Woe Is Me

The baker got a PHUNKY haircut, and it makes him look like a cross between a macaw and a lunatic, when the aim was a jap hipster. So much fail!

Nani Arranges Mother Goose Ensembles At Local Kirtan Mandli

Like a lot of people my age, my parents too packed us off to my maternal grandparents' for our summer vacations. We resented it, because while my classmates had photos of Goa or Bombay or Shimla or 'Whichever US Univ Dad was teaching at', we, 8 times out of 10 were visiting the boondocks (interior Awadh) and had no exotic tales (or so we thought) to relate.

Nani (maternal grandmother) awaited our summer vacations 10 times more eagerly than we did. We were Nani's little showpieces, with multilingual skills (Hindi, Bengali, English and a smattering of German heavily embellished when we faltered), musical abilities (Ha!), dancing talent and various other skills that Nani couldnt wait to show off.

Nani would announce months in advance, our royal arrivals and departures. Every single day, some rural lady would come to gawk and mark attendance in Nani's Court, at us little precocious princelings and princesslings.

This royal appearance would consist of us being first scrubbed from head to toe, being dressed in frocks/ skirts/ dresses or pants/ jumpers (Indian clothes did not hold much favour with Nani who thought them ganwaar and old fashioned), having our hair brushed till it shone (I always suffered because I had hair below my waist and the agony of having it brushed and plaited into neat braids, I will never forget), and putting on socks and shoes in the hottest months of UP. Then after we were suitably attired and checked by martinet Nani, we would be made to sit side by side in Nani's receiving rooms. Only then would the rural (and sometimes not rural) guest be allowed to feast their eyes on us. Our praises would be sung to high heavens. Our beauty would be compared to Lakshmi, Saraswati and Durga depending on the mood and our virtues would be extolled to no end.

Then hot tea or Brahmi Sherbet (I will not care to explain this, for fear that I will start howling and wailing without stopping) or Bael Sherbet or Phalsa Sherbet or Aam Panna or Shikanji or some similar tasty drink would be served with hot pakodas or matthris (Like only women in my family are capable of making and I do not exaggerate when I say this) or some hot snack and ladoos, kachri (rice flour wafers), different kinds of papads, sev, biscuits, halwa and the fruits of the season (more often than not, dassehri or langdas from our orchards) would be served. If the visitor had strained circumstances, a big fat pack of food was prepared to take home. After the heavy nashta, cold water from our wells would be served (I am not maudlin when I say this, but I have never drunk tastier water than the water from our wells and tube wells. Was it the ghaghra -Sarayu river- or what, I dont know). After cold water was gulped down in 1 litre big brass tumblers, it was a signal to the guest that it was time to bid a fond farewell and Nani would start relating what a busy person she was. The guest would then stuff money in our hands (ranging from 2 Rupees to 100-500 Rupees, depending on the socio-economic background) and we would get Nani's signals to touch the guests feet regardless of social stature. The guest would then comment on how well- brought-up we were and depart.

Once a week, Nani would assemble a kirtan mandli, consisting of all the ladies in the village, who would assemble and sing kirtans (hymns) very very tunelessly. Nani had also included folk songs which she would improvise according to the situation. This was also Nani's way of gathering info about the goings-on in the village and was the perfect way of her getting the opportunity to poke her nose in business that most certainly wasnt hers. During our vacations, she would drag us to her kirtan groups and her mandate was that we perform at the events. The performance had to be new and unique and preferably should not be repeated. I, my siblings and my cousin sisters would rack our brains and come up with stuff. So, the good ladies of Ganeshpur were exposed to cultural oddities such as Mother Goose's Bobby Shaftoe, Cobbler Cobbler, The Crooked Sixpence, For Want of a Nail, Little Tom Tucker etc. and also stuff like 500 Miles, O Captain My Captain, Daffodils, Ave Maria, Rabindrasangeet and Nazrul giti, all the chota khayals I sang horribly, I have a dream, Fernando, Brown Girl in the Ring and my sister and my odissi and kathak awful awful recitations. My odissi recital (it was way beyond awful, was a dashavtar piece that I was forced into at school - difference was I did all the parts at Nani's) proved to be the crowd stealer and was mentioned for many years to come. I still chuckle at the memories and how Nani would force junta to form an audience to appreciate her gifted, talented granddaughters and grandsons.

Once we reached our teens, we rebelled and refused to perform. That was the end. Had I known or realised the powerful love behind Nani's orders, I would have danced till my feet dropped off, whenever she wanted me too and sung till I lost my voice. I now know what an amazing powerful force my Nani was and I hope I have even a tenth of the lifeforce she had, and a fraction of the strength she showed till the last breath she took.

What We Did Wrong

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

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.

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.

Atleast I Have Bob

The saddest truth about growing up is that one is always alone. One has a family, parents, friends, etc. etc. but when you really need human presence, it is not there. Isnt it funny how one can be so lonely in a city of over 13 million people and in a country of 1.21 billion people? You have people to hang out, but you may not feel relaxed in their company or you are not able to schedule them into your life. Really, who on earth would have time for a conversation and tea at 1:00 am? Perhaps it is time to change the whole chosing thing. Meanwhile, there'll always be Bob.

The Fortune-Telling Lady Has Even Taken All Her Things Inside

Now the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortune-telling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he’s dressing
He’s getting ready for the show
He’s going to the carnival tonight
On Desolation Row
Haven't done a lot of Dylan because my life has been smooth as silk lately. A little bump here and there, every now and then, but silk it is. I have my cocoons, looms and weavers. They may not know it, but everyday I look at them going about their busy business and pray for them.

This post is not as senseless as it looks, atleast to me.

Pain That Stops and Starts - A Decade

1. It will be ok.
2. I can't manage you, but sometimes maybe you should give it a try.
3. I have many many many demons that we have easily identified. I'm not asking you to slay them, just soothe me while I'm dealing with them.
4. I told you I was contradictory.
5. Sometimes, even the world isnt enough when I need the space. Let me roam.
6. Whats the sense in changing horses in midstream?
7. I am back in the rain and you're on the ledge - You made it there somehow.
8. I'm just like that bird - singing just for you. I hope you can hear. Hear me singing through these tears.
9. Time is a jetplane. It moves too fast.
10. I remember but thats no reason for interrogation. Non?

Do Not Be Angry When You Go To Sleep

If you want a lover
Ill do anything you ask me to
And if you want another kind of love
Ill wear a mask for you
If you want a partner
Take my hand
Or if you want to strike me down in anger
Here I stand
Im your man

If you want a boxer
I will step into the ring for you
And if you want a doctor
Ill examine every inch of you
If you want a driver
Climb inside
Or if you want to take me for a ride
You know you can
Im your man

Ah, the moons too bright
The chains too tight
The beast wont go to sleep
Ive been running through these promises to you
That I made and I could not keep
Ah but a man never got a woman back
Not by begging on his knees
Or Id crawl to you baby
And Id fall at your feet
And Id howl at your beauty
Like a dog in heat
And Id claw at your heart
And Id tear at your sheet
Id say please, please
Im your man

And if youve got to sleep
A moment on the road
I will steer for you
And if you want to work the street alone
Ill disappear for you
If you want a father for your child
Or only want to walk with me a while
Across the sand
Im your man
If you want a lover
Ill do anything you ask me to
And if you want another kind of love
Ill wear a mask for you

Oh Mama, Can This Really Be The End?

I am not depressed, I am not even being negative. I am just deeply saddened and sort of grieving. This blog has been used by me as a mode for catharsis, but this time, I just cannot make myself put this story on such a public medium. My life is actually a perfect study in irony and contrasts. When things go swimmingly well in one area, the other areas stink to the high heavens. I shall always remember 2007 as the year of big achievements and gigantic losses.

For my one single regular reader... I think of you everyday. I know, you're probably smirking and will probably be snarky about this as well, but in absence of hugs, this is really the best I can do.