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!
7/22/07
7/12/07
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!
7/3/07
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’?
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’?
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