Dec 20, 2014

of ketchup and haircuts.

  1. you have to seriously reconsider your cooking when your husband reaches for ketchup/pickle at every meal
  2. you can lose friends over a hair cut! [or earn their wrath =( ]
  3. 'stealing the thunder' is a real thing. 

enjoy the weekend you guys!

Dec 18, 2014

*will the real slim shady please stand up*

Okay, so i have been to a couple of couples to their annulments of their love 'affairs' (strange affairs) by getting married to each other. I tried to be happy for them but was difficult, the impending 'life' that awaits them when they'd have to live with each other, wake up calls to breakfast through the afternoon stroll phone calls till the dinner. 

Marital happiness is highly over-rated if you ask me. Worse still if you have the perfect 'partner'. By 'perfect' i mean 'worldly perfect'. When you know there are a dozen women/men your spouse can keep/make happy but you are just you.
More like the pair of 'perfect parents' who have been there, not too pushy - but, not setting up boundaries - but. You know what I mean right?

Perfect marriages are like Santa Clause, just like perfect bosses are. Out there somewhere, maybe, but just no one in your fictional chimney. 

The other thing I would like to ask is how long and how many times does the haircut therapy work? 
My hairdresser on my recent visit to the salon was devastated to have to cut my 'long' tresses. I told him, it is just hair it will grow back;

 -hair now, gone again-  

Nov 20, 2014

lost and found and lost

I thought someday I will find you. Somehow. Even as I was leaving. 
There wasn't a fixed plan, nor a fixed time. It was always a time in future. But in time, I knew I will find you.

Someday in an overpriced coffee house that stores a guitar on that noisy street; there where you would order a doughnut complain how pricey it is, pick up the guitar and start plucking it. No, you wouldn't play, will be beneath you to play with ‘the mood’. Well maybe not that grand, but I thought someday I will find you.

Or maybe, someday on the street, when the traffic stopped, at the signal? It does sound cliché doesn't it? But you liked clichés you believed in them. The typical Bollywood you, minus the hypocrisy. Yes, someday when that signal turns red on me, I thought I will look on my left and there you would be on your shiny black horse. Horse? Yeah, it was nothing less than a horse. Yes, someday I thought I will find you.

But you are lost, it has been a long time. I should have found you already, before I lost all of me. 

Shouldn't I have? Why are you elusive?
I should have found you already. I should have found you so that you could find me in return.

Meri nayya paar lagane. 

May 1, 2014

Falling slowly

Killed myself. Died when I broke the promise I made to myself.

He was right. All my life I will be just OK. He cursed me.

No I am just blaming him and him. He doesn't need to be sensitive. I need to stand up and fight for myself. I need to walk out of the mess that I have made of myself, to be myself again.

...Moods that take me and erase me and I am painted black...

Dec 27, 2013


Here I am. Back. 

I just wrote to a friend saying:
life will never be the same again, but it isn’t too different (if you know what I mean)”"

I am not too different today, am just an upgraded version of myself. Some one new, some one I never knew existed. I feel more powerful, the power manifesting from his love; Love that is non-verbal, non-tangible, non-negotiable.

I am married. I share my  life with him now.

I will never be the same again, but I am not too different either…

More later!


Mera wo samaan lauta do...

Day dreams. Pretence.
You and me back then. Pretence.
Ignore me like you always did.
Love me like you never did.
Far away. Near. Pretence.
Tears. Smiles. Pretence.

I jump off mountains, I walk those empty streets, I, up up and away.
Reality. Pretence.

Looking for you. Empty not. full? Not yet. Looking for you. Pretence.

...ek sou solah chaand ki raatein, ek tumhare kandhe ka til...

Samaan tere paas...main? Pretence.

Sep 9, 2013

Die, fucking die.

The death of romance.
The death of conversations, of deep gazing, of day dreams, of hope and of mystery, of the sense of adventure. The death of poetry, the murder of that-picture-perfect-moment. The hopelessness of it all, the death of magic.