Saturday, September 17, 2011

What We Did Wrong

Ran away when there was no need. And we now live to regret it, every single passing second.

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Tuesday, September 13, 2011

I Think This Time We Shall Escape

Was that the thunder that I heard?
My head is vibrating,
I feel a sharp pain
Come sit by me, don’t say a word
Oh, can it be that I am slain?
Quick, Magdalena, take my gun

Look up in the hills, that flash of light
Aim well my little one
We may not make it through the night

This beyond everything is what I fear and cannot control. Everything else, is well under control. I feel this strongly with every passing day. Time truly does not wait. You know, my gut feelings are always right, and no, I am not being over dramatic again.

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All I feel Is Heat And Flame And All I See Are Dark Eyes

Its not as if I couldn't, it is just that I don't wish to. I could go to bed early, but it is just so difficult without you.

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Lily, Rosemary And The Jack Of Hearts

So, I asked for flowers and I got flowers. So many flowers, I can't complain, people dont do what I ask them to do. One gigantic bouquet mystified me. A giant, ginormous, life size bouquet of rajnigandhas from lil brother. So, I thanked him for the rajnigandhas and he asked me puzzled, "rajnigandhas?!" Ah brother, how well I know thee! I asked him if he knew that on online sites, rajnigandhas are often labelled as "tubeROSES". Brother said, "Argh! How was I supposed to know?"
Brother dear, had you not thrown a fit ALL those years when your botany/ biology practicals and projects were due, to blackmail me into doing your schoolwork, you would have KNOWN!

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Thursday, September 08, 2011

A Day In The Life

One day I am going to record the sounds that start and end my day. Beginning with sometimes birds twittering in the tree next to my bedroom window. The sounds of a radio being tuned by the dhobi who's positioned himself next to our building. People jostling near the water hydrant. The swish-swish of my maid doing a quick sweep and mop. The gentle whizz of the juicer. The sounds of breakfast being cooked. The rustling of the newspaper. The pitter-patter of the shower. The slamming of car doors. The cacophony of traffic. Phonecalls, pagers, intercoms, people, gentle clickety-clack of keyboards (sometimes), droning of voices, hum of airconditioners, the whooshes of coffee machines, punctuated twice or thrice by the azaan. Traffic again but this time a little gentler. The jangling strident calls of my cellphone. Television. Then, silence again.

And through it all, what I long to hear is this - the gentle lapping of tiny waves and the slap-slap of the water in the canals as vaparetto(s?) speed through or gondolas cut through. The sometimes raucous laughs of loud, Italian women, tourists for who this is the vacation of a lifetime (Who am I to say a thing? I keep posting these sorry pics on my blog) and the laughs, the fights and talk of people, who they say contribute in sinking this city a little more each year.

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