When I first laid eyes on you
My heart skipped a beat
I waited so long, so patiently
To hold you close
I told you my secrets
My trials and tribulations
Hoping you would understand
And you did
Such an old soul
Wise beyond your years
It was like you knew me
From another life
And god has sent you
to ease my pain
Silence was enough
For us to communicate
And empathise.
It was hard in the beginning
But we built our rhythms
You got me, I got you
The way you wrap your fingers around mine
Strength through the storm
Mama, you'd whisper
In the dead of the night
My blood, my cells, my spirit
Did I make you or did you make me?
My little man. My main man.
Apr 19, 2020
Feb 20, 2019
my youth is gone
six years since
eyes burying dead dreams
squinting to see through the grey and blur
lips pink with passion
now red and splotchy, bitten by self doubt
ears that were tickled by sweet nothings
battered by bitter silence
wind-swept hair -a memory of what falls limp on slumped shoulders
when your soul screams to be heard
when your skin screams to be touched
ravaged inside out by love and loss
a tired candle in dried, shapless wax
once reminscient of a luminous, luscious fire
My youth is gone. And so are you.
eyes burying dead dreams
squinting to see through the grey and blur
lips pink with passion
now red and splotchy, bitten by self doubt
ears that were tickled by sweet nothings
battered by bitter silence
wind-swept hair -a memory of what falls limp on slumped shoulders
when your soul screams to be heard
when your skin screams to be touched
ravaged inside out by love and loss
a tired candle in dried, shapless wax
once reminscient of a luminous, luscious fire
My youth is gone. And so are you.
Apr 17, 2013
the happiness index
We work.
All the time.
If we are not at office, we work on the phone, the laptop, the ipad or whatever else.
If we are not on one of these gadgets, our mind is at work.
All this for what, remuneration?
Remuneration.
Cash. Money. Green. Dough. Bacon. The big bucks.
The big bucks that buy us the big goods that are supposed to bring us the.... BIG HAPPINESS.
Consumerism plagues our country.
Packaging unnecessary wants as important needs.
Selling us brands, aspiring us to be richer and richer to buy more and more.
While, not allowing us to realize our true, latent desires.
Desires.
Small, simple moments of pure joy is all I hope for.
A walk by a gorgeous lake on a beautiful day.
(A lake that doesn't smell and has been maintained well for public use.)
A nap on a the green grass in a park somewhere with the husband on a Sunday evening.
(A park that isn't full of leering men who might pass comments or do worse )
A drive to a beautiful waterfall where I could dip my feet in and just dream.
(A drive that isn't made impractical and dangerous due to bad roads, rash driving and distance)
A weekend spent learning something new at a part-time class down at the local university.
( A weekend that isn't always the same - drinking, eating and drinking some more)
I live in Hyderabad.
And I don't see many options to fulfill my desires.
Its either not easy, convenient or affordable.
I miss living abroad.
Work pays more there.
The remuneration is life, truly lived.
All the time.
If we are not at office, we work on the phone, the laptop, the ipad or whatever else.
If we are not on one of these gadgets, our mind is at work.
All this for what, remuneration?
Remuneration.
Cash. Money. Green. Dough. Bacon. The big bucks.
The big bucks that buy us the big goods that are supposed to bring us the.... BIG HAPPINESS.
Consumerism plagues our country.
Packaging unnecessary wants as important needs.
Selling us brands, aspiring us to be richer and richer to buy more and more.
While, not allowing us to realize our true, latent desires.
Desires.
Small, simple moments of pure joy is all I hope for.
A walk by a gorgeous lake on a beautiful day.
(A lake that doesn't smell and has been maintained well for public use.)
A nap on a the green grass in a park somewhere with the husband on a Sunday evening.
(A park that isn't full of leering men who might pass comments or do worse )
A drive to a beautiful waterfall where I could dip my feet in and just dream.
(A drive that isn't made impractical and dangerous due to bad roads, rash driving and distance)
A weekend spent learning something new at a part-time class down at the local university.
( A weekend that isn't always the same - drinking, eating and drinking some more)
I live in Hyderabad.
And I don't see many options to fulfill my desires.
Its either not easy, convenient or affordable.
I miss living abroad.
Work pays more there.
The remuneration is life, truly lived.
Apr 9, 2013
its been too long, I haven't seen your pretty face ...
Back to 'the Sushi Bar' after just more than a year ! What can I say ... I was taking a sabbatical from being the working girl to be the lazy homebody who got sick, recovered from the sickness, traveled a bit, got back with the ex, got engaged to the ex, planned a kickass wedding, got married to the ex (who is now the current, for life) and is now living the domesticated life all in one eventful year.
Priorities change, but passions don't. And hence, I solemnly promise to keep that passion for the written word alive, and not take the chance of losing myself in the dark waters of everyday life. So here I am, doing just that. There is always the risk of posting crap here, but hopefully crap will get me back into the groove of blogging again. Cheers to that !
Mar 19, 2012
the pain washes away
I quietly hide...
from the pretense of life
where its okay to break down
I openly cry...
tears flow; hot and heavy
its easier when no one is watching
I willingly confess...
embracing the ghosts of my past
a brave act of acceptance
I gradually heal...
investing half an hour a day
to think about new beginnings
in the shower, the pain washes away.
from the pretense of life
where its okay to break down
I openly cry...
tears flow; hot and heavy
its easier when no one is watching
I willingly confess...
embracing the ghosts of my past
a brave act of acceptance
I gradually heal...
investing half an hour a day
to think about new beginnings
in the shower, the pain washes away.
Sep 7, 2011
Overheard online
Girl X to Guy Y during one of 'those' discussions - "If I ever have to commit suicide, I'll jump from your ego level to your IQ level."
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 3, 2011
the new. the old.
new city, new friends, new job, new life, new dreams. new me.
old memories, old pictures, old songs, old friends, old scars. still me.
old memories, old pictures, old songs, old friends, old scars. still me.
Aug 27, 2011
That perfect guy....
"Maybe someday I will find the guy for who I will feel like giving it all up. And that guy won't even have to ask me, because if he does, then he's not that guy. Does that make sense to you?" - The Diary of a Single Girl
Aug 17, 2011
creativity in chaos
Going through a long period of what is commonly called 'the writer's block', I have recently resurfaced on the beloved blog. While I am glad that I made it out of that dark corner, I kept trying to analyse it to figure out what went wrong. Part of that process was to find inspiration in my own work, calling for a thorough re-read of each post since I started 'the Sushi Bar' in 2007.
Then it suddenly came to me.... there is a strong positive correlation of the quality of the written piece with the frame of mind/phase of life I am in. If a graph had to represent these, then the flying peaks of happiness and deepest troughs of depression seemed to inspire the most beautiful work out of me.
What an irony. Here I am with my larger aim in life hovering around seeking stability and peace in life , hoping to balance these ac-dc phases of emotional turmoil and reach a 'zen' state of constant calm. Does that mean that I have to give up the deep spurts of creativity that emerge from these intense periods in my life?
Will I become boring and lose the edge if I attain 'zen'?
Then it suddenly came to me.... there is a strong positive correlation of the quality of the written piece with the frame of mind/phase of life I am in. If a graph had to represent these, then the flying peaks of happiness and deepest troughs of depression seemed to inspire the most beautiful work out of me.
What an irony. Here I am with my larger aim in life hovering around seeking stability and peace in life , hoping to balance these ac-dc phases of emotional turmoil and reach a 'zen' state of constant calm. Does that mean that I have to give up the deep spurts of creativity that emerge from these intense periods in my life?
Will I become boring and lose the edge if I attain 'zen'?
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 10, 2011
the plus side
the lesser-known positives of drunk dialing:
you wont be complaining about the hangover the next morning.. now you have bigger problems to worry about.
alcohol is known to grow balls on otherwise meek human beings. Well, atleast you are sure you have them now that you have had the courage to make the call and speak the absolute truth, no matter how much shit it gets you into.
it beats the hell out of puking your frustration out or making out with a random person.
if the drunk diallee still answers your call in the morning, you know he/she still cares for you.
the awkward apology the next day and the relief at the forgiveness that's thrown at you.
oh and you sleep better and not just tonight, because your heart is lighter.
you wont be complaining about the hangover the next morning.. now you have bigger problems to worry about.
alcohol is known to grow balls on otherwise meek human beings. Well, atleast you are sure you have them now that you have had the courage to make the call and speak the absolute truth, no matter how much shit it gets you into.
it beats the hell out of puking your frustration out or making out with a random person.
if the drunk diallee still answers your call in the morning, you know he/she still cares for you.
the awkward apology the next day and the relief at the forgiveness that's thrown at you.
oh and you sleep better and not just tonight, because your heart is lighter.
Jul 28, 2011
Lost. And found.
Day was thunder, night was storm
A wounded soul and a heart; torn
Jostling with questions,
Haunted by answers
Lost in confusion.
A stroke of luck
Destiny played its turn
You walked into my life. Again.
But this time, I noticed.
Lost in you.
The surreal rescue;
From that web of shadowy thoughts
From the dark waterfall of gloom
You set me free
Lost in hope.
Walking aimlessly on the street, I smiled again.
Smelling contentment in freshly baked bread
Hearing joy in shrieking children
Watching life play hide and seek around me
Lost. And found.
PS. Thank you. You know who you are.
Jul 10, 2011
Jul 7, 2011
It's funny how in spain...
its a dog's world in Espana. They dress up their dogs... like they dress up their babies.. and flaunt them all over the place... lol... designer sweaters, barrettes, little pigtails.. its cute!
the beautician who waxed my eyebrows... didn't believe it was important to wax her hands? And what takes five minutes in India and involves some basic skills, took half an hour, a whole of wax and then an extremely painful process and cost about ten times what it costs in India.
everything is compact... the flats, the roads, the dogs, the coffee cups, the cars, the washing machines, the television sets, the bars, everything except things I need to be compact for my three month trip - like detergent, jam and dish-washing liquid containers... those they made me buy in bulk!!
they talk at the bar, on the street, at the salon, on the bus, at the coffee place, in the club, on the beach, at the grocery store, on the metro.. anywhere and everywhere.. the Spanish love to talk. And I loved listening to their beautiful, animated chatter that was always full of life.
coffee is the end all and be all of Spanish existence. they drink it all day long, before, in between and after any meal during the day. The coffee menu is flourishing with options for varied, experienced tastes.
they like it slow and sensual. Why rush through the motions when you can stop every moment in time and make a 'fiesta' i.e. celebration out of it. In Spain, they serve your coffee slow so they can chat up with you, they make you wait longer in lines at the bank so you can get to know the person before and after you and the 'donoot' lady will tell you stories of her morning travel so you can enjoy ten seconds of smelling those freshly-baked sweet nothings before you start your day. While the world can accuse the Spanish of being lazy, I accuse them of being pleasure seekers rather than efficiency-obsessed.
food is an occasion in Espana.. they celebrate, bond, laugh, cry, share, ideate and connect over a meal. No wonder I love the place so much. My passion is the country's passion. Lunch is not to be taken lightly. Its a two-hour soiree complete with a beverage (most often alcohol), an appetizer, a main course and dessert. How do you go back to work after that, I don't know. What is the Spanish word for 'courage' again?
Speaking of 'courage', Barcelona is one of the craziest party destinations in the world and now I know why. After intermittent drinking through the day, serious alcohol intake starts up in the evening and multiple bar-hopping adventures ensue. Post that, people walk into clubs at 2 Am and party like rockstars into the morning. Breakfast, coffee and then work? Critics can blame the state of the country's economy on this phenomena if they like. I wouldn't though, I think partying is the fuel to their high performance on the happiness index.
For a person who has been a nomad all her life, I finally belong. I belong to Barcelona. Barcelona belongs to me. Te Amo Espana. and its funny how much :)
the beautician who waxed my eyebrows... didn't believe it was important to wax her hands? And what takes five minutes in India and involves some basic skills, took half an hour, a whole of wax and then an extremely painful process and cost about ten times what it costs in India.
everything is compact... the flats, the roads, the dogs, the coffee cups, the cars, the washing machines, the television sets, the bars, everything except things I need to be compact for my three month trip - like detergent, jam and dish-washing liquid containers... those they made me buy in bulk!!
they talk at the bar, on the street, at the salon, on the bus, at the coffee place, in the club, on the beach, at the grocery store, on the metro.. anywhere and everywhere.. the Spanish love to talk. And I loved listening to their beautiful, animated chatter that was always full of life.
coffee is the end all and be all of Spanish existence. they drink it all day long, before, in between and after any meal during the day. The coffee menu is flourishing with options for varied, experienced tastes.
they like it slow and sensual. Why rush through the motions when you can stop every moment in time and make a 'fiesta' i.e. celebration out of it. In Spain, they serve your coffee slow so they can chat up with you, they make you wait longer in lines at the bank so you can get to know the person before and after you and the 'donoot' lady will tell you stories of her morning travel so you can enjoy ten seconds of smelling those freshly-baked sweet nothings before you start your day. While the world can accuse the Spanish of being lazy, I accuse them of being pleasure seekers rather than efficiency-obsessed.
food is an occasion in Espana.. they celebrate, bond, laugh, cry, share, ideate and connect over a meal. No wonder I love the place so much. My passion is the country's passion. Lunch is not to be taken lightly. Its a two-hour soiree complete with a beverage (most often alcohol), an appetizer, a main course and dessert. How do you go back to work after that, I don't know. What is the Spanish word for 'courage' again?
Speaking of 'courage', Barcelona is one of the craziest party destinations in the world and now I know why. After intermittent drinking through the day, serious alcohol intake starts up in the evening and multiple bar-hopping adventures ensue. Post that, people walk into clubs at 2 Am and party like rockstars into the morning. Breakfast, coffee and then work? Critics can blame the state of the country's economy on this phenomena if they like. I wouldn't though, I think partying is the fuel to their high performance on the happiness index.
For a person who has been a nomad all her life, I finally belong. I belong to Barcelona. Barcelona belongs to me. Te Amo Espana. and its funny how much :)
note
you might be wondering why I am posting old pieces on my blog now? Well, they were sitting as drafts for months, even years. I guess I just sat on them, hoping that I will come back and make them better.. somehow perfect. But, closure is most important today. done.
Jun 14, 2011
that last kiss.
Never again, am I going to feel that tingly, warm graze of his slight beard on my cheeks. Never again, are those familiar brown eyes going to stare longingly into mine as I search for my eternity in them. Never again, will the same set of lips ever lock to create that 60 second hurricane of world-changing, soul-stirring intercourse of love and lust between two individuals. Never again, will I have my last kiss with him again, cos this is it.
You know what is a real tragedy.. when you know that a kiss is the last.
When you know its the last ... the mind is wheeling in so many directions. Flashing between the past, the present and the future of how you got to this moment where you are parting ways with some one who is obviously important in some way, you are unsure of how to remember this. Is it him, is it me, is it both of us, is the world that wouldn't let us be together..... Would the questions just stop for minute and let this sweet moment of surrender to my lust be the answer to my angst. Would the pain part ways with me to let pleasure play its part for this might be my last kiss with him?
You know what is an even bigger tragedy.... when you don't realize that a kiss is the last.
I do that routine two-second peck on the lips just before I leave for the escalator to catch my flight, smile, say our good byes and leave. And as I walk away slowly, fixing my laptop bag strap on my shoulder and check for my boarding pass and turn around to glance back at him, without for a second thinking that this might be the end of it all.
If I knew that this was my last kiss, would I play it differently? Oh what I would give, to rewind to that moment in time. To relive it, and really savor it .... to find a way to somehow make those few seconds last forever. And now the million dollar question: What is the perfect last kiss? Everything just freezes around you , and the only noise around you is two faint heart beats thumping in a confused synchrony. While the voice in your head screams at the top of its lungs in ecstasy, and your lips are shamelessly confessing the same... somehow you can't utter the words ... even to each other.... in the fear that this will all get jinxed and just disappear...
which it did anyway, despite all the precautions I took! :(
So this is an ode to the last kiss, the mother of all kisses... because there isn't going to be another one like this one.
You know what is a real tragedy.. when you know that a kiss is the last.
When you know its the last ... the mind is wheeling in so many directions. Flashing between the past, the present and the future of how you got to this moment where you are parting ways with some one who is obviously important in some way, you are unsure of how to remember this. Is it him, is it me, is it both of us, is the world that wouldn't let us be together..... Would the questions just stop for minute and let this sweet moment of surrender to my lust be the answer to my angst. Would the pain part ways with me to let pleasure play its part for this might be my last kiss with him?
You know what is an even bigger tragedy.... when you don't realize that a kiss is the last.
I do that routine two-second peck on the lips just before I leave for the escalator to catch my flight, smile, say our good byes and leave. And as I walk away slowly, fixing my laptop bag strap on my shoulder and check for my boarding pass and turn around to glance back at him, without for a second thinking that this might be the end of it all.
If I knew that this was my last kiss, would I play it differently? Oh what I would give, to rewind to that moment in time. To relive it, and really savor it .... to find a way to somehow make those few seconds last forever. And now the million dollar question: What is the perfect last kiss? Everything just freezes around you , and the only noise around you is two faint heart beats thumping in a confused synchrony. While the voice in your head screams at the top of its lungs in ecstasy, and your lips are shamelessly confessing the same... somehow you can't utter the words ... even to each other.... in the fear that this will all get jinxed and just disappear...
which it did anyway, despite all the precautions I took! :(
So this is an ode to the last kiss, the mother of all kisses... because there isn't going to be another one like this one.
May 15, 2011
that first kiss
Why is there always this big fuss about the first kiss. Aren't you sort of fumbling anyway? And why do we hang the albatross of the success of the future relationship around our necks based on how great that first kiss is?
"Oh.. that's a little too much tongue... this guys is probably too aggressive, or maybe he is a pervert .... no way I wanna date someone like that. "
" God he is hardly opening his mouth, what a wuss.... I cant date such a meek fellow who is too scared to face a kiss head on, I mean what he is going to with larger challenges in life"
Really... all that .. from a kiss?
What is a perfect kiss anyway? Is it technique, the person or the hope that those closed eyes will unveil the dreams of the next five ten years with the ones we've locked lips with? In my opinion, all the expectations we have are what sets it up for failure. whether its a kiss or the relationship.
And we shouldn't make a big deal about a first kiss because its exactly that... the FIRST kiss. Doesn't that logically mean that we have so many more kisses to build a connection with this person i.e. chances to work on things and be mature about giving some one a real shot at being your partner.
I'll tell you where to shift the spotlight to. Wait for the next post, por favor !
"Oh.. that's a little too much tongue... this guys is probably too aggressive, or maybe he is a pervert .... no way I wanna date someone like that. "
" God he is hardly opening his mouth, what a wuss.... I cant date such a meek fellow who is too scared to face a kiss head on, I mean what he is going to with larger challenges in life"
Really... all that .. from a kiss?
What is a perfect kiss anyway? Is it technique, the person or the hope that those closed eyes will unveil the dreams of the next five ten years with the ones we've locked lips with? In my opinion, all the expectations we have are what sets it up for failure. whether its a kiss or the relationship.
And we shouldn't make a big deal about a first kiss because its exactly that... the FIRST kiss. Doesn't that logically mean that we have so many more kisses to build a connection with this person i.e. chances to work on things and be mature about giving some one a real shot at being your partner.
I'll tell you where to shift the spotlight to. Wait for the next post, por favor !
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