IWANU GA HANA

avoid this post.

2010-04-11T09:44:00.005+05:30

i'm turning 25 next week. It feels odd, mid-life approaches and i havent learnt enough, loved enough, travelled enough, seen enough, done enough, engaged enough with anything, not even myself.

i woke up feeling disgruntled this morning. this english teacher caning me because i forgot to leave a line between the 2 stanzas in this poem about rains. It must've been around June because school had just started. This was Class I Div C, i think first day at class. But I did leave a line , only the -ves of leaves was on that line and i was scared that if i left another, it'd be 2 lines and no space for end line on the page. Dint know which one i'd get whacked for.
This was one of those 4 line = 1 line books, pink blue-blue pink.

St. Thomas High School, Goregaon East, across the tracks. None of the teachers knew my name, except for when my father met the principal about why his daughter had failed Oral Conversation and Reading + Recitation that year (in class 3). Of course, it was of no concern to the teacher. The kid scored the highest in class otherwise, but we'll overlook that. This Roll number 2 was asked to describe some black and white sketch in book. Looked like a woman with her hand on a box with a window perhaps nearby. The correct answer was "the mother is rocking the baby to sleep". So i failed. I din't see no baby, I din't see no mother. This bad sketch of a lady with her hand on a box, yes. Roll no. 1 also failed. After roll no.4 she changed the image to some large A2 size thing with colorful animals.But, of course, we don't care for the poor kids who're gonna fail for my laziness. Lavina Kamath i think her name was.

Then came class four, I din;t want to go to class 4 for the fear of having class teachers like Lavina and this other lady who wore only black and white ever since she lost her brother. They were both terrors. They beat and slapped everything that came their way. They still did not know anyones names besides the rankers 1 , 2, 3 etc. who were rankers always. And some people who failed - who kept repeating years. None of the teachers could give a !@#$#.

I did not know when annual day came and went, the rankers danced to the staid koli numbers and some arati song.

Class 7, i started taking interest in music. We swapped personal lyrics books, (mine had only sound of music, bombay and rangeela in it till then). Hindi teacher spotted me passing to a boy and picked it up. Opened to "I am 16 going on 17". Said, she;d speak to me after class because all these dirty things i do in the class should not go into the ears of other children. Perhaps because i looked larger than other girls, more 'developed' though i was the youngest in class.

Meanwhile, i got caned plenty of times for reasons i dont know. English teacher read every poem with the same speech pattern, totally uninspiring, math teachers who mostly spoke to the 'smart' boys, but most most wonderful marathi teacher with a nice name, what was it Veronica or something. She dint speak english but would give you a hug to explain "mithi". Saved my soul.

Class 8, i was out of that horrible dungeon. Forever, i thought, but perhaps not.

Love more

2009-05-24T20:49:00.002+05:30

Lovemore seems to be Zimbabwe's most popular name. Whenever I'm reading an article on Zimbabwe, there's a lovemore.

Lovemore Madhuku is their NCA chairperson
Lovemore Moyo is the speaker of the Zim parliament
Lovemore majaivana is their famous musician
Lovemore Sibanda - the podcasts guy

Lovemore N'dou, A boxer! ok, so he's not from Zim. but still. How odd.

bees at my window

2009-03-26T15:08:00.004+05:30

there were these bees outside my window today
and seamus heany's poem started buzzing inside my brain
about that "transmogrifying bee" that bit chucky
chucky, a hen.

Vaitarna pictures from long ago

2009-03-21T21:52:00.004+05:30

old pune pictures

2009-03-21T21:33:00.007+05:30

more random images from my old hard disk

2009-03-21T21:04:00.010+05:30

old pictures

2009-03-21T20:55:00.004+05:30

my old hard disk decided to shower me with memories
here are some

random images

2009-03-20T22:37:00.003+05:30

2009-02-18T23:45:00.003+05:30

ami shokol niye boshe achhi shorbonasher ashaye, ami tar lagi poth cheye achhi, pothe je jon bhashaye. this is the end.
this is the end.

2009-02-18T23:41:00.003+05:30

on second thoughts, maybe she was just your regular slut, and attention seeking at that. i saw these preening pictures of her for the Sun. But this alfy guy has more character than all my boyfriends put together.
ok so i'm being dramatic. "all" is just exaggeration. but you know what i mean.

'What will you do financially?' 'What's financially?'

2009-02-14T01:37:00.005+05:30

but it's so beautiful in a way. (i cant post the family picture just yet)

Transcript of interview with Alfie:
'What will you do financially?' 'What's financially?'

“We didn’t think we would need help from our parents. You don’t really think about that when you find out you are pregnant. You just think your parents will kill you.”

Comments from The Independent :
Had these two adolescents waited until adulthood, with all its attendant "common sense" and responsibleness, and, let's admit it, selfishness, chances are neither would have ever started a family. Britain's scandalously low birth rate, especially among the "educated" classes should be of far greater concern to the respectable set than teen pregnancies, which can be viewed as nature's way of subverting the sterile tendencies of the species which is seemingly hell bent on responsibilizing itself into oblivion. Alfie and Chantelle are a couple of unconscious pagans giving the shaft of defiance to Europe's demographic winter.

2009-02-05T23:57:00.001+05:30

2009-02-05T23:32:00.000+05:30

Hidden for US. Open for EU

2009-01-13T15:43:00.005+05:30

here are two images. Same Ad, Same Mag, Same product (YSL). Just different levels of showing or not showing for EU or Canada

pune!

2008-12-11T16:09:00.003+05:30

2008-11-25T23:39:00.001+05:30

i love reading fashion reviews.
One i found well written and good

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/14/fashion/14CRITIC.html?_r=1&ref=fashion

2008-11-17T08:34:00.003+05:30

it's over

"I Was Michael Foucault's Love Slave"

2008-10-18T13:31:00.003+05:30

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by theory,
well-fed complacent leather-coated, dragging themselves through the
Caucasian campuses at dawn looking for an angry signifier."

BY CAROL LLOYD
ILLUSTRATION BY JORDIN ISIP

http://www.salon.com/feb97/loveslave970210.html

short term goals - long term goals

2008-10-05T12:52:00.005+05:30

So now I am only entertaining 1 week goals. Write the shortest answers to all the questions, revise, destress, detox, yoga, wake up on time, sleep early, drink lots of tea. But I keep imagining myself in a bikini somehow.
So my next goal is to wear a Bikini next year in Goa. So if nothing else happens to my life and I have to get back to the start again. I'll celebrate by wearing a bikini.

Step one. Get a bikini. A certain someone decided to get me an orange yellow (the macintosh glare type)string bikini. The person who designed that wasn't exactly a suspension bridge engineer and my body needs to prop itself up and shed some dead weight.

I did wear a bikini top the last time (i dunno what happened to all the pictures)but this time I want to kayak in a bikini.

Step 2 - how to not look obnoxious in bikini
They say A bold print string top will help draw the eye to your top half. SURE.
And there are these complicated bikini workouts that if I could do, I wouldnt need the workouts.
I guess I'll not eat any sugar and exercise everdy. Besides living in Kaivalyadham for a month.

If none of that works I'll have to do the flowerchild look to be absolved of the rest of the bikini sins.
Pigtails, flowerclips, stripe socks and a smile. So I'm just a girl having fun on the beach.

Dont get me wrong. It's not sour grapes that i want to look hot and cant. I dont want to look sexy. I just want to NOT look like anything. I just want to look normal so noone looks at me and I can sit on the beach in the rains and not worry.

I like...

I want to 1.

2008-10-03T13:47:00.002+05:30

i want to collate narratives from around the world. Learn how people naturally tell stories if that is possible, (i.e. to naturally tell stories). I will have to study cognition then i guess. Cognitive Psych and Narratives. Maybe some anthropology.
I'm in love with Russian (Belarussian etc) emotives in their folk narratives and I just love the japanese Noh premises. I think I can study this for the rest of my life.

News you can Use

2008-09-17T13:43:00.005+05:30

Domino's Scientists Test Limits Of What Humans Will Eat

Nation Of Andorra Not In Africa, Shocked U.S. State Dept. Reports

chandrani needs to get a life

2008-08-21T21:34:00.000+05:30

Gah

2008-06-24T00:56:00.002+05:30

that post was for nobody really. just the rain that makes me like this every year. pathetic.
i could write to the dearest swollen wood at the creak of the bathroom door even

to whomsoever it may concern

Dearest

2008-06-09T23:06:00.002+05:30

I am listening to angels sitting by my windowsill and wanting to live again
Between the curtains and the rain

I want to fall through your hair, and levitate between the flotsam rain that does not fall and does not rise. Waiting for fish to fly

one more time

and dream of yellow laburnums kissing in the streets
one more time

and be a fool again one more time

the little baby

2008-05-23T20:25:00.003+05:30

due april 17

2008-05-21T21:25:00.004+05:30

this birthday my brother asked me what i wanted
i dint know what i wanted so i said, you give me options
he said, you want a rat snake? a constrictor.
you want a boa?
you want an alligator?
or maybe a bearded dragon.

so i gathered it was in jest and let it be.
of course he was very hurt that i could not make up my mind.
so i said, ok i'd love a bearded dragon. wow. how cool. i love beards.
then he said, but you have to walk it everyday and it has sharp claws.

ok ok! get me a rat snake then!

pleasantries done with. I forgot all about it. One day he calls and says, your gift is here.
a REAL RAT SNAKE! !@#$
it's small now. says he'll send it to me by air. apparantly they pack them in an ice box so theyll hibernate till they get here.

and i can feed it "pinkies" i.e. lab rats every week. It's easy he says. they're kind, because you feed them. and you can walk it once a week!

he says but dont leave it around too much, theyre good escape artists.
i picture me taking it to the housing society's secretary's house.
taking it for a walk the way she takes her dumb pom.
can you put leash around a rat snake?
Can i walk it around thakur village? I told him there wont be place in the house for it maybe.
it's small now but these things grow up to be 6-7 feet or so, domesticated even.

kalboishakhi

2008-05-20T19:59:00.002+05:30

it's true it's true, it drizzled this morning

2008-05-18T21:05:00.000+05:30

kalboishakhi

2008-05-18T20:31:00.004+05:30

kalboishakhi is here.

the air will clear, the clouds will fall,

clouds will move, so will trees.

suddenly still and suddenly violent

winds will fly, so will the utensils my grandma left on the terrace, the sarees, pajamas and then the clothesline if it hasn't given way. my sister is little and thinks she came from the blue star, i am little too and want to feel the kalboishakhi sweep me away. but children dont stray on terraces during the storm.
we get swept away.
we imagine where landing in fairytales caught in the hurricane. we deliciously feared kalboishakhi. closed our eyes but loved the rage.
the wind would wind around wild...
then
it settles
the windows that wouldnt close would have broken panes, and we would wind around the teracce to look for frayed rose calyxes, alo mashi's red saree on our terrace and my grandfather's dhuti on the tv antenna,
and fantasicing the sounds and feeling intimate with the skies.
sucking on the tamarind seed long after the skin has been eaten.

Slithergadee did me in

2008-05-05T10:57:00.000+05:30

The Slithergadee has crawled out of the sea.

He may catch all the others, but he won't catch me.

No you won't catch me, old Slithergadee,

You may catch all the others, but you wo--

excerpt 1

2008-04-25T13:24:00.000+05:30

from June 29th, 2005

In today's excerpt, John Steinbeck eulogizes his recently deceased friend, Ed Ricketts:

I have tried to isolate and inspect the great talent that was in Ed Ricketts, that made him so loved and needed and makes him so missed now that he is dead. Certainly he was an interesting and charming man, but there was some other quality that far exceeded these. I have thought that it might be his ability to receive, to receive anything from anyone, to receive gracefully and thankfully, and to make the gift seem very fine. Because of this everyone felt good in giving to Ed--a present, a thought, anything. Perhaps the most overrated virtue in our list of shoddy virtues is that of giving. Giving builds up the ego of the giver, makes him superior and higher and larger than the receiver...It is so easy to give, so exquisitely rewarding. Receiving, on the other hand, if it is well-done, requires a fine balance of self-knowledge and kindness. It requires humility and tact and great understanding of relationships. In receiving, you cannot appear, even to yourself, better or stronger or wiser than the giver, although you must be wiser to do it well. It requires self-esteem to receive--not self-love but just a pleasant acquaintance and liking for oneself.

John Steinbeck, The Log from the Sea of Cortez, Appendix, ""About Ed Ricketts"", Penguin Books, 1951, pp. 272-3

I guess Sarah Carmen is the boy's dream and the man's nightmare.

2008-04-21T15:33:00.004+05:30

The rumble of a train on the tracks, the purr of a hairdryer, the rhythmic drone of a photo-copier are all enough to make her go oh oh oh, ahhhhh. She had FIVE orgasms during the 40-minute interview.

Sarah, 24, suffers from Permanent Sexual Arousal Syndrome (PSAS), which increases blood flow to the sex organs. She was prescribed anti depressants at 19 and that is perhaps what got her on. "In six months I was having 150 orgasms a day—and it has been as many as 200." WOMEN who suffer PSAS constantly feel on the brink of the powerful and rhythmic muscular contractions that orgasms cause.
It may be that some inflammation or infection in the pelvic area is stimulating clitoral nerves.
Some psychiatrists believe PSAS is simply a psychological symptom of some emotional crisis—it's like a broken heart expressing itself as genital sensitivity.

aeroponics

2008-04-18T13:08:00.002+05:30

Aeroponics - process of growing plants in air. The roots get more oxygen directly, it does need some mist though, and nutrients reaching the free floating roots.
(contrasted with geoponics)

no more old phone

2008-04-13T14:24:00.002+05:30

of all the replies i received regarding my stolen phone, this was the sweetest -

bONES,

I would say that's perfect. They can take away your phone... not your moon.

Any illicit messages sent will be duly regarded.

you are in my neighbourhood - why aren't we meeting for lunch then?or coffee... muffin... sugarcane... what have you?

:_)

And then he forgot to send me his phone number.

etsy's art and ghosts

2008-04-12T11:41:00.007+05:30

...sometimes they get along

sometimes they don't

it all depends, really...

stuff around india i want to do 1

2008-04-12T11:29:00.009+05:30

Meet one of the amazing oceanswimming elephants of the Andamans.
Join them for a snorkel in the waters at Havelock island, at Beach No. 7.
Get photographed together under water.

ambiguity

2008-04-11T11:39:00.002+05:30

ambiguity (am-bi-GYOO-i-tee) noun 1. Doubtfulness or uncertainty as regards interpretation. 2. Something of doubtful meaning.[From Latin ambiguus, uncertain, from ambigere, to go about : ambi-, around +agere, to drive.]

AMBIGUITY Ambiguity is one of a handful of English words whose meaningdescribes itself. In other words, "Ambiguity" is ambiguous. It refers, onthe one hand, to a situation of imprecision, of obscurity, because morethan one interpretation is possible. On the other hand, something ambiguous can be understood perfectly well - but from more than one point of view. We are amused at the fable of the elephant and the six blind men,each of whom understood the elephant to be a very different animal. But weseem to lose that good-natured perspective just in time to assume that ourown point of view on the world is more accurate than that of many of theother human beings on the planet. We avoid ambiguity as much as possible,feeling threatened that it may expose our own point of view as merely anoption. But we should embrace ambiguity. After all, each of our eyes sees aslightly different, two-dimensional, view of reality. Those two images aresynthesized by the brain into a single three-dimensional image, which wethink of as "more real" than a 2-D view. The more points of view we are ableto see, the more clearly we understand the world around us. Reality isambiguous. Ambiguity is synthesis. I like to think that looking at everything - not only words -from alternate points of view, can enhance our understanding of the worldaround us.

http://wordsmith.org/words/ambiguity.gif

sometimes they get along 1

2008-04-09T23:27:00.007+05:30

"they tumbled to earth
without sound
softly
visitors in the night turning to day
though they had wished
to remain beyond the clouds
just for the turning
of the hours"

"it is not like the one you found at the treetop
but more like
the balloon
you have been chasing after
leading you to distant ports and harbors
taking you away from home"

from art and ghosts

From Secret girls #3 #12

nts

2008-04-09T17:34:00.000+05:30

W - 8/4/08

Lat: in medias res // tr: in the middle of action

2008-03-25T13:46:00.004+05:30

.
.
.
.
.
.
.

then she wore a hat that looked like an outstretched raven, and pretended that the king's health depended on it,

a pair of adobe huts on her mind and a pair of iron ingots in her hands, she traipsed along the earthpath hoping for a gypsy or a hobo at least…

“True true”, they said, “adobe it has to be. No rainfall for 2 years now. Can’t kiln.”
A puddle here, or a julep these days isn’t any match for those manna showers that stretched the latitudes before. Yes.

“Find me a tiny pony, will you?”, she cried. “My legs are lithe and white from skipping stones across the Pyrenees but these adobe huts weigh so much.” Time to find a new home.

Came along a gypsy pony.

She crossed her legs over Finns, this pony as lithe as her legs, with hair as buxom as her bosom, that rose and fell like the inchcape bell. As they hurtled across the skies.

White Cube

2008-03-23T19:25:00.005+05:30

I used to be a stuck-ist for a while till i found myself pushed into the White Cube last year.
Now i like peach blossoms on my clothes and daisy studs on my earlobes. Flowerchild is only a show from the last Antwerp.

I will return.

If not through the burst of yellow wildflowers in the soul,
through the truth tables of p and q.

stuck

2008-03-23T19:20:00.001+05:30

"because the rose is a symbolic figure so rich in meanings that by now it hardly has any meaning left."

- Umberto Eco, In the name of the rose

2008-03-03T10:09:00.005+05:30

saraswati puja
They say that, on the day just after saraswati puja, the temperature shoots up. it does, every year. It did this time too. I wonder what it is about.

2008-03-02T21:51:00.002+05:30

i was going through some childhood pictures of my friends. This one stuck to my mind more than chewing gum on a school-bus seat.

tabish and his dear mother

pinku.

2008-02-26T13:25:00.006+05:30

have you seen a smoker with lips as pink as these?

an older picture....

no direction home

2008-02-26T13:09:00.006+05:30

I was cleaning my comp and come across half a .doc autosaved from at home in Malabar Hill. So I just quickly decided to post it. Another pathetic post.

I am sitting at home at it’s echo point and the feeling sinks in that I wont be here any longer. Soon I’ll be in a new house, trying again to love it. My ciba home has been demolished. The forests, it’s fairies, the akaks in my balconies, the possibility of leopards at twilight when they managed to flee from the national park, the children the get-togethers the grass, the big eagle I was mortified of, the secret rose garden and out-of-bounds animal testing centres that ma knew I’d been prowling around because of the smell it left behind, lotus ponds I put my hand into that killed ma in fear that there’d be snakes, running away screaming from that big snake under the jamun tree, playing wall-tennis before everyone came down to play, discovering menstruation, obsessive infatuations, poison trees, collecting cotton, finding out that stuffing stolen roses in our shirts wont dupe watchmen, watching film city/malad junction from third gate, cycling evenings, up the road that’s now some highway or flyover near what is called mohan gokhale rd.,
Shkl said, go get your closure before it’s late. So touched the walls of my empty house, thinking of all the associations and the moments I’d had, the fights and loves and discoveries and relationships. And then, I switched off all the lights and sat down at the
of my first girlhood kiss. Where I learnt that someone can love, clean like a monk. Where I learnt that relationships are inherently simple, if you have the heart to be honest.
And went off the sleep between my parents. Tomorrow morning , I will wake up late, get into beige cream clothes, go to a temple and leave the house without too much mulling.

I’m in my new home now. Doesn’t feel so new. Adjustments made. I like it sometimes.The pool's nearby. I don't have to spend an hour getting to bombay gym for a half hour swim with snoots. Just that when I’m in town, I have the tendency to get into a 122 or a 108.

i want

2008-02-23T23:52:00.002+05:30

Hana

2008-02-12T13:52:00.000+05:30

i saw you flailing in the wind.
white like the roach that once came out of my basin.

je t'aime, moi non plus.

iwanu ga hana. not speaking is the flower.

HELP

2008-01-29T22:55:00.000+05:30

My mother has given me an ultimatum. i need to tell her what my ideal partner should be like, so she can start finding. i need to be marriaged soon. my 95 yr. old grand mother says i am aging.

i can't think of anything. do help.

all i can think of is that his grandmother should be nice if she is alive so i can call her dida and ask about his childhood and then hers while i maalish her knees because she's got arthritis. and she treat me like her grandchild.

and his parents should love me. so that when love is lost between us two, i can go to them and they chide their stupid boy for not being kind to me.

and cultural continuity. so that when love is estranged, i feel comforted in familiarity of the cycle of festivals.

reminded me of my pondi trip

2008-01-16T12:33:00.000+05:30

it was a trip. yes.

imagine this image cleaner, that phakashe yellow contrasting.
imagine this a little more azure.
imagine that mistique wave in the sky to be more defined.

that was the image.
need to clean my camera. GaH!

and then on paradise beach, i went back and stood in the lagoon, not a wave i could hear, not a rush,
only a surge inside me, as crustaceans crawled over my sinking feet,dragging their conch homes and fishermen's heads in the backwater, away sunken.
and i felt like i was me again. paradise.
alone. amazing.

2008-01-15T23:15:00.000+05:30

i wanted to say i want to be in the sun with you
hold me, let's watch the stars
rise, while our hair catch the winds

and i said, "**** **** ** ** *** ****"

iwanu ga hana
not speaking is the flower.

2008-01-15T14:14:00.000+05:30

namrata fasts on tuesdays

no food.
no kisses.

sixpence none the richer

2007-12-24T00:51:00.000+05:30

lyrics

kiss me, out of the bearded barley
nightly, beside the green green grass
swing swing swing that spinning step
you wear those shoes and I will wear that dress
oh kiss me, beneath the milky twilight
lead me out on the moonlit floor
lift your open hand,
strike up the band,
and make the fireflies dance
silver moon's sparkling, so kiss me
kiss me, down by the broken treehouse
swing me up on its hanging tire
bring bring bring your flowered hat
we'll take the trail
marked down your father's map
oh kiss me, beneath the milky twilight
lead me out on the moonlit floor
lift your open hand, strike up the band,and make the fireflies dance
silver moon's sparkling, so kiss me

my my it's been a while

2007-11-28T16:20:00.000+05:30

once love was innocent and free it was true and i pointed to trees and dreamt of waters, of bright lights and yellow upholstry and found peace in glee and sleep in wide eyes once love was innocent and free it was the wind in bamboo forests it was feet in broken bathroom tiles blue rubber and eaten corn cobs and splashing rainbows in petrol once love was innocent and free

"MAYA ANGELOU'S" BEST POEM EVER.

2007-10-12T12:25:00.000+05:30

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ... enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own, even if she never wants to or needs to...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..something perfect to wear if the employer, or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .. a youth she's content to leave behind....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ... a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ..... a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .... one friend who always makes her laugh... and one who lets her cry...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE .... a good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ... eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal, that will make her guests feel honored...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE ... a feeling of control over her destiny...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW... how to fall in love without losing herself..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW... how to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without; ruining the friendship...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW... when to try harder...
and WHEN TO WALK AWAY...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW... that she can't change the length of her calves,the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...that her childhood may not have been perfect...but it's over...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...what she would and wouldn't do for love or more...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...how to live alone... even if she doesn't like it...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW.. .whom she can trust,whom she can't,and why she shouldn't take it personally...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...where to go...be it to her best friend's kitchen table... or a charming inn in the woods...when her soul needs soothing...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW... what she can and can't accomplish in a day...a month...and a year...

2007-09-18T16:47:00.000+05:30

"I don't need drugs to make my life tragic." -Eddie Vedder

2007-08-04T02:43:00.000+05:30

farm

2007-08-04T01:41:00.000+05:30

is something wrong with my lens or is it that i just cant expose properly

WILD TRIBAL PASSION FRUIT

2007-08-04T01:34:00.000+05:30

my favouritest fruit in the (awoooh god i love it - gutteral) the whole whole fuckin world.

Meanwhile Mario Giacomelli

2007-08-04T01:20:00.000+05:30

i stumbled upon this man. Mario Giacomelli. I haven't heard of him before Sorry if i am causing any people to gag out of shock. I only clicked on his thumbnail cause cause his lastname ended with elli and I like reading about people who eat cheese and tomatoes.

Extract from interview -

Frank Horvat : What about the camera? It seems that you don't have the same camera as everyone else, a Leica, a Nikon or a Kodak.
Mario Giacomelli : I don't know about other people's cameras. Mine is a thing I had cobbled up, it holds together with tape and is always losing parts. All I need to set is the distance and that other thing - what do you call that other thing? I'm not a fan of mechanics. I have had this camera, still the same one, since I started taking photos. It has lived with me, shared many moments of my existence, both good and bad. If I ever lost it... well, the very idea of having to live without it pulls at my heart.
Frank Horvat : But where does it come from?
Mario Giacomelli : I had it made. By dismantling a camera given to me by a friend and removing whatever seemed useless. I only need distance and that other thing - what's that other thing called again? I don't know how these machines work, what counts is that light shouldn't get in. It's just a box.
Frank Horvat : And what film do you use?
Mario Giacomelli : Whatever I get.
Frank Horvat : 24 by 36 millimeters?
Mario Giacomelli : Don't ask me about millimeters ! I use the larger film, not the smaller one. I've never used the smaller one.
Frank Horvat : So, six by six centimeters?
Mario Giacomelli : Don't talk to me about figures! I only know that six by nine becomes six by eight and a half.
Frank Horvat : So you get12 photos per roll?
Mario Giacomelli : I can't remember, but I think it's more like ten. Ten, not twelve. What's important is that there shouldn't be too many. Once I won a competition and was given a small size camera as a prize. But I didn't know how to use it, it was too fast for me, it didn't participate as my own camera does, it left me no time to think, made me press the shutter for nothing. I felt deprived of what makes my greatest joy, which is the waiting, the preparing of the image, the winding of the film, the replacing of the roll. My own camera is exactly what I need, it suits my character.

2007-08-03T01:27:00.000+05:30

2007-08-02T23:24:00.000+05:30

So i had to detour to kolkata because imphal was hiccoughing. The new president dint even make it to the top half of the front page. doesn't make a difference to imphal as the ferment of the amada/bangla script fight had begun to fizz. To add to it, the farm birds were catching the flu. We played with our cats and cocks, fought like cats and cocks and woke up in the morning to more pineapple at the table and bitter herb to clear any worms.
Before I came back home to kolkata, to talk to my gran before she loses all her hearing we went to churchandpur (and loktak on the way). Loktak was a fractured heaven. Supposed to have been one of the most intensely beautiful spots in the world, with uncomparable geology/geography/peace. Stopped by, and went off to Churchandpur. A very pretty village led upto by wetgreen paddy fields and wetclouds coming down on hills. So when i ask H's mom, so what did you plant here? She said, O we planted paddy no, now they plant soldiers.

manipur can't even make matches

2007-07-21T13:10:00.000+05:30

As the plane approached imphal, i could see cubiques of silt water in green and earth grey, paddy fields and along their perimeters lone mat woven roofs. Sometimes the land spewed up hills into the heavy sky.

As we got out of the small plane that would take off to aizwal shortly, I saw a bush of the thorny poison fruits I played with as a child with my brother, making swivering things. The air was sweet, yes sweet. And there were dark berried flowers. There was a doux rain in the air. I say, in the air, because it almost dint fall. No gravity. As if the air was precipitating its waters. (And shy fairies would take out their kayaks.)

Plenty men in guns everywhere. As we waited outside the airport for H’s pa to come and get us (since no communication could be established, roaming blocked and no PCOs) there were children (from the village, H pointed out) proudly in their uniforms, young women in the latest HK fashion of skinny jeans, kitten heels and feminine tunics (jeans to protest against its ban, or just), local muslim manipuri women in traditional phanek of horizontal stripe skirts and shawl worn like hijab, local hindu women with phanek (half sari) always, always mismatched with handloom skirt weave, bright printed polyester second piece and random short tee. :d

After a long wait, (especially as I started getting cranky) with too many armed men, we decided to take a rik. 150 bucks for 15 mins ride home to Lamphel. A large colony of wood-brick cottages and woven mats to separate each home with garden. Closely packed. I say, a colony of cottages, perhaps because I saw no people outside.

Soon, H’s Pa was home. We missed him by a few minutes I guess. And I had the most touching welcome I had ever had in my life. We gathered in the living room and his Nu and Pa said prayers. I don’t know what he said, but it was very peaceful. He said, we must thank god that you have reached home. This is our home. Make it yours. We will live together for some time. Nu said, my children are away, this is how we live. Everyone speaks in the deepest of voices, very softly, very gently, no quivers, no sharp intonations, compressions and liberations of air when consonants give way to vowels like the Buddhist prayers pillars in monastries.

In the evening, girl cats come home to rub their noses on us so we may be taken by their sweetness and give them a piece of fish. So do the mosquitoes for a drop of blood. H’s pa brings out his stunner racquet to en-zombie those bnuzzers. The racquet is then my limb for the rest of the evening.
The cocks and hen cackle like geese, the bees more disciplined than the siren happy armymen at the airport, go on with their honey, while I run around stunning mosquitoes.
At dinner, I ask if it is a Manipuri specialty- this racquet. Nu says in her prayer voice, “Manipur can’t even make a matchstick. We only weave cotton and silk.”

water kingdom!

2007-06-06T00:01:00.000+05:30

water kingdom

2007-06-05T23:52:00.000+05:30

o i wish i was writing this last saturday. i had the most amazing weekend after really really long. what a thrill. it was so frikkin amazing i want to go back. and it was so frikkin amazing when i was back at work on monday i had no frikkin clue what client i was doing on friday. took my little darling sister out and also went out with ms. agrawal after really long. she'd heard so much about my sis and my sis had heard so much about her. they got along so well too. these pics are on ms. agrawal's sexy phone.

2007-06-05T23:23:00.000+05:30

actions speak louder than words
suddenly found meaning.
in my carousel
lies. lies. lies.
more lies.

2007-05-25T23:44:00.000+05:30

new buildings coming up at nepeansea road. i had NO idea that there was any plot left. the old parsee bunglows have been / are being broken down for tall tall tall buildings.

one of them is this, right across my home.

Jemima

2007-05-25T23:33:00.000+05:30

hen's neice jemima is so used to being put to sleep by him

i don't know how she'll sleep now without hen's nursery rhymes in opera.

meanwhile, she continues to make donald duck faces diligently as she's been taught by that

goon. i'll put her grown up pics when i find them.

2007-05-25T23:16:00.000+05:30

my neice half a year back-

dint show any signs of coupling, atleast to us

her aunts. who are younger than her.

don't ask.

now, all of a sudden, she's married! so the first one on the list is gone.

next is sona, then me.yikes.

and my neice now happily happily married.

jamroll

2007-05-25T23:06:00.000+05:30

twinks my cuz with her boy ronak.

twinks was crazy as a kid. when i'd go to her house, she wouldnt speak, she'd hand me a book and say read. and she'd sit next to me on the bed and read another book.

and after moving from medicine,veterinary to arts to architecture,skipping all these colleges

she's finally found her thing. and her ronak. wish them more happy happy

2007-05-23T23:42:00.000+05:30

so kanchi has finished her international MSc in clinical research. hope to meet her soon. These are her from Cranfield.

La Figlia che Piange 1917

2007-05-23T11:40:00.000+05:30

STAND on the highest pavement of the stair—
Lean on a garden urn—
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair—
Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise—
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

H has left the city. H is leaving the city.

2007-05-16T23:08:00.000+05:30

Hen's sister is getting married next month. He's gone home to fix things. She will be expelled from the zomi church for a year. So Priscilla will now be.....Lalrhamlun (Priscilla) Ramaswamy? and I'm going to be witness :D :D :D i'm so excited.

That's H and me in the Boys common room in SY / TY. me looking like moron cause the cam clicked few seconds here or there. H looking honest and peaceful cause he is.

and while i'm at it, here's a nother one of H and me. This one's in Pune, at harita's. H is leaving the city he says, for Pune. Deccan college he wants. But i think it's just the jumbo chicken, fillet o fish at burger king that's drawing him there. And riding bikes. I Hope he finds his light.really really. I still think he should go study agriculture and live his dream of buying a hill and starting his orchid and pine apple farm, dunno if business is his thing though. Or become chef. omg omg i know harita and nishant pushkar singh will second that. The last time he made chicken with almost nonexistent spice/condiments, all of us stared and stared and stared at the clock and decided to miss the train back to bombay so as to not disturb the 'feeling' of fulfillment. That silly boy shouldnt get into criminal sociology and rehab.

henry my boy, spike it up! do the jig! life's good. and STOP EATING FERMENTED FISH and raw Marve shrimps. That's whats giving you the loose motions.

2007-05-16T23:00:00.000+05:30

"A cheese may disappoint. It may be dull, it may be naive, it may be oversophisticated. Yet it remains cheese, milk's leap toward immortality."

"Can love and peace live in the same heart? Youth is unhappy because it is faced with this terrible choice: Love without peace, or peace without love."

2007-05-14T14:44:00.000+05:30

"When the white man came, we had the land and they had the bibles. Now they have the land and we have the bibles."

starting trouble

2007-05-10T00:21:00.000+05:30

ok so my net decided to connect. and. i'm coming back to life in a horrifying, zombie state.

finally theyre here. reminding me that i am a woman. after so long, and much ado.
and yes Dr desai/pai/xyz i shall still refuse to take those pills.
i feel tired and drained and feverish today.

i want to quit, maybe. thats not the trouble. i hope i am quitting for a good reason. is there anything better that i can be doing? or do i just need to grow up, as someone sternly pointed out?
i want to work for nat geo. research. cultural. anthropological will do too. but i dont know any social anthropology. should i study soc. anthro? what should i study?

i want to lose weight and go free runing. and

where is she that loved the rain, that loved the green and silence in
halls of stone, strange bamboo forest lights and flying in dreams

that i found last july in the rains between the goth and deco buildings
in that grin of october 2003

that was learning to love to find and read and look and see and feel and detach
to kill deadbedbugs and find love and hope in violence
and seek echoes in hollow words
and finger the souls of a messy haired zombie who sat over the orphan boy that drew purple bananas that refuse to peel and complain of colic once the midnight settles and does not sleep and does not sleep and grows long hairs to cover all that has grown and does not sleep

2007-05-08T15:08:00.000+05:30

back from kaivalyadham

scam it was. ok. not so bad. i promise to do yoga everyday.
i just read my previous post.
pathetic.
pathetic.
i promise not to talk like that again.

2007-04-29T00:49:00.000+05:30

i leave in a few hours for kaivalyadhaam
if it works, i'll quit my job and disappear from the face of the earth for atleast 3 months.

i have neglected my body for too long now
just queenily wishful thinking
i shouldve done x when i was small, i shouldve worn z.
and i shouldve not discontinued my kathak, and tennis and why did ma give away my cycle and why did i spend all those evenings watching tv, why dint i swim all of third year when bombay gym was so close by.

everything's a mess.
everything.
it's all wrong
now where do i begin cleaning up.

2007-04-18T12:04:00.000+05:30

i want to take pictures

2007-04-16T10:59:00.000+05:30

my haircut doesnt look cut
looks like the same old lifeless mop
or i'd have posted a pic
i'm having bad days
so dont get my goat

15.04.2007

2007-04-15T22:50:00.000+05:30

pigeon is my current favourite lingerie brand.
today all day i went shopping and dint find anything my size.
i wanted lace edged leggings to wear with a sharply cut longish shirt, tucked neatly at ribs/lowerback and sleeves,pin striped, over boots.
so i found black lace edged leggings, but the XL mod shork (shirt/frock) was too tight.
then i found nice grunge denim eeniemeeni skirt in L with softlace edge but so small it got stuck up on my umm before it could even. then i cricked my neck trying to get it off and then it was stuck at my armpits.
no hope.
then i found that lovely lovely winterblackgrey rough broken twill tweedy skirt with a satin inner lace extensiond with a little goth feel with blacksatin rosebow. O!! h! but of course the last size was like my one thigh.
very very sorrowful, i spent 10 hours looking to get clothes i like/can afford/my size. found none.
anyway, i went to STRAPS (current positioning: smart women come to straps. the rest go elsewhere/ be happy you came to straps) o my god.
anyway, the bra i liked was 2400 bucks.
but the one i liked even more was 120.omg. probably the cheapest thing they had. its smart, comfy, functional, minimal, sheery, lycra,NON WIRED, no seams, engineered within the fabric. wow. it's my favourite brand now. AND i fit into small/medium. how? i dont know. and i got it from the "beginners" section.
someone please tell me what this sizing is all about.
i used to be fab india small/medium in kurtas. suddenly i am large in fab india. whats going on.
XL is too small for me sometimes.
i want more pigeon stuff. i like i like.
hopefully, i'll get off my fixation with lace inners now.
(but hey i still like lace. i just hate it that it's in fashion and now everyone's gonna be wearing it even if they dont so much desire it really, just like that mod look i've been wanting.)

2007-04-14T23:41:00.000+05:30

ek hoti gai
premat ti padli
divsa dhavlya
ratri pavlya

:D :D

2007-04-09T19:26:00.000+05:30

write she said, said he would
and sent her 2 worry dolls wrapped in a stanza
one in yellow one in blue
and then he worried her

2007-04-03T23:22:00.000+05:30

i want
to learn how to bellydance
i want to learn bartending
i want to learn japanese
and spanish
and to speed write bangla
i want to become healthy
lose weight
yoga
i dont want to pick up all these disorders all the time
i want my hormones back in order
i dont want to go to any doctors anymore
i dont want to have to take allopathy anymore
i want to find something i love doing
i want my eyes to be fine
my right eye
i dont want glasses
why do i get conscious facing a camera
i want to learn how to sing properly
thumri
i want to figure what i should be studying further
do i want to work for money?
do i want to work for romance?
do i want to work to occupy myself comfortably
where am i going to find the balance
what am i supposed to be balancing?
how's my health?
how old am i really?
how old am i?
ami too old?
but that i cannot help
am i too old to learn how to sing
why cant i play the sitar anymore
why cant i take pictures?
what is it about photographs that i just cant understand?
should i get back to film
maybe digi makes it sterile
is digi sterile?
like my electronic keyboard
sterile
am i thinking too much?

2007-04-03T23:06:00.000+05:30

so many dreams so many dreams

2007-04-02T11:11:00.000+05:30

i'm having strange dreams
and the strangest strangest nightmares
it's dark dark dark
dead sea decay
and ugly transformations

blogthings

2007-04-01T21:55:00.000+05:30

i'm a sucker for these silly psycho tests. know me!! :D :D

You Are Skinny Heel Boots

You always look great - from your styled hair to your sleek boots.

What'>http://ynr.blogthings.com/whatkindofbootsareyouquiz/">What Kind of Boots Are You?

yes yes yes

You Are Right Brained In Love

Bit of a drama queenPeacemaker, first to end a fightGood at thinking up creative datesTend to fall in love and get hurt easilyGoing with your gut instead of your headEmphathetic and caring, sometimes to a faultGood at recognizing patterns in relationshipsBeen in love many times, perhaps too many to countWildly passionate and intense when falling in loveSpontaneous with relationships, going with the flowOverly visual - can play back past dates like movies in your mindRoses, love poems, and stuffed animals are a good start to winning your heart

Are'>http://ynr.blogthings.com/areyourightbrainedorleftbrainedinlovequiz/">Are You Right Brained or Left Brained in Love?

Your True Sign Is Aquarius

Wacky
Rebellious
Cutting Edge
A Total Freak
Unconventional
Difficult to Predict
Breaking All The Rules
Independent and Inventive

What's Your True Sign?

go mod

2007-03-21T12:16:00.000+05:30

i want the clean lean look.
skinny jeans with ballet flats or stilleto boots
fudgy corduroy jacket is good
so i googled - fat people hate skinny jeans
nice discussion board i found
http://www.discovervancouver.com/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=79383

it's true. sigh.
i am doomed to look hoggy in them, at best maybe frumpy.

since the flower style broad base is narrowing, blink and the sharp mod will be here.
i hope the skirts worn high up at the waist constriction is back
post war style. i like.
dunno if itll catch on, people are still hungover on the low waist. (cause they think high waist is so makapao) thatll be good. i dont want everyone wearing it.
o i love fitting skirt high up at the waist. nice mod look jacket with feminine cut shirt inside
with skinny heel boots.
i saw a bag yesterday that'll go. black and white clean knitted to a rough grey.a bizzaro orange tan is good too. just out of clockwork orange.

enough kalamkari i have worn
cotton earth tones relaxed bordering on chhapri

2007-03-20T14:47:00.000+05:30

amar shokol niye boshe achhi shorbonasher aashaye
ami tar lagi poth cheye achhi pothe je jon bhashaye
je jon dae na dekha jae je dekhe
bhalo bashe aaral theke
amar mon mojechhe shei gobhire gopon bhalobashaye.

pathetic and tragic

2007-03-10T11:13:00.000+05:30

From 2002 until this year, NASA’s mission statement, prominently featured in its budget and planning documents,
read: “To understand and protect our home planet; to explore the universe and search for life; to inspire the next generation of explorers … as only NASA can.”

In early February, the statement was quietly altered, with
the phrase “to understand and protect our home planet” deleted.

was to write

2007-03-03T18:54:00.000+05:30

of my blue purple skirt umbrella cut and being unready and fear and lessons in feeling and the crows we watched and a raspberry for valentine of falling in some affection down deep into the rabbit hole where youre suddenly big and small suddenly and your head is stuck in the chimney. of my bedroom window that looked like it was out of a gothic terrorspook that brought out veins and webs and long fingers and dirty thick hair and hung daggers from mosquito nets and crawling into ma in the night. The verandah door that opened on dewy wintermornings to akas that were out of some ice in the eyes. i was a cow once and again when the lights go off. and jump to flail into the earth a tamarind tree and wimmyn that cleaned toilets in the chalky house they rested. The cotton trees in the breeze and gathering and choking
of writing letters with blue string preludes and waiting for moments where it was all yellow day and pixies and piracies and hopskotch and discussing november twentythree of long long ago at the hostelsteps hoping the cramps would never go and watching green and pointing happy and another lesson in feeling.
of somethings in the eye for smooth functioning

another post for me

2007-02-27T22:23:00.000+05:30

all for me
swims around in circles
all mine
all mine
all rise
the court is in session
would you like to have a chocolate missy?
no, i prefer cool muskmelons left in the freezer. to feel my brain freeze and the dribbles.
i want to ride the blind parakeet
watermelon colddrips too
gone are the days of tender and scratch
now its all dogs and bitches
will be over soon
will be over soon
in one quick slice of the lance
all at one
want me magyck back
no
dont show and tell calvin
i want black lace i say
black lace
but a grotesque body is so hard to achieve
i wish i could endure
i try so hard
try toothbrush she said
so it'll be a dream
la belle dame sans merci
black lace and the mourning jewel of the princess' hair locked inside
velvet suede and a bloodrose.
you need the chill though
silence! the court is in session. she had shadows in her hair that woman who spoke so fast and she stumbled and bruised herself but she let her tongue loose \the nights that grew out of her frazzled hairs... many swift feet dancing their nightly prayers...Dancing down the stairs... frazzled hairs having affairs My eyes schlepped. ....but her frazzled hairs, said their prayers and had affairs...disagree disagree disagree it must be me.

coming back to the sunflower seeds
or do i mean pumpkin seeds
i really meant to write melon seeds.
ma

there! absolved.

shokol niye boshe thaka shorbonasher ashaye

2007-02-20T18:14:00.000+05:30

sup says pari's ajji puts his neice to sleep singing

majhi sonyachi chakuli
tu baher nako jaus
tula porach martil
tujhya angatlach kadhtil
tujhya angat nahi bal
tu chimta kadhun pal

i want to write of gran stories
of poor little princesses banished and salt
and rhymes sung with baby on shin
of curly knotted hair, river veins and oil dribbling from crevices
of the surprise summer showers when mangoes and plums dried
and the sharp tang of pickled tetul

tar shojol chokhe kajol chhilo na
chhilo na ashadh megher badhon chhilo, badol chhilo na.

2007-02-16T23:31:00.000+05:30

do go to Vanessa Tiegs' for some the most beautiful paintings i have seen in a long time

blood and acrylic

2007-02-14T23:59:00.000+05:30

i have always been fascinated by menstrual blood. so intensely magnetic i find it. when i still it in my palms, it sucks me into myself.

when i was eighteen, the women i drew always menstruated. There was a pool of brick red beside them. I don't know if it is to decode as shame. I cannot, no matter how much i try, think of menstrual blood as waste or something to be sanitised. It is beautiful and so feverishly intriguing. I can watch it do the slow dance under water, all by itself. or slithe on my palms surprising me by its changing character. sometimes a surrendering liquid, next moment the same pool defined and linked.

On days when I come out rich beetroot, i want to keep it. in my homoeopathy pill bottles. to share it with someone.To watch the magic as i let it rest on my palm. And when i don't bleed anymore, i will mourn. That when i sit under the shower, there is no red whose flames lick up with the flowing water.

2007-01-21T11:14:00.000+05:30

ma is looking for a boy for me. i know she wants me to go for my niece's wedding so she can hook me up with an eligible. i dont think i can take so many days off work. maybe i should go. maybe i should wear my sexiest blue bandhani choli with the bandhani georgette saree. wear a minaworked or filigree nosering.kajal.

i want to have babies and i am worried i wont end up with a man that i trust with full abandon

this post's for me

2007-01-06T00:36:00.000+05:30

pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
pine apple
apine apple
apine apple
apine apple
pine apple
apine apple
slow motion
mildew
sorrrow sodden
mildew
mildew
sodden
moron
sillybillygoat
breaks his horn
now what
csa
cas
casa
mexicana
now what
now what
blue
blue
prelude
blue
blue
blue
blue
bling
bling
bling
psycho
meterioroid
howdyouspellthat
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
repeat
ctrl alt delete
so now what
okay
too bad
now leave
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
he takes out his gun
and rocks her world
umm is that the right word to use
rocks her world?
anyway
meanwhile
now what does he do
what does she do
what will happen
wheres the time for going back now
does he think about
is it gone
poof into thin air
anyway
there will be time
to ebb and flow
a time to leave and atime to heal
turn turn turn
i like that song
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
dinosaur
plays
in a level playing field
pterodactyls
i was 2 when i went to school i believe
actually i was almost 3
but i believe i was 2
and my ma did do my homework with her left hand
and i lost my pencilbox
it was yellow
in auxillium convent
flat yellow
and the next day i saw it on top of the cupboard
and i dint say it was mine
cause i hated attenion
so maureen miss walked around the class asking for claim
i dint claim
i still wonder why
wow i was scared of nuns
sister superior
i thought her name was sister supeeriya.
maureen miss wore simple a-line frocks.
frock needs can can
not a frock
ladies dress hem line just below the knee with half umbrella cut and a belt the same color
and i thought boys pee-d backwards. what does that mean?
peeing backwards.
meanwhile
i remember the smell of peppered boiled egg when i opened my plastic tiffin box
the smell of green guava cut into two mingling with boiled eggs peppered.
and i'd feel at home. comfort food. and i'd love choking on the yoke. and love the smokey overboiled smell that rubbed off on the guava.
shelled boiled eggs and choking make me feel womby.
the tables in auxillium were steel green and shiny. They had grey foldable whatchumaycallit. undersides on which the greensteel rested. pods? and we had sleeping period. we slept after lunch.
everybody had to compulsorily put their headsdown. i couldnt sleep like that and the older girls came down to monitor us. strange. anyway then there was the loo class. everyone had to go to the loo to pee in a straight line single file. the loo was khaki light coming through frosted glass on top. ventilator?
anyway. then i came home by schoolbus. The usher was called manoranjan-da. hmm. and everytime i got off they'd say chandrani bye! and i dint know what to say. i was embarassed at so much attention. i hated auxillium. now that i think of it. and i remember being confused that this girl neha/ niti had 2 names. i remember telling my father " Neha Niti same" and i sat down each time bringing my skirt behind me neat, with my legs together crossed one on the other like i was in a nunnery. my mom thinks i have 'regressed' now. frog she calls me when i sleep especially.
what to do
she called me a social butter fly this supriya in her blog. referring to me Dec 31. sometimes i have a cheerful disposition and a surprise myself at how sociable i can be. dhiren the host said i knew more people than he did. anyway. i surprise myself.
asima hjas beautiful eyes, full of karuna like she saw a bomb blow up her home. she has the deepest voice. no not manly. but just deep.how to say. emerging from some memory. i see her far far away. why do i see her far far away. she loves old monk neat i know. she drank and drank and drank and sat on the swing and got qoozy and passed out. that was at the end of TY. why was she at the party i cant remember. she came with shuchi. but it was a lit party what was an eco doing there. or did she major AIC?
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
meanwhile
prince ali khandani ali of agrabah
tomorrow my day is packed
god Hr, Hen, Tbsh, Frh...who else? ma is leaving for kolkata again. should i get drunk with H and H tomorrow? they share the same bday. 2 of my closests.
mummyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
hmm hmm hmmm hmm hmmmmmm if i saw you in heaven
when i was small i thought girls who dint wear petticoat(camisole?) under their uniforms were immoral. and those who wore small white undies without duckie frills at the back were bad girls and should be punished (this is when i was 3). shame to them. I kept a good distance from them. then one day i learnt deepali this girl who ui thought was a good girl dint wear petticoat and i was so upset. and this i am talking about lower primary school through primary school.
In senior school my bes friend was the one who refused to wear a bra like all the other girls who were so desperate to get into one. she wore a petticoat. so she wasnt like "those kind of girls". She was a good girl. This girl Samantha wore only the bra and no petticoat. I was mortified when she sat next to me. and then i found she had a boyfriend. to add to that i found that SHE STUDIED NOT FROM HER OWN NOTES BUT FROM THE NAVNEET GUIDE. OMYGOD! terrible. one day she was talking to me and i felt physically sick because she was that chick who had boobs and dint attempt to hide it under 3 layers of underclothing and flattening sports bra and had a skirt 2 inches shorter than it was supposed to be and rolled her socks down and had a boyfriend EWWWWWW and studied from omygod the navneet guide AND she sucked at Math. I was scared of that type. People who couldnt do math. and people who couldnt spell.
now i think i was so frikkin judgemental.
so when did i grow up! ? i cant quite place it. i think i grew up in the 10th standard. when my english teacher said very casually while doing Vanity Fair with us that in the 16th century men liked women with big bosom. ? wha? that doesnt make sense. and i started loving tgrammar cause i was so good at figures of speech and most people sucked at it. when did i grow up?
i was TERRIBLE in school. cheee. but i washed my hair everyday. why dont do that now? and i had think hair. not like this jhadu i have now.
and that prayer we recited.
the more i learn the btter i see how little i know
how little i kow of my own capacity to know
every branch of knowledge is so rick so complex
one can study a lifetime and still be a beginner.
......
dont remember anymore

i was good at art. always. and i was good at language. both of these were effortless. and i was good at sciences. and i took pride in being good at math. and i took pride in getting bad marks in history and geography because that meant that i was smart and intellegent and logic driven and not a stupid dumchick who MUGGED her way.
i've wasted the best years of my life.
now what.

rhymes with orange

2007-01-06T00:31:00.000+05:30

i feel like this.

rhymes with orange

2006-12-21T22:27:00.000+05:30

2006-12-21T22:23:00.000+05:30

that too