Strawberry Fields.

.... Annnnnd is back :D

Anyone missed me?

No? NO? NOO??

Ok :|

I've been at peace for a while now.

I'm not cynical about my existence unnecessarily anymore. It's good, my existence. Everything is sort of falling into place, almost automatically. Here, 'everything' really means 'everything emotionally'. There are no hang ups for now and that makes me very happy.

I am not a patron of clubbing nights anymore. It's boring, the charade. However, I do want to dress up and dance. Just not grind with strange men. Not even dress up, really. Just Dance!

I am not bothered by most people now. I don't pull my hair out each time anything minutely human ticks me off. I ignore. They say ignorance is bliss. I am in no mood to argue that.

All this and so much more;

I am not bound by nothingness.

I am free.

What makes a person dubious?

I think it's a machinery. A machinery that validates the fact that what you see in people is a mixture of what you want to see in them and what they want to show to you. That, I think, is the root of all doubts.

Completely unrelated, I know. Nevertheless.

All the things I had been running away from have caught up with me. 

So now, I am free! I want to run around in my hot pants shouting that!

If only it wasn't this fuckin' hot...

"Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields.

Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.
Strawberry Fields forever."

Stochastic.

I am majorly disoriented, of late. 

'Majorly' is not a real English word. It's slang for 'extremely'. 

Even 'mentality' isn't a real English word. It's like I have been sold a lie.

It sucks to be sold lies.

It sucks, even more, to be told lies.

Lies have never really been my 'thing'. 

It becomes too much to remember; too much of a responsibility.

Responsibility has never been my 'thing'.

It's a funny word, 'thing'. It's convenient, for starters.
Also, it puts across your point to the disinterested.
It's used randomly without cause or center.

The central alignment?

I think it's my quest to find the center. In life, generally.

This French philosopher dude named Derrida had interesting things to say regarding the center.

He said to define the center, one must define what is not-the-center. 

It works on the concept of the 'other' being responsible for identification and definition of an individual. 

Like, what is Black?

That, which is not white.

White is intimidating for me. It's too pure for my liking. Too fucking spotless.

It doesn't have stories to tell. 

It doesn't seem like it has stories to tell;

that's what is intimidating. The 'seeming' part.

It's a bloody appearance.

Appearance, we're all obsessed with.

I know I am. 

And I'm not even talking about the physical one. I'm more on the lines of the damn 'masks'.

The masks we wear are probably lots of fun.

They should be.

Otherwise, I see no reason for us all to be wearing them all the time.

It's all about the masquerade balls.

'Balls' are demeaning. No?

Men may jolly well debate about the presence or absence of 'balls of steel';

 but us women?

'Guts', 'Courage'... far more gender neutral.

Guts over Balls, any day.

Days pass me by like a blink of the eye.

It's got to be something to be this unproductive for days together.

'Together Forever'-- I used to love the super corny phrase.
And then life happened.
What is it about Utopian ideas of love that fade away?
Sooner or Later?
'Later' hasn't ever been my sign off.
It's way too impersonal. And abrupt.
I don't think it's warm enough; leaves an awkward taste.
Speaking of taste, I absolutely need good food. N-E-E-D.
I have been the eat-out/take-away girl for as long as I can remember.
The ever-so-popular 'ghar ka khaanaa' isn't my favourite cuisine.
At least not for some years to come.
You know what rhymes with 'come'? Rum.
It's been a while I had rum.  Exactly a week today.
Out of all of my 'substances', I like the flavour of rum the most.
Apart from its quality of getting me high.
I got high in the auto today morning.
The smell of weed makes auto drivers suspicious-looking.
Looking at people around is like a drug in itself.
It gets you high sometimes.
And sometimes, like now, it gets you down.
My lethargic, pathetic, melancholy self seems to have gotten the better of me.
Me? I am majorly disoriented, of late.

'Majorly' is not a real English word. It's slang for 'extremely'. 

Even 'mentality' isn't a real English word. It's like I have been sold a lie.

It sucks to be sold lies.

It sucks, even more, to be told lies.

Lies have never really been my 'thing'. 

It becomes too much to remember; too much of a responsibility.

Responsibility has nev...

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Wake Up !

Sundays SUCK! If I had my way, I would just scrap it off the calender. They're a wastage of my existence. I get up late, which is unlike me. I putt off my bath till as late as I can, which is also unlike me. I plan the things I need to do and never succeed.

Bah! A Fucking Useless Day.

Not to forget how I find unusual levels of love for the television set. Since morning I have watched : 

1) Friends

2) Dexte

3) Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham

4) Sholay

5) MTV (obviously!)

Now watching : Wake Up Sid.

I love that movie. It's almost aspirational. I would kill to have a pad in Mumbai a la Konkana Sen (in the movie).

I have assignments pending, unmet commitments, University finals in exactly a month's time. 

And what am I doing?

Sitting in front of the damn TV set, eating cheese-burst pizza, day dreaming about Mumbai and procrastinating anything and everything that's work.

D-o-o-m-s-d-a-y.
I blame Sundays for my miseries.
Bitches, them all!

Unfortunate Story.

I think I have become inarticulate. That really isn't that big a problem, usually. But when one has this growing burning sensation that seems to be coming out of the depth of one's soul, it's a fucking tragedy!

"Your dad issues are sexy", I was told yesterday. I just laughed. 

They were anything but sexy, I thought.

Later in the day I was made to realize that I am obsessive about my father. I didn't laugh.

It isn't entirely false, I thought.

It explains so fucking much!!

And I would have written better; but I have become inarticulate, remember?

I could hardly breathe. I think my deepest drawn fear is to turn into him.. or into any of his forms. Oh yes, he has forms. Forms that have always been out to get me; those that have been out to hurt me; those that have bred negativity over everything else; forms that re-establish the lack of a father figure in my life...

See! I am obsessive about him. I don't think I hate him, though. I thought in all these years when his physical presence in my life was in the form of his mental absence, his sheer existence would seize to matter. Clearly, I am being proved wrong. 

But we're convenient, like that. We don't talk. We don't see the need to. And that works.

But obsessive? The mere thought is shattering. It's confusing, like colour.

I am so much more calmer than I was just 24hours back. 

Obviously, in my own twisted way, I sought closure;

in pastures much forbidden, in lands much distant, in ideas much unacknowledged, in ages much older.

So, I called an old friend last night and met him today.

I met Rocky today.

We met after ages today.

I went to sleep today, fitting close against him, like the last piece of a puzzle.

I stroke his hair to annoy him as he made pasta for me.

We spoke about the Universe, nothingness, cosmos and all that in between.

I went to sleep today, fitting close against him, like the last piece of a puzzle.

I cried a little. We played random games.

We spoke about his wife and kids.

I went to sleep today fitting close against him, like the last piece of a puzzle.

The man is going to be special to me for always and beyond;

the greatest father, teacher, an Encyclopedia of grey matter;

My mentor. My confidante.
My world was monochrome again, minus the chaos of the colour.

Status-Of-The-Sought-Closure : Confusing.

My dad issues are sexy, apparently. Some see it as my glory.

That is the Unfortunate Story.

This Is My Cricket-Related Post

World Cup, 2011

30-03-11, Tuesday

India-Pakistan (semi final)

03-04-11, Saturday

India- Sri Lanka (final)

So I had a tri-colour patch on my face all afternoon.

So I bought a food+drinks+hookah combo to watch the match on a Big Screen Projector.

So I danced to the 'dhol', each time India scored four runs.

So I 'discussed' the first innings with some friends and some not-friends.

So I was hugely disappointed by India's performance.

So I felt a lump in my throat because Pakistan had only 260runs to chase.

So I obediently went out of the room when it was established that each time I entered, Pakistan scored.

So I smiled for a little more than few seconds when We Won :D

And I'm not really a cricket-person.

Life and its many ironies.

Summer afternoons are gloomy on most days. 

Then there are those days, like today, when you sit in air conditioned surroundings to cheer for a team you only half believe in, for a sport you only half understand.
I think it's the feeling of a country being one.
OR just sudden pangs of wanting to conform.

That'd be all.

If I Was A rich Girl...

It's the damn summer time. AGAIN. If there's one thing that will make me a very very happy woman, it is some serious retail therapy. There's just, however, a tiny obstruction between my will and my actions; that is, money.
But there are some things I have to get asap.
Deadline : By the end of May.

1) Haircut : Even though I would love a very-short-almost-crew-cut, I would have to settle for the some-bangs-in front-and-layers-at-the-back-cut. Bah.

Rs.400/-

2) Sunglasses : I cannot do without my shades. Even in winters. So I need a pair (or two) of Aldo Herwood Shades to tell the damn sun to fuck off; metaphorically of course.

approx. Rs.600/-

3) Wedges : This isn't so much to do with the weather, per se, as it is to do with the fact that I have not found a decent pair of wedge-heels in eight thousand years. Anyone who knows any place in Delhi where I can get some, please feel free to enlighten me.

err...price on request?

4) Sunscreen : The Cherry Body Lotion from Body Shop. Oh! It smells yummy.. and feels yummier. It is just the right amount of wet and dry. Just what I want  need.

Rs. 495/-

5) Conditioner : L'oreal Parie Total Repair Five Conditioner. I have to have happy hair in summers, for me to go through the day without killing anyone and the conditioner does just that. It's a tried and tested deal by yours truly.

Rs. 150/- (180g)

6) Slippers : Slippers from Ms.Jo, Saket, New Delhi. 

                   Some from Converse; blue probably. 

                   No more Oshos; I have grown out of them.

                   Okay. Maybe ONE.

Ms. Jo- Rs 349/-

Converse- Rs. 249/-

Osho- Rs. 100/-

7) Kurtas : Lots of Kurtas in lots of colours. Dull colours. Earthy colours. With an occasional hot pink, if at all. Or green.. I'm liking green a lot these days. 

approx. Rs. 150-200/-

District Centre, Janak Puri.

8) Frames : I need new glass frames. I've been wearing the same ones for almost a year now; 7months, to be precise. So from light pink, I think I am going to do the classic-librarian-frame-look;  a la Preity Zinta in 'Kal Ho Na Ho'. Probably, slightly thicker, though. 

Rs. 200/-

Janpath.

9) Shorts : I am not going to buy too many this year. I am not going to be very very very adventourous with the colours either. But yay shorts :D The only good thing about summer is regularly waxed legs.

Rs. 200/- (bargain-able)

Janpath/ Sarojini Nagar.

10) Jammies : Bright, happy pyajamas to last me all season :) :) Cartoons to Bold prints, I want them all.

Rs. 50-200/-

Sarojini Nagar.

11) Pink Lipstick: Oh! That I need to stand coyly next to my red one. I don't know what brand though. Of course, it has to be the PERFECT shade. Perfect, as it is in my head.

12) T-Shirts : Cool printed T-shirts from the Men's Section= Must Have.

                     Cool printed T-shirts from random flee markets = Must Have.

                     Cool 'Om'-printed T-shirts from Paharganj =Must Have.

13) Forever 21 : New love <3. Hence, must shop from there for all things beautiful.

14) Nail Paint : Local nail paint in turquoise blue.

15) A straight, short, cotton skirt : Black or Printed.

16) Jeggings : My blue ones feel left out without a black pair, I think. Hence.
Approx. 1100
Lee.


17) Jeans : Light blue well fitted jeans.

I've got 17 on my list, already?

Plus there's this spa I planned to take and this buffet lunc I really wanted to eat. The worse part? I got more I need to add to the list. 

When did I become so materialistic?

I feel content and happy already. And I have just written the list down. Ha!

Anyway, Must get Mum to pay for most.

"Maybe you can be my friend foh-eh-vah"

Remember when we were uglier than what we are now and were gawky and didn't know what to do with our arms for the most part?
Remember your first day in school when I thought your surname was 'Aila' for some strange reason and showed you my cavity in my quest of making you feel comfortable?

Of course you do.
I do too.

School will always be special for more reasons than one and yes we had a blast when we were together. But who would have thought that you and I, of all the people, would land up in the same college?
Sharing our subjects, books, seats, coffee, rum, jokes, cigarettes, money, rides, dreams, aspirations... life! I think it's just strange that it took so fucking long for you and I to become 'us'. It's a shame, really!
But better late than never, right?

Of course we have our share of the boring.

The days we hardly talk. We just sit beside each other, smoke our lungs out, sometimes laugh at the Mithas uncle, correct grammar on fancy posters and contemplate our split-ends along with other sob stories. I like how we don't have any burning need to make conversation all the time.

I like how it's okay-to-be-quiet with us.

Of course we have our share of the boring; Boring, but never stagnant.

Oh! And the mood swings!
How there are days when I want to kill you (out of love, of course) for being too rude.
And then those when you want to strangle me for being too mean.
Friends do not want to do that. Friends should not want to do that.
We, however, are different. Cool-ly so.
(Mean and Rude are NOT different things, freak!). 

From serious anticipation about whether or not we'd have to sleep our way up to the top at the workplace to our little secret theories about all things on the planet; from my 'scripting' your messages to a certain somebody to you taking care of me in the college canteen; from midnight loo conversations to our very very very long walks; from finding meanings to new words in that huge ass dictionary to using the ever so loved theory of being the rule or the exception in every given scenario; I can't help but be thankful. For you.
And sorry. For the world.
Of course I can't express that.. since we're just awkward when we hug each other.
Except for birthdays, of course. That's the 'exception'.

With time, we'd drift apart. Also, our careers (if any) might take us to different geographical locations. Then, instead of a boob job from my first pay check, I will come and visit you wherever you are with that money, so that we can hug and be all awkward and maybe then, I can finally teach you to pout...

Crossing the road would never be the same without you.

"Cya at eight kal?"