To be or not to be... is there ever an end to it?

In the last few months I have experienced what it feels like to be “falling” and then “in” love – the smile that cannot under any circumstances be wiped off the face, the whole drill of missing even when there is really nothing much to miss, the sentences begun and then left incomplete, the whispered phone calls till late at night – the winter serving as the best excuse to pull the blanket over the head – though I wonder what happens in the summers, the whole wardrobe overhaul, the mirror becoming the best friend, finding everything beautiful, the complete (blissful?) ignorance of the depleting bank balance, unearthing beauty in the strangest of things – things you never remotely thought would come under your radar, the tensed calls from home, the explaining that you never wanted to be a part of, the whole experience of digging one’s own grave by making the mistake of opening your mouth more than necessary (yeah I know it’s a little corny! ; D), the long conversations over “assignments”, the walks in the midnight, the whole experience of the moment when the rest of the world suddenly vanishes into oblivion when you both are there together, the extended meals, the wait…


God is there ever an end to it?!

Had been thinking that the blog needed a different look. Was getting bored myself. So in a spur of a moment I thought of changing the template. Then major screw up happened and now one is only left with this. Have to get back to all those blogs I had gotten into the habit of following.
Some things are indeed best left unchanged...

So much a for New Year...

And the New Year arrived – for some with all the pomp and hype, and for some with a whimper. Spending the New Year’s Eve away from home I thought to make the most of it and indulge in all the hoopla that I have missed out on all these years. Plans were discussed, schedules were set, and arrangements were made. The result was – a small group of close friends, a bonfire on the terrace and a moderate amount of booze. The perfect combination for a perfect beginning to a (as I already know) less than perfect year that is to unfold. But there is a reason why I am known to be jinxed. Even while the plan was on and rolling, the clock struck 12 and all we had were two friends waiting for the rest to come, more importantly for the “parcel” to come, and all the while doing what? – knitting!

Two hours later – the “parcel” never came neither did the carriers of the parcel. The close knit friends finally made it after being stranded on the road on 31^st night – but an hour late. Phone calls to family failed as the network got jammed and then later it became too late to call home – unless I wanted to start off a false alarm. Two glasses of homemade wine is all we had between six of us – not to mention that my share was robbed off by bullying juniors.

The bonfire happened and so did the waking up of the ‘good Brahmin’ neighbourhood while we scavenged for fuel for the bonfire. We did of course have five months of old newspaper and two cans of deo. An hour and half into ‘having’ the bonfire - the unanimous conclusion was none of us will ever survive in a jungle. We may call the city a jungle but the very first day the year reminded us once again that we are very a part of that ‘jungle’.

Happy New Year, folks!

The guava effect.

Air rights.

Jigsaw pieces.

Reading.

Missing pink socks.

Music.

Walks.

Shorter calls.

Loop.

Conversations.

Fan clubs.

Twenty questions.

Porota.

More walks.

Long calls.

Horoscope.

Lucky hours.

I look out of the window and the only thing I see (ignoring of course Gogo's giant structure in the making) is a slice of the sky. It's been a long time since I looked out of the window to watch the moon at night. It's become a long lost privilege. And then I look again and am struck by the checkered math book view of Gogo's structure. Every floor has a different story to say. A further progression towards completion. The wooden framework for the doors are in place while the walls are interestingly lacking. The structure already seems to moan while the iron rods hold the ceilings up. The top floor seems like the 'blissfully ignorant' kid still reaching out for the sky, its little fingers (read ugly looking iron rods jutting out) stretched out.

The voices and the clammer are now a part of my (our?) living reality. A metal hitting another wakes me up. A drill usually gives me company during my morning ablutions. The JCB struggling to move its goliath figure within a narrow space of five feet (that's all the space there is between the two buildings) forms the event of the day in my uneventful-but-needs-to-finish-a-lot-of-work life.

But, if only...

Christmas came in through the door last night with all the warmth and affection that one can expect, and even more, at a place far away from home.

If only.

Agree with PZ about missing those simple things of home.

The house filled with the smell of baking cake that mum makes in the old rusty aluminium oven. The smell of coffee going around in circles around the house. We spend the whole afternoon making my favourite fruit cakes with cherry and cashew toppings. Would give anything to be at that moment of time, right here right now.

But, if only...

Stringing words together

An irritated but lazy morning. Nothing much (being the operative word) to read. A hay-wire auto trip. The first taste of the election chaos. Celebrity hopping, if I may call it. Clicks. Snaps. Meaningful conversations. Cozy dinners with close-knit friends. Life has so long been quite nice. But I am still watching out. And nowadays I am finding words more helpful.