Strange Relationships...

It started like a fairy tale, just short of ‘once upon a time’. They gave their lives and dreams to each other, smiled one another’s smile and cried each other’s tears. They had come a long way, walking together, sometimes one ahead of another, but together nonetheless. And now all that is left of the tale is an awkward silence. Silence that gnaws inside.

They stand side by side not looking at each other. He seems to be examining his feet very closely and she finds the poster on the latest Mobile Handset very informative all of a sudden. Two people who’ve not only lost each other but a little bit of themselves in the process. Staying in love is so much harder than falling in love, because we stop being friends.

Liv Ullmann (Scandinavian actress) writes that when she divorced her first husband, they sat holding hands under the table while they signed their separation papers. She says they divorced because they were 'good friends'...! Do we need more than that in a relationship??

I have a lot of broken relationships around me right now. Either completely tattered or on the verge of. A common thing between all these relationships is that there is no love involved anymore! How is it that something that we live and love becomes 'once upon a time'? YOU become once upon a time?! Strange...strange relationships and strange we who make them. It amazes me sometimes, this ability of ours to attach and then disconnect from people, the things we ‘need’ and those we ‘want’. We are selfish, all of us. More in love with the feeling of being in love itself than with the person. We can’t do without the one we love because we ‘need’ and ‘want’ to be loved. We ‘need’ to be ‘wanted’. Someone once told me – loving should have nothing to do with the person you love; it's none of his business. ‘Love me for a reason and let the reason be Love’

Flight....

Every once in a while something comes your way which completely shakes you up....it does something to your insides..something due to which you can 'feel' the thing that is you....!! It just reflects who you are and attempts to answer why you're here.I saw a movie and it touched me in a way which i cannot describe. I did not like it for the way its made, although i think its brilliant, but i loved it simply for one scene. The movie is called shadows in the sun. Its about a writer who stops writing and then an editor comes along and changes just about everything.

There is a scene where after being admonished by the editor, the writer steps into his study. The study room has remained closed for years. His fear when he sits in front of the Type writer and attempts to write, the way his hands tremble and that feeling that you just cant do it, not again. After struggling for sometime, attempting to type a few words, he just breaks down and cries!!! He gets up, and opens the window and takes the fresh air in as if he is breathing reality...! The fear and the passion which has been captured in that one scene is beyond words.

I couldn't help the tears flowing down my face. I have known what it is to fear writing...fear expression....!! When you finally overcome that fear and put pen to paper you're so overwhelmed, you feel ALIVE and FREE. There is a freedom in expression, in writing that i've not experiences in anything else. Perhaps painters feel the same and for that matter any artist.

There is a corner so sacred and deep and vast inside you...which finds expression only in freedom..and art is that freedom. I can fly as long as i can write...and boy, how high is the sky!

Down, out and under!

Today is one of those days when you feel completely down and out! There is an uneasy feeling inside and because such times see a thousand thoughts swirling in your mind...i don't know which one of them is causing this dirty uneasy feeling. Its as if I'm not comfortable inside me. And thats a lot of say for me, if you know me and know what i mean!

The only person i don't want to be with today is myself. Want to run, run fast enough to leave myself behind, want to fly away where i cant see me, want to loose myself somewhere and then sit down and say 'good riddance'.....! And i try to read logic in these feelings, i ask, 'why', 'for what'.! And the dumb thing that is me has no answer!!!

Do you guys go through such a phase? When the thing inside your head is kinda bumping into the walls cause its too vauge for it to see where its headed...?

Broken but mending.....!!!

I don't know what exactly was it that made my friends and parents think i was a strong woman. Come strife, come tribulation's and i found people around me reiterating that 'come on you are a strong woman, you can handle it'. And i knew it was not one of those things that you say to people to encourage them or make them hopeful. They really believed i was strong and that i could take it. I hope it had nothing to do with my physical appearance ;) joke apart.....there came a time when it almost became a burden - to be strong. I remember crying on deepty's shoulder's and saying 'i am tired of being Strong.

Friends faced problems and they turned to me for strength and support, my family looks my way when they need someone to be strong and stable and steady. I was strong for all of them, for my mother, my friends, my father, for the man in my life (then)...and for myself. Somewhere down the line being strong became a part of my own defination of myself!!!

Perhaps it was the realization that i had changed in many ways or perhaps it was the situations that i found myself in which nugged me and told me that i wasnt strong. Or i had ceased to be so even if i was at a particular point of time. I have a weak mind, a mind that falters, qiwers, fears and is insecure, unsure, vulnerable, lacks confidence, belief, trust.....basically a mind that is so negative and sensitive. When you keep throwing hot boiling water on wood thinking that 'its wood, its not going to affect it' and you keep at it, keep assualting it with the water, and slowly you begin to see the rust, the way the bark has turned softer, soggier.....thats what happened with me i guess.

I was 22 when i stood in the middle of a street with huge trees on both the sides and felt my world falling apart. I never believed in God, but i believed in the man i loved, i trusted him the way a man with complete faith trusts god. I am not saying he was God for me, but he was my belief, all that was good in the world, all that was pure, honest......and at 22 in a matter of a few seconds all of it left me....ALL of it. I coped with it, came out of it and was perfectly fine. I didnt loose my faith in life, in people, in love.....i loved life and i laughed like a child. Today i am happier than i ever remember being. I have all that i could have asked for, wished for. Parents who love me and protect me, a brother who fights with me but does little little things that say more than words could ever, friends who have stood by me all along and are still there rock solid and a man who asks me to be myself, whatever the price....who makes me want to believe in myself, in everything that i did earlier, who loves me but cant say it.... and whom i love more than i have ever loved anyone. And it is for him that i started looking for, hunting for things that i wanted to give him...things that i thought were hidden in me...my belief, my faith, my strength...my conviction...everything...and i searched and searched...and found emptiness..!!

Experiences that we have in life either make us or break us....mine sustained me, i was intact...or so i thought, it is only now that i see the places that i have been broken in...I live inside a mind that i dont know, that i cant identify with. Neel says knowing yourself is not a destination that you have to reach, its a process and now i know just how painful the process can be.

I derive my strength from Prashit, he may not know it or not be aware of just how much of a support he is to me or of the impact he has had on me or my life, but talking to him or being with him makes me feel loved, cared for, protected, strong, hopeful, happy....all the things that i am empty of.....he's my recharge!!!

Constant ringing in the head!!!

The ringing in my head doesnt stop......i try to curb it, to silence it...to shut it up....but it goes on. Sometimes for a moment i hear the silence, the quiet....thinking its gone, finally i managed to rid myself of it but it comes again...it peeps out from the thought behind which its hinding..n playfully starts the buzz again. I close my ears, shut my eyes...i yell....and its still there.

They say that the mind is the greatest instrument we will ever own. It scares me you know sometimes, to have such a responsibility of shaping something, of nurturing it, of monitering the direction that it takes, of feeding it with belief, trust, confidence, patience, peace and weeding out negative thoughts, mistrust, fear, insecurity......seems more like a garden to me now that i am writing. The ringing is like a drug that you take once and you know you should'nt do it again but there is a malicious voice pulling you, calling you, enticing you to come and try..just once, once more......! I let the ringing come just one more time...i gave in to it...and now it wont leave me.

Can someone HELP please!

Poem

Little little joys and little little pains

All for a reason that sound insane

Things that were said and things untold

One moment warm and the other, cold, cold…

I held your hand, felt your fingers

Held on tight and let them linger

A moment passed and then two

You can wait, cant you??

Then I saw it in your eyes

That smile that said Goodbye…

Hold me, just for a while

Till I can let go and say ‘alright’

Drip drop of tears

A million things said

And many more untold.

You and Me!

Amazing how we've lived a different life being a different person...yes we change..and only once in a while do we sit back and wonder about the person that we were and the person we have come to be. What a journey...!! Depending on our disposition at that time it makes us sad or happy to see the old us disappear and go...the kasturi that was!! There are times i talk to her, ask her where is she and why doesn't she want to be a part of the person that i am. Then she tells me of the hurt and pain and dejection and the impressions that her young mind went through. She talks about her fears...in process makes me realize that she's left some of them with me, they are somewhere deep down,hidden but they are there..very much there and i realize how they sometimes take over and govern the way i think and feel. I tell her about my worries..things that she had never thougth about. Life has taken a full 360 degree turn. I can see the immaturity and the innocence in her..something which has been lost now. We sit and chat for a while...i share my dreams with her and she tells me about the feeling of being where she is..cause tomorrow i'd be sitting there, talking to yet another kasturi, so different....!
We all change...some of us accept it (maybe because a lot of times they dont think about it) and for some it makes them unhappy and leaves a longing to go back to the old them...they feel lost and disoriented and somehow not comfortable in the mind that they now sit in! It happens...! Its happening with me and with him. Both of us have lost ourselves somewhere down the line and we go looking and searching for something that isnt our's anymore..its gone and its gone for good! It makes both of us lonely and leaves us with this lost feeling inside.
Now that we are lost...can we ride together..and perhaps find something new in our search for that which is gone and lost.........being lost without you makes the journey even more lonely..!
Lets go for a ride!

Diseased!

I am suffering from 'Bloginjitis'. Really, this is no joke. Fuck, every thing that happens in my life is a potential topic that can go into the blog. Its funny....cause i start composing in my mind whenever i think of something. Just when i am stepping down from the bus,when i am in the lift, the loo which is my hot favorite place...all my solutions to problems and some of my problems also occur to me in the loo..! Ok now i am getting distracted and going away from what this post was supposed to be about....ha so i was saying that when at any of these places all of a sudden the compose page of my blog comes to my mind and i imagine myself typing. Then it evokes a feeling, according to what that feeling is I choose and discard topics.There were 8 topics that i thought about and then rejected in the past one week. If not a disease what is it? But then just like smokers i take consolation in the thought that all bloggers suffer from this... all of them are travelling in the same boat, i have company ;)

Another problem of writing a blog is that you constantly compare yours with that of others. And it can be quiet depressing at times. When you see a blog thats better than yours..content wise or say the look is so much better..your self worth dips down a bit for sometime. I read this post on some random blog one day which was about coffee mugs...this girl had so beautifully described how she is attached to her coffee mugs and how she carries them everywhere. My self worth went down 20 points. But that makes you think of all the things that you can do to make yours look as intersting...you analyse your writing and think of the things that you will write that will make others exclaim and like your blog. Huhh...tiresome process!!

I am so sure i am not going to be satisfied with this one when i read it later...! But this is what i have to offer at this minute and this is what you get!

Mommy take me Home..!!!!!!!!!

You know how it is when you are dripping from head to toe…standing outside your door…waiting for it to open! Ssssss…you want to pee so badly…you don’t realize that you are shifting from one leg to the other…finally ma opens the door…you rush in, put your umbrella aside and dash into the loo. Aaahhhhh what a relief and now you can think! You get out of your wet clothes, stand under the shower and take a quick bath. You are out wrapped in a towel…feeling nice and warm. You go to your cupboard to look for something to wear. On your way you stop and look at the match that’s playing on TV… find it a little boring, take the remote and flip through other channels. Ma asks you not the fiddle with the TV and let Zee play. You shrug and go to change.You casually look out of the window while you put on your shorts..and exclaim to no one in particular 'Its raining like mad'. Wearing your dry, clean clothes you come and sit out on the sofa…there is a text message waiting on your mobile…you pick it up to read and put the Bombay Times thats lying on the floor back in its place, making a mental note Katrina looks great, must read it later. You realize you are thirsty and hungry…you ask ma what’s for dinner! Not satisfied with food you imagine yourself eating a nice hot vada pav, the one that you get at the station!
Everyday life? Is this how it looks? Small small things that we take for granted, like picking up the remote and changing the channels, keeping the times in the usual place where newspapers are kept, sitting with a thud on the sofa with the mobile in your hand. Ordinary everyday things that we don’t think about even while we are doing the act.
Now picture this. You are standing inside your house at the door…watching dirty slimy water gush into your house…by the time you realize what’s happening you are already in ankle deep water. You and your family members are running around the house looking for all the things that are essential and important that you need to pick up and flee…flee from your ‘own’ home! You gather things, there is a mad rush to pack and save as many things as possible, clothes, shoes, documents, something to eat, your laptop… and you leave the Bombay times that’s lying on the floor just as it is…that’s not important. The TV remote is still lying on the sofa… the place where you were sitting with your legs pulled up in a cross.. your hand extended towards the TV and the elbow resting on the side bar of the sofa. You’ve taken whatever you think is absolutely important and you shut the door to your house and run to the first floor before you get drenched in the dirty slimy water. All the things that I took for granted just an hour back are all gone. I am sitting in an unknown place, between unknown people… a place where I can’t pull up my legs in a cross and sit with my elbow on the side bar of the sofa, a place that has a foreign smell to it, it doesn’t smell like home. It gives me the feeling like I am in a new, unknown place… and I think of ‘home’!!
I was in Malaysia for a month and a half. Had a great time there but I yearned for home, for home food, for the smell of home.. for the people at home. But I knew what it was really to come ‘Home’ only when I entered my house after a month and a half and I felt the security that only Home can give you. Its not the security of having a roof over your head, not one of having the people you love around you… its different…its just Home! I have never been able to explain that emotion and I can’t even now. I came back in the end of June, 2005. Hardly a month later 26th July happened and once again I knew what its like not to be Home. I can never forget that night when I stood in the balcony of the first floor of my building and I saw my house slowly slowly being covered entirely with water…! I thought of all those things that I had taken for granted. The small wooden cupboard where I would just dump my things randomly…thinking that I will clean it the next Sunday…Promise Ma. About the balcony in which I stood and talked on phone for hours…playing with the iron bar where we hang clothes. About the comfort of sitting down on the floor and eating because that’s the most comfortable thing to do…so what if my pajama is torn a little bit…nobody is judging me cause I am at Home. Is that what it is? Home is home because nobody is judging you. People have accepted you just the way you are and you can be yourself. You can sit with your legs up on the computer table, you can open a jar of chivda…and drop a lil bit in the kitchen while you are pouring it out on a plate. You can keep the lights of your bathroom on while you stand in front of the mirror and style your hair… looking this way and that…from the left and from the right, you can wear shabby clothes, look ugly…do what you want and you will still be loved!
I am without a home right now. Well not technically… we have managed to make our house a lil livable but we come to the empty flat on the second floor to sleep. I can still be myself here, cause no strangers are around, I can still look ugly cause I know my Ma and dad and bro will still love me… I have some of my things around, not all but some of them…and yet why doesn’t it feel like Home? Why do I long to go ‘home’?

Mera Bharat Mahan...aisa kya?!

I find concepts beautiful. They are literally that...beautiful...!! There is this one theory by Charles Cooley called 'looking glass self' which describes how our definition and perception of ourselves is dependent of how others see us. There is a beautiful line that says - I am not who i think i am, i am not who you think i am, i am what i think you think i am...! So true. But i will come to this theory later....its too closely related to our everyday lives.
There is this other concept...its not a theory by anyone but its a concept....the concept of Nationality....its a beautiful one too. Do we ever think how did this concept of nationality come into being? How did we become patriotic about a piece of land, about our people or the culture that we follow...?! Long long ago there was no such thing as Nationality. People lived together, there even was solidarity but no concept of 'this is my land and i am proud of it. Just think about it...the emergence of Nationhood....long ago the Russian Government used its folk culture, the songs and dances, to induce into people this idea of a Nation. Now with all the politcal boundaries so solidly fixed it has become easier to identify ourselves as belonging to a certain group or a region or a culture. We use history nowadays...to reiforce into people what a great country we live in. Do you now understand that its all a very well thought, planned strategy! That heroes were not incidental..but created and that too not for fun or for entertainment but as a strategy..to bind people together. A Julies Ceaser, Prithviraj Chauhan, Shivaji, Antony....are all heroes that were created out of a need....!
History....one of my favourite subjects, not because it educates me and informs me about people that were and the lives that they lived and the brave endavours they undertook...but because its the most brilliantly crafted and the most accepted lie in the world. History..no one challengs it..ever..! Do i go and ask, but what is the proof? Who says so? We fail to understand that History is but a point of view...held by a small group of people who decided to give their opnion on an individual...in the effort they glamoriesed events and people and gave us our heroes..people who have gone down in history. Ofcourse this is not to say that those events did not happen or that Gandhi is merely a figment of one's imagination...but the story that we know is not the whole story..it can't be, its the story in the voice of the majority..or the voice of the dominant people.
Anyway...i think i am getting distracted and entering into territories that i didnt mean to..i was talking about beautiful things...about the beauty of how people have literally 'given' us this sense of who we are and where we belong to. Think about it..!!!!!

I want to talk...just talk!

I want to talk..........just talk.....!! You know one of those times when you want to let it all out? Not all that i feel makes sense...but why does everything 'have' to make sense all the time?? I want someone to listen, just listen.... I don't want solutions, i don't want directions, i don't want advice... I want an ear..thats all..!
I want to talk about a million things - about what is it that i look forward to each day, what makes me happy and what is it that is making me unhappy, about the colour of the sky when i was returning today and the conversation i had with God (someone whom i don't believe in), about the house that i saw from the window of an old rattling bus and the emotions that i felt, the images that i saw, about an old man who climbed the bus with an old torn bag..he looked like my grandfather. about my mother who feels distant from me, about a boy who makes me laugh, about a man i love, about how my tears refuse to roll down when i so want them to, about how my head aches and i cant stop thinking...he tells me not to think...but scarlett O Hara had that ability to put aside a thought and say 'i will think about this tomorrow when i can bear it, not now'. Trust me i have tried that....god, it works in books........doesnt work with me...!
I look for a story...in my life...and the problem is that there is none. My life is as ordinary and regular as my neighbours or of the million other people living. Nothing out of the way is happening, there is no excitment, no thrill. I am neither a hero nor a villan not even a side actor...! Perhaps thats what causes all the problems..the fact that i look for a story..when there is none my mind makes one..tries to. A mind that does not know a shit about what its saying..and why...a mind without directions, without control and without logic. It just goes berserk. He is right, he makes sense..tries to give a direction to my thoughts, tries to control it...to bring it to a reality called 'Life'. I am stubborn and resist it, try to push it away..a beautiful story, a dream is being taken away...he tells me its necessary to let it go...its important...i know it is i say....and..........finally i surrender, give up and Life is Life again, she is real...standing there in front of me..mocking me for my stupid,feeble effort...she's got the better of me, she always does...she knows best and she is stubborn like hell....always does what she wants,always gets her way...LIFE...!
Got you - I have my story here...!

How much is too much???!

No really...how much is too much?? Am trying to write, trying to express what i mean when i ask this question but somehow am so jumbled up in my head that i cant write. Dont know how to frame my question?! As if this is a question for which i will receive a precise answer, as if it matters!
How do you know when you are driving someone up the wall? How do you know when your demands and wants start becoming unfair? How do you know how much to ask? I wonder sometimes if what i am asking for is too much..! Tell me, how do i know? By dialouge, thats the only way that i can think of. Why does dialouge become difficult? Because we cant let go of our desires. Sometimes i refuse to understand or bend because i feel the ache of my want so much that its difficult to ignore it. Its a step by step process..you want A and then you want 2A,3A...and so on. Is it too much?

Death!

There are times when i feel like i am sitting in a tunnel...a long winding tunnel...the end of which i cant see (pstt...did that come from Alice in wonderland..hummmmm) and feel like i am moving at the speed of light! The travel just goes on and on and on and on. At first i find the sights that cross and pass by interesting, i find myself curious to 'know' but then it kinda gets boring. I want to reach the end, FAST.......
Does this happen to everyone? I guess so...i guess everyone contemplates death.. sometime or the other...of how it will be to die..to not exist, to not breathe. When you stand at the door in a train...the movement of the tracks..fast...under you...just a difference of a few fingers holding on to the bar, only if they loosen a little bit..I will know what it is to die. But the fingers hold on, tighter, for what cause i do not know. As if life has whispered that it has something much more interesting to offer than death..and who can resist a bribe?!
While crossing the road..a moment when you have an out of the head experience and you feel you are not in your head anymore..you are down there, at the wheels of the nearest speeding vehical..crushed...does it pain??
The two things that almost everyone spends a hell of a lot of time considering, wondering, fearing, dreaming of is 'Life' and 'Death'. We think of others...who've lived as well as died...done both the things, while we are still doing just one of them, living...in anticipation or fear of death.
What hurts me and scares me about death is not death itself..but the fact that life goes on..behind me,after me people will still live, exist, breathe, dream, cry, laugh, walk, talk....all when i am not there..when i am not a part of it! I could say that about death as well..that how can people just die without me being a part of that experience, but somehow i dont. Because death is static...atleast what we know of it, is! Life is dynamic...always changing, evolving, engaging.
Come to think of it Nature created things that balance out each other. Moutains - valleys, desert - rivers, life - death, woman - man, Joys - sorrow!! Where do we as human beings go wrong, somewhere there is a calculation mistake...something that has gone wrong way back...if not..perfect symetry was possible..so i believe!

Done and over with, finally!!!

Huhhh.. Finally i will be able to write about other things, am finally done with the damn book. Fountain Head. All i can say is that the experience was exasperating. And yet i could not put down the book, had to finish it because of its brilliant story line. That was the only good thing about the book. There was no characterization in the book whatsoever. It was only Ayn... all along in the whole book. Ayn = Dominique = Roark = Wynand = Toohey = Peter Keating. Peter had no identity when he was talking, he could have been anyone. I couldn't understand where Roark began and Wynand began. Is that what Ayn intended? I don't know. What i know is that everyone spoke the same language in the same tone and everyone was looking for this profound thing.
When you read a book you forget that its been written by someone...all the characters, the places.. all come alive..so that by the end you know all of them so well. In Fountain Head i was always aware of the fact that Ayn was talking to me. The places that she described, the architecture was all so difficult to construct in the mind so that the places remained unreal.
Anyway... I did like the story and the fact that she has offered a different way of looking at some of the concepts that we have held for generations like - selfishness, selflessness, ego, religion, love.
Yesterday a friend asked which book was i reading, i told her. She asked me if the book was good and if she should read it. I still haven't found whether i want to recommend this book or ask people to stay away.

The Fountain Head!

Its the first time that i cant decide whether i like a book or i hate it..."fountain head". Scores of people vouched for this book...'Its a must Read.........is it...?! For one, its a philosophical world...all of it..its not a philosophical book..but Ayn has created a world of philosophy.
I believe all of us have a black hole in us..something that is not explainable..not reachable...most of us are not even aware of it...a lot of things get sucked in the hole...and we never know those things or those feelings/emotions existed. There are times when we recognize this black hole and for an instance operate in it...like a look or a glance..will tell us what exactly the other person is thinking...these things can never be put into words! But Ayn seems to operate solely in the black hole...!! Not just one character, all of them. The world that she has created,doesn't exist....the things that Dominique and Roark say..or believe....are from the deepest corner of the black hole. Till then it was still ok...but to my horror i discovered that everybody speaks the same language...of the unspeakable, unexplanable...even meek little Catherine. By making an attempt to say all that is usaid and unspoke..Ayn i feel has ruined it somewhere...it gets too loud and hence vulgar...!
The feeling that i got while reading the book was of those times when a special moment passes between two people...a specail look..that only the two of them know and understand...but as soon as you voice it, the charm is gone, the moment gone...it dissolves and flies away - thats what reading fountain head makes me feel.
Yet...i am hooked to the book. I havent finished reading it yet, the end will decide perhaps of whether i will like the book or not. At this stage its getting interesting...but it continues to be loud.

Didn't Rapunzel's hair stink?

Fairy Tales have never fascinated me. The snow whites, sleeping beauties, Cinderella's of the world fail to interest me. One reason behind it is the sense of beauty, good, bad that they portray. What is beauty..? What is it like to be beautiful?
"Beauty is skin deep" , "Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder" blah blah blah. I don't believe in the concept of beauty...i believe in the 'sensibility' of beauty. Yes there is a difference.
Do you like roses? And lilies..? I don't. I don't find them beautiful...i don't think roses even smell good. There...I've said it...! All along i used to think that what is it that people find so attractive about flowers..roses...? I just took their word for it and resigned myself to think that they must be beautiful ..if so many people say so..maybe it is so....but the truth is...thats not my sense of beauty...i find wild flowers that have no fragrance in them far more beautiful..all those colours...!

I once went to a hill station and my friends kept exclaiming how beautiful the sunset was and how beautiful the trees looked.....did they? To me that was not beautiful..what was beautiful was the magnitude of it all....the huge ball of fire in the never ending sky..the clouds..so so so white! Magnitude is beautiful for me...and so is a small little squirrel. Yes snakes are beautiful too...so beautiful.
When i see people who have a good face or good body...they are merely that for me..someone with a good face and a good body....thats about it. They don't interest me neither do they attract me. When i connect with someone at an emotional level, at a philosophical level, at an intellectual level... I find that person very attractive and beautiful.
You are beautiful when you can make others 'feel' beautiful........! Beautiful is an emotion for me... not a face, not the eyes, not the hair, not the figure.

Changing..!

"Its nice to go back to a place that has remained unaltered and see how you yourself have changed".....a few months back i went back to my college..had some work. This line kept playing in my head then, like a song that gets stuck in the head. It was overwhelming to see how life goes on...even after you...the canteen,the lecture rooms,the campus was all buzzing with life..with girls chattering just like we used to...everything was the same..except the eyes that watched all of this.
Change - i have always seen change as being 'beautiful. I think in images....so when i say change an image of a small bud comes to my mind..it slowly opens up, grows and a thousand colour petals..huge one's..sprout from it..that is how i see change. And yet, now when people tell me "God kasturi, you've changed" i dont like it. In school we used to write slambook enteries and say "never change", "be the same always", "you are so sweet, please dont change", to each other. Everyone changes, everyone grows up..then why do i have a problem with the change in me? Maybe because the colour of the petals in my case are subdued...are not bright and dazzling and attractive...they are sort of dull...unsure...hesitant...!!!
I dont desire to be a bud again, no, i just want the colours to cheer up a little..want my eyes to do patar patar the way they used to! Buttons eyes...small button like eyes is what i have..and yet someone once said "you have beautiful eyes, cause they are so lively...its like they have a life of their own". I just wish for that life to come back.
All this might sound terribly dull, like i am depressed or something..thats far from true. I am happier than i have ever been....lil joys, lil pains.....lil lil things to make my day...and someone to share all these lil things with. Life is beautiful....he makes it for me.

why piggie on the railway...

"Piggie on the railway picking up stones, down came an engine and broke piggie's bones. Ahh said the piggie, this is not fair, Oh said the engine driver, I don't care"
All of us have been both Piggie and the engine driver at some point of time in our lives! Times when we think that the world is out to get us..that all things unfair happen only to us..times when we say "why meeeeee, god why me" (remember?) And then there are times when we act like the engine driver, sometimes knowing that the piggie will be hurt and sometimes unknowingly...! Times when we say - I don't care.
My blog, my space is about all these times...and more...! I have no fixed agenda, no idea whatsoever what i am going to do and what i will write. Sometimes the things that i write will interest you and sometimes just bore you to death...Let's see what comes out...and what will be.