वीरानी हालत

'नवाबी हिन्दी' में तुम्हे एक कहानी लिख दूँ?
ख़ुद को कैसे खुश कर लूँ?
खुश हो लूँ बस।
हालत बड़ी बेकार है।

PS - the title is copied from Atif Aslam's album called "हंगामी हालत"

Neurotic and happy to be

Dear Z has diagnosed me to be neurotic.

Merriam Webster: Neurosis : A mental and emotional disorder that affects only part of the personality, is accompanied by a less distorted perception of reality than in psychosis, does not result in disturbance of the use of language, and is accompanied by various physical, physiological and mental disturbances (as visceral symptoms, anxieties, or phobias)

Psychosis : fundamental derangement of the mind (as in schizophrenia) characterized by defective or lost contact with reality especially as evidenced by delusions, hallucinations, and disorganized speech and behaviour.

बुलंद बिसमिल खामोश...

Grrr Grrrrrr (Clenched Teeth)

Do Dil - Noori playing/blaring (rare noori mediocre work)
Irritation in the throat
Frequent Sneezes
Want to fuck myself over, more than how fucked I am or have ever been.

Got to think of the biggest public health crisis of the country tonight but how the fuck do I get myself to do the research when all I ever seem to want to do is read Amitabh Bachchan's blog, Hamza's blog, Ali Noor's blog, Fonzy's blog and hope that Anumita , Prat, English August have written something. "God bless the internet" but it's fucked my life over. I have turned stalker, MIND I stalk like crazy. Celebrity's, lovers, friends even my mother. Damn the internet. And all this mindless shit I tell myself is research for the fancy books I shall write someday, I say I need to read all and as much as I can, and so what if I turn blind staring at my computer.

Crazy woman who writes for nobody. LoSeR!!

Who the Fuck is Alice?

My Principal (Headmistress) at school was a very unlikely nun of sorts. Her name you needn't guess. I must confess before I proceed any further that I am shit scared writing this post, shit scared. Most of my life and going good still I've always been scared of people who have been bestowed of the divine duty of educating me and making me a fine woman. I fear them all from my favourites, the ones I truly respect to those I completely detest. I change my path, I look away, I might even run, I do it all.

This piece is not about some deep influence she's had on my life. She never really taught me at school, a little catechism maybe and the singing in the choir, nor was she the friendly sweet nun. The entire school was petrified of her, I hate to say this but most kids didn't like her, my friends didn't. Strange but I don't particularly remember how I felt about her then. But if you asked me now to name one awesome gorgeous woman I know I'd say, her. In fact I'd say she's more charming than any goddamn actress.

On a glance she might seem very ordinary looking, but if you looked longer maybe you'd see what I see and maybe understand why I'm so gaga over her. I'm not too good with guessing peoples age, I'd say she's forty two. The only piece of clothing you'll ever see her in is an off white saree or a grey saree, nun remember. She dyes her hair, she pull it back in an elongated clip or holds it up in a bun. No don't get the idea that wish to talk of good looks here. Yea I absolutely droole over hot creatures, men and women. I use the word hot not less than twenty times a day. But you can even trust a loser writer on this one that you can't write of hotness, it's so uncool. No offence meant but I can never imagine myself to be a fashion writer as much as I like that stuff.

She is to me almost a synonym of joy. When I think of her I can see her easy smile and how you could always see that she'll always be nothing but happy. Not like she smiled around at school all the time, she mostly frowned, it was her job I guess.

Now I think she was so different from everybody around her. The other nuns were jaded and bitter, thought weirdly, they were humans of another kind. We were too young. The teachers were mostly married and life for them was family alone. The younger teachers were pretty brainless. She was different from us all. She lived in a room of which I have no clue. She seemed so content all the time. She seemed to like reading a lot, I don't what she read though. She covered her books and we happily spread rumours that she was reading porn of sorts (I'm sure that's not the word we used then). She loved to sing and she sang beautifully in the choir. Unfortunately the conclusion that I've drawn from most older people I've seen is that their discontent at life increases as they grow older. But she wasn't like that. She was too happy, too perfect, too free for her time and place.

When we finished school at sixteen, all my friends and me howled and cried like crazy. We believed that leaving school was a tragedy forced on us, it would sooner or later break the bonds, we thought it was the end of our lives together, we thought separation would come in the way of us being family. We were so wrong you can never leave school can you. None of us have I know for a fact. We're the best of friends, we know we're family that will never leave.

Back then I never thought I'd run into my Principal ever again. Well I did. I first ran into her last winter in Delhi's big church. I saw her and before I could put my thoughts together she waved. I walked to her and next I was holding her hand and talking. The usual updates etc. I was so thrilled to meet her. After that I ran into her a couple of times more and she told me too that she was really happy to see me around so often.

There's this feast called "Christ the King". It's a really big sunday for the Delhi church. On that Sunday Christians from all Delhi from all smaller churches come to the big church. That day I saw her in the front in the choir just like in school. How I wished I was in the choir too. There was this kinda hot priest/brother who was leading the choir and I found myself thinking "I bet he has a crush on her/ they have a thing for each other" just like we'd anticipate in school whom she liked, and how many lovers she might have (Sinners!)

I saw her again at Christ the King this winter, in the choir and stared at her in awe. She was still the same, so fucking perfect.

*********

Ours was a superkool school, we had over twelve hours of disco music in the auditorioum on weekends. Our seniors played the song real loud if she happened to be nearby. And we oooh aahhed, we were scandalised.

I really like the song by the way. It's about the best kind of love. When you're so happy loving even if it's totally fucked. When you love even when there's no chance of being loved in return and it's the only thing that can make you happy.

And the happy tune could be the background to a video of her happy face.

God Bless

Curly haired, brown hair. Wears big earrings. Giggles a lot and turns red. Buys a pair of socks almost everyday. Dreams and lives up to them. Vegetarian. Likes those colourful chic beads and clothes. Can deal with and love men. Makes me fuck happy and proud.

Off to live dreams, film school dreams, bollywood dreams, movie dreams... first night at film school. Halleluiah...

आलाप
If I ever saw an orange firefly
I would send it to kiss your feet...

Birthday baby

Wait o wait o wait. I wish time would slow down a little today. I am twenty three years old today. Happy yes. Too calm though. I wish I could cry like I used to. But I don't want to cry, I just wish I could. I wish I could want something that bad. But then maybe I have all I want and because I am so happy racing through life that there is no need to cry. Maybe I'll never cry again. No I haven't turned numb and s###. I'll just never cry now.

Lame. Twenty three years old. Happy as ever. But wishes to cry. Somebody explain. Likes to dress up. Loves the right way. Laughs just right. Not scared. Dances like crazy. "Awesome". "Awesome". There's no end to the awesomeness. In love with boy beautiful.

Yea yea I'm a WOMAN who's found her way in life, maybe. Oh no but life hasn't begun yet.

What do I say for the twenty three years but thank you.

: ) Sigh.

BrAvO!

Heres to every run you've hit. To your glory and the 'glory of sports'.

Bravo!

My friend forever. How are you so beautiful to me. How can you be enough for it all. How can it take just the two of us to make it so right. And damn the men you and I ever loved. Damn every curse. How can you fix it for me so good. And if I were to die tonight, I'll know that you loved me and so what if you had a brother to love as well. I had none, I had you and them. I'll know I love you more than any dream I've ever had and that my life was complete.

I said hello

He sings it just right.

The lake is a mirror tonight

You're too simple.

You'll be happy.

Forever.

Colour it red.

Colour it pink.

Do what you want.

A sin is a sin.

There are these lines on the front of my hand, my palm. They say, they say something. Look and tell me what I am. Tell me what I wish to be. Tell me what I'll be. Tell me what I live for. Tell me what I'll live for. I know, you tell me?

THANK YOU

Life that you breathed into me when I came at your door.

Maybe on lonely nights.

Maybe on endless days.

That which you gave to me, though I never asked you.

Your's that I took from you.

Why do I forget that I owe the same elsewhere, that I owe it myself.

October afternoon

bucket full of clothes,

I'll sing till I turn deaf.

The blue polythene is stuck on the tree,

the cow might chase you till you go crazy.

Till you jump into the lake,

and then maybe you'd turn into a frog and live in peace,

forever and ever.

Remind of this really cheesy thing I really believed in years ago "Dreams that you dare dream sometimes do come true".

Now when I have the time. Now that I can. Now when I want to more than any other time.

Tell me to make it happen.

Someone is spending birthday with someone special. There's this boy playing cards tonight. Two old pals from school meet tonight. Someone is sitting cosy at home with a cold, home in Bombay, Aaah. Sisters spend tonight like every night, perfect.

This perfect world wish never ends for you.

Me so blue. All blue, even dressed in blue.

Fix me up. I'm twenty two. Running out of time. Fix me up. I beg.

What he said didn't break her heart, she just sat and smiled, amused.
She's out of her mind.
It was more beautiful than anything she'd ever imagined, he did something more than what music does to her.
Liar! Liar! she does'nt believe in anything that is not her imagination. You know her.
He sat there clueless of what she was thinking. She couldn't see him, it was getting dark.
Aaah, that's how she's always liked it.
Why did he look so beautiful to her, it was so dark.
I bet she didn't stop smiling.
You bet, he did something more than what music does to her you see.

If I could write this poem.

And then if I could sing it to you, dancing.

And then you'd see how happy I was.

And if you understood why,

then I'd be happier than how happy I am.