on the look-out for so long for this thing.and now that i have the perfect one,and i dont cry anymore,i wonder if it'll fall out.you know.like that koka.

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Bottled thoughts

Today I used a shampoo that said ‘for flat and limp hair without life’.

Weird as this is to say, I froze in the shower. What the fuck was the person who wrote this thinking? What did he think life was? Easy enough to be packaged in a bottle?

Life happened to everyone, and no one got the hang of it till their eyes bulged from the amount of crying they’d done. No one knew what to make of the stains in their underwears, or the make-up they applied so carelessly. No one knew how to eat their melted chocolate properly so they wouldn’t get sticky fingers baad mein.No one knew how to tune the chords so that they strung together in harmony.

Its only when you are transported back and forth and back again that you go, Shit.Ye tou déjà vu ho gaya hai.Certain events you go through and tiny experiences you have gather up to form this one big ball of life, in which an infinite number of people are strung together by the same thin string, except you tie the knots of some people tighter than the others.

For example,Ammi gave me a pickled mango today and I took the skin off and sucked on the seed part the exact same way I used to as a kid in the U.S,when pickled mangoes came from far away lands and used to be a rare luxury I enjoyed alone on the concrete steps leading to the house.From then to now, I’ve sucked on many pickled mangoes in the same way, yet there was something about this particular one that transported me back to those concrete steps many a fall sun ago. Probably the shape or the atmosphere, I don’t know what. But the pickled mango I had today is significant in the sense that it was one of those few moments in a week or in a month or in a year that I realize that life has happened to me.

I looked around the table to see if anyone else was caught in a moment like I was. If so, it was hard to tell. Everyone lies so easily, it’s scary. And what’s scarier is that none of anything makes sense sometimes. Yet we continue living in hope that something will someday happen and everything that once never made sense will all seem so clear now. And that, is the scariest thought of all=).

Friday, June 09, 2006

The Weeping Willow

Divya didn’t know what to do. Throwing rocks at Sunil had certainly gotten his attention, and now he was looking for the culprit amidst the cornfield where she was hiding. After many minutes of listening intently and shifting her position so as to stay hidden, Divya was sure he must’ve grown weary. She marched out of the cornfield with a pompous stride only to find herself face to face with Sunil. She stopped dead in her tracks as his eyes bore into hers.
‘Kyun bhai? Agar koi masla hai tou batao mere ko’
She shook her head uncertainly.
‘Ek lappar maroon ga na,hosh thikanay aa jayein ge’
‘Kyun?!Lappar kyun maro ge?Tere ko patthar hee mara hai na,kaunsa juram kiya hai?’
‘Befkoof chokri.Maloom hai kitni zor ka lagta hai? Idher aao zaraa, Baba ke samnay batata hoon kitni zor ka lagta hai’

And with that he pulled at her duppatta towards him, out of the cornfield. She yielded only to maintain her dignity and haughtiness, yanking her duppatta out of his hand as they walked along the river bank scattered with upright willows.
Apart from the fact that Divya had the most beautiful eyes in the whole village, Sunil rarely or never seemed to notice. Not that she wanted him to. Her jaw was always set a certain way when she talked to him, all authoritative and shit.Her eyes would go all narrow as if she suspected something was up and her whole being would be alert.

Except when they would sit by the river bank and race about who would finish their sugarcane first. She had to stop chewing on her sugarcane cuz the sight of its juice dribbling down his chin was just so funny. Only then would he notice how magnificently her eyes shined with tears of joy. And he would stop chewing too, not because she was so beautiful laughing, but because of how it suddenly put him into a deep thought. Of course, the feeling would go away as readily as it had come, and the sun would go down on the river.
She would notice how sturdy his gaze was when they were doing inane things like collecting leaves of different trees or poking into neighboring houses to listen in on conversations. He would fix his eyes on an unmoving object like a door chain or a branch and concentrate hard on whatever he was doing. It was at that point when she felt like she didn’t know him at all. That he was in a world so far beyond hers that she’s given up chasing after him.

And now they had grown. Two souls made from the same dirt. The yin and the yang and everything in between.
The day he told her he was leaving, she laughed. Of course it was an amazing opportunity, but those kind of things didn’t happen to people like them.’Isay apnay achay buray ka pata hee nahin hai.Sari akal mein ne jo le lee hai’, she thought to herself, and walked off.
It was only when he didn’t come leaf-picking or star-gazing or eavesdropping, that it slowly began to seep in. And all of a sudden, conversation was a rare luxury neither of them couldn’t afford anymore. The heavy silence stuck in their throats like maple on wood. And as the dust collected behind the carriage that took him away, Divya crouched on the river bank as the willows wept with her.

That’s how they got their shape=).

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

secret admirer

years from now, we will sit down together
and i'll tell you exactly how much i've loved you
and we'll join heads and cry-
in ode to memories we forgot to make.