Jemima

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.

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

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.

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.

"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."

"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

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

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.

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.

i want to take pictures

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

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.)

ek hoti gai
premat ti padli
divsa dhavlya
ratri pavlya

:D :D

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

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?

so many dreams so many dreams

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

blogthings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

blood and acrylic

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.

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

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

i feel like this.

rhymes with orange

:(

that too

Anyone who told you to be yourself couldn't have given you worse advice..

i flicked this from sup's blog. thanks madusa whoever you are.

ok. this is going to be a soppy post. soppy i have to warn/call it because i have been co-opted by this all pervasive reverence of restraint.
Hmm. Now that could be a separate post too. So should I talk about being co-opted by the all pervasive reverence of restraint which seems to be a characteristic of people who want to blaze their own trails. How strange.innit? Shouldnt it be the other way? Explicit honest fearless expression to true feeling must be laughed at.(no wonder the world elevates Hemmingway and gets rid of confessional poetry) However it may be accepted if self destructively manifested (Lots good humor +mystery of skeleton in cupboard). Otherwise if manifested when drunk. perhaps accepted as kitsch of behavior.
So we put these people under the fashionably dark pink and golden sequins once in a while. Part of the reason why I think the more number of skeletons you put and the more graphic the surgeon generals warning reads on cigarette packets, sales will increase. Makes the image of ciggies more self destructive and therefore the people smoking it are revered in a clandestine way.

My thesis is that these people who wrote love poetry of abandonment, loss and its variations thereof, or of feeling lost in this wide world or inspirational idealistic poetry such as sorrow of prostitute etc. usually in obvious rhyme get their sudden jolt of embarrassment in this Restraint conspiracy and suddenly decide to become closeted. (iam not implying anything)
Now one will revel in muted tones and subtle interplay of ash and steel grey, rainbows only forming in oil spills. Party in blue. Etc. (no issues with that. I love blue too. And most people love blue. But that’s another post. Not related to this.) Now this person will admire self for becoming the true bohemian, the trail blazer that has so much character! Very Classy. Self controlled, logical, subtle, magnanimous of course while not attending to the basic anxieties. Within this matrix, crying is a self indulgence, most of all crying in front of someone else. So these people become the next gen. of co-opters. The fresh bunch will write more “terrible” poetry. Terrible only because they rhyme too easy and show themselves too easy. Its honest and the way something was felt. No interplay of grey and ash. It’s all blood and bile. No need for objective correlatives, broken lines, or a subtle clinching irony at the end. Simple things, of loving, losing, feeling. No need to describe the chipping paint and a dream of crabs while you leave the rhythm to heave and suggest.
Damn, this disclaimer’s too long. Coming to my soppy post.
I love looping songs. No, not coldplay.
Currently I am looping ‘te recuerdo amanda’. Because I don’t know another way of loving so I looplooplooplooplooploplooplooplooploop.
This song will have the fate of April come she will.
Much of my learning about self has come from looping songs.Everytime I loop a song, i lose myself in it and suddenly things appear as I had never seen them appear. Or. The same thing keeps appearing. Or the mood kept constant, the variables change.(that’s technically wrong. Cause variables don’t vary and constants aren’t constant.
I wanted to write soppy things related to my song looping and about some people but I couldn’t talk myself into writing it out. I suppose I am going to be self congratulatory about the teenyweeny bit of self restraint I have. Sigh.
Anyway, I used to listen to “I want to spend my lifetime loving you” OST mask of Zorro on tape. I also listened to Winds of change the Russian version on loop.
Or more recently April come she will. Also, OST Schindler’s List. Breakfast at tiffany’s in junior college.
Seal/A Kiss from a Rose. Don McLean- Is that the sun. you belong to me (shrek ost)
Amono dine tare bola jae. Candela. Kandisa. rosemary and thyme ! and o sanam.on tape.

Damn! i forgot to write about Anthony Kaun Hai

Damn! i forgot to write about Anthony Kaun Hai

the camera!
the characterisation!
the Plot!! o my sweet clementine! i want to marry a witch!

many things ---

1. i have a new job. rather, i have a job now. people!!

2. i am so FUKCIN annoyed with self. i dint get back to the guy who sold me my digi all these days. it wasnt some kachra stuck somewhere on lens but it was the ccd. he says warranty to gaya. you mustve done something. one more reason to give up photography.

3. then, i took my film camera back to where i bought it from, they say they cant fix it. anymore. so i cant even use my film cam anymore then.more reason to give up photography.

4. client is moron. wants pedestrian copy that'll kill his 5 years of brilliant branding. also he calls and says just before the ad has to go to print, heyy! send me the 3rd image with the 2nd text. i wantto put the guy first. wha!! hello.we dont randomly put images and text together! but of course, we send it.

5.my neice is getting married in feb and i so want to go so badly but maybe i wont get leave. besides i just went and came back thrice this year already.

6. can i ban some ip address from reading my blog?

7. has been removed by blogowner

8. do you know i wanted to be a computer programmer? but, ASCII to ASCII, DOS to DOS

9. i still think i'd have made a wonderful architect.

10. i dont think i can deal with death and dying. not anyone else's, not my own.

11. i want to write about loving.but i dont understand relationships. the more i get older, the less i understand.

12. i think this blog is getting more and more pedantic.

its usually either me and dik // me and sup // sup and rid // sup rid and me.
but saturday night we got together all four of us after a long time.

(this below was the photosession after we woke up.)

anyway, they all took my case and dint give me dessert. riddhi and i were both pretty scared in dik's room in the night and sup did all she can to keep us scared.

about the pictures below-

the 3 strappychappal pics are (cherry color mine is) (regular strap is sup) (denim is ridd) in the middle of the night in thana on the road under a streetlamp or some such post a sudden decision dinner plan due to plan movements and as taught to me by supriya, no boni you dont have to always cancel a plan you can always move it! so now i am learning one more thing.

the last pictures have dik's feet and my hand in special appearance. and rid's foot in guest appearance.
(now that doesnt load sory)

i am writing this in a separate post cause of template trouble.

my nosering you cant see waaaah!

photos from saturday

i am groggy and grumpy and i don't want to talk to anybody

:(

meanwhile has anyone seen Oranges are not the only fruit?

right behind you a.k.a. i'll follow you into the dark a.k.a. i'd rather watch someone fuck a pig

Today I drank lots of coffee. I remembered the time I’d drink lots of really strong coffee.
I love radio I love the excitement of a song that plays and goes by and I don’t have any way of getting to it ever again….
I’m listening to someone that sounds as sincere and sombre as rufus wainwright in the coffeehouse station. A band called deathcab for cutie. I’ll follow you into the dark.

Meanwhile,Yahoo's radiostation for gay people - “Gay Club Mix” plays 'gay' music eg. Justin Timberlake’s “sexy back”.

I'm bringing sexy back
Them other boys don't know how to act
think your special
whats behind your back
So turn around
and ill pick up the slack.

Why does gay media(?) have to be so overly horny? I saw this film that was reviewed as being “hauntingly beautiful”, marvelously promoted by the british council. highly depressing. It’s also depressing how they screen these films in colleges and “liberated” teachers like N@ndini Sardesai tell us to confront our discomfort to accept marginal existence. I remember she showed us BomGay as being this true document of gay life. It had some guy that went to pee in some subway and got assauled by another gay man/had to suck is thing on blackmail or some such thing. Rahul Bose fantacises 2 fried eggs on someone.
I’d rather watch someone fuck a pig.
This film "Yours Emotionally" had visual metaphors(?)/suggestions such as close up of hosepipe with frothy water shooting off, hanging lightbulb in frame, cannon. Had innuendos with what the film began – sms “wher are u// right Behind you” etcetera.
Had storyline à la pornographie and they promote it saying it has the richness of an early merchant ivory film. Eventually the older couple gets married and theyre damn happy cause now they can be be monogamous. Huh?
What I take back from Yours Emotionally(?) (I dint see ANY emotion in that film except for possessiveness and jealousy. Unless horny-ness is emotion. )
-is that gay men are oversexed unnatural creatures that want to fuck any ( * ) in sight. (yikes! pun un-intended). I’d be suicidal if I were a gay man.

so little sexuality and so much fuckin sex.

" Yours Emotionally feels like a beautiful fever dream inspired by both avant-garde gay cinema and the tropes of Bollywood." avant garde, yes piss-color sea.

what i did in kolkata

watched eid ka chaand over the

dvitiya hooghli setu

















pierced my nose for the third time and kept it though the bitch in the parlous said, hey! don't you think that looks odd and unfashionable









































discovered a new + improved first cousin















drying sari at dakshineshwar



















watched kids play kali shiv at dakshineshwar kali bari. Shiv says, get away you! or i'll throw this flower at you






i love the color pallette of the city









coming back train i awake lookin up ....

fine....so i cant get enough of sky

sue me

scattered.

what to write?

i ate all this trash and my tummy is hurting real bad... so tomorrow's plan of eating exotic meat outside the veterinary hospital has to be shelved.


i bought pretty earrings though....

two grins

19/2/2005

1.15 am

i want to eat chocolates so badly today i ate a small five star, 3 perks and now this cadbury's desserts tiramisu.theyre all hideously sweet.craving killed. but i'm not satisfied. i am closing my eyes and pretended to be eating that thick hard and gooey cold chewy dutch truffle from birdy's that i so so so so so dig. mmmmmmmmmmmm.... actually i am not so much a chocolate bar person but my sweet tooth's on overdrive. but i think, the more a give her, the more she wants. so there. no more sweet for boni. so let's think of other things. so as i was saying, do wimmen deeply desire fascist men? and then what happens when feminist wimmen discover fascist men? do they have to kill their true desire for fascist man cause its against their politicial position to enjoy such pleasure? or does the feminist in her encourage the slave in her to unleash her servitude to actualise recognise and appreciate her true pleasure politics.and if she spends all her romantic energy analysing the relationship what will the poor slave do? doesnt she deserve her existence too? the above is an abstraction and any resemblance to anything supriya or anyone else might be saying is purely co-incidental.i should just write about chocolates. or shall i write about my positive views on interpersonal physical violence? nooo, not that. i mean.... how could you do that to me!! WhACK. there must be a way of recognising violence as not abuse between people. when domestic violence is not "domestic violence" but another honest bit of communication. ok, boni... you should sleep now. go to the fridge and eat the rest of the chocolate. brush your teeth. drink water. and sleep.

waaaaah no one reads my blog




fine,
i quit.

my chhamiya look for navami... sans the red heels talking to someone on the phone

ma clicked.

the most spectacular visarjan happened last evening...
the pregnant sky expressed as the dhaak beats rose .... quickly she was lifted and circled and plunged lest she bleed away before she's meant to.
she was created as per the committe's specifications. distance between the eyes should be...
bisu, ma's too fat. no no, madam, the sari wont stay if we maker her thighs any leaner. she needs more hay.
while the pandit says- veda, vedanta, vedanga vidya sthanebbo ebocho
khusur phusur- asur and durga seem to be romancing. she needs to look more aggressive.

post all the bitching sessions by the various wimmen in the pratima committee and bisu being put in lock-up on suspision that he was hiding explosives inside the pratima, the earthen pratima, vegetable dyed, ecofriendly was brought to tejpal.
there she was deified. by memory, ritual and lots of dhaak, dhol, kaashi, shaankh and dhunuchi.

i served thousands of people on ashtami and navami days. won brownie points from maa.:D
the evening programme was a very engaging kaavya-giti. violin, percussion creating moodspaces, rhythms and making narrative of the poems presented.loved rendition of papangul. i love verses! by the time it was navami night i had all the motivation for the chhamiya look.
wore my (sexy) red blouse and (elegant) black georgette sari with gold-red border. went for the maha arati and took the shankh and played it till i fainted and my lips bruised.dhunuchi, dhaak, dhol, kaashi and shaankh just right. very very heady. very very happy.
parents decide to go to shivaji park.(i agree cause i wanna buy those terracotta earrings). my dainty redblack heels sink into the keechad. my heart sinks with it. but i lift up the hearts of those boys sitting on scaffolds while they laugh at me clumsily trying to yank my feet lodged ankle deep in sludge. more brownie points maa?

strange feeling as the sky let go on dasami at chowpatty. i stood at the threshold watching the boys throw ganesh kartik saraswati in one by one.... and then a loud 'aasche bochhor abar hobe'... and plunge.
a sudden sharp feeling that i have not known. so much expression spilling out, so much restraint, all of it plunged into the sea before the rain may bleed her eyes.
to scatter the emotion, the dhaaki breaks the wave on to his friend and he yelps and everyone laughs. the rain is hard and suddenly it's all over.

Find me!

curdled against ma las night . she humned and she thumped . and i was inside her again

has been transferred to nominee

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iam reading this person's blog. this person who i decided broke every twig in my world five years back. but every word i read i feel forgiving. not that she needs any of my forgiveness.but i feel calmed and understanding and want to say it's okay, i know. yes yes. i can see how you find life so funny, the need to write a witty line,the need for restraint, the fear of role reversal. i am soothed to see you trying making a nest again from stray snatches of peace.or maybe it's because i feel, wow you're so broken now.serves you right,bitch.
but all my filthy wishes of having you die of green jaundice have been purged.my body will need time to catch up though since iam so used to detesting you. maybe my poison shouldnt have been for you but the person we both wanted to be dug into. perhaps i need my forgiveness more.

.

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*mumbles incoherently

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current mood- crappy

*mumbles incoherently

dont wanna take pictures

i want my life in straight jacket

i want to travel

even commuting will do

maybe i'll just buy a titwala return and sit in the train or should i get a khargar return or do i want to watch the salt pans down to virar?

i like salt pans. i hope they dont make sea salt illegitimate and take away all that land.

i want to be reciting tappa in winter nights wearing a big bindi with thick curly black hair handkneaded into a bun held snug with an elderberry wildflower where my gutturals chafe skins into a deadwind summer.

But my skin is chafing with wood allergies again. every piece of furniture in my house is wooden, the doors are wooden and the skirting is wooden, the beds, chairs, all the cupboards, tables, even the big clock.

.

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ds

i thought i knew weird people
now i even know a closeted heterosexual bwhahahahahahaha

Is it time to read Pablo Neruda yet? I don’t know, so I read ee cummings hoping to find familiarity in a goat footed balloonman that whistles far and weeeeeee
where bettyanddisbel come from hopscotch and piracies in broken lines small letters. but I find …

a wind has blown the rain
away and blown the sky away
and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I
think, I too, have known autumn
too long. - e e cummings

niteesh

nitish is one of the most consistently good writers i know. (is that grammatically correct?)
his latest pretty line..
(when) she has stars in her eyes, her feet barely touch the ground.

even if he writes a bullet pointed how-to on some server it's fulfilling to read!
i will sell his letters and make a fortune when he gets famous

There is a word for it

tarantism (TAR-uhn-tiz-uhm) noun An uncontrollable urge to dance.

After Taranto, a town in southern Italy where this phenomenon was experienced during the 15-17th centuries. It's not clear whether tarantism was the symptom of a spider's bite or its cure, or it may have been just a pretext to dodge aprohibition against dancing. The names of the dance tarantella and the spidertarantula are both derived from the same place.

The director is in a wild delirium, spinning in circles as though stricken with
tarantism, his whirring camera held at arm's length, panning, tilting, arcing
and oscillating and making other moves that have no name.

Caelum Vatnsdal; Kino Delirium: The Films of Guy Maddin; Arbeiter Ring Publishing; 2000.
courtesy AWAD - anu garg

Pune trip part1

1. hen is the gladiator

2. your guess is as good as mine

3. nishant is god cooldude avatar- absolut peach and classic milds

4. bug bite hen . hen bite bug

leftover tea

jasmine pods all flailed out

juto juti

plis clik on picture to see big big shoes and big big text

boni wants!!

shokol niye boshe achhi shorbonasher aashaye/

There is something about crimes of passion that I find sacred.
I am trying to expand on glob.1 of how domestic violence can be a beautiful thing. I am looking for words that don’t heave too much and a tone that wont aria too much. but then if it becomes placid will it be untrue to the nature of the moment? The way I cannot translate the nature of moments bismillah khan calls najayaz.
This isn’t supposed to be a winterfresh thin ice topic. It’s to be a clotted crimson lodged somewhere. So let’s thaw this a bit… till then, I keep talking about my piercing.

Its going to be 24hours since I dug through my cartilage and I think it was the meanest thing I could have done to my body. It looks pretty sometimes in the mirror but it doesn’t feel beautiful to me in my head. I know now one thing - this whim thing is not for me and when I get cold feet I should respect it. I want to un-rip it. I want my nose to be whole again. godf says if I hate it at first I’ll fall in love with it. But I feel disrespectful towards my body and I am guilty of being abusive of it. He says we hate what we do with our bodies in an attempt to beautify mollify attract piss off someone else. But the body is personal. Something done for self is beautiful, he says. I think it’s true. I don’t know why I did this anymore. A silly whim. Maybe I should think before doing things. And I don’t want to see the hole. No feel good. I am not a piercing person.

continued from glob.11

So I am super sucky at judging people’s intentions. Sup, the only person I thought would back out, did not. In fact, when I got my fight or flight syndrome on overdrive, it was she that thrust me on the chair and held my hand and gently instructed me to shut the fuck up and do it. She went first. I held her hand. She held mine. Surprisingly, diki turned up and promised to pierce the kachkach part of her ear. (she dint)

However, the community that was to come, did not.Nikita had to get to work on sunday. Rai went for a namkaran ceremony. Harita dint come to bombay cause …ummm……and she’s stealing booz off this sound engineer that I was eyeing. but she’s promised to share him with though technically she was eyeing him before me. :D :D :D thats the nice thing about school friends. way to go harita! lasso him!

glob

there are so many things i had to write about, i dont know where to start and how to write about them.

1. of how domestic violence can be such a beautiful thing. sincerely.

3. of wanting to move to pune.

5.pune trip was so frikkin awesome and i havent seen so much fighting compressed into 5 days. harita and nishant drove each other mad. after a while it drove me mad. bodhisattva henry was full of peace of succour.
twinkee on the other hand failed to make an appearance despite the carrot of chicken n wine for somethings cookin!


7. the trick to a longlasting relationship is to be in love with someone who completely doesnt understand you. so you can never say...oh we dont understand each other anymore. its amazing. cause you cant even grow in different directions. yes, may need different support system.

9. about my toy rat i got from behrampada.

5. of a certain purple shirted rohanshivkumar's piercing that looks so pretty as if he was born with it.

7.how i'm so frikkin lost about what i wanna do with my frikkin life

9. of the time i discovered toppa songs... rizwana banya sings them in a loungy way but i still like it.

11. sex and violence and vice versa.

11. why do i want to pierce my nose? is it because i have an uneventful life so i need a stimulant? will it lower my self worth knowing that wannabe rock fans get piercings to heighten their selfimage and feel 'arrived' ? is it strange to hang foreign objects from one's body parts? will body reject this foreign object and swell and make pus? apparantly its also a quasi self destructive art but hey i just want a nose piercing! boni, dont think so much. just get it done.see itll looks so pretty!but my nose is so snub and rounded at the tip you cant even see the goddamned piercing.
hmmmm but then it's this irreversible commitment.

apparantly, Nose piercing was brought to India in the 16th Century from the Middle East by the Moghul emperors. In India a stud (Phul) or a ring (Nath) is usually worn in the left nostril. The left side is the most common to be pierced in India, because that is the spot associated in Ayuvedra (Indian medicine) with the female reproductive organs, the piercing is supposed to make childbirth easier and lessen period pain.

If the gun comes in contact with the inside of the nose potentially fatal micro-organisms (Staphyloccocus Aureus), can be transmitted between customers, and as aproximately 30% of the population have residant colonies of Staph. Aureus in their noses, you have a 1 in 3 chance of developing a potentially fatal infection, because of the proximity of the nose to the brain. et cetera et cetera ..... http://www.bmezine.com/pierce/articles/ptafter/nose.html

and i was thinking of getting a gun thing done. aaaargh. now i am all enlightened.also i will not use silver. ma was right. silver is bad bad bad idea. its carcinogenic and causes all these bad reactions.
i'll have to deal with those lumps forming around my nose. one year is too long to deal with.i wish ma pierced my nose when i was little.


Body Piercing Problems Emergencies Call 911 or other emergency services immediately.
Rapid swelling of the tongue or throat, causing difficulty swallowing or breathing
Severe allergic reaction (anaphylaxis)
Moderate to severe difficulty breathing

hmmm... so we're gonna be doing community piercing this sunday before i do anymore google research and change my mind. nikita has a pretty nose.she's a punju pyt.she'll look pretty with nose pierce. harita's down for the weekend, she'll get yet another ear piercing. hen says he'll pierce himself. sup i think will back out. rai says she hasnt prepared herself for it.

13. how i dont feel like taking pictures anymore.

people i met at the sophia polytech

riddhi&me


rai&me

cherry&me





riddhi is the gujjuben. her sister was in the process of getting married all through the year. she makes the best excuses in the world for not doing work/not turning up/forgetting- and all of that indignantly.
Eg.i cannot come for the shoot because i have to go to my designer.
did i mention she was production person for our class docu?hehe. much fun. she is a paranoid jain with a meateating bong boyfriend. hehehe.


rai&me are at a 25th marriage anniversary of someone we have commonlink with.Rai calls her shikha-di though she's actually her dida(granma) in relation. i call her shikha-mashi and her husband gautam-kaku. we are both drunk and decide to be sober when sloshed middleaged men start dancing with us to kala kauua kaat khaega.click.
all her ex-ex boyfriends' mothers still shower her with gifts.


cherry i thought was the snootiest bitch in scm but she's the loveydoveyest. she's quite mad and sings at the swanky hotels like the renaissance, at not just jazz by the bay etc. much abandon in her voice. she's done her masters in lit and writes for man's world now. this chick fled to dubai for some bliss while everyone else went mad postproduction. now Thats what i like.

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Last night grew out of candela’s frazzled hairs... many swift feet dancing their nightly prayers...
Dancing down the stairs... candela’s frazzled hairs having affairs

My eyes schlepped.
.......................but candela’s frazzled hairs, said their prayers and had affairs...

Reserved for the k

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kay so go ahead. post in the comments.

xavier's loos

much time has been abandoned here... in waiting.
at the 30s loo behind psycho lab.